#panicked and went “BOB.”

[balladofthe101st]

i know joe went up to the bar just to flirt with george with the classic, "you come here often?" but george, seeing joe walk towards him, looking so handsome and lean in his class a's, panicked, and before joe could use his line, george blurts out, "corporal toye, there will be no leaning in my company. are those dusty jump wings? how do you expect to slay the huns with dust on your jump wings?" joe, bewildered and flustered, plays along, straightening up and dusting off his jump wings, just to see that sweet smile on george's face. that night didn't go as joe planned but between a couple glass of beers, sharing a smoke, and spending the rest of the evening until the next early morning with george and that goddamn sweet smile of his, joe wouldn't have spent the night any different. next time, he thinks wistfully, next time maybe he'll get a kiss

[gojosprettyprincess]

༯ Choso losing his mind in your pussy for the first time<3

“M’sorry– so so sorry baby, can’t help it!” he continuously muttered, shaking his head side to side apologetically. His adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously gulped, guilt stirring deep inside of him for being so hard on you as he plunged his cock deeper into your warm pussy with absolutely no restraint.

It’s like his hips just had a mind of it’s own the literal second his weeping lip sunk past your ring of tightness, because that’s when he went crazy. Feeling your tight, gummy walls clinging around his erection had his soul levitating. His muscular body weight is crushing you from above as he leans into you deeper. Desperate to feel your body, your warm skin, your tight, comforting pussy. Everything. Your sweet cunt was gripping his cock like a vice and it drove him out of his mind.

“It’s too good! so wa-warm ngh– and tight” he whimpered embarrassingly, he never meant to lose himself like this, but how can you blame him? :( Poor guy, this was the first time he got his pretty dick wet and couldn’t remain stable. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to spill inside of you right away. “It’s okay Cho— just slllow down a little” A loud moan escaped your lips and God, you could’ve sworn you felt his entire cock twitching against your velvet walls because of it.

“Can’t stop, can’t stoppp!... Fuckkk God am I in heaven??” He whined, Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his dark, raven strands as his jittery cock spreads open your tight hole, your folds now slicked and messy— glistering with your creamy cum. You can feel his prominent veins rubbing up against your walls, throbbing in lewd little heartbeat thumps. “You’re a fucking angel I swear, God wish I could stay like this forever” he babbled mindlessly, his mushroom tip bullying your cervix with deep, deep strokes, eliciting needy moans of ecstasy from your lips, harmonizing with his.

Without even considering whether your body could take it or not, he indecisively maneuvered both of your legs to rest on each side of his shoulders before pressing his chest flush against your pretty bouncing tits. His feverish eyes gazed into yours with desperation. It’s like his body was there but his soul was in another dimension. Choso was soo fucked out by your sweet pussy. The position had you seeing fucking stars, Choso was so huge and muscular so having him crushing you like this made you even hornier, you discovered a kink that you never thought you had. Sultry sounds escaped his pretty mouth as he felt your nails taking against his toned back.

His brows scrunching together at the way you were sucking every inch of him in. he quickened his pace, and you gasped astonishingly in surprise once you felt Choso’s warm tongue tenderly sucking the skin near your ankle, planting delicate, caring kisses on it. Before leaning in to kiss you, your lips immediately parted, inviting his salivated tongue in as it met yours in a tangling, disgusting kiss of exchanging spit. His cock throbbed inside of you, his movements becoming more and more sloppy as he breathed heavily against your mouth. You raked your fingers through his damp strands as his bare, hard chest smushed your tits against you.

He quickly pulled away, a panicked look plastered on his face as his nails violently dug into the skin of your thighs, “Baby, baby m’gonna– gonna cum!” He practically cried out, you gently moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch as you caressed it. “It’s okay, it’s okay cho. Go on—“.

Not even a mere second had passed and you were blessed with the breathtaking sight of his pretty eyes rolling back, “pussy is so fucking heavenly fuckkkk” he groaned passionately, his thighs trembling as he released his aching, cum-filled balls into your warm core. The feeling of his warm sperm flooding your cunt made you moaned in relief because oh, you loved that feeling so much. His cum quickly spilled out, cascading down your asshole and the already damped sheets below the two of you.

You suddenly felt the air get punched out of your body when you felt Choso’s hardened and aroused cock speeding up in your overstimulated cunt. “I— m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—“ his voice hoased with desire as tears spilled from his eyes as he cried out shamelessly.

[eph3merall]

. . . ( part 2 )

—

"nah, what the fuck is this— big bad wolf bullshit?" you can hear matt's voice falter for a second, your bare knees digging into the wood floor of his room. he decided to stream for a few hours tonight, both chris and nick away doing their own things.

for the first hour and a half matt just played some games until you got bored and snuck under his desk, his hand cupping your cheek to give it a light warning smack to whatever cheeky ideas that were brewing in your head.

deft hands slowly started tugging his sweatpants down, to which he just hummed and swiveled around gently in his chair for a second. settling back down, matt was leaning forwards a little to put some music on for the stream, shouting out names he was able to catch that were gifting.

he's fixing his headset and turning the music up a little, it's mainly just to hide any groans and sighs he lets out however. for a second, he steals a glance down at you to find you slowly lowering the hem of his boxers, and he responds by subtly lifting his hips.

matt didn't totally like this idea. one little mistake and the whole stream of.. fifteen thousand people would know what was going on, but he couldn't deny how painfully hard he was just by seeing you on your knees—a little cramped under the small space of his desk.

when you free his length to find pre already dribbling from his slit, your thumb reaches up to thumb at his tip and spread the bead of pre made lube down his shaft. you don't miss the way his thighs tense, hips twitching up a little as you listen to the way he scolds the chat for telling him to react to edits and read fanfiction.

one hand rests on his thigh while the other jerks up and down slowly, twisting your wrist up at the top as you lean forward. parting your lips, you let some saliva drip down the length of his dick and don't miss the heavy sigh he lets out.

soon you're hollowing your cheeks out and bobbing your head gently up and down matt's cock—one hand threading through your hair and digging blunt nails into the back of your head. you can't see his face—but you can hear the way his voice trembles once in awhile and how heavy he's breathing.

your nose presses into his skin, dick shoved all the way down your throat and you gag—only forcing matt to ball one of his hands up into a fist to pretened to cough because he was about this close to letting out a groan.

the noisy slurping and gagging noises of your mouth have him panicking for a second before he's quickly turning the volume of the music up, per chat's request and totally not because it put him just a little more at ease.

he keeps a hand casual over his mouth or on his face, pretending to cough or whatever. his other hand is leaving your head—fingers twitching to pull you off just so he can fuck your throat to his heart's content.

so far so good, right? the stream went pretty smoothly until you'd done something with your tongue and he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and matt's head is tilting back against his gaming chair and a tortured groan is ripped from his lips.

oops?

notes. sorry if this has spelling mistakes / mistakes in general or anything doesn't make sense i am TIREDD... feel kinda insane w how good matt n chris looked on stream tho. anyways where the fuck did 75 followers come from? like? what??? thank u all i love u guys <3 know its not a lot but argghhb + i reached 100+ notes on a post like ugh <33

—

©eph3merall 2024

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 5 | spencer reid.

He was starting to fall for you. Hard. It made him wonder if you'd ever be safe being part of the dangerous life he led.

masterlist

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content (MDNI), smut (oral m!receiving, riding, unprotected sex - WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!) fluff, angst, mentions of a body (general criminal minds behaviour)

a/n: ehhehehehe

The soft rustle of sheets stirred his sleep.

Spencer kept his eyes shut as he was gently coaxed from sleep, his muscles more sore than he remembers them being last night. He let out a tired sigh, a yawn pulling from his mouth as he blinked his eyes open slowly, his eyes starting to adjust to the warm morning sunlight that pooled through the curtains. Spencer’s brain suddenly caught up, realising that this was not his room and these definitely weren’t his  sheets. 

A soft sigh caught his attention and Spencer turned his head to see your bare back, sheets pooled at your waist. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at your smooth skin gently bathed in sunlight. It took a moment for the memories of last night to finally be released from the grips of sleep, but he remembered. Remembered the softness of your skin under his fingertips, the gentle kisses you planted along his neck and shoulder, the feeling of you wrapped around him; all of it. 

“Can I?” Your eyes were gentle as you glanced up at Spencer, your fingers resting on the buckle of his belt, waiting for his permission. Spencer’s head was spinning seeing you on your knees in front of him as he sat on your couch with you between his legs. You gently squeezed his knee, getting his attention. “Spence?”

Spencer’s face went hot, running his hands down and face then pushing them through his hair. The memories of your warm lips pressing kisses all over him sent him reeling. Spencer wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to sex and he was sure that with anyone else he would have freaked out and panicked. But with you, it felt warm and intimate, almost natural to him.

The moment you took the head of his cock in your mouth, Spencer’s mind went white, unable to form a single cohesive thought at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him. You reached up to intertwine your fingers with his, prompting him to use his other hand to guide you exactly where he wanted. You beamed at his nervousness, quickly pulling off of him with a quiet pop to lean up on your knees to kiss his lips softly, calming him down, “you’re doing so good, Spence.”

Spencer reached his hand out toward you, gently playing with the ends of your hair. You stirred at the feeling, eyes blinking open as you felt Spencer’s curious fingertips ghost over the skin of your back. You smiled softly, “G’morning, Spencer,” you greeted softly, your voice laced with sleep. Spencer’s hand suddenly retracted and you rolled over onto your back, glancing at Spencer’s sleepy face as he stared at you with intense affection.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you whispered back, reaching your hand out to cup his face.

Spencer was always confident in his ability to profile, to solve a case and help his team, but this was uncharted territory for him. The way you bobbed your head slowly, tucking your hair behind your ear as your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, gently squeezing him. He had never felt anything that was somehow both sinful yet intimate and affectionate. He gently held your hair back for you and it made you want to grin and squeal with delight at how adorable he was. 

The more involuntary noises he made, the faster you bobbed your head and gently sucked at the tip. Spencer grabbed your hand, squeezing softly as you quickened your pace, his groans like music to your ears, “I…I think I’m gonna-”

Spencer’s hand came to gently hold your wrist as your thumb stroked his cheek, “feeling okay, Spence?” you asked, wanting to make sure you didn’t turn his entire brain to mush last night.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I feel great,” he looked like he was trying to suppress a wide smile, the softness of your shared intimacy making his chest bloom with warmth. 

“That’s good,” you chuckled, moving some of his messy hair out of his face. “Do you have to work today?”

Spencer frowned, “yeah, I do. I would have liked to stay here with you though. Maybe get some lunch,” he said through a sigh.

“We have all the time in the world for that, Spence.”

As Spencer came down from the intense high of his orgasm, he suddenly became mortified, realising he finished inside your mouth without much of a warning, which he came to understand a warning was pretty vital in intimate situations.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry-” 

You laughed softly, wiping the collected drool off the corner of your mouth, “don’t be sorry, Spencer. I wanted to make you feel good… Did you? …Feel good?”

“I feel like that goes without saying,” he said with a tinge of sass. 

Spencer pulled his boxers and pants back up, scurrying around the room looking for his shirt and other sock. You caught his attention when you sat up in your bed, stretching your arms over your head, your shoulder and neck cracking quietly. Spencer’s eyes glanced down your body, over the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He really wishes he didn’t have to work today.

“Like what you see, pretty boy?” You teased, leaning against the headboard.

“Yes,” he replied like it was obvious.

You chuckled at his response, finally urging yourself to get out of bed. He watched your naked body saunter over to him, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck. Spencer’s hands instinctively held your waist, eyes dipping between the two of you to take in the perfect dips and swells of your body. He leaned down to plant a kiss to your lips, hands cupping your warm cheeks.

He pulled away, brows knitted together as thoughts swirled around.

“What’s going on in there?” You asked softly, your fingertips ghosting over his temple.

He sighed, “I don’t usually… do this kind of stuff.”

“What’s got you nervous?” You questioned, the gentleness of your eyes making him feel safe.

“I just, don’t want to lose… this,” Spencer whispered. “And I don’t want to just take you on one date, or think that I just want to have sex with you or-”

You kissed him gently, letting him sigh against you, “I don’t think any of that, Spence,” you reassured him, watching as he relaxed slightly under your soft gaze.

“...Do you want to come to Rossi’s dinner party with me next Friday?” Spencer suddenly asked. “As my date,” he clarified.

You grinned, “I’d love to.”

Spencer knew this was going to stay in his mind forever. He watched as your breasts bounced in front of him, one of his hands coming up to rub at your pierced nipple while the other wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as you bounced on his cock. You let out soft moans as Spencer’s hips met yours, your hands wrapped around his shoulders, nails scraping against his skin. 

“You feel- so good,” he whined out, his breath hot against the column of your throat. You moaned softly, feeling the warmth bloom in your belly. You grabbed Spencer’s hand that was pinching at your nipple and trailed it down between your bodies, pressing his thumb to your neglected clit.

Spencer was a fast learner, you showed him what you wanted and he complied, rubbing small circles on the swollen bud. You let out a loud whine at the feeling, tipping your head back as Spencer kissed your shoulder, gently biting the skin between your neck and shoulder. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned quietly, your slick forming a white ring around the base of his cock. Spencer’s head was spinning as he tried to hold on for you, making you feel as good as you made him feel when you were on your knees in front of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whined, bouncing faster and faster on his lap as you tipped over the edge, prompting Spencer to rub tighter circles on your sensitive clit.

“I’m gonna- again-” Spencer groaned against your shoulder, his arm around your waist tightening until you were pressed tight against his chest. You held his head and kissed him as he finished inside you, his hands gripping your hips as his own hips stuttered against you. 

Spencer was breathless as he panted against you, sweat forming a light sheen over his skin. Your thumb traced softly beneath his lashes, “you’re so pretty.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a slight airiness to him that did not go unnoticed. Spencer made himself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette, his second cup of the day after sharing one with you before he left. Morgan glanced at him sideways as he made his own coffee, noticing the slight confidence that Spencer never usually exuded.

“Fun night, pretty boy?” Morgan asked, stirring his coffee. 

“Was pretty normal,” Spencer lied, trying to remain inconspicuous, which proved to be rather difficult when mostly everyone he knew and worked with were profilers.

“Normal, hm? You just seem… very relaxed,” Morgan replied.

“Am I not always relaxed?” Spencer questioned, glancing at Morgan.

“The Reid I know is usually wound pretty tight,” Emily interjected, placing her empty mug in the sink. Spencer dropped his spoon on the counter.

“Am I being interrogated?” Spencer asked, eyes narrowing at the two of them.

Morgan and Emily pursed their lips, shaking their heads. Emily raised her hands in surrender, returning to her desk. 

Morgan took a sip from his coffee, “nice hickey.”

“Shit,” Spencer slapped a hand over his neck, pulling on the collar of his shirt to try and cover the evidence of his late night escapade. 

Morgan chuckled as he sipped his coffee, walking back toward the meeting room and finally releasing Spencer of his questioning, “Come on, lover boy. We got another case.”

Cases barely bothered Spencer so deeply. He was able to compartmentalise pretty well, treat every case as a case and not get emotionally involved. Sure, there were a handful of times when he got over-involved in some things, but he was rarely ever bothered. 

When he and Emily were assigned to visit the dump site of a body and begin a profile, he was fine until he saw the body. She was a young woman, mutilated and dumped by a river. The problem was, she looked like you. 

Spencer felt his heart thumping in his chest, he knew it wasn’t you, but she shared a lot of her features with you. And that deeply bothered him. Emily noticed Spencer’s behaviour the moment he hesitated getting any closer to the body. Spencer cared about you, he liked you a lot and had a deep desire to protect you, especially after the intimacy you shared the night before.

“You okay, Reid?” Emily asked from where she was crouched down by the woman’s body.

Spencer sighed quietly, “yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

“Take a minute, I can handle this,” she replied. 

Spencer glanced at her, “No, I’m okay. She just-”

“-looks like Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Emily sighed sympathetically, “go see her when we fly home. It’ll make you feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his lips forming a tight line. The other victims in the case didn’t look like you, just that one girl, he was able to bury the feeling for the rest of the case but he was antsy to get back to Virginia so he could see you.

You sat on your couch eating ramen you bought from a place you discovered recently, eyes glued to the TV as you watched a pretty terrible soap opera that you dare not turn off. You were far too invested in the ridiculousness of it to turn it off.

There was a sudden knock on your door. You turned the volume of the TV down, putting your ramen on the table in front of you. You walked over to your door, peering through the peephole. You were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer.

You opened the door, “Spence? I didn’t think you were back until-”

He suddenly crashed into you, your sentence falling flat as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his cheek against your hair. You hugged him back, hands gripping his shirt and holding him close. His sudden appearance made you nervous, wondering what prompted it.

“What’s going on, Spencer?” You asked quietly, pulling away from him to cup his cheek.

“I just needed to see you,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. You frowned sympathetically, deducing it was probably his most recent case.

“You want to talk about it?” Your voice was gentle.

“Not right now,” Spencer said, “...Can we just stay like this?”

You nodded, “of course we can.”

Spencer spent the night holding you close, revelling in the feeling of your heart beat and the sound of your quiet breathing. He had just found someone who listened to him intently, liked the things he liked and liked him. He knew the fear was somewhat irrational, but the idea of losing you upset him, made him think irrationally, which was something that never happened to him. 

You stroked your hand through his hair, your warm fingertips soothing his nervousness and helping him calm down. He felt safe in your arms and it made him wonder if he deserved your kindness and your gentleness. 

Was it right for him to drag you into his dangerous life?

a/n: watch this become my whole personality

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencerreidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn

[accioscarheadthings]

↳ 𝗢𝗻 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘆 - 𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂! 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

karasuno boys x fem! volleyballplayer! reader

summary - you're a member of the girls' volleyball team at Karasuno High getting ready for a friendly match against the guys' team. during the game, you manage to catch the attention of one of the boys who can't keep his eyes off you while you play.

warnings - fluff, vague description of volleyball matches (i apologize in advance)

author's note: a little self-indulgent fic. this is for all my volleyball girlies who dreamed of playing with the haikyuu boys. :) <33 also, i've used the names from the actual Karasuno High girls volleyball club.

featuring characters — TANAKA, NISHINOYA, SUGAWARA, DAICHI

main masterlist !

TANAKA

your position: middle blocker

it was your team's serve and the score was at 14: 7 in favour of the boy's team. with each cheer of the boys' team, your team's spirits were dropped.

hinata hit his serve on the net; the red-haired boy blanched while kageyama sent him a death glare.

your serve was up.

your body buzzed with anticipation as michimiya tossed you the ball, giving you an encouraging nod, "give us a good serve. make it curve,"

you blinked, mouthing helplessly, "i'm not sure i can pull it off,"

but michimiya gave you a strong look that said 'just do it'

you got behind the line, tapping the ball, and tried to shake off the nerves. the sound of the impact echoed through the air, filling the atmosphere with a satisfying thud each time it made contact.

the whistle was blown and you looked up.

your eyes unexpectedly locked with tanaka's, which caused both of you to blink rapidly and snap out of it.

you tossed the ball, delivering a powerful serve. it soared through the air, passing barely above the tape of the net.

tanaka straightened, calling for the ball, "mine!"

but the ball curved at the last minute, which resulted him in shanking the pass.

tanaka initially panicked, fearing that he had ruined the play. however, when he saw kageyama successfully complete the second touch, prompting him to release a sigh of relief.

tanaka took a step back, getting ready to approach for a spike.

kageyama set the ball to him and tanaka jumped into the air.

you tracked his movements, jumping in the air with arms up to block him. your setter, manami, followed your movements.

tanaka hit the ball perfectly, aiming for the line of your side of the court. but you read him easily, and moved your arm a bit to the side, blocking him.

the ball rolled and dropped right in front of the net as daichi dived for it, but in vain.

you pumped your fists in the air in victory while the rest of the team huddled around you in cheers.

tanaka was in absolute shock, as he stared at his palms, "she just-what-i-"

"it's okay, man," noya slapped his back, "we'll get the next one,"

"no, but-" tanaka looked up to the side where the girls team were still cheering.

michimiya smothered you in a hug, squealing in delight while manami, your team's setter, smacked your ass playfully.

tanaka darted his eyes away quickly, trying not to fixate on the way your ass jiggled.

the whistle was blown again and you served with so much power that it landed on the end line of the court. even daichi was stunned.

this went on and you served for straight 7 points till the score was at an even 14-14.

manami set a high-ball, calling your name.

you took a step forward, arms swinging at your sides as you leaped into the air and spiked it hard.

the ball landed in tsukishima's positioned arms, but it ricochetted away.

coach ukai called a timeout and was yelling at the boys to get it together. tanaka found himself ogling at you, tracking your movements, unblinking.

the way you adjusted your shorts and tugged at the edge of your jersey. the way your throat bobbed with each sip of water. the way a bead of sweat rolled down the column of your neck, down the rounds of your - oh.

tanaka squeezed the water bottle in his clutch, gulping nervously.

"you're staring at her, tanaka," asahi pointed out, "that's not very nice. you look like you want to take her down,"

"ah, so i can worship her on my knees," tanaka shot back, a hazy smile spreading his face.

asahi turned red, giving his teammate a bizarre look, "huh?!"

"did you see how she read me and blocked my spike before? and did you see that counterattack? do you realize how incredibly hot that is to me?!"

"not really," asahi admitted.

"very, i agree," noya nodded.

"she's probably out of your league," tsukishima put it bluntly, pissed that he couldn't receive any of your serves.

"exactly!" tanaka exclaimed, clutching his heart dramatically, "what a woman," he sighed dreamily with heart eyes.

"get a hold of yourself!" suguwara slapped the back of his neck.

the match ended with a score of 24-26, and the boys won the match.

your coach was conversing with takeda and ukai, planning on conducting more such practice matches.

tanaka marched over to the other side of the court where you and your team were warming down after the match.

aihara, the vice-captain, nudged your elbow with hers and jutted her chin in tanaka's direction when he came to a stop in front of you.

you sat on the floor with your legs bent and your knees raised high in front of you. your arms were behind you, supporting your body as you leaned back. you blinked at tanaka in confusion, wondering why he would be approaching you.

the way your calf and thigh muscles flexed while you looked up at him added a touch of sensuality to the scene.

well, at least in tanaka's head.

tanaka couldn't comprehend the sight of you looking so effortlessly breathtaking.

"marry me!" he hollered at you.

the entire girls' volleyball team turned towards him, pinning him in his place with their gaze. some of the girls gasped while the others suppressed their giggles.

his fists were clenched at his sides and his face flushed red. he had been loud enough for the entire gym to hear.

you mouthed helplessly like a goldfish in water, eyes wide.

the entire gymnasium heard his loud command, the air thrumming with tension.

"no," you deadpanned at him.

"why!" tanaka fell to the floor in front of you with a cry, falling to his knees melodramatically.

daichi and suguwara mumbled their apologies for his behaviour and dragged a weeping tanaka back with them.

NISHINOYA

your position : outside hitter

as the boy's and girl's volleyball clubs lined up for a practice match, nishinoya couldn't help but steal glances at you— the girls' team's outside hitter.

he had been secretly crushing on you for a while now, admiring both on the court and in the classroom, staring at you shamelessly.

he even told tanaka all about you.

"you mean she's the one, bro?" tanaka glanced at noya over his shoulder, jutting his chin in your direction.

both teams were doing their warm-up drills before the practice match and everyone was practicing their attacks. you were with michimiya, as the setter explained something to you in a hushed voice.

noya saw you, making a funny face at something michimiya had said, and tipped your head to the side adorably.

you tapped the volleyball on the rubber floor couple of times, spinning it on your palm gracefully. your hair tipped back when you rotated your head, eyes closed and brows furrowed in focus.

noya grinned dreamily at you, shoulders sagging and mouth spreading wide, "yeah, her. the one,"

tanaka watched his mate drool over you, smacking his shoulder with a snicker.

noya snapped out of his daze, "every time she spikes, i always end up on the receiving end of it. as if, i was made to take what she gives me,"

"a bit weird, if you ask me," tsukishima commented.

"shut it, tsukishima!" noya snapped at his junior.

"you know, it's like a secret dance between us. she spikes the ball, i take it," he sighed pensively.

the match began, and noya found himself facing you on the other side of the net.

every time you sent over a powerful hit, he matched it with a perfect receive, sending the ball to his teammates.

you were impressed with his receiving skills but also annoyed that he received your attacks as if they were weak.

"manami, set it to me!" you called your team setter.

manami tossed the ball as you requested, setting the ball near the net.

you approached with precision, arms swinging back.

tanaka and kageyama were on the other side of the net, arms raised to block your shot.

the two boys stiffened when they realized you hadn't jumped yet and cursed in their heads.

"a time lag attack!"

even coach ukai was surprised. your coach wore a proud grin, mocking the boys' team coach with a taunting look. takeda watched you in wonder.

as tanaka and kageyama went down, you jumped, hitting the ball with everything you had, sending it soaring to the other side of the court.

unfortunately, none of the boys were prepared for your time-lag attack.

the ball hit hinata square in the face, ricocheting away to the other end of the gymnasium.

the entire girls' team gasped together. the boys watched their teammate fall flat on his back, grunting in pain and held his nose.

everyone crowded around the boy and you kneeled next to him, mumbling apologies, "shit, shit! i'm so so sorry. are you alright?"

"did you have your head up your ass?!" kageyama snapped at his teammate.

daichi and asahi helped him sit up; hinata watched everyone stare at him wearily, "y/n-san, i'm fine. you shouldn't worry too much. it would make noya-san very sad. he wouldn't want you sad,"

"huh?" you blinked unawarely.

michimiya and daichi exchanged a knowing glance; both of them knew their team members very well.

"shoyooo!" noya slung an arm around his neck, chuckling nervously, hoping you didn't listen to what the first year had let slip, "no, you see, the ball hit him too hard and he's— uh, all jumbled in the head. so we must take him to the infirmary!"

the crowd dispersed and hinata was taken to the infirmary, yamaguchi accompanied him.

ennoshita was subbed in for hinata and the match ended in the boys' team's favor.

even as you packed your stuff and got ready to leave you felt guilty about being the reason for hinata's injury.

you got so riled up by noya's receives that you went as far as to hit that hard and hurt someone.

hinata returned from the infirmary, striding back into the gym. his nose was bandaged up and streaks of purple bruises peaked from under it.

"the nurse told me all all the blood is internal. its where the blood is supposed to be, so i'm good to go!" hinata stated proudly.

kageyama palm-faced, dragging his hand down in frustration.

tsukishima and suguwara snickered, while asahi scolded them saying it wasn't so nice of them.

adjusting your bag over your shoulder, you approached the redhead, "hey, um, hinata. is it?"

the boy turned to you, eyes widening, darting to noya at the far end behind you before looking back at you, "yeah,"

"i just wanted to apologize," you stated, wincing sheepishly.

"what—no!" hinata smiled, but then grimaced when his nose ached from the action, "it doesn't even hurt.

you gave him a doubtful look, "are you sure?"

"yeah,"

you weren't convinced, but you had to get home and you bid your goodbye, spinning on your heel.

you double-stepped back, having nearly running into noya who was behind you.

"oop—hi," you chuckled awkwardly, "didn't see you,"

"er, yeah," noya rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "i wanted to tell you you were amazing on court,"

you froze for a second. no one had really appreciated you or praised you for your game, you were pushing yourself forward convincing you didn't need any. but his words were like a salve to your yearning soul, "thank you. i could say the same thing about you. those receives of yours were pretty impressive,"

noya's cheeks turned even redder at your praise, his heart hammering in his chest, "well, i was a bit distracted there, with you looking so good when you play," he joked, trying to cover up his flustered state with a cheeky grin.

you chuckled, feeling a little coy, "is that why you keep staring at me instead of the ball, noya?"

noya's heart was racing as he tried to come up with a response to your compliment. he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a jumble of stammered words and incoherent sounds.

the usual confidence he felt on the court had disappeared. he couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone respond to your words.

"i—what—uh, you know my name?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"of course, i do," you looked at him with a weird look, head tilting back and a strand of hair fell from your head. noya itched to tuck it behind your ear.

"i'll see you around, noya," you waved your goodbye and walked out of the gymnasium.

as soon as you were out of view, noya snapped out of his day-dreaming and processed what had happened. he flirted with you. and you flirted back. AND YOU KNEW HIS NAME!

noya ran over to where tanaka was doing his stretches on the floor with suguwara, arms flapping above his head in excitement, "dude, DUDE! she knows my name!"

SUGAWARA

your position: middle blocker

sugwara was practicing his setting, tossing the ball up into the air and waiting for it to drop into his hands. while he was at it, his eyes caught a glimpse of you on the other end of the volleyball court where the girls were practicing for their match up against the boys.

you were struggling with a roll of tape, trying to wrap your fingers with it, but your hands seemed to be trembling. you grimaced in frustration, "damn it!"

sugawara set the ball down and quickly walked over to you, his voice gentle and soft, "do you need some help?" he asked, taking the tape from your shaking hands.

you looked up at him, nodding almost immediately, feeling a little embarrassed by your difficulty with the task, "yeah," you muttered, "i just can't seem to get the tape on straight. need to wrap 'em on my fingers,"

sugawara smiled kindly and gestured for you to hold out your hand, "here, let me do it," he said, his tone reassuring.

you held out your hand and sugawara took it gently in his. his other hand brushed over yours, spreading open your trembling fist. red and purple bruises were litterd on the sides of your fingers.

you spared a glance at him, assuming he'd be bombarding you with questions about all your injuries. but to your surprise, he remained silent.

his fingers were cool and firm against your skin, oddly comforting. he carefully began to wrap the tape around your fingers, careful not to wrap it too tight or too lose, his movements precise and practised.

every now and then, his thumb would brush against your knuckles, sending a small shiver up your spine.

as he worked, sugawara couldn't help but notice the way your eyelashes fluttered each time his fingers touched your skin, or especially when it grazed the inside of your wrist.

he tried to keep his focus on your hands, but his eyes kept wandering to your face, watching as you tried to suppress your reactions to his touch. the way your shoulders were taut. the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed nervously. the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. the way your teeth dug into your lower lip, and how badly he wanted to relieve it with his thumb— nope, don't go there.

sugawara blinked at the floor with wide eyes, surprised by his own thoughts and shook his head lightly.

as he continued, he realized that he was becoming increasingly distracted. he tried to focus on the task at hand, but his mind kept wandering, and taking in every detail of you.

the way your jersey and shorts clung to your body like second skin. the way your hair was tied back and draped over your shoulder with a few strands sticked out at the side of your face. the way you rolled your shoulder back, every rippling motion of your body.

he found himself blushing involuntarily, and he silently cursed his lack of control.

sugawara tried to distract himself from his growing distraction by making casual conversation, "you're on the girls' team, right?" he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

"yeah, no shit," you smiled sarcastically, raising your brows in amusement.

sugawara chuckled awkwardly, "of course, silly me,"

he continued wrapping your fingers, trying to keep his hands steady, "so, how long have you been playing volleyball?" he asked, hoping to get you talking and distract himself from the growing tension between you.

"since middle school,"

"ah," sugawara nodded, his eyes flickering to your face for a brief moment before returning to your fingers, "so you're a seasoned player, huh? no wonder you're giving us a run for our money,"

"you've seen me play?"

"couple of times," he replied, turning your hand over to check if he covered the injuries on your hand, "michimiya says your blocks are impossible to get through. I've seen them a couple of times myself,"

"hope you weren't stalking me," you joked, smiling lightly.

Sugawara chuckled, "i wouldn't mind stalking a pretty girl like you,"

but as soon as you look up at him in surprise, he blushed and quickly looked away.

"i—i mean your playing style. not stalking, observing, yes. that's the word. observing," he tips of his ear were beginning to turn red.

"i see," you held back a smile, itching to poke fun at him.

as sugawara finished wrapping the your middle finger, he held your hand for a moment longer, his fingers gently tracing the lines on your palm. he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, "there," he said softly, "all done,"

sugawara found himself completely flustered by your stare, his mind going blank. He could barely form a coherent thought as he looked into your eyes, drowning in them. those eyes, those eyes… they seemed to be reaching into his very soul, and he was powerless to resist.

his eyes flickered over your face. he was trying to keep himself composed, but he could feel his heart racing in his chest, and he was sure you could hear it too.

you both look down at your hands, you noticed that his pale skin was a stark contrast against your own, your taped fingers are intertwined with his. slotting together like puzzle pieces. a perfect fit.

you moved your thumb over his knuckle, transfixed. the tenderness in your touch made him feel vulnerable and weak in the knees. he could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he attempted to steady himself.

the sensation of your fingers intertwined with his was both soothing and electrifying. He unconsciously squeezed your hand tighter, finding solace in the touch.

suddenly, a volleyball suddenly dropped right front of you two; you both startled apart. the interruption broke the moment, and you both quickly withdrew your hands.

yamaguchi clumsily retrived the ball, muttering a quick apology and head back to pepper with tsukishima.

he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. "uh, sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hold your hand for so long. it's just— your fingers felt really nice, and i—" he trailed off, unable to find the words to explain his own actions.

you could see the embarrassed blush on sugawara's face, his ears turning even redder as he fumbled over his words. his eyes kept flickering between your face and your hands, as if he was still struggling with the lingering sensation of your touch.

"It's fine," you managed to say. you couldn't hide the fact that you were flustered, "i didn't mind. also, thanks koshi," you held up your taped fingers.

he felt a surge of surprise and warmth at your use of his first name. it was rare for anyone outside of his close friends and teammates to use it, and hearing you say it made his heart skip a beat. his cheeks turned even redder.

sugawara felt a sense of relief that you weren't upset or uncomfortable with his actions. in fact, the subtle blush on your face seemed to indicate that you were indeed flustered. this observation only fueled his own desire, causing a newfound confidence to wash over him.

he noticed an edge of tape sticking up and smoothed it down on your finger, letting his touch linger.

"careful with those fingers of yours," he teased, "can't have the team lacking a middle blocker, can we?" he lifted your hand and playfully kisses the tip of your middle finger, his thumb grazing your knuckles. when he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that sent a flutter through your heart, "a little kiss for luck never hurt anyone."

"do you talk like this to every girl you meet?" you questioned with a quirk of your eyebrows.

"only to the one girl i'm trying to impress," he didn't miss a beat, winking at you, "and I can tell it's working," he teased, nodding at your flushed cheeks.

narrowing your eyes playfully, you snatched your hand back to your chest and got to your feet, "i'll see on the court, koushi," you let out a breath, giving him a sly grin.

sugawara smiled, his heart fluttering at the sound of his name on your lips, "yeah," he said, his voice a little huskier than usual, "see you on the court, y/n."

as you walked away, sugawara too got to his feet and headed back to where his team was doing their warm ups. he couldn't help but smile giddily as he looked at his own fingers, knowing that he had touched yours and felt your skin against his.

daichi, who had been watching the interaction between you and Sugawara from across the court, approached with a smirk on his face, "I see you got yourself 'wrapped up' in a little situation, didn't you, sugawara?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

asahi was following behind daichi, blushing slightly and tried to hide a smile, "looks like someone has a crush," he teased, giving sugawara a nudge in the ribs with his elbow.

sugawara scowled at his friends, "quiet, you two," he muttered, his eyes flickering over to you.

you were flexing your fingers, making sure you could move them about and grinned to yourself. suguwara felt a stupid smile grow on his face, but it was quickly wiped when daichi and asahi descended upon him with their teasing, nudging him playfully.

sugawara's cheeks reddened as the two kept making playful comments about his obvious crush on you. he tried to act nonchalantly, but his flushed face betrayed his true emotions.

DAICHI

your position: setter

daichi sat across from you, trying to explain the complexities of modern japanese literature.

however, you were having a hard time focusing on the material. your mind was elsewhere, and you were desperately looking for a way to escape this tiresome tutoring session.

michimiya had reached out to you about a practice match today and needed you as the team's setter.

you kept bouncing your leg, blindly nodding along to whatever daichi was saying, trying to grasp onto it. you spared a glance at the message michimiya had sent you, thinking of a way of out this tutoring session.

finally, an idea popped into your head, "daichi," you began, making your voice sound solemn, "i can't stay for today's lesson. i just got a message. my grandmother's funeral is tomorrow, and i have to help with the preparations,"

daichi's expression softened as he heard your explanation, "oh, I see," he said gently, his voice laced with a hint of pity, "i'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. go and take care of your family. we can continue the lesson another time," he closed the book open in front of him.

you nodded, expressing your gratitude for his understanding, "thank you, daichi," you said quietly, "i really appreciate it. i promise i'll reach out to you when I'm ready to continue,"

he gave you a small nod and a faint smile before turning to leave, "take care of yourself," he said, his voice low, "and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything,"

with that, he left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for lying to him, but you also felt relieved that you had gotten away from the painful tutoring session.

later that evening, you had met up with the girls team and you were all stretching, preparing for the practice match.

michimiya arrived with the news that you were going to play with the boy's volleyball club team.

the girls were buzzing with nervous excitement as they prepared for the upcoming match. everyone knew the boys' team was strong, especially with their renowned setter, who was a first year. while some were intimidated, others were excited about the challenge.

as you warmed up with your teammates, you couldn't shake off a nagging feeling of worry. you wondered who the boys' setter was and how skilled they would be.

aihira, the vice-captain, patted your back, assuring you when she noticed your frown of doubt, "you can handle those first years, all you have to do is get under their skin, i've seen him play,"

the door of the gymnasium banged open, and the boys' team entered with a ruckus.

"that's the first years," aihra nodded to a short ginger, who was locked in a stare with a raven-haired boy who was taller than him, "their quick attacks are something else,"

"that's the second years," she gestured to boy with a buzz cut and the other who was almost in the same height as that first year ginger.

"you know suga, and asahi. oh, and that's—"

"—daichi," you completed when you spotted him. your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't help but freeze in surprise.

he had stepped in to separate hinata and kageyama arguing, chiding them for their behaviour.

as if sensing your presence, daichi looked up and his eyes locked with yours, widening in surprise.

you could feel your heart racing in your chest as his eyes met yours. a mixture of emotions flooded you — surprise, nervousness, and a hint of fear.

you cursed internally, knowing that your plan to avoid him had just been foiled.

"michimiya, hide me, please," you covered your face with your hands.

the captain blinked at you in confusion.

footsteps grew closer to you and within a few strides, daichi was in front of you, "y/n, didn't think you'd have time to join the volleyball club. thought you had to attend your grandmother's funeral,"

you winced a little and smiled sheepishly, "yeah, she's been dead for about five years now. i bet she's having a good laugh about it up above right now," you glared up at the sky.

daichi gave you an unimpressed look, "michimiya told me that you guys had a new setter. but i didn't know it was you,"

"new secret setter," you shot your teammate a glare.

she simply raised her hands in defense, "i didn’t know you guys knew each other," she said, bewildered, "and I didn’t know you were failing modern japanese literature, y/n," she chided.

"yeah, i'm her tutor, she's struggling with that particular subject. and she gave me the excuse of a funeral to attend to run away from me,"

"see, i'm struggling. not failing," you stated as a matter of fact.

"you better not," michimiya said, resting her hands on her hips, "or takeda will have u out of the team,"

daichi suppressed a smirk at your interjection, clearly amused by the exchange between you and michimiya, "she's right. you better not fail. i wouldn't want to be the reason you're kicked off the team,"

"you mad at me for lying to you?" you questioned, grimacing a bit.

daichi shrugged slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips, "i'm not mad," he said, his voice soft., "just a bit disappointed. i'm not too happy being lied to, but i understand you had your reasons,"

you look over your shoulder when you hear michimiya call you over to the court where the rest of the girls' team was warming up.

daichi watched as you made your way to warm up with the other girls, a slight smirk playing on his lips, "i look forward to seeing you play in the game," he called out, a hint of challenge in his tone, "i'm not going to go easy on you just because we know each other, you know,"

you glanced back at him, a mixture of determination and annoyance in your eyes, "i wouldn't worry about me if i were you," you retorted, a determined look on your face.

daichi chuckled at your threat, amused by your competitive spirit.

The match between the two teams commenced, with michimiya beginning with a serve.

the ball curved high into the air, sailing over the net with a satisfying hum. it descended on the boys side, and daichi quickly moved into position, ready to return the serve.

with precision and control, he executed a perfect pass to kageyama, who set the ball for an attack.

tanaka, positioned at the net, lunged forward and executed a powerful spike with a dramatic yell. the ball hurtling towards your side with impressive force.

anika leapt up to receive the ball, her arms stretched out in a desperate bid. she managed to get it high in the air.

you saw your chance and called for a set. aihara took a step back, swinging her arms, and jumped high to attack.

but you tossed the ball right over the net, to execute a drop.

"a setter dump!" someone shouted from the sidelines.

the unexpected move caught both daichi and noya off guard. they dove for the ball, but it landed right between them.

"damn it!" daichi exclaimed, his face flushed with frustration.

"a setter dump at the beginning of the game?" noya grumbled.

as the ball landed and the cheer erupted, your eyes met daichi's through the net. there was no mistaking the flicker of surprise and admiration in his gaze.

daichi gave you a sarcastic grin, a silent message, "nice move,"

you could see his composure waver momentarily, his initial arrogance giving way to a newfound respect for your skills.

a sly grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, satisfaction coursing through you. you knew you had surprised him, and it felt good.

returning his gaze, your eyes sparkled with confidence, silently gloating at the fact that you had managed to catch him off guard.

the match was a thrilling back-and-forth affair, with the score finely balanced. it was now 21-23, the boys team holding a slight edge.

asahi stepped up to serve, his powerful arm coiling back for a jump serve.

michimiya reacted quickly, diving to retrieve the powerful serve. however, the ball slipped past her, rolling sideways toward the backline.

you chased after the ball, leaping high to set it over your back. it was a risky maneuver, but you managed to elevate the ball just enough for your teammates to react.

hinata and yamaguchi watched set the ball in awe, jaws agape. even sugawara was staring at you in bafflement.

kageyama and tsukishima rose up to block, their arms outstretched, ready to intercept the attack. Aihara with a quick flick of her wrist, tipped the ball over their block, sending it back towards the opposing side.

noya dove to receive the ball, but it slipped past his outstretched hands.

asahi, realizing the opportunity, pulled off an emergency set, directing the ball toward their captain.

daichi, with a powerful leap and swing, spiked the ball back towards your side.

you reacted swiftly, blocking the spike with your outstretched arms.

however, the ball rolled off your hand and fell on the boys side of the court. getting on one knee, kageyama managed to set it in first touch, tossing the ball high.

tsukishima, seizing the opportunity, spiked the ball with all his might.

watabi, the girls' libero, dove to receive the ball, but it landed just outside the sideline.

the boys' team had won the point, bringing the score to 24-21 in their favor. the match was reaching its climax, and the tension on the court was palpable.

"it's okay, we'll get the next one!" michimiya cheered, her voice filled with optimism.

you exchanged nods and smiles, each player recognizing the effort and determination put into the match.

daichi stepped up to serve. as he tapped the ball on the floor a couple of times, he looked up, catching your eyes. you shot him a playful wink, causing him to stutter momentarily.

daichi served the ball and it sailed over the net.

"i got it!" you called for it, stepping back and took the pass that would've been your libero's receive.

sugawara was watching with hinata and yamaguchi, "why would she go so far as to take a ball that would land in the back court?"

michimiya approached the net as if to attack, but instead, she did an overhead pass to you,

tanaka and tsukishima, expecting her to attack, were caught off guard.

the ball soared in your direction and you spiked the ball with a grunt.

the ball landed on the sideline, passing past daichi, surprising everyone.

hinata, ever enthusiastic, couldn't contain his excitement, "she's so cool! way cooler than kageyama!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

kageyama shot him a glare, causing hinata to wince and look away. but even he couldn't deny, you were pretty impressive.

you pumped your fist in the air, celebrating your successful play. your teammates gathered around you, complimenting you on the impressive move.

daichi watched you intently, noticing your manic focus and competitive spirit. this level of intensity was something he had never seen before.

eventually, the match ended in favor of the boys' team, but the memory of your exceptional play would linger in their minds for a long time.

warming down after the match, you were gathering your things when you heard footsteps approaching.

turning, you saw daichi making his way towards you, "you were amazing on the court,"

you slung the duffle bag over your shoulder, a grin spreading across your face, "thanks," you replied, feeling a flush of pride welling up inside you.

"and that little wink you sent me during my serve earlier," he said, giving you a pointed look.

you couldn't suppress the grin that spread across your face as you replied, "ah, so you did see it,"

"of course, i did," daichi said, "you're not exactly subtle, you know,"

"but careful with that attitude sweetheart, or i'll have to teach you how to behave yourself," he reached up and tucked a strand of hair heind your ear, dragging his finger down the curve of your face.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swelling in your chest, "is that a threat, daichi?" you asked, unable to keep the cheeky tone from your voice.

he chuckled softly, a mischievous gleam in his eye, "it's a promise. but I have a feeling you might enjoy it,"

with that, daichi walked away after sending you a sly look. you could feel your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

meanwhile, noya and tanaka were watching the interaction, their eyes wide with disbelief and amusement.

"did you just see that?" noya gasped, turning to tanaka, "our captain was totally flirting with her!"

"and not just flirting," tanaka chimed in, a sneaky grin spreading across his face, "he was laying it on thick, man. i think he's got some serious skills,"

"yeah, he definitely does. but I still can't believe he had the guts to do it right in front of us. our captain's got game, man,"

daichi spun around as he heard the sound of noya and tanaka's voices, his eyes narrowing as he shot them a warning glare, "shut it, both of you!"

[cosmiccrushes]

Drowning Lessons

Lucanis x Rook || 2.2k words

notes: this is in honor of the number of times I accidentally walked Rook off a cliff

also on ao3 :)

“Rook!” Her name ripped from his throat as his blade ripped through the chest of the Venatori in front of him. Lucanis caught the barest line of sight to her, just enough to watch another Venatori cultist land a boot to her stomach, pushing her off the ledge to the ocean below. 

Lucanis deftly raises his sword, blocking an attack. 

“Davrin! Rook!” 

The Grey Warden answers in confusion, sword poised to strike. “What about her?” 

“She went over the edge! Closest to you!” Lucanis brings his blade down through one Venatori just to have them replaced by another. An endless see of rats swarming over them.  

“And?” Davrin shouts back. 

Mierda. “The ocean! She can't swim!”

Davrin doesn't miss a step against the shield-bearing Venatori charging him. “You're kidding me?” 

Lucanis dispatches two more agents. “No!” And he was going to give her- and Viago- an earful about it after he fished her out. “Cover me!” He orders Davrin.

Davrin huffs out between swings of his sword. “I'm. A. Bit. Busy.” 

But Lucanis is already sidestepping two more cultists descending on him, launching himself in a blur of shadowy feathers off the ledge Rook fell from. 

He hits the water's edge, cutting smoothly and silently under before gliding gracefully to the surface, ever the assassin. It wasn't hard to locate Rook where she thrashed inefficiently against the current, her head bobbing under waves. She coughed on choking mouthfuls of seawater.

Lucanis broke into swift strokes in her direction, calling her name. He made it a mere three strokes away before she lost the battle with gravity and was dragged down.

Fear seized his heart, Spite growled in fury. Dive, the demon hissed. Lucanis didn't need to be told once. He dove in Rook’s direction. Propelling himself forward until her mane of curls floated before him. Her eyes were wide, panicked and she released a precious breath of air in surprise when she saw him. She clawed at her own chest as if she could find air to grasp onto and shove into her lungs. 

Lucanis wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her upwards with him. He felt the moment she gasped out a breath and went too lank in his arms.

Faster…not going to make it, Spite threatened. 

Lucanis pushed against the oppressive current until at last he broke through to air. Rook's hair floated in the water around them, her lips a disastrous shade of blue, her eyes closed. 

“Rook! Stay with me!” He swam to the shore, dragging her onto the sand, where she lay- all the lifelessness of his worst nightmares. 

She isn't breathing, Lucanis thinks frantically, trying to recall what he'd learned about resuscitations. He was used to stealing life, not restoring it. Do something! Spite demands.  

One calming breath for himself before he presses his lips to Rook's. Chest compressions between pleas- and threats- for her to breathe. 

The fates grant mercy when Rook finally coughs up water, turning onto her side to vomit up more. Lucanis pats her back. She wipes a hand across her mouth. Pushes wet, clinging coils of hair out of her face, before giving him a watery smile. 

“Thanks.” 

Lucanis hangs his head, a dry, haunted laugh dropping from his lips.

Mierda. 

A sound like a scoff from Spite. Perhaps he and the demon were finally in agreement about something. 

*** 

“You have to learn to swim, Rook.” 

Rook rolls her eyes. “It's not that big of a deal.” 

“Not that big of a deal?” Lucanis repeats in exasperation. “Rook, you nearly drowned! All because you failed to block one kick to the face.” 

“First of all,” she places her hands on her hips. “It was a kick to the stomach. That's a way bigger target to hit-” Now it's Lucanis’ turn to roll his eyes. “And second of all, I hate the water.” 

Lucanis fights back a second eye roll at her petulant tone. “Wouldn't you hate for it to be your death, then?” He'll attempt to coax her with the promise of dishonor and shame if that's what it takes. He's not going through that again. Hasn't stopped thinking about how the weight of her too-still body had felt against his.

Rook narrows her eyes in thought. “I guess that would be pretty unfortunate to have written at my grave.” 

Lucanis nods mutely. 

“But there's no time! I don't have time to learn how to swim when our allies need constant support and, oh yeah, my ancient elven gods are still trying to blight the world.” Lucanis can hear her frustration and fear, like a current bending her goals and priorities. 

“There is always time,” Lucanis says softly, “For keeping you alive.” 

The cynical armor she dons for protection falls away as she looks at him, her tone turning solemn. “Thank you for jumping in after me, Lucanis. I know I would've died if you hadn't.” 

“Never on my watch.” He vows. 

Rook smiles. “I was careless today, distracted. We can't afford that. It's just-” She rubs a hand against the back of her neck. “Seeing those Shadow Dragons, strung up and left there… It’s wrong. I chose to go to Treviso. I chose my city. And the Shadows paid the price.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. 

“We all make choices and we all get distracted sometimes. Especially when people we care about are hurting.” Lucanis says gently, knowing her mind is whirling with thoughts of Neve. 

She sighs. “Yes, and that distraction nearly cost me my life today. Death by drowning.” Her head shakes with her irritation. “Not even run through with a blade like a proper failed assassin.” She ponders a moment more. “Okay, Lucanis. I'll learn to swim.” 

Lucanis smiles in relief.

“If,” Her typical mischievous flare returns. “You agree to be the one who teaches me.” 

A wet, distinctly unclothed Rook flashes through his mind. He inclines his head in acquiescence. “It would be my pleasure.”

***

Lucanis waits for Rook by a canal near his family home. He and Illario used to come here as boys in the summertime. He must be smiling at the memory when Rook strolls up. 

“What are you grinning about?” 

“Just thinking of fond childhood memories.” 

“Hmm,” Rook muses. “What are those like?”

Lucanis wants to ask her more questions, desperate to soak up every ounce of information he can about her, but she's already moving past him, looking warily down the stony steps that descend into the water. Dampness clings to the stones. 

“So we just…walk into the water?” 

Lucanis grins, starting to unbutton his layers of protective clothing. “Yes. And then we swim. The steps go down into the water a couple feet before dropping off. It's quite deep,” he warns. 

She worries at her bottom lip, apparently coming to a silent agreement with herself as she nods once and begins disposing of her gear. Lucanis tries not to stare, but, well, as she sheds down to her light undergarments, it can’t be helped. It has never been lost on him that she is beautiful. He'd registered that as soon as he'd met her. But seeing her like this…no armor, no swords or gleaming daggers. Looking vulnerable and more intimate than Lucanis knew whether he could deal with. 

She drops a last dagger on top of the pile of her clothes, glancing up to catch him watching her. He doesn't look away and is pleased when her eyes sweep over his bare chest and her cheeks blush a rosy hue.

She clears her throat, heading down the steps. “Promise you won't let me drown?” 

“We have a contract. One much better served if you're alive.” He aims for a playful tone.

“You and your contracts,” she mutters. “I'll be taking one out on you if I don't make it out of this canal alive.” 

Lucanis laughs. “You might have to fight Viago for that particular deal.” 

She laughs too, looking back at him. Her smile is wide and wild. “I think you're probably right!” She seems gleeful at the prospect of fighting her house leader for a contract. 

“Okay so, what do I do?” She cautiously dips a toe in the water before easing her foot onto the frist submerged step. 

Lucanis steps around her and makes a rather showy move of diving head first into the water. Spite loves the theatrics too. When Lucanis surfaces, shaking wet hair out of his eyes, Rook is glaring at him with her arms crossed. 

“I am not doing that.” 

“Mierda, no! Sit down on the step, let's ease you in.”

She does as instructed, scooting down the steps until she's chest deep in water. She tilts her head back as though she can escape the gently lapping waves. 

“You know you're going to have to get your hair wet to do this properly?” 

“I'm not worried about my hair. I'm worried about my mouth.” She finally registers his teasing tone. “Oh shut up!”

She reaches out a palm to shove his shoulder where he treads water in front of her and he strikes. Grasping her wrist against his skin and pulling her off the final step. She yelps, clings onto his shoulders. His hand at her waist presses her to him. The water is cold, but her skin is warm from the sun.

She catches her breath, beats a fist against his chest. “Lucanis! You absolute demon! How could you! I could've been killed!”

He leans his head back and laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. He feels the lightest he's felt since leaving the Ossuary.

Rook pauses her tirade as she seems to realize what's happening. She gives him a final shove, sending him away from her as she takes a step back, rising so the tops of her shoulders peek above the water line. 

“You said it was deep!” She points an accusatory finger at him. “You liar!”

“I thought it would be better to discover it's not as bad as you feared.” 

She huffs. “I hate that you're right.” 

He wades closer to her. “First thing, we teach you how to float.”

***

“Rook, you have to stop fighting the water,” Lucanis coaxes, his hand under her back offering support. Everytime he tries to move it away so she can float on her own, panic grips her. Her lower half drops like a stone and she is left flailing. 

“I'm trying. It's rather hard to relax around something trying to kill you.” 

“I am here. Nothing will kill you.” 

She sighs. “Okay. I'm really going to try. Close my eyes and concentrate. You can't let go.”

Lucanis agrees. Her eyes flutter closed. Her hair halos around them. He traces the planes of her face, committing them to memory. She looks so peaceful. Lucanis feels a frightening certainty that he would kill any god asked of him to protect this. 

He feels her go weightless above his palm. The rise and fall of her breath comes steady and sure. He pulls his palm down into the water, just enough to completely break contact with her back. It sets off a chain reaction. Her eyes burst open, her arms spasming out to the sides. The force of her surprise knocks him away and her body folds under. He's after her in the same breath, hauling her back up. She splutters and coughs out water before launching herself at him. He expects a blow. He goes rigid with shock when her arms wrap around his neck and she buries her face against him. 

He's seen her face down countless demons and Venatori. Never has she sounded more scared than she does now. 

“You said you wouldn't let go! You promised! You have to keep your promises!” She sounds dangerously close to tears. 

Lucanis cradles her against him. One hand around her lower back lifting her up out of the water, the other at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair. 

“I'm sorry, mi amor. I'm sorry.” He soothes, not registering what he's just called her. 

Slowly her shuddering subsides and she loosens her grip enough to draw back and look at him. “Mi amor?” She asks quietly. 

He considers lying, claiming she misheard. In the end he says, “Si.” 

She studies him for a moment. Reaches up a tentative hand to cup his cheek. His own breath is far from steady and sure. 

“Then we keep our promises.” He feels like she might mean more than just their swimming lessons. That she might be thinking of the larger threat looming over them and their promises to face it together, to make it through.

”Crows keep their contracts.” Looking into the depths of her eyes, he thinks she might be one contract he never wants to complete. The thought terrifies him. A feeling like he’s trapped in the Ossuary, the walls cracking around him ready to bury him in a watery grave. 

He can fight gods for her. But himself? The demon locked within? How could he possibly protect her from that?

“I think that's enough swimming lessons for today.” 

She rolls her eyes “More like drowning lessons.”

Ah yes, drowning indeed. 

[cosmicalily]

"bob the builder" - a jeongin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: merry almost christmas from me and jingly jeongin

warnings: pregnancy and sex jokes (nobody actually gets nasty dw), playful fighting

“Momo isn’t even my sister,” Jeongin whined, staring at the pile of pink wooden pieces strewn in front of the two of you. “Why do I have to help?”

“Because you’re my boyfriend, and you decided to promise her this gift,” you replied with a menacing smile. “And I helped you with Yoon’s presents last year.” You leaned in close to him, eyes sparkling, faces almost touching, and heard his breathing quicken. Then, at the last minute, you dodged him and reached for the instruction manual sitting behind him.

“You’re cruel,” Jeongin groaned, flopping onto the floor with a soft thump. You kneed him lightly and pulled him upright, raising an eyebrow.

“And you’re useless. Can you screw these two pieces together while I hold them? We have to get this done this morning so I can put it under the Christmas tree for Momo.”

With a sigh, Jeongin reached forward with the screwdriver and began twisting the screw. The process continued, the large Barbie dreamhouse beginning to gradually take shape. Eventually, you decided you’d work on assembling the plastic furniture while Jeongin built, and leaned against his hunched back applying stickers and stuffing miniature pillowcases as he grumbled and cursed. You placated him from time to time with a kiss on the cheek, humming along to the Christmas pop playlist you’d put on in the background.

By the time you’d completed the full set of furniture, the house was structured and built almost perfectly, minus a few chips and scratches (potentially results of Jeongin’s building rage). “It looks perfect, baby, she’s gonna love it!” you beamed, starting to assemble the furniture in each room.

“No, that’s the bathroom, stupid,” Jeongin tsked, moving the kitchen furniture into a larger pink-tiled room.

“How would you know? They look the same,” you quipped, returning the mini kitchen bench to its original space.

“I built it.”

“I bought it.”

“I read the instructions.”

“I looked at the picture on the front.”

“And the picture on the front seems to show the tiled room on the left as the kitchen,” he smirked, moving the furniture back with a flick of his wrist. “You also have to kiss me now, considering the way you teased me before. That’s not very Christmas spirit of you.”

You giggled. “Maybe I was pulling a Wham.”

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,” Jeongin sang, screwing his face up dramatically. “But the very next day, my girlfriend made me assemble a Barbie house for her sister and decided she’s never gonna make out with me ever again because she hates me and only wants me for free labour.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, feigning annoyance, but threw yourself onto him anyway, pressing kisses all over his face until he squirmed underneath you, moving his hands to settle on your waist. Finally, you moved your lips to his, kissing him softly yet feverishly; letting his tongue slip into your mouth when you parted your lips to breathe.

“Y/N,” a girl’s voice came from outside your bedroom door. You froze and leapt off your boyfriend, panicking as the door handle twisted. Your sister’s dollhouse was huge, and very much on display behind a pink-cheeked Jeongin.

“MOMO, DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR YET,” you shouted, darting up and grabbing hold of the handle, gesturing for Jeongin to do something. He dragged the house into the bathroom attached to your bedroom, then shut the door securely behind it, wiping sweat off his forehead and offering you a thumbs up.

You exhaled in relief and let Momo in, her face puzzled. “What were you doing?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Studying.” 

“Kissing.”

The two of you glared at each other.

“Were you…” Momo lowered her voice into a whisper and leaned in towards your ear. “Doing that thing where you kiss with no clothes on?”

Your face went bright pink and Jeongin snorted with laughter. 

"No," you hissed, and Momo blinked at you innocently. "We were studying, like I said."

"But Innie said-"

"Innie is an idiot," you declared, glaring at your boyfriend who remained in a fit of laughter.

"That's not very nice," Momo said, eyes wide. "Don't hurt his feelings. Innie, if she's being mean, you should break up with her and be with me instead, okay?"

Jeongin nodded sincerely. "I sincerely promise if our marriage doesn't go to plan, you will be my backup, Momo." You sighed at him, but your heart fluttered a little at his reply. He was so sweet with Momo. 

"You'd make a great dad," you blurted out, and Momo stared at you in shock.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?" Jeongin and Momo screamed in unison, and you burst out laughing.

"So you WERE doing that thing," Momo stared at you and Jeongin in disgust. "Mum told me that's how babies get made."

"No, no, fuck, Momo, OUT! You too, Bob the Builder. Mama needs some alone time," you grumbled, pushing your boyfriend out of the door. He stuck his tongue out at you, scooped up your little sister and ran with her down the stairs, turning his head back just before he disappeared to give you a wink.

He didn't miss the way your eyes sparkled at him.

"Builder? What were you building?" Momo's voiced echoed from the hallway.

"Oh, um…”

[fanaticsnail]

All i could think about when I saw this post was the hey doc series and how flustered some of the boys would be hearing some of those key terms, like sleeper agent triggers 😂

Shut up, Captain.

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 1,900+

Art by @thenotsofantasticlifestory. Check out Sto's other works!!

Synopsis: Wire comes into the medical bay and you're immediately springing to action. A crowd gathers at the door as they listen to you and Wire share a moment together that sounds far from innocent.

Themes: Wire x gn!reader, suggestive themes, spicy language, Kid Pirates x reader, surgery, blood, extractions, you are 'Doc' - the doctor of the Kid Pirates.

Notes: The way I cackled when I saw this ask, obsession. I didn't know which way I wanted to go with it, but I'm glad I went this way. I hope you like it too!

“Hey Doc?” A panicked voice called from your door, “Emergency, honey. Help. It-... It's stuck.” Turning in your seat, you took one moment at the tall, hooded commander’s face and immediately dropped your jaw.

“Wire.”

“It looks worse than-.”

“-Sit in the cot, Wire,” you ordered him, immediately moving to fetch your gloves hidden in your desk drawer. Turning directly around, you drew over to your office door and flicked the latch to lock the notch fully secured as you always would before you began a serious consultation.

You flicked your gloves in your hand as you made your way over to your sterile equipment to acquire all you need to treat the larger man. Drawing them over your fingertips with haste and a smack of the ring at your wrist, you flew into action with a haste you didn't recognise.

As he drew casually over to the bay and made himself comfortable reclining against the chair, you immediately bodied his chest with your elbows to pin him back against the surface. He looked at you with wide eyes as you bore down your weight on him.

“Listen to me really carefully, Wire,” you utter softly and firmly towards him. “You need to follow every single thing I have to say, alright? Nod for me.”

The taller man did as he was told, bobbing his head gently up and down while darting his eyes between yours.

“Good job. Now hold still.”

Stomping with heavy leather boot heels through the lengthy corridor on the Victoria Punk, Eustass Captain Kid’s amber eyes fell on an unusual sight gathered at the door to his doctor’s quarters.

Ears pressed to the door, eyes wide, bodies tense, and faces otherwise shocked: Bubblegum, Heat, Boogie, Killer, and Hop stood in momentary stasis as if frozen in fear. The only indication that there was no fear to be had was the rosy blush blooming on their faces, ears and trickling down their necks. Each person was red-faced while darting their pupils away from the door alongside leaning in closer.

“The fuck are you all do-?”

“-Shut up, Captain!” The joint hiss reverberated from the chasms of the chests and flooded from the lips of the small crowd. Kid curled his upper lip, flinching a little in shock at the immediate reaction. Arching his shoulders back and rolling his neck to relieve some tension, He took two steps forward and crouched in front of the door. Lowering his voice as he drew his eyes directly in front of Hop’s closed ones, he bore his intensity directly into her.

“What the fuck are we all doing?” he whispered softly. Hop opened her eyes but continued to stare at the door while her ears pricked up.

“Doc is domming Wire,” she hushed her tone in response. Kid’s eyes widened briefly, nudging her head out of the way to press his ear directly to the door.

"Open up more for me. Go on, I know you can stretch wider."

“Mmmmghfh-!”

“That's it, Wire. Doing so good for me. Keep it up just like that and you'll be finished soon enough.”

Kid recoiled away from the door, staring at the wood in disbelief before darting his eyes around the crew in front of him. Each of the five in front all drew up a dark blush on the skin revealed to him. Killer's flushed neck swelled as his Adams apple bobbed back a collection of saliva.

“Kil, how long have they been at this?” Kid hissed through clenched teeth at his first mate. Killer choked back a small cough and turned his mask towards Kid.

“About an hour,” the blonde responded, moving his ear towards the door and attempting to peer through the locked port in the door.

"Little bit of pressure coming up, just lay back and let me do the work," you purred affectionately at the taller commander. "I'm gonna have to push down on your tongue to keep it from flapping around too much.”

A muffled groan rose from Wire’s chest, causing the audience to internally shriek at the sentence.

“Since when does Wire get dominated?” Kid whispered down to Heat. The scarred firebreather glanced up at his captain and turned his head to the side.

“He doesn't. That's why we're all shocked as hell that it's happening-.” Heat’s voice cut off mid sentence as a particularly shuddered, keening whimper sprung up into the air from behind the door.

"Can you hold it a little longer, or do you need a break?" you asked, steady voice never wavering, "Almost there. I promise I'm really close, Wire. Just a little longer, and a tiny bit more pressure, and it'll come."

“Gods,” Boogie whispered softly, turning his head to the side and shrieking internally, “I really don't think we should be listening in on this. Kind of private-.”

“-Shut it, Boogie,” Kid whispered hurriedly, leaning in closer and listening to the sounds of soft rocking and moans from Wire expelling out. “This is a once in a lifetime thing. Didn't think Doc had it in ‘em to take on Wire, but bloody hell.”

At one more extremely loud moan, a joint sigh of relief was heard between both you and Wire. There were immediate sounds of sucking and suctioning mixed with fluids being spat into a bucket beside you both.

"Oh, so good Wire,” you praised him further, smacks of latex leaving your hands as the material fled from your skin, “Did such a good job. We got there in the end, didn't we?”

“Thanks, Doc,” Wire gasped through sputters of breath, “I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks for taking care of me, honey.” The sound of Wire’s breathy pants, his exclamation punctuated by his announcement of his next steps, and shuddered exhale caused the audience to jolt back from the door and begin to scatter throughout the hallway.

“Alright then, Wire. Just leave me with the clean up, why don't you?” you laugh over your shoulder as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway. Immediately meeting with an audience of six gathered over the threshold, he took a moment to peer down at them and furrow his brows.

“What the hells are you all doing out here?” Wire queeried with his brow arched and mouth slightly swollen larger than it was earlier in the day. Each person began to ‘um’ and ‘ah’ for excuses until Kid stepped forward and began his line of questioning.

“Knew you had the hots for Doc, but didn't think you'd actually act on it.” He shrugged, peering on past Wire as you halted your clean up at your sterilization bay. “Good on you, Wire. Weird that you'd let ‘em dom you immediately. Would've thought you'd-.”

“-What the fuck, Captain?” you call, turning around with your face flushed and eyes wild with rage. “This isn't a brothel, this is a medical bay. One: if I was to take a lover, it wouldn't be in this fucking space.” You gesture to the room and begin to step towards your captain with rage in every step, “And, two: Wire was literally just sitting in a chair with his mouth open while I was fishing glass out of the inside of his cheeks.”

Eustass Kid looked from you, then to Wire who's lips parted to reveal pink-stained gauze on the inside of his lips. Before Kid had an opportunity to ask the question as to ‘why’, you immediately answered.

“Some idiot accidentally placed glass in an ice bucket on the top deck. Wire made himself a drink with it, and as soon as he took a sip, several shards of glass split the insides of his mouth,” you growled, gently shooing Wire from your space alongside the rest of the crew at the door, “Thanking the gods that he didn't swallow it, and chose to spit it as soon as he realized, but the damage was done.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you snarled sarcastically at your loitering crowd while waving Wire on with a smile. The rest of the crowd fled the scene, Heat catching up with Wire and asking him follow up questions about the ice, and whether it was discarded before Dive got to it. Wire spoke to the best of his abilities with the gauze in his cheeks, but Heat managed to understand due to the fact that he spoke similarly when he first got his facial scars.

The only two members that remained were you and the captain, who was staring down directly at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You furrowed your brows in puzzlement, scrunching up your nose and glaring at him.

“What?” you asked with a small hint of venom in your tone. Kid took a step towards you, narrowing his eyes and judging your expression with his curiosity.

“Nothin’,” he snarled in return, lips pouting as he upturned his chin away from you, “Just sounded like you were getting cozy with the giant, is all.”

You growled up at him, taking a step forward and almost chest to chest with your captain as you bore into him with your fury. He couldn't help but then back around to face you, taken aback by your rage.

“If I did, it would not be in my medical bay for the same reason you don't take a partner in your workshop,” you snapped at him, pushing him from your door into the hallway with every step forward. “This is my space. A space where I do my job and take care of my crew. This is my sanctuary, my domain, and I will not desolate the space by claiming a lover in it. Now,” you shoved him back with your hands on his pectorals and watched as he stepped back to overemphasize your shove.

“I have a medical bay to clean and sanitize,” you whisper, taking the door in your hands and beginning to close the door, “So, do your job and get us closer to the Heart Pirates so I can switch out with them and see what their med bay is like-.” You attempted to shut the door, halted by a metal hand drawing up to grip the top of the frame.

“-Oh, come on,” he smirked down at you, tilting his head to the side and drawing his body closer, “You haven't even thought about it once?”

“No,” you utter firmly, prying the metal from your door and slapping at it, “Now do your job, and leave me to mine.” Kid chuckled at your tone of voice, lifting his metal hand up and releasing your door from his grip.

“You sure you wanna go through with this, Doc?” he asked you, his smirk leaving him and replaced by a genuine look of uncertainty, “Don't wanna lose you to them if I can help it.” His tangerine colored eyes scanned yours, darting between them as you softened your features with a sigh.

“I'd never leave you, Cap,” you reassured him, reaching your hand up and clapping him on the shoulder. Sharing a soft moment with him, neither of you speaking while he gazed down at you, you ruined the moment by whispering as intimately and quietly as you could towards him.

“Now get the fuck out of my space.”

“Aye, Doc,” he cackled, releasing the door entirely and stepping away from your medical bay, “And we'll be seeing the Polar Tang in about a day.” You nod with a smirk, closing the door in your captain’s face and returning to cleaning up the mess left behind by Wire’s accident with the glass in his drink.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession @saraptor-art

[sweetimpurity]

i think i speak for alotta Miguel lovers...but we need more blue collar Miguel. Bots AND fics.

🍊 no.2

Whatever you like. Mechanic. Engineer. Construction. Welder. Bricklayer. Tiler.

Could be in a relationship with us or maybe just the guy who comes around.... Oh even a maintenance man. Handy man. Bob the builder. Nah. But we all know we'd love to see him working a car..

Thank you anon for all these wonderful requests! I'm working my way through them and consuming the necessary media to do these justice haha! I love it! 🍊

These bots can all be found on my profile: sweetimpurity on c.ai!

Blue collar husband ೄྀ---ˊˎ-

He’s tired and dirty after work…

He's tired and dirty, sore and achy. Coming home after an insanely long day and walking up the steps to the front door is his last big hill to climb. All he could think about all day was your pretty face. He absolutely hated leaving the bed this morning. Wanted to stay there with you in his arms. But his job is demanding and tough. A different construction sight, more shingles, new bricks to be laid all the time. But he does it all for you. Even more than for himself.

He finally makes it to the door, opening it with his key and stepping in. Relishing in the quiet of the apartment, knowing you're in here somewhere.

"Baby, I'm home..." He calls softly, putting his bag down, peeling his jacket off and the hat he was wearing pretty much all day. "Jesus..." He sighs, seeing the dust covering the brim of the cap, watching it fall off onto the carpet and onto his hands. "I'm filthy..."

Handyman Miguel  :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

He’s come to fix your pipes… 😉

The faucet is leaking again. Of course. Because as soon as you get someone to come fix your radiator, something else would break. With the cabinets under the sink wide open, towels scattered across the floor, the boards under the sink soaked and warped, cleaning supplies and things all scattered across the kitchen floor... you're just waiting for your savior to finally come. The plumber you called in a sort of emergency request to help stop your floor from completely flooding through.

So antsy you wait here. You live alone so there aren't any roommates sharing in your panic. Watching the pipes leak into a pan under the sink, checking it every half hour. Watering your plants on the fire escape with the water that collects. Then instantly putting the pan back under there to collect the water seeping out through the threads of the pipes. Feeling quite helpless.

Finally after this process continued all morning long, there's a knock at the apartment door. You're in the process of bringing the pan back to the sink when you hear it. "Just a second!" You call frantically, putting it down and rushing over to the door. Practically ripping it open. And delivering a long winded explanation of everything that's gone on all day, all in one breath, all in a panic.

The poor handy man stands there, listening to your panicked retelling of all that's gone on. His dark eyes slightly widened, looking down at you from his tall height with soft concern.

Extra! *ೃ༄

Firefighter husband 

Your lifesaver…

"Pa! Pa! Papa!" His little girl squeals, bouncing up and down as he pulls his jacket off and puts his bag down after a long day at the station. Some routine checks and a car accident on the interstate were what made up his day today and he's tired to say the least. But seeing his kids and you makes it all worth it.

"Hey mija..." He grins, picking her up as much as it strains his muscles. Giving her big kisses on her chubby little cheek as she instantly starts telling him all about her day. Soon after, he sees you and the other little ones emerge from the kitchen to greet him at the door. He's grateful for his family after a day like that. To see everyone's faces after the day he had is like heaven.

Kinda went overboard ha! I hope you like them! And if you have any critiques or the links don't work let me know! Love ya! More to come...

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Sixteen

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky has a scare and both Jake and Bob rush to the hospital

WC: 1.6K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were at work the first time you felt it. 

A zap. A buzz, deep in your abdomen. It lasted for a second, a prolonged sting, before evaporating. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and willed it to leave. That was something you hadn’t been prepared for about pregnancy. Not that you had prepared much, or at all, to start. But the accompanying anxiety that riddled every moment. Every flutter, every cramp or aversion or heat sensitivity drove you into a Googling rampage. 

If you were this bad now, what would happen when the baby was born? 

It happened again as you were taking your lunchtime walk near the water. A sting that echoed deep within the recesses of your expanding abdomen. You stopped, one hand on your stomach, eyes wide. 

“Are you alright, dear?” An older woman stopped, concern lacing her features. 

You nodded. “Yes, thanks. All fine.” 

She watched you cautiously before nodding and slipping back into the crowds. You stopped toward a bench and placed one hand on the back, steadying yourself. 

When the pain came again, and this time you knew it would, you grimaced, digging out your phone. 

Jake’s cell. It went to voicemail and your heart rate started to spike. Next you dialed Bob, and the same fate. 

Panic started to set in. 

Eyes bleary, you pressed Phoenix’s contact in your phone. It rang until an automated voice said the mailbox was full. 

Finally, Bradley. He picked up at the last ring, breathless. “Y/N? Are you alright?” 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, heart racing. “I was walking and I'm in pain and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Oh Jesus.” There was a pause. Then, “Call an Uber, I’ll meet you at the hospital. That’ll be faster than me picking you up.” 

“Where’s Jake?” you demanded. “And Bobby.” 

“Test flight,” he replied. “Phoenix is with them. They’ll be gone for another few hours.” 

“I’m scared,” you admitted. 

“I know,” Bradley said. “So am I. I’m getting in my truck now, OK? I’ll meet you there, don’t worry.” 

***

True to his word, Bradley was there by the time they were placing your IV. 

“What happened?” he demanded. 

The nurse looked up. “This your boyfriend?” 

You shook your head furiously. “No.” 

She shrugged. “Too bad.” 

You rolled your eyes as she left the room. “That’s how they all are, you know,” you said as she eyed Bradley on her way out. “The second y’all step into a room wearing those outfits, girls go wild.” You flicked your hand at his green flight suit. 

Bradley stepped toward the bed. “As much as I’d love to hear how hot you think I am, so I can use it to taunt Seresin later, I need to know what happened.” 

“They don’t know yet,” you replied. “My blood pressure is a little high I guess? They’re running some labs.” 

He ran his hand through his hair and you reached out, pressing your fingertips to his other arm. “Hey. It’s OK. I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“I don’t know how you do this,” he whispered. “That’s not even my baby and I’m panicked.” 

“You’ll be a great father one day.” His brown eyes lit up. “Speaking of fathers, where’s the one responsible for this?” 

“Let me call the station again,” Bradley replied. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Hurry.” 

***

“Where is she?” Jake skidded to a stop in the waiting room as Bradley paced in a tight circle. 

“Thank fuck,” he muttered. 

“Bradshaw. Where is she?” 

“Room 219.” 

Jake practically sprinted down the hallway. Your neck snapped to the right as you heard the door bash open, Jake standing with his hair mussed from his helmet, still wearing his flight suit and a pair of standard issue boots. “What happened?” he demanded, stepping closer as his green eyes flicked over the screens on the monitors behind you.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Relax.” 

“Relax?” Jake looked like his brains were going to burst out of his skull. “You’re joking, right? How the hell am I supposed to relax when I land and find out you’re in the damn hospital?”

“I thought military boys were good under pressure.” 

“There’s a difference,” Jake gritted out, “between gunning down enemy fire, and hearing that the mother of your child is in pain.” 

You grabbed his hand. “I’m fine,” you whispered. “Doctors said it was probably just Braxton Hicks contractions, nothing to worry about. They’re doing some blood and stress tests to make sure.” 

Jake dropped his head against your hand and you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead. He looked up, surprised, mouth open just as the door swung on its hinge again, Bobby practically sprinting into the room. “What happened?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You boys are really needy aren’t you?” 

His ice blue eyes zeroed in on yours. “That’s my niece in there,” he said. “I want to know that she’s OK.” 

“I’m fine, too,” you pouted.

Bob leaned over, wrapping you into a hug. “Thank God.” 

As he leaned back, you shook your head. “Look at the two of you. Absolute messes.” Bob and Jake looked at each other, and you laughed. “Doctors said I should be able to go home in an hour. So Jake, why don’t you go tell Bradshaw he’s OK to leave. And thank him for me?” 

“Alright honey.” 

You winced as the nickname floated in the empty recesses of the room. Bob lifted an eyebrow as Jake disappeared through the door. “Honey?” 

You were silent. 

Bob leaned against the hospital bed. “I repeat, honey?” 

“Leave it alone, Bobby.” 

“You’re my sister, I deserve to know what’s going on.” 

“You don’t have to be dad,” you whispered. Bob looked up, angry, but you continued. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. I don’t need you watching out for me and policing everything I do.” He started to speak but you cut him off with one hand raised. “I love you. And I love you for taking care of me and looking out for me. But when I say I need you to trust me, I need you to ease up a little.” 

Bob sighed. “Sometimes, I don’t know who I am if I’m not looking out for you.” 

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “I think you owe it to yourself to have a little fun. Be a little wild.” 

He grinned. “Wild? No way.” 

“Go out, have fun, be reckless.” You patted your stomach. “Have a beer for me. Or five.” 

He shook his head and stood up. “Do you want me to drive you home or Jake?” 

“Jake.” 

Bob walked to the door and pulled it open. “I feel like a dad dropping his kid off at kindergarten for the first time, watching you walk away.” 

“You know when I get married someday, you’re going to have to be the one to give you away.” 

“Don’t know if I can do that, Ducky.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Bob sighed. “I can’t give you away, Ducky. You never needed me that much. You never needed anyone. You were always enough, by yourself.” 

***

Jake wouldn’t let you out of his sight for even a minute from the moment the two of you stepped through the door. 

Finally, after you had settled into a pair of pajamas and eaten takeout, you turned to Jake. “You stink, by the way.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Excuse me?” 

“Go shower, please, I’m begging you.” 

He hesitated and you groaned. “What?” 

“You’re going to make me stand there, aren’t you?” you asked. “Like some overprotective new mother who puts her baby in a car seat and brings them into the bathroom while she takes a whore’s bath.” 

“Whore’s bath?” 

“You know. When you wash your private parts in the sink instead of taking a full shower.” 

Jake laughed. “I don’t know what’s funnier. The idea of you doing that, or the fact that you said private parts.” 

You shoved his arm playfully. “Shut up.” 

“Fine. I’ll shower. But you better not move until I’m back.” 

“Oh, what a threat,” you replied, snuggling deeper into the couch and flicking on the latest episode of Love Island. 

Jake emerged five minutes later, pulling a white t-shirt down over his still damp abs. Your eyes boggled for a moment before you could help yourself. “I saw that.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Stop being so mean to me, it’ll make me fall in love with you.” 

“You’re damaged goods, Seresin.” 

“You’re one to talk, Ducky.” 

“Ouch,” you giggled. “Is this foreplay?” 

Jake crawled onto the couch, crouching over you, one of his hands next to your head, the other brushing back the hair on your cheek. “Do you want it to be?” 

“Yes,” you breathed and Jake grinned. “But the doctor said I needed to wait at least forty-eight hours to make sure my blood pressure went down before I did any vigorous activity. And I have a feeling vigorous would be the right word choice.” 

Jake pulled back, a smirk across his handsome face. “Alright, let’s make a deal. I’ll plan a date for us on Friday. You pull out the sexiest dress you have and we’ll go out on the town.” 

You groaned. “Sexy dress? Are you kidding? I'm a whale.” 

“I’ll leave my card on the table. Buy a new dress.” 

“Jake, I can’t.” 

“It’s not a request, sweetheart,” he replied. “I like red on you.” 

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[gardenschedule]

What Happened In India?

(or around that time...)

Before

Shortly before we were due to leave for India John spent the weekend with Derek Taylor, a former journalist who had become the Beatles' press spokesman and a good friend to us all. He, his wife Joan and their five children lived in a big country house where they seemed incredibly contented. When he came home after that weekend John put his arms around me and said, 'Let's have loads more kids, Cyn, and be really happy' Despite my increasingly strong feeling that John was slipping away from me, it seemed at moments like that as though nothing had changed. John was off drugs and seemed almost like his old self. 'We can make it work, Cyn,' he said. 'When we're in India we'll have time for us and everything will be fine.' I hoped he was right.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

Cyn hoped that Rishikesh would afford seclusion, privacy and an opportunity for her and John to rediscover each other and to revive their marriage. ‘Impossible hopes,’ she said sadly. ‘John said to me just before we went to India that he wanted us to have more children. Well that came out of the blue, I can tell you. I was really surprised, as he’d never said a word about that before.

Lesley-Ann Jones - The Search for John Lennon

Cynthia: “It was a time for us all to drop out for a while. The years of fame and fortune had taken their toll on our nerves and minds. John and I both felt closer. There seemed to be a greater possibility of our finding a solution to personal difficulties. If our trip to India wasn’t going to solve our emotional problems, then nothing would.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

That letter made it crystal clear that they [John and Yoko] had been in contact. How well had they got to know one another? I tackled John, who told me she'd written many times, both letters and cards, but said, 'She's crackers, just a weirdo artist who wants me to sponsor her. Another nutter wanting money for all that avant-garde bullshit. It's not important.' I had no way of knowing whether he was telling me the truth. He sounded genuine, but a sixth sense told me there was more to this than he was admitting. I tried to put it to the back of my mind. We were going to India, and I wanted that to be a special time for us.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

John panicked at the accumulating threats from the Princess of Darkness. That was when he decided to go to India with Cynthia to put some distance between himself and Yoko. If he stayed away long enough, he could hope Yoko would just go away. Maybe she’d go back to America, or vanish in a puff of smoke. Her scissors act might go horribly wrong, or while she was bagged up one day the Royal Mail might frank the bag and deliver it to anywhere but India. Yes, a long trip to the ashram, where he could meditate and learn how to be calm and in control, give up drugs and spend romantic moments with Cynthia and glue his crumbling marriage back together, seemed opportune.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

“I don’t like the unhappiness she [Yoko] caused. She was horrible. John wanted to avoid her at first. He said, ‘Get rid of the bloody woman!’ But after India, he saw her differently — perhaps filtered through an exotic mindset.”

Tony Bramwell - the band’s ex-road manager

During

“The pressure of being the Beatles had driven a wedge between them individually and that had all percolated in the months leading up to their visit to Rishikesh,” he said. “Once they got there, and they unburdened themselves from all of that, they reconnected with their songwriting and their creativity. It just flowed forth.”

Bob Spitz to the New York Times

 “I was in a room for five days meditating,” said Lennon in The Beatles Anthology. “I wrote hundreds of songs. I couldn’t sleep and I was hallucinating like crazy, having dreams where you could smell. I’d do a few hours and they you’d trip off, three- or four-hour stretches. It was just a way of getting there, and you could go on amazing trips.” Cynthia Lennon said in Bob Spitz’s book The Beatles that for John, nothing else mattered when it came to mediation, adding “John and George were [finally] in their element [at the ashram]. They threw themselves totally into the Maharishi’s teachings, were happy, relaxed and above all found a piece of mind that had been denied them for so long.”

The Beatles in India: 16 Things You Didn’t Know

I was right in the Maharishi’s camp writing “I wanna die” you know. I’m So Tired and Yer Blues where they were pretty sort of realistic, you know, they were about me

Lennon Remembers

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da was born on the steps of one of the low slung cottages where the entourage lived. One day, remembers Saltzman, he was passing by the cottage when he saw Lennon and McCartney sitting on the front steps and strumming the tune on their acoustic guitars. He ran back, picked up the camera and took pictures of the two with a pensive-looking Starr sitting on the side, from outside a wicket gate. Saltzman remembers the two were singing the first two lines of the song "over and over again, going fast and slow, having fun". "That's the riff we have," McCartney told Saltzman, "but no words yet".

filmmaker Paul Saltzman

Jenny Boyd, Patti’s sister “I sat with John a lot, since he didn’t feel well, either from terrible jet lag, and insomnia. He would stay up late; unable to sleep, and write the songs that would later appear on The Beatles’ White Album. When I was at my lowest, he made a drawing of a turbaned Sikh genie holding a big snake and intoning, ‘By the power within, and the power without, I cast your tonsil lighthouse out!’ Sometimes, late at night, I can still hear John singing those sad songs he wrote during those evenings, like ‘I’m So Tired.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

John “I went to the Maharishi and, regardless of what I was supposed to be doing, I did write some of my best songs while I was there. It was a nice scene. Nice and secure and everybody was always smiling. The experience was worth it if only for the songs that came out. It could have been the desert or Ben Nevis. The funny thing about the Maharishi camp was that, although it was very beautiful and I was meditating about eight hours a day, I was writing the most miserable songs on earth, like ‘I’m So Tired’ and ‘Yer Blues.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

Meanwhile, I was not having the second honeymoon I'd hoped for. John was becoming increasingly cold and aloof towards me. He would get up early and leave our room. He spoke to me very little, and after a week or two he announced that he wanted to move into a separate room to give himself more space. From then on he virtually ignored me, both in private and in public. If the others noticed they didn't say so. I did my best to understand, begging him to explain what was wrong. He fobbed me off, telling me that it was just the effect of the meditation. 'I can't feel normal doing all this stuff,' He said. 'I'm trying to get myself together. It's nothing to do with you. Give me a break.' What I didn't know was that each morning he rushed down to the post office to see if he had a letter from Yoko. She was writing to him almost daily. When I learnt this later I felt very hurt.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

And because the Beatles didn’t know anything about ashrams and they haven’t seen anything before because they went for Maharishi, not for the ashram. Maharishi didn’t allow men to stay with their wives. John was delighted with the idea. He loved it, actually. I think it made Cynthia very unhappy. She wanted to stay with John, everybody had his own problems. My great interest was with John. I was very happy because I found John much healthier. The color in his face was different and he was happier and he took the whole thing very seriously, and he was trying hard and he was so excited when I arrived because perhaps I was part of the reason he was there.

Magic Alex in All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

We all went through a depression after Maharishi and Brian died; it wasn’t really to do with Maharishi, it was just that period. I was really going through the “What’s it all about?” type thing – this songwriting is nothing, it’s pointless, and I’m no good, I’m not talented, and I’m shitty, and I couldn’t do anything but be a Beatle. What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods. I was just about coming out of it around Maharishi, even though Brian had died – that knocked us back again. Well, it knocked me back.

John Lennon, interview w/ Barry Miles, (partially) unpublished. (September 23rd, 1969)

By spending two months in deep meditation in India, John brought his deepest problems to the surface but he was unable to resolve them: the contradiction between his family life and his life as a rock star with all the drugs and groupies was too great. Had he stayed with the Maharishi until the end of the course, he might have avoided some of the pain, but by terminating the instruction abruptly, he was left hanging in thin air. During the weeks at the camp, he had been receiving daily letters from Yoko, though nothing sexual had yet happened between them. He was very attracted by her but he felt tremendous guilt about breaking up his marriage: doing to Julian what his own parents had done to him, repeating the pattern.

Many Years From Now - Barry Miles

He [Mick Jagger] told me with amusement that the real reason why the Beatles left the Maharishi was that he made a pass at one of them: “They’re simple north-country lads; they’re terribly uptight about all that.” Am still not sure if I believe this story.

“The Sixties,” the second volume of Christopher Isherwood’s diaries

After

And I was slowly putting myself together after Maharishi, bit by bit over a two year period. I destroyed me ego and I didn’t believe I could do anything. I let Paul do what he want and say, them all of them do what they want, I was just nothing, I was shit. And then Derek tripped me out at his house after he got back from LA, and he sort of said you’re all right and pointed out which songs I’d written, and ‘you wrote this and you said this, you are intelligent, don’t be frightened’. And then next week I went down with Yoko and tripped out again and she filled me completely to realize I was me and it was alright.

Lennon Remembers

So much had changed since I’d last seen the Beatles just a few months previously. They had come back from their trip to India completely different people. They had once been fastidious and fashionable; now they were scruffy and unkempt. They had once been witty and full of humor; now they were solemn and prickly. They had once been bonded together as lifelong friends; now they resented one another’s company. They had once been lighthearted and fun to be around. Now they were angry.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

The rage that was bubbling inside John was the most obvious sign that something was seriously wrong. There was new tension between John and Paul, and even between John and Ringo, in addition to the often strained relationship that Paul had with George and the resentment that Ringo sometimes exhibited when Paul coached him too much on drum parts. In fact, the only two Beatles who seemed to get along during the White Album sessions were John and George. Perhaps that came from the experience they had shared at the ashram—after all, they were the two who had stuck it out, staying on long after Ringo and Paul had gone back home. Maybe they felt deserted by their bandmates, or betrayed. The undercurrents between the four Beatles were so complex at that point, it gave me a headache just thinking about it.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

Our first night back in the studio began, as usual, with small talk and catching up. “So how was India?” I asked. “India was okay, I guess… apart from that nasty little Maharishi,” John replied, venomously. Harrison looked deflated, as if it were a conversation they’d had many times before. With a deep sigh, he tried to calm his agitated bandmate. “Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad,” he interjected, earning a withering glance. Lennon’s bitterness and anger seemed almost palpable. Ringo tried deflecting things with a little humor. “It reminded me of a Butlins holiday camp, only the bloody food wasn’t as good,” he said with a wink. I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other. I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed. They were searching for something, but they didn’t know quite what it was; they had journeyed to India looking for answers, and they were disappointed that they hadn’t found them there… but it seemed to me that they didn’t even know the questions.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

“By all accounts, John had hit an all-time low [after India]. “John was in a rage because God had forsaken him,” George recalled. “Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.” According to Pete Shotton, who was spending time with John at Weybridge, there was an overriding feeling of humiliation—from the Maharishi, from the Apple Boutique shambles, from his deteriorating marriage, from what he felt was his shrinking position in the Beatles. “He was more fucked up than I’d even seen him,” Shotton remembers. “It seemed like everything was going to the dogs. He’d been desperately grasping [at] straws, as far as I was concerned, and there wasn’t even a straw there.”

the beatles: the biography, bob spitz

JOHN: How can two women split up four strong men? It’s impossible. You know, The Beatles were disintegrating slowly after Brian Epstein died, it was a slow death, and it was happening. It was evident in Let It Be – uh, although Linda and Yoko were evident then, but they weren’t when it started, I don’t think. It was evident in – in India, when George and I stayed there and Paul and Ringo left.

October, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

There was little need for me to repeat my instructions. As soon as we got there, it was obvious that things were not hunky-dory with the Beatles. Their recent month-long meditation retreat with the Maharishi didn’t seem to have helped their relationships very much, and the estrangement was definitely having an effect on their work. I don’t think any actual recording got done that night. Paul, George and Ringo were rehearsing some new songs, trying different ways of playing and singing them. Meanwhile, John spent most of his time sitting on the floor next to Yoko, chatting privately with her as she stroked his hair. He seemed no more involved in the proceedings than me and Lawrence, who watched the uncomfortable tension building from the other side of the studio. “Hey John.” Paul turned around to face him at one point. “Are you in this band or what?”

Leslie Cavendish, The Cutting Edge: The Story of the Beatles’ Hairdresser Who Defined an Era

Back at Kenwood John continued to be distant towards me. Now that we were away from the others and the charms of India, I felt increasingly afraid and depressed. John and I were back in the same bed, but the warmth and passion we had shared for so long were absent. John seemed barely to notice me. He was little better with Julian and was more likely to snap at him than give him a hug. There was just one moment of real warmth between us and that was, ironically, when John confessed to me that he had been unfaithful. We were in the kitchen when he said, out of the blue, 'There have been other women, you know, Cyn.'

John (Cynthia Lennon)

On the flight back from India, he had gotten very drunk and, for some reason, decided to confess all his affairs to Cynthia. Brutally, he ticked off a very long list, which included groupies, models, prostitutes, the wives and girlfriends of his and Cynthia’s friends and, possibly cruelest of all, Cynthia’s own girlfriends. Cynthia felt totally betrayed.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

The shattering of his faith in the Maharishi, meanwhile, had left John spiritually adrift once more; his instinctive response was to return with a vengeance to his former drug habits. (Like the other Beatles, John had totally abstained from alcohol and drugs while in India.) In retrospect, it's easy to see how wide open John was, at this particular juncture, to anything—or anybody—that might conceivably lift him out of his rut.

The Beatles, Lennon, and me - Pete Shotton

PAUL: I gave myself a set period, and then if it was gonna be something we really had to go back for, I was thinking of going back. But at the end of my month I was quite happy and I thought… this’ll do me. This is fine. If I want to get into it heavy, I can do it anywhere. That’s one of the nice things about it, you don’t have to go to church to do it, you can do it in your own room. So I was quite happy.

RINGO: I left just a little disillusioned, and John was a little disillusioned when he came back, and Paul was. [pause] George just loved it.

1993 rough cut of the Anthology series

Although Paul was the first to leave [India] disillusioned, John left in the mind of, ‘OK, well, we tried, we surrendered to God but it wasn’t God, it was Maharishi and this God thing is proving itself to be a total fallacy’ - and then went back to being The Beatles.

I left Rishikesh with John. Alex [Madras] had been the naughty boy who’d stirred everything up. John went in a rage because God had forsaken him (although it was nothing to do with God, really). Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.

I went to South India […] and everything that happened to me went wrong to the point that I felt, like John and Alex, that the Maharishi had put the heeby-jeebies in me.

George Harrison, c/o Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift. (1984)

JOHN: I’ve got no regrets at all, ‘cause it was a groove and I had some great experiences meditating eight hours a day—some amazing things, some amazing trips— it was great. And I still meditate off and on. George is doing it regularly. And I believe implicitly in the whole bit. It’s just that it’s difficult to continue it. I lost the rosy glasses. And I’m like that. I’m very idealistic. So I can’t really manage my exercises when I’ve lost that. I mean, I don’t want to be a boxer so much. It’s just that a few things happened, or didn’t happen. I don’t know, but something happened. It was sort of like a click and we just left and I don’t know what went on. It’s too near—I don’t really know what happened.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: The first Rolling Stone interview. (November 23rd, 1968)

Cynthia Lennon “John had taken acid once more and enthused, ‘Cyn, it was great. Christ Cyn, we’ve got to have lots more children. We’ve got to have a big family around us.’ At this point, I burst into tears … All I could blurt out was that, in no way, could I see us as he did. I was so disturbed by John’s outburst, that I even suggested that Yoko Ono was the woman for him. John protested at my crazy suggestion and suggested that I was being ridiculous. Although life went on as usual, my fears grew and I felt nervous and depressed. John was aware of my depression and suggested that, as he had to work for long hours in the recording studios for a few weeks, I should accompany Jenny, Donovan, Gyspy and Alexis on a holiday to Greece. The very thought of sun and sea really brightened my outlook.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

During the spring of 1968, John was as confused, lonely, and unhappy as I'd seen him in years. Though his relationship with the other Beatles was still free of serious strain, he was seeing increasingly less of Paul and George, both of whom were now pursuing independent lives and interests of their own.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

The resentment might have been coming from a different place. With his marital problems still unsettled and Cynthia gallivanting around Greece, drugs continued to govern John’s fitful moods. He dosed himself continuously with LSD, tweaking its random effect with any spare pills he happened to find lying around the house. In the right company, it plunged John into a deep, unfathomable trance that altered between indecipherable rambling and deadpan silences. At Weybridge, into which Pete Shotton had moved in order to keep his friend company, he stayed up nights, tripping and battling wave after wave of incendiary rage. One night, after the usual snack of hallucinogens, Shotton says he noticed John moving his arms around very slowly in a circle. “I said, ‘What are you doing?’ ” recalls Pete, “but John couldn’t explain it. He said, ‘I can’t stop. There’s something making me do this. I can’t help myself.’ ” Tears followed, uncontrollable rivers of tears, intermingled with hideous laughter. When Shotton tried to comfort him, John resisted. “I’m not crying,” he insisted peevishly, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand. Suddenly John declared that he was Jesus Christ, back from the grave. “He was convinced of it,” Pete recalls, “saying… ‘This is it, at last—I know who I am.’ ” The next day the Messiah convened an emergency meeting at Apple to announce his identity to the other Beatles. Unimpressed, they said: “Yeah, all right then. What shall we do now?” After someone suggested lunch, the matter was dropped.

That night at Weybridge, in the middle of another drug-induced reverie, the TV flickered off, whereupon John, already chastened and in a self-abasing mood, asked Pete if it was okay if he invited a woman to the house. Shotton, who had no intention of staying up another night with his friend, was relieved. “Well, I think I’ll call up Yoko,” John said.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

What happened that night can only be left to the imagination, but since it patently wasn’t the coming together of two virgins for the very first time, did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. So it must have been something pretty potent that made John fall headlong out of his casual affair with her into a mad obsession. Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania. If he really did believe that he was Jesus, Yoko would probably have convinced him she was the Virgin Mary. A virgin at any rate. John was shortly to tell the world that they spent the night at the top of the house in his bloodred music room, recording the Two Virgins tape. They say that a moose in heat can waken the dead and achieve the impossible with his bellows. John and Yoko spent the night screaming.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

Whatever her reasoning, Cynthia remained determined to see the marriage through [after finding John and Yoko together]. Convinced that John still needed her, she returned to Kenwood, mollified by his apparent denial that anything improper had occurred. “For a while, everything was wonderful,” she recalled. “We could speak more openly and honestly with each other, and there really was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.”

But the tunnel was short, and the light soon faded. Within weeks their life together had disintegrated into a revolving state of solicitude and withdrawal, resignation and despondence. Following a stretch when John became disturbingly incommunicative, Cynthia packed once again, escaping on still another vacation to Pesaro, Italy, with her mother, Julian, and a favorite aunt and uncle.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

No sooner were they back from India, than Jane returned to her work at the Bristol Old Vic, and Paul launched into what was probably the most relaxed time of his life. He opened wide the doors of Cavendish Avenue and the groupies, who had camped as faithfully outside as they had in Wimpole Street during the years that Paul had lived there with the Asher family, were astonished to find they were now invited in. Not only were they invited into the house, but also into Paul’s bed. Whenever I went up to see Paul, the house was filled with giggling, half-naked girls, cooking meals, walking Martha, or glued to the phone for hours on end, calling the world.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

It came as a welcome relief that John and Paul, along with Neil Aspinall, planned a quick trip to New York on May 11, where several press events had been scheduled to announce Apple Records in the States. Friends agreed that getting John away might do him a world of good; being alone, with just Paul to steady him, might have a calming influence. But Paul was grappling with his own set of anxieties. “We wanted a grand launch,” Paul said, “but I had a strange feeling and was very nervous.” Drugs, he later admitted, may have been at the root of his problem; there was a lot of dope-smoking before takeoff and even during the transatlantic flight. But Jane Asher also helped spike Paul’s mood. The grudging engagement between Beatle and actress had been ticklish at best. But since traveling together in India and a subsequent ten-day trip to Scotland, Jane’s eccentricities rankled. Paul was having serious second thoughts about the relationship, which had reached a kind of critical, now-or-never stage.

Between John’s attitude and Paul’s paranoia, the Beatles were a PR nightmare. “It was a mad, bad week in New York,” recalled Derek Taylor, who met the two Beatles there to chaperone a round of press conferences, followed by interviews. Taylor had fashioned himself into a debonair drug aficionado since the Beatles first dosed him at Brian Epstein’s housewarming party, and now he and John gorged themselves on speed and a “mild and extremely benign hallucinogen” called Purple Holiday, courtesy of their New York chauffeur. The effect of it came through in the interviews. John was gallingly withdrawn and dismissive, Paul unusually distracted—which made them come off as two rich, snooty rock stars peddling another product.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

“WHITE: ‘Not Guilty’, on George Harrison, written during the sessions for the Beatles’ White Album, was a pointed barb at your old bandmates. GEORGE: It was me getting pissed off at Lennon and McCartney for the grief I was catching during the making of the White Album. I said I wasn’t guilty of getting in the way of their careers. I said I wasn’t guilty of leading them astray in our all going to Rishikesh to see the Maharishi. I was sticking up for myself, and the song came off strong enough to be saved and utilized.”

George Harrison, interview w/ Timothy White for Musician: The quiet Beatle finally talks… about everything. (November, 1987)

+ a couple of extra things

A quick timeline

December 25 Paul and Jane announced that they were engaged to be married.

February 15 George, Patti, John and Cynthia flew from London Airport to India.

February 19 Paul, Jane, Ringo and Maureen flew from London Airport to India.

March 26 Paul, Jane and Neil Aspinall flew back to England from Rishikesh, leaving George and Patti, John and Cynthia and “Magic” Alex who had come out to join them.

April 12 John and Cynthia, George and Patti and “Magic” Alex left in a hurry from Rishikesh, India, after “Magic” Alex convinced John and George that the Maharishi was using his position to gain sexual favours from at least one of the female meditators.

May 11 John and Paul, accompanied by “Magic” Alex, Neil Aspinall, Mal Evans, Ron Kass and Derek Taylor, flew to New York to launch Apple in the US.

May 15 Accompanied by Linda, Nat Weiss drove John, Paul and “Magic” Alex to the airport for their flight back to London.

May 19 With Cynthia taking a short holiday, John called Yoko Ono and invited her out to Kenwood. They made a random sound tape, which was later issued as Two Virgins with the notorious sleeve showing them both naked.

May 26 Cynthia returned home from a brief holiday in Greece, to discover Yoko Ono in residence with John.

May 31 Abbey Road. The White Album sessions. Work continued on ‘Revolution 1’ and the last six minutes was removed to form the basis of the chaotic ‘Revolution 9’. Yoko screamed on the track, her first appearance on a Beatles recording.

June 4 Paul began seeing Francie Schwartz.

June 22-23 On this day Paul McCartney addressed a sales conference attended by executives from Capitol Records, where he announced that all future Beatles records would be released through the group’s Apple Records label. The day after they fell in love in Los Angeles, Paul McCartney and Linda Eastman spent much of the day together at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where he was staying as part of an Apple promotional trip.

July 20 Jane Asher, appearing on Simon Dee’s BBC Television show Dee Time, said that her engagement to Paul was off – but that it was not she that had broken it. She told Dee that they had been engaged for seven months, after knowing each other for five years. (She had arrived back at Cavendish Avenue one day to find Paul in bed with a girl named Francie Schwartz.)

The Beatles Diary Volume 1 The Beatles Years (Barry Miles) & https://www.beatlesbible.com/

A comment from Heydullblog, which I find interesting and think sums up how insufficient & unsatisfying most explanations are for how John changed during this period:

Michael Gerber November 25, 2021 at 4:31 pm

What, in all that, makes you HATE Cyn, and divorce her in the most abrupt and vicious way, even attempting to get her to commit adultery so you can give her (and your own son) as little as possible? Why not a quick and amiable divorce from a woman who, let’s be honest, knew she was getting cheated on pretty constantly since 1961.

What, in all that, makes you HATE Paul McCartney, who has been your closest professional collaborator since 1957, and engage in a five-year campaign to smear and demean him in the press? Why do you insist your millions of fans choose you or him? Why not simply pause the group, and everybody goes solo and remains friends, as was predicted at the end of touring?

What makes you DETERMINED to bust up your rock group, the most popular group in the world, the source of all your fame, money, and power?

What makes you pick Yoko Ono IN PARTICULAR out of all the groupies, hangers-on, and even sensible appropriate partners within your current circle? Eighteen months ago you were attracted to Maureen Cleave, Sonny Freeman, Alma Cogan, etc — pretty much the type of women you always picked — but now, you pick a conceptual artist offering total submersion into someone else’s ego?

And what makes you spend the rest of your life pretending all this was the greatest thing ever, the fullest flowering of your genius?

It’s not that John Lennon looked around at his life in early 1968 and thought, “I don’t want this anymore. This isn’t for me.” It’s that he lashed out incredibly fiercely, in every direction, made no distinction between friend and foe, demonstrated a huge amount of resentment and bitterness towards the very people who it would seem had helped him the most, and spent literally the rest of his short life at least arguably LESS happy than he’d been before. He didn’t dump his wife for the nanny and live happily ever after; he started a process of picking things up and throwing them away with great force that, if he’d been that way in 1957, would’ve kept any of his genius from ever emerging.

He changed, fundamentally, in a short time. Why?

Midlife crises happen, they are to be expected, but this one gets more singular the more you look at it. And the thing about post-India Lennon is how he’s no more happy, no more productive, no more self-aware, no more comfortable in his own skin, than pre-India Lennon. What does the guy in August 1980 have to be angry about? Really? It was only after I reached middle-age and went through my own version of crisis (crises) that I thought, “How strange.”

[lueurjun]

“ let’s just get married ” | heeseung and jay.

the boys reaction to you suddenly professing that you would in fact, like to get married.

. . . . . . . ꒰ HEESEUNG ꒱ ,,

give him a sec

he’s rebooting

his mind went through an unplanned update

because clearly there’s something wrong with it since he swears he just heard you tell him you wanna get married

“hUh?”

you don’t seem to catch onto his confusion in the slightest

because you’re just sat cheesin

you after breaking your boyf 😃

“like… in a couple of years?”

you shake your head, still grinning as though you just won the lottery

heeseung gulps so loud you can hear it from half way across the world

it’s true. i heard it from here.

to be honest—bros petrified

not that he doesn’t want to marry you

he has visions of it

breaking news! lee heeseung is really that’s so raven confirmed!

but now it’s perhaps a little too early for him

still the look on your face had his heart shitting itself

because you look so excited

and telling you to wait would probably break your heart

which lee heeseung would never do

cos then he’d have to go through me. and i have watched kung fu panda. i know my shit.

so he wraps his arms around your waist and draws you in until your foreheads are touching.

cant see his panicked expression if he connects foreheads

and with a thudding heart, he manages to choke out a reply

“then let’s get married.”

imagine i wrote ‘then marry someone else’. oof the drama would be out of this world

now it’s your turn to be panicked

because the reality of it all comes crashing down on you like a thundering avalanche

and suddenly you’re pushing him away

“i don’t want to.”

hA NOT YOU REJECTING HIM AFTER SENDING HIM THROUGH EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

heeseung just blinks at you

because weren’t you the one who proposed this idea?

what do you mean ‘you don’t want to?’

now he’s hurt

because why don’t you want to marry him?

“is it something i said?”

he’s frowning now, resembling a puppy that just got kicked

“no! no! it was just in the moment-you know? you just looked perfect and i felt perfect with you and i got carried away. that doesn’t mean i don’t want to marry you in the future! i think we should just wait.”

heeseung breathes a sigh of relief and pulls you back into his arms

“i’m so glad you think so because i am not ready for marriage yet—but with that being said, i will stick the biggest diamond on your finger when i am.”

compensation for making you wait—heeseung is in fact a sugar daddy 💸

he holds you tighter, and your gaze shifts to his ring finger, a fleeting moment of daydreaming how handsome he'd look with a wedding ring on

your mind is suddenly alive with visions of what married life with heeseung would be like, a flurry of images quickly cascading through your imagination

and suddenly, a familiar feeling tugs in your heart

cheekily, you grin up at him

“i’ve changed my mind. i wanna get married again.”

lord help him

. . . . . . . ꒰ JAY ꒱ ,,

did somebody say something?

no really…did they? he had earphones in and heard absolutely none of what you said

me every minute of everyday

he’s bobbing his head to his music without a care in the world

thriving in — unmarried — life, unburdened by any adult responsibilities or worries

he’s truly blissful

until you yank those earphones out of his ears and peer down at him with a scornful gaze

you could’ve sworn he had paused his music when you entered the room

“hey baby.”

i have been watching a lot of drew starkey edits and his ‘hey baby’ is imprinted in my mind so it must be applied to jay. i do not make the rules.

his face is lit up with an endearing smile, his eyes full of affection as he looks lovingly at you

which makes you smile and gaze back at him with the same expression

“i said, would you marry me?”

naturally, jay assumes that you’re just thinking about the future

which is totally natural in a relationship

so he doesn’t think anything of it when he shrugs his shoulders

“i’d marry you tomorrow.”

same. i’d marry you better than him tbh

now jay loves you

his love for you is as constant and timeless as the sun's relationship with the sky

but he wasn’t being literal. marriage is a huge step and as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you

he felt he was still too young

you didn’t seem to realize that it was just an expression because you started beaming

and jay, not realizing you had taken this literally and assumed you just liked the idea of marrying him in the future, beamed back at you

“great! we should look into venues—no! why don’t we fly to vegas? how does one elope? jay! we should look into eloping.”

at first, he's simply enthralled by the sound of your voice

but then the words register and suddenly he’s hyperventilating

he’s so real for that

“wha- el-eloping? like-in the future…possibly in like five years? maybe seven—”

“no? now! you said you wanted to get married tomorrow and i’ve been thinking that maybe we should? i mean, i don’t want anyone else and imagine married life jay! it would be perfect!"

married life with you would be perfect

jay would love nothing more than to wake up beside you every morning, a wedding band adorning your finger and sharing the same last name

he’d love to introduce you as his spouse, the idea of it alone gives him butterflies

but marriage is a huge commitment

“i mean it would but right now?”

hearing the panic in exchange for excitement, the bubble surrounding you pops

and suddenly, you’re no longer the embodiment of happiness

but disappointment

forget ksi and tommy fury, im gonna be in the ring with jay if he doesn’t marry the life out of you

his heart shatters at the look on your face and that alone has him reconsidering

he plans to marry you in the future, might as well keep that gorgeous smile on your face and push the date forward

“you don’t wanna marry me?”

he reaches out to you, taking your hands in his and guiding you to sit next to him. the closeness is almost overwhelming, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he pulls you onto his lap

bro i’m blushin rn!! look away. i don’t want you to see me like this

jay wastes no time showering your face with passionate kisses, eliciting an gradually forming smile from you

“no. no-i do wanna marry you, more than anything! but it’s just a little early, we can wait a few more years. time with you flies anyway so it won’t even be that long of a wait technically, we’re just… a bit too young yet.”

he’s right, and you hate admitting it

nah don’t fold bae. get that ring 💍

slumping your shoulders, you nod your head with a sigh

“i guess you’re right. i got a little too carried away. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you…”

jay shakes his head, planting a kiss on both of your cheeks, then your nose and then finally, your lips, though he lets that one linger

that alone manages to lift your mood drastically

“how about, we settle for a promise ring?”

your heart swells with emotion at the sweet sentiment and you find yourself unable to resist leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his once more

after a moment — or several — he finally pulls away and laughs

“i take it you like that idea?”

“i do”

[ghoularaki]

baby's breath | 11

↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 3,758

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, childhood trauma flashbacks

Sleep didn’t come to you easily that night. You were forced to stay curled up on your side. Tossing and turning wasn’t an option as not to disturb the plug stuffed deep in your ass. Your jaw, back and legs ached from the sustained position. Anytime you tried to stretch your sore muscles, the plug would move.

As the night went on, the lube and your own wetness had dried, leaving you raw and chafing. Your body begged you to reach behind you and rip the plug out, but you were terrified of the repercussions of Levi finding out. Or worse, while trying to unskillfully release yourself from the pain, you would tear something down there.

You had quickly run out of tears as you stared out into the room. After a couple minutes, your eyes adjusted to the dark. Eyelids slipped closed—at least for a moment—but anytime slumber beckoned you, your muscles would relax and rapidly tighten again at the pain.

Though, a couple hours passed when your eyes fluttered. This time morning light enveloped you. Strangely, your jaw no longer throbbed and all the tension in your tendons slipped away. The blankets under you, moved in a steady rhythm, similar to a human’s breathing.

Blinking away drowsiness, you were met with Erwin’s neck. Your head had been tucked in his shoulder as he cradled you. Arms thrown over his shoulders and legs loosely circling his waist, your bum sat on his forearm and his other hand rested on your nape to keep you tethered.

Panic shot through your system as sleep flushed out of you. You were free of the plug, muzzle and mitts Levi had forced into you. The collar present on your throat. Struggling against Erwin, fear overtook you. What would Levi do if he found out?

You whimpered as you pushed against Erwin's shoulders.

The man quickly hushed you, the hand cradling your nape brought your face deeper into his embrace until your nose brushed against the thin skin of his neck. If you wanted you could easily sink your teeth into the muscle and rip out his jugular. The tempting thought consumed you.

Erwin continued to shush you so sweetly like a lullaby, “Everything is alright, my dear. You won’t be hurt, the punishment is over. Levi can’t harm you now.”

In your panicked state, you barely processed the words, merely clinging to the promise of being forced to be a dog was put to an end. At least for now. Sagging against him, your chest stuttered and heaved. You remembered Levi would be gone for a couple days, leaving you with Erwin. Not that it made you feel any better. You were out of wolf’s jowls only to lead straight to the lion’s den.

“Good morning, Princess.” His tone was pleasant and soft. Under your ear, his throat vibrated with his gentle words. Still petting your nape, he tried his best to calm you.

Soft strands tickled your ear. Erwin hadn’t gotten ready for the day quite yet. The soft, blond locks were loose and unkempt. It gave him an almost boyish look. Rather than a picturesque doll, he seemed human.

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t respond and tilt your head upwards to rest your chin on his shoulder instead. From the bobbing over each step, you watched as he took you away from your—the—bedroom. He continued down the hall.

“The silent treatment is really unbecoming of you,” He spoke again when his greeting went unanswered after a couple moments.

“I thought dogs don’t speak,” You grumbled.

Erwin sighed, but didn’t indulge your need to rebel. “Let’s not start off our time together like this. I have a surprise for you I think you will enjoy.”

He wasn't reassuring at all. With a twisted man like him, a surprise could mean anything. The last time Erwin surprised you with something you were forced to kneel and refused the basic human right to use the bathroom.

Though as Erwin rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you were pleasantly hit with pancakes wafting through the air. You pulled yourself from his neck and looked to the stack of pancakes sitting on two plates. Syrup, butter and a glass jug of orange juice displayed on the table.

Dropping you off on the chair with the smaller pile of perfectly crafted breakfast dessert, a smile surprisingly spread on your face. The pancakes were shaped in different dinosaurs. Bittersweet memories wrapped around your brain. The rare times your father showed his fleeting affection, he knew your love for the prehistoric creatures.

Your siblings’ giggles rang in your ears. The sweetness danced on your tongue. Sat in your childhood home, you were no older than eight as your family sat at the table. Hazy, yellow light from the sun poured from open curtains. It was hard to distinguish your father’s face as it displayed happiness. You pushed away the probing memories of your siblings’ snide comments and the crippling thought of your mother’s face. This was a happy moment.

“Wow I haven’t had this since I was a kid,” You spoke, nostalgia still wrapping itself around you like a scratchy yet warm blanket.

“If I remember correctly, in passing, I saw you eat this when I went to meet with your father.”

A cold rock dropped in your stomach. Hot shivers rushed up your skin. Leering up at the man who stood behind the chair, hands leaning on the back of it, you grimace. Of course he ruined it. You couldn’t escape how time intertwined you both. He knew you as a child and still had some sort of sick attraction towards you.

“How could I forget how much of a creepy old man you are.”

The friendly air near Erwin dropped as his thick eyebrow twitched, “Watch it. Just because I’m being nice doesn’t mean I will tolerate insolence.”

“It’s not insolence, I’m pointing out how much of a fucking freak you are.”

“I’m giving you three seconds to apologize.”

His words only fueled your ever growing flames, “I’m not a child!”

Gripping your upper arm with a bruising grip, Erwin lugged you off the chair he had just sat you on. Tugging you towards the sink, he shoved his face to yours, ire on his breath.

“You say you’re not a child, but the second you don’t like something you throw a tantrum like a toddler. All I ever do is care for and love you, and you have to ruin it,” He seethed.

“Fuck you,” You sneered right back.

Reaching for the bar of soap by the sink, he let go of your arm to pry your mouth open. Before you could even protest, Erwin shoved the soap in your mouth.

You sputtered and choked as the bitter lather penetrated your taste buds. The bar caught on your teeth and tiny shavings fell down your throat. Thrusting the soap further, Erwin did not care as you gagged.

“Bad little girls get their mouths washed with soap.”

You cried as it got hard to breathe. Anytime your tongue tried to push the offending object out, he would push it further in. You gripped his arms more for stability rather than to shove him away. From your spit, foam started to form on the corners of your lips.

Dragging the bar from your mouth, he commanded, “Apologize.”

Coughing, drool poured from your lips as you tried to get the offending taste off your tongue. You tried to catch your breath as he grew impatient and attempted to shove it back in.

“I’m sorry!” You heaved, not caring you were getting spit all over the floor and yourself.

Erwin slammed the soap bar back on its tray and flicked open the tap. Forcing your head towards it, he filled your mouth with water. Adrenaline squeezed your heart. He was going to drown you, he was going to drown-

“Spit.”

Swooshing the water in your mouth, you spit it out along with the bubbles coating the inside. The taste stayed, but you didn’t want him to force more water in you.

Flicking off the faucet, he gripped your upper arm again and dragged you into the living room.

“Go play with your new toy while I clean up the breakfast you ruined.”

He didn’t know, but those words struck a cord deep, deep inside you. Your eyes followed Erwin as he went back to the kitchen to take care before the spit on the floor and the breakfast never eaten.

There, in the middle of the living room, a dollhouse stood on the coffee table. Not wanting to test him further and the words he uttered strung around your mind so tightly your brain ached, you sat on the floor. Tucking your legs under you, sitting on your ankles, you took in the tiny house in front of it.

It must have cost a pretty penny. While the outside wasn’t a carbon copy of the house, inside the house was identical, or at least from what you could tell. You still haven’t been allowed upstairs.

Rather than the cottage like aesthetic, the exterior steered more towards victorian. A soft white adorned the walls not unlike how the real house had been painted. Inside the dollhouse sat three little dolls. Picking up the blond doll, you noticed how strikingly it resembled Erwin. Picking up the other one, the mini Levi frowned up at you. How egotistical.

To no surprise, the third one represented you. Mini you had your exact hair color and texture, skin flushed with your tone, and your eyes hauntingly glimmered. At least the doll seemed happy. A childish urge striked you to twist the heads off the dolls.

You hated how eerily similar it was to the house you were trapped in. Clutching the tiny you in your hands, you were no different than a doll for the men to play with. Or maybe there was someone controlling all three of you, forcing you all to play a twisted game of house. But you refused to believe that.

There was no omnipotent god or petulant child toying with your lives. No, the only cruelty you were subjected to were the men binding you to them. Why fear God, when humans exist?

Erwin’s heavy footsteps echoed. Sitting on the couch behind you, he sat near the side table to set down the paper you assumed he pulled from his office. You glanced at him from your peripheral and went back to set mini you outside out of spite. Taking mini Levi you dunked his head in the bathtub as he did to you.

The older man had not been subtle at all with how his eyes kept wandering to your form. As he sat above you, a shiver went down your spine. This time hanging mini Erwin outside the window by his feet to dangle him off the edge, you tried to ignore your sinking gut. More memories flashed before your eyes.

This time, you sat on the floor playing with toy cars you stole from one of your brothers, silently. Early you had been running through the house pretending the home was a race track. Vrooming noises spilled from your mouth as you giggled. Your father quickly shut you up with a pinch of your ear and sneered at you to sit down and sit still. You were nothing more than a nuisance.

Children were to be seen, not heard.

Swallowing down the need to cry and appease the male authority figure, you knocked mini Erwin out the window. He tumbled down and down until he fell on the floor by your knees.

Turning around to glare down Erwin to make sure he saw what you did, Erwin had already been looking. Instead of annoyance, an almost longing expression etched onto his visage. His eyes never strayed from dolls instead of you. Like he… wanted to play, too? You tried not to decode the meaning and went back to torment mini Levi more.

The rest of the day had been spent with you purposely avoiding any way to talk to Erwin. Once he finished his paperwork, he seemed ready to forgive and forget. You weren’t.

By noon, Erwin made lunch, ultimately deciding he had starved you (and himself) long enough. You ate the food he had made. A sandwich for him, baby carrots and celery for you. Your eye twitched as you crunched and munched as loud as you could.

Erwin muttered “manners” at you, but you merely huffed and went back to eating. Though you were more quiet. Being alone with Erwin only served to remind you of your father. So despite the man himself not being there, you couldn’t help blending the two. The fear sat in your esophagus infected old wounds, like a sore throat that won’t go away.

You missed Levi. You missed him for the sole factor he didn’t remind you of the truth. With him you could pretend that nothing linked you to Erwin. He’s the buffer. The buffer between the fact if you squinted, you would see your father’s face instead of Erwin’s.

You pushed your half eaten plate away from you.

Your father would never do what Erwin has done to you. He may be bad, but not to Erwin’s level. Your brain just muddled them together as Erwin gave you whiplash of acting like a disappointed parent and an old pervert who prayed on younger women.

By the end of the day, Erwin had grown not too fond of how you distanced yourself from him. This weekend was to have some alone time with you. Maybe to try to rekindle the bond you two had in the beginning, but you reverted inward.

As your bed time approached, instead of taking you to your room, Erwin instructed you to sit down on the couch. Suspiciously, you perched on the cushions. Squatting down with an audible crack of his knees, Erwin opened the glass cabinets of the TV stand. The old DVD player had already been hooked up and he grabbed a familiar DVD case.

Pivoting to face you, he smiled, “I remember you telling me you used to love this movie.”

A simpler time crossed your mind. Before Erwin was revealed to be more monster than man, during when he tutored you, you both bonded for your love of The Last Unicorn. The movie traumatized you as a kid, but rewatching it as an adult had you gain an appreciation for it instead.

Slipping the disc inside the flap, the DVD player ate it up with a mechanical whirling. Coming back to you, he sat beside you and patted his thigh.

“Come here, my darling girl,” Erwin took your hand and steered you to lay down.

No room to resist, he guided your head to lay on his lap while he flipped on the TV. A dreamy and whimsical soundtrack played in the background as the DVD menu popped up. Hitting play on the movie, Erwin adjusted himself while you tried to get comfortable. Hand resting on his knee, his other started to stroke your hair. Tucking your own hands to your chest to avoid him, you couldn’t deny the comfort hugging you.

The movie barely had been thirty minutes in when your eyelids slipped closed. Welcoming the fuzzy embrace, you fell fast asleep in the claws of the lion awaiting its pliant meal.

Incoherent, you nuzzled further into the warmth under you. Like this morning, your cushy pillow rose and fell with each breath it took. Blinking away the haze, you squinted at the TV still turned on. Music flowed through the room on a low volume. The opening menu had been looping for ages now.

Under your ear Erwin’s heart beat with a slow, steady rhythm. While you had fallen asleep, he had rearranged your body to lay on top of his. His large body had been sprawled out across the couch, his foot upright on the arm of the couch and the other dangled over the edge. Like a blanket, you were draped over him. Your head on his chest, hand tucked under you and the other rested on the other pectoral not occupied by your head. Your legs slotted in between his.

As you woke up more, his warm palm rested on the small of your bare back. The hand had found its way under your shirt through the night. The other sat on your upper back, completely entangling you two together.

For a moment, you simply stared at the TV. Sleep and rationale beckoned you to fall into their arms, but your stubbornness and will to survive took over. Slowly, you moved your legs to straddle Erwin’s hips. Reaching behind you, you grabbed the hand under your shirt and gently guided it out from under the cloth and placed it by his side. Getting up, you took the other hand and put it on his chest where you head once laid.

He did not stir.

Just your luck, he must be a heavy sleeper. You sat on his hips, very much aware his crotch had been slotted against yours. Glaring down at him, you despised how easy he slept. He didn’t even twitch while you pried your skin from his.

As gracefully as you could, you set your foot down on the floor and raised your hips from his. Gripping on the back of the couch, you awkwardly twisted to put both feet on the floor. Pushing your upper body off the couch, you stumbled back a step and stood over his sleeping form.

You waited another moment to see if he would move. He stayed sound asleep.

Softly, you rounded the couch and walked to the mudroom. Each step had been calculated, toe to heel. Crouching down, you gawked out the doorway to hear any sound of Erwin rousing. The drawer before you creaked open and you grabbed the tiny flashlight. Shimmying it closed as you did multiple times before, you left it a sliver open for easier access.

Creeping from out of the room, you ambled back to the couch. Peering over the back of the sofa, Erwin hadn’t even moved. Sighing in relief, you continued your path to the hallway. Sharply turning the corner, your hand brushed down the wall, no moonlight to guide you. Kneeling before the window, you ogled at the cloudy sky, praying the forecast would aid you.

Clicking the flashlight on and off, you mouthed the letters to yourself.

Creak.

Whipping your head so hard your neck strained, you peered down the barren corridor. Silent, you waited for Erwin to appear in the archway and drag you back to him. If he found you, there was no way you could explain yourself out of this one. Not like any of them listened.

Holding your breath, you counted up to a hundred. By the time you reached the nineties, Erwin still hadn't come to find you and deliver you to your punishment. Exhaling with a throbbing head, you dared not to test your luck anymore.

Doing only one more round of morse code, you slinked away from the window a lot less confident. Clutching the flashlight to your chest, blown out pupils stayed glued to the man snoozing. As you got closer to the mudroom, you walked backwards, not letting him out of your sight.

Quickly, you opened the drawer and shoved the flashlight inside. Jiggling it back closed, it got stuck halfway. Bile rose up to your throat. Panicking, gently as you could, you shoved it but it didn’t budge.

Tears sprung up, piercing your eyes. Breathing in and holding it, your tried to calm yourself. Freaking out will only make it worse and cloud your brain. Crouching down, you looked at the mechanism to close the cabinet. The wheel had shifted off its track. Lifting the drawer, you tilted it to click back into place. An audible clunk rang in the room. Your hands froze.

Music still poured from the living room, not helping you at all in this case.

Fuck it, You said in your head.

Pushing the drawer back closed, you walked out of the mudroom, ready to face Erwin if he had stirred. Knees wobbling, the soft glow of the TV shepherded you. Circling the couch, the man came back in full view. Not once had he moved. The threat had never really been there.

You stood over him, taking in his vulnerable state. Your eyes went to one of the throw pillows that had fallen on the floor in your and his sleep. Behind down, still staring, you grabbed it and clutched the sides in both hands. You waited, debating. When will be the next time you will get such a delicious opportunity?

Stepping closer, you wedged a knee in between him and the couch and the other followed by his right bicep. Sitting on his chest, you didn’t care about the weight settling in. Hovering, you abandoned all reasoning and shoved the pillow over his face. Squeezing his arms that sprung up, you leaned all your weight on your hands, smooshing his face to the cushion.

He grunted under you and his legs frantically kicked to get you off him. You clenched your thighs harder, immobilizing him. His fingers wringled about to do anything, in a desperate attempt to live as you suffocated the life out of him.

You ignored him and only moved with his floundering body. Frenzied limbs soon slacked until the muscles uncoiled and fell limp. You dared not move the pillow yet. He could just be pretending. Erwin was an intelligent man. But you were a scorned girl. If anything, you shoved the pillow further in, hoping his mouth filled with cotton. Praying it penetrated his airways like the water that never truly left your system.

Sighing his last breath, you were finally able to breathe your first.

Blinking, you snapped out of it. You still stood above him, frozen in time. His chest mockingly rose with the deep inhale he took in. Shaky, you turned away from him and slumped on the floor. Back to the couch, Erwin’s dangling leg brushed against you. The TV glimmered through your vacant irises.

Taking the remote laid on the coffee table, you reached an arm straight out and turned the television off. The screen faded to black.

A girl glowered at you through the reflection in contempt. Coward, she sneered.

You couldn’t agree more.

[miguelhugger2099]

The Best Thing

Summary: Miguel O'Hara, star Quarter back of the Nueva York Spiders, lives lavishly with all he could want. What he didn't want is a little girl popping up at his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. The Game Plan AU. <<Prev Next>> Football Player!Miguel x Ballet Teacher!Reader, Gabriella is Miguel's daughter, No warnings Art: rusticfurnace on twt and ethiobirds on tumblr!

Miguel sits in front of Gabriella, leaning on his knees with his elbows. Gabriella stares back at him with wide eyes. She tries to give him a weak smile but it drops when Miguel takes a deep sigh, his leg shaking. Then in a hysterical chuckle, he shakes his head. “No, no. No!” Miguel’s gaze hardened at the little girl. “Tempest and I never had a kid.” His jaw clenches. Gabriella stands up and walks over to him, her hand rummaging through the big pink tote bag at her side. She pulls out a white envelope. “She wrote you a note.” She says plainly before walking past him to take a better look around his penthouse. Miguel snatches the envelope with a dry chuckle and tears it open without a care. “A note,” He chuckles again. His deep maroon eyes read the printed letters, his ex-wife's signature at the bottom. “Miggy, I know this is a surprise but Gabriella is your daughter. I need you to watch her for a month as it’s an emergency. I’ll explain when I get back….Tempest.” Miguel reads aloud, his tone softening and he sighs at the end.

Gabriella stares at all the pictures of Miguel plastered over the shelves and walls. She tries copying some expressions, frowning in some and pouting in others. Her attention is snatched back to Miguel when he calls out to her. He waves the envelope in the air. “You expect me to believe Tempest wrote this? That this automatically makes you my kid? Anyone could’ve written this!”

Gabreilla sighs again, reaching into her tote bag. “Here’s my birth certificate.” She hands him a sealed yellow packet and walks away again. “And your name is on it.” Miguel can only chuckle again. “My name? On your–there’s no way.” He slips the paper out of the packet and sees the fine print. For a moment, he prays Gabriella is dyslexic and confused his name with someone else. Gabriella Monroe. Father: Miguel O’Hara His leg shakes anxiously as he takes his cell phone and calls up his most trusted confidant. “Get here. Now.”

– A woman with bobbed brown hair and thick pink sunglasses bursts through his doors. Her white heels clack on the tile floor as he keeps one hand in her fluffy white trench coat and the other holding her phone. Her unamused eyes meet Miguel’s panicked ones as soon as she steps inside. Miguel gulps. “Fix this, Lyla.” He steps away to show Gabriella sitting at his kitchen island, delicately brushing her doll's hair. Lyla gasps and nearly drops her phone, covering her mouth in shock which prompts Gabriella to jump as well. Lyla drags Miguel to the side, her manicured nails digging into his bicep. “It would’ve been nice to know this early on.” She hisses as low as possible so the child in the room doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know!” Miguel hisses back and Lyla resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t know you had an ex-wife?”

Miguel waves his hand, dismissing her sarcasm. “It was a long time ago–we were young and stupid. We thought we were in love but it-it didn’t last for a year! And we never had a baby.” He emphasizes the last part of his sentence, brows furrowing and voice oozing with conviction. Lyla smiles tightly, not believing him for a moment. With Miguel’s rep, she’s more surprised there haven't been more baby scares. “Okay, Migs.” She chuckles, taking a deep breath, her hands clasping together. “Is there just any possibility–even the tiniest ones– where she could be yours?” She asks. She sees Miguel about to answer. “Really think about it.” Miguel looks up, digging through his brain in a panic. “I-I don’t know! We went through the papers, the divorce was final. She-she came by to pick up some of her things at my place and she-we-we…” Miguel falters, brows relaxing as the memories rush back. His eyes widen slightly–her lips, her voice, the anger and frustration and love that needed to be released for one last time. Miguel chuckles and pats his stomach, looking towards Gabriella and pointing at her. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He walks over to the fridge but Lylas accusing tone stops him from opening it. “I’m sorry, when did that ‘she-we-we’ happen?” She follows behind him and watches as Miguel bonks his head on the fridge door before grunting and facing Lyla again. “Like nine or ten years ago.” He whispers. Lyla turns to Gabriella with a smile. “How old are you, sweetheart?” Gabreilla perks up. “Nine.” Both Lyla and Miguel deflate. “Congrats, Migs.” Lyla says monotonically.

“Oh, God–” Miguel groans and rubs his face with frustration as he walks away to pace in the living room. Meanwhile, Lyla tries some damage control. She approaches Gabriella on the other side of the island, leaning her elbows on the marble counter and placing her chin in between her laced fingers. “Hi, sweetpea, let’s talk. So, the letter says your mom isn’t coming back for a month. Did she just decide to leave you here?” She asks, her smile tight. “She’s helping the starving kids–” Gabriella starts but Lyla cuts her off. “I’m not trying to hear that.” She says flatly. “Did she just decide to leave you here?” “I begged her.” Gabriella swings her feet as she sits in the high chair. “I said ‘Well, why don’t I stay with my father?’ and she said ‘Well, baby, he doesn’t know about you ye–” Lyla interrupts her with a groan, her hands waving in the air with a hint of annoyance. “I get it, I get it, whatever. Then who else can you stay with?” She sighs. Miguel claps his hands from the living room, approaching the two with a smug laugh. “I got it! Haha, Tempest has her mom..uh..Keke…Alicia…” Miguel lists off names, trying to remember the name of his ex-mother-in-law. “Amelia!”

Gabriella inches an eyebrow up, a shadow of annoyance. “Cecelia.” She corrects. “Cecelia!” Miguel laughs, shaking little Gabriella’s shoulder. “Same thing.” He mutters under his breath with a smile. “What about her?” Gabriella looks down, her fingers nervously wringing together. “She’s, um…she’s dead.” Lyla scoffs, resting her hands on her hips and stretching her lower back. “That’s convenient.” Both Miguel and Gabriella look up towards her, silently judging. Lyla pouts, flicking her bangs away from her face. “What?” She whines before staring back at Gabriella. “Does your mom have a phone? Email?” Gabriella shakes her head. “They don’t have internet there.” Lyla pokes her cheek with her tongue and crosses her arms. “How did you get here again?” “We flew to Nueva York here together and then she put me in a cab.” Gabriella recites her story for the billionth time. “And the cab just somehow dropped you off at some man’s house?” “Not some man! My father!” The little girl insists. Lyla points at her as if catching her in a lie. “So you say!” Gabriella frowns, her bushy eyebrows furrowing and her nose scrunching up. “Want a paternity test?” Miguel chimes in, oblivious. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do that.” Lyla meets Miguel’s eyes in a panic, shaking her head. She tilts her head to talk a little away from Gabriella. “As long as they don’t have needles, I’m–heh–I’m not good with those.”

Lyla grabs his arm again, dragging him close as she whispers to him. “Not in the middle of negotiating with our Patrick’s Burgers deal. If you take the test there’s a high chance it’ll get out to the press and the public will hate you for ditching your kid–if it turns out to be true–and all of our money will go down the drain.” Lyla sighs, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. “Lyla. Lyla-” Miguel turns to take Gabriella’s seat, spinning her to face Lyla and they both look at the incredibly stressed woman. “We don’t even look alike.” Miguel smiles his pearly whites, Gabriella looking at him for a glance before looking at Lyla again. She matches Miguel’s smile lines, the plump lips, and shiny gleam in her big brown eyes–a missing tooth in her grin. “Oh no,” Lyla draws out with sarcasm. “Not at all.”

The world still spins, with Miguel having practice to go to until it was so rudely interrupted by a 4 foot girl. He walks out of his apartment building, the doorman that had called Miguel about Gabriella in the first place standing outside. Miguel huffs in annoyance, his daughter behind him and now in his care. “Thanks for the heads up, Larry.” Larry barks a laugh, whistling for the other doorman to bring in Miguel’s car. “Told ya she was cute.” He cackles. Miguel’s car pulls up, the driver door being lifted up and Miguel gets in. He opens the passenger door for Gabriella, tsking. He ushers her to hurry inside. “C’mon, let's go.” He snaps. Gabriella looks inside the car and shakes her head. “No backseat.” “So what?” His face contorts, irritated. “If we get in an accident, the airbag will hurt me.” She clings to her tote bag strap tightly to her chest. Miguel bangs his head back. “I don’t have time for this, please.” Still, Gabriella crosses her arms, stubborn and planting her feet in the ground. Miguel settles for putting his football helmet on top of her head and it flops forward, covering her eyes. On the way to practice, Miguel is asked questions by Gabriella. “I’ve got four weeks to make up for eight years, mkay?” She pulls out a binder from her tote bag, flipping open the book to a page of messy handwritten questions. “It’s simple: I ask, you answer.” She lifts the helmet on her head up so she can see what she’s writing.

“So for example, if you asked me my favorite thing to do, I’d answer with ballet. Now, what’s yours?” “Football.” He grunts, honking his horn and shouting at the traffic while she writes in her binder. “And if you could only save one thing in a fire, what would it be?” “My Heisman.” Before Gabriella could write it down, Miguel interrupts her. “No, no, no, wait.” He lifts a finger and smiles. “My limited edition Miguel O’Hara Spider Sneakers.” Gabriella rolls her eyes. For the remainder of the ride, Gabriella continues to ask questions and they feel endless. Miguel gets tired of it, telling her no more but she insists. “Just one more question.” She perks up, shuffling in her seat and lifting the helmet up slightly to look up at him. “What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Miguel sighs, kissing his teeth and can’t shake off the feeling he’s had for a hot minute. “Hey, I got a question for you. Why didn’t your mom just bring you here herself?” Gabriella’s smile drops and she looks down in her lap. Her eyes cast towards her tote bag and she smiles again. Her hand digs inside and she pulls out a tupperware box of cookies and presents it to him. “Want a cookie?” She squeaks. Miguel tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t want a cookie and stop avoiding the question.” “But you said you were hungry.” She frowns and lifts the box higher after popping the top open. “And I made them special for you.” “Ugh, fine, fine. Gimme that..” Miguel shoves his hand to grab a cookie, taking a giant bite out of it. “Your mom.” He reminds her, mouth full of cookie. “I told you it was last minute..” She fiddles with a crumb.

“I just can’t believe Tempest would do something like that. Letting her daughter just appear all alone–it doesn’t sound like her.” He mutters out loud to himself. He coughs after taking another bite of Gabriella’s cookie, scratching his tongue with teeth. Does it feel a little swollen? Still, he speaks his mind. “I know what happened.” Gabriella winces, peeking meekly through the front guard of the helmet. “You do?” Miguel coughs. “She screwed up her hair again, didn’t she? Hiding away in embarrassment?” “No.” She grimaces. “All that bleach and dye finally destroyed her curls, didn’t it?” Miguel checks his mouth, feeling strange but he still ends up finishing his cookie. By the time Miguel changed into his uniform, his mouth had gotten worse, his tongue swollen and giving him a lisp. They both enter the field house, Miguel’s tongue still bothering him while Gabriella walks behind him, her head swiveling around to soak in the place. Miguel annoyingly looks behind him, to see her lingering behind. “Let’s go!” He slurs and her little legs hurry to stand beside him. “What do you think, you can just roam around safely or something? Stay close, little lady.” He speaks, his lisp becoming more apparent.

“Are you okay?” Gabriella frowns, tilting her head. “Do I sound okay?” Miguel snaps, bending down to her height. “What’d you put in those cookies?” He jabs a finger to her tiny bag. “Milk, flour, eggs and cinnamon-” “Cinnamon?! Cinna–I’m allergic to cinnamon!” He hisses through his lisp. Gabriella’s face falls, genuine remorse crossing her face but Miguel is too peeved to notice or even care. “Oh, I’m sorry…” “Oh, ‘I’m sorry’? All you gotta say is ‘I’m sorry’? I sound like this and you’re ‘sorry’?” He stands up straighter, glaring down at her and shaking his head before walking away. Gabriella watches his back as he walks away. “I’m allergic to nuts!” She calls out, hoping that information would help him feel better–or at least be a little useful. It seems to fall flat.

Taglist: <3: @maiyart @aphinthestars @byjessicalotufo @mochi73 @peachey-pie @beezusvreeland @scorpihoooe @having-a-time @slut4oscarissac23 @iamperson12280 @planetxella @fandomtrash5092 @miguelsfavwife @juneonhoth

[magicfootballstuff]

Gooner (alessia russo x reader)

As you slowly drift into consciousness, it doesn’t take you long to realise that Alessia is already awake beside you. Her breath is steady but not deep, her body is just a little too rigid to be asleep, but the biggest telltale is the hand that plays absent-mindedly with your hair.

“Morning, beautiful girl,” Alessia greets you as soon as she realises you’re awake too.

You lift your head to look at her, propping your weight up on one arm. 

It’s the penultimate day of your holiday together. After the football season wrapped up, you each went away separately with your respective friendship groups, before reuniting to go away as a couple before the World Cup preparations begin. It’s been a relaxing few days, renting out a cute wooden cabin with a terrace that overlooks the beach, spending your days relaxing on the sand or out exploring the quaint local town. But this morning Alessia looks far from relaxed, her blue eyes that match the sparkling ocean outside filled with worry.

“How are you feeling?” you dare to ask.

Alessia laughs nervously, then deflects by saying, “Next question.”

“Okay, how about this one instead?” you ask, arching a suggestive eyebrow. “Do you want to join me in the shower?”

Alessia ponders the question for just a fraction too long and you’re about to start panicking that you’ve said the wrong thing, that this kind of distraction isn’t what she needs right now. But just when you’re about to take your words back and offer her breakfast instead, she smiles.

“I don’t think I could ever turn down that kind of offer.”

———

After an extended shower filled with soft kisses and wandering hands, you move to the terrace outside your cabin for breakfast with a view out over the white sand and blue sea beyond. Alessia looks like a goddess, sun-kissed skin and golden hair, even as it hangs in damp waves over her shoulders. 

The breakfast you’ve made is a simple one, just toast and freshly prepared fruit, but as you set the two plates down and take a seat across from your girlfriend, Alessia is finally ready to open up.

“The announcement goes out in an hour,” she tells you.

“Are you nervous?” you ask. 

“I’m absolutely bricking it,” she admits.

The announcement that Alessia is leaving the club she’s spent the last three seasons at probably isn’t going to be a surprise to many people, especially not given the recent media attention around her contract situation, but you know that doesn’t make it any easier for Alessia herself. It’s probably a good thing that you’re here on holiday, almost in an alternate reality where you can pretend that Manchester or football contracts or transfer windows don’t exist.

“What do you need from me?” you ask, eager to settle Alessia’s nerves and make today as easy as possible in these circumstances.

“Nothing, you’re already doing enough,” Alessia tries to assure you, but you know her well enough to recognise the worry in her eyes.

“How about we check out that boat rental place we saw yesterday?” you suggest, as you reach for a slice of watermelon. “Disconnect a little, just you and me out on the sea?”

Alessia reaches for your hand across the table and says, “I don’t think I tell you often enough how much I love you.”

“Keep telling me,” you grin at her, “because I’m never gonna get tired of hearing it.”

———

“I think I’m more scared about the Arsenal announcement in a few weeks than the one today about me leaving United,” Alessia admits later.

You prop yourself up on one elbow to look across at your girlfriend, who is lying on her stomach on a towel beside you on the deck of the little boat you’ve rented as it bobs up and down in the shallow water of the cove where you’ve spent the afternoon swimming and splashing about.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Alessia nods as she rolls over, pushing her sunglasses up to sit on the top of her head. “It’s always scary joining a new team but I’ve never had to deal with this much publicity on a transfer before. I have no idea how the fans are going to react.”

“They’re going to love you,” you assure her, reaching for her hand and tangling your fingers together. “They’re so lucky to have a player like you choosing to play for them.”

“What if they think I’m joining for the wrong reasons?” Alessia asks, her teeth chewing at her lower lip in worry.

“Listen, I know that I’m Arsenal’s most talented and best-looking defender and that anybody would switch teams just to spend more time with me…”

Alessia tilts her head to one side as she shoots you an unimpressed stare, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘seriously?’

“I’m joking,” you grin at her. “But Arsenal is such a special team. Why wouldn’t you want to play for us? It’s such a good move for your career. And of course there will be more eyes on our relationship now and some people may think you’re only here because of me, but I promise that the second you step out onto the pitch in an Arsenal shirt, the real fans won’t care about anything except for how good you are.”

Alessia is quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before she hums and says, “It’ll be nice to score at the Emirates again.”

As she speaks, her gaze flicks across to you and her eyes betray the mischief behind her words.

Remembering her last goal at the Emirates and the points it snatched away from Arsenal in last season’s title race, you retort, “I’m not above throwing you overboard, you know?”

“You wouldn’t,” Alessia challenges you. “You like me too much.”

“Eh,” you make a non-committal noise. “You’re okay, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll throw you overboard instead,” Alessia retaliates with a grin.

“You like me too much,” you counter, using Alessia’s own argument against her.

Alessia’s eyes, sparkling blue under the Mediterranean sun, soften with adoration as she smiles at you.

“I really do.”

———

“Are you ready?”

She’s been sitting at the dining table in your shared apartment for the past twenty minutes, her phone face up in front of her, watching the minutes tick down until four o’clock, because that’s when it’ll become official. Alessia Russo will be unveiled as Arsenal’s newest signing. 

You’re expecting her to say no. Alessia hasn’t quite been herself ever since the announcement went out from Manchester United a couple of weeks ago that she would be leaving them. You know that the comments from some of the United fans, as well as the anticipation of her expected move to Arsenal, has been playing on her mind, even through the World Cup preparation camp with England. 

She hasn’t talked about it much, not with the media, not with the other Lionesses, not even with you. And you haven’t pushed her either. You know she was at the Emirates yesterday doing media for the announcement, but she didn’t even tell you much about that.

You’re expecting her nerves to be at their peak, having already expressed to you back on holiday that this is the moment she was most scared about, which is why it’s a bit of a surprise when she looks up at you with not a shred of doubt in her blue eyes.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” she confesses.

You grin back at her as she refreshes the social media on her phone again, counting down what can now only be seconds until it goes live.

Your own phone is ready too - firstly, to add Alessia to the Arsenal group chat, which she insisted on waiting until the official announcement before letting you do it even though most of the girls already know she’s about to join the team, and secondly to like and share all the posts to your own social media channels, eager to welcome your girlfriend to the team.

“Well, there it is,” Alessia says, as she stares at Arsenal’s latest post with a slightly awestruck expression on her face. 

You drape your arms around her neck from behind and rest your chin on the top of her head, taking in the image of your girlfriend wearing the red and white of Arsenal that is so familiar to you, yet still so new on Alessia.

You could definitely get used to it though.

Giving Alessia’s arm a little squeeze, you say, “Gooner looks good on you.”

[shadowdaddies]

Could you do the classic (in my opinion lol) “if I catch you, I fuck you scenario” with Rhys in Hewn city? I just know this man would have the time of his life teasing and chasing you through the halls.

it’s a classic for a reason 😎 I like the idea of doing this with Rhys bc he would make it interesting with his daemati abilities. This was fun to write, thank you anon

Hide and Seek

Rhys x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, predator/prey, light bondage, rough sex, minors dni or I'll send Bryaxis to live under your bed

You took a deep breath to try to settle your nerves as you set off down the avenue. You and Rhys had a bet: he gave you a ten minute head start once you arrived in Hewn City, and then he had ten minutes to find you. If Rhys found you within the ten minutes, he’d fuck you wherever he found you. 

You were running through the dark walkways as you scanned for any place to hide. With the silver bobbing faelights reflecting against the dark stone of the mountain, it was proving difficult to find a place in the open that you wouldn’t be easily seen. You snuck into the castle, pausing for a moment at the doors to the throne room. No, that would be too obvious. You continued on, becoming breathless and disoriented as you took in the dark artworks of beasts surrounding you. You stopped at the intersection of two hallways, trying to determine if the statue of the great, scaled black beast would be an adequate hiding spot. You turned around; which direction had you just come from? 

“Darling, your ten minutes are up. The hunt begins now,” Rhys’s voice purred in your mind. You panicked, questioning everything as you ran down the nearest hallway. What were you thinking, going into his own castle to hide from him? You opened the first set of doors you found, and quietly slipped into the room. You immediately realized you were in the council chambers. With the exception of the same beastly pillars from the castle halls and the large blacked-out glass table in the center of the room, there was no place to hide. Rhys’s voiced again echoed in your mind, “I can scent you, my love. Have you been lurking around our castle?” 

There was no option to go back into the hallways now, where Rhys would surely find you. You decided your best bet would be to hide under the table, where your reflection was at least hidden, and wait him out. “Not in the throne room, I see. What a shame, you do know how I love to take you on the dais,” Rhys taunted as he flashed memories in your mind of him fucking you on the floor, over the throne, against the pillars; you watching your reflection in the obsidian walls of the room. A shiver made its way up your spine as you were overcome with a wave of arousal. 

You heard slow, measured footsteps nearing the doors of the chambers, too close for your liking. Before you could devise an escape plan, however, the room went black. You suddenly felt like you were floating, suspended among the stars. You basked in the peacefulness of the sensation for a moment, until you felt hands grab around your ankles and pull. You screamed as your surroundings came back into focus. You were back on the floor of the council chambers, Rhys on his hands and knees above you, caging you in as he gave you a feline smirk of amusement. “Five minutes and twelve seconds, darling,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you. 

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, Rhys slowly massaging your tongue with his own as he poured love down the bond to you. You moaned and arched into his touch, causing a smile to form on his lips. He sat up, pulling you with him by your waist as he stood in front of the table and sat you down atop it. He stepped back to assess you, a predator sizing up his captured prey. You squirmed under his powerful stare, anticipation building in your core at what was to come. 

With a flourish of his hand, you were completely bare before him, to cold air of the room causing you to shiver, and you felt your warm arousal seep onto the table between your legs. Rhys noticed it too, locking in on your center with a feral intensity. He swallowed, licking his lips as he removed the belt from his pants. “Your wrists, darling,” Rhys purred at you, nodding his head towards your hands that were resting against the table. You lifted them up together for him, knowing what was coming next. He wrapped his belt around your wrists, securing them snugly together before lifting them above your head. “Keep these up here while I enjoy my reward, love,” he whispered as his eyes roved over your exposed body once more. 

He laid you back against the table, pulling you forward to where your legs were hanging over the edge. Rhys ran his hands in teasing circles up your legs, getting close to your center before dragging them away and further up your body, earning a frustrated huff from you. He chuckled, enjoying your obvious need for him. He continued roaming over your body with his fingertips, pausing to flick each of your nipples harshly as you moaned, desperate for more of his touch. Rhys continued to admire your body, kissing and sucking to leave marks all over your torso. You were writhing underneath him, dripping all over the table when you snapped, “gods, please just fuck me Rhys!” 

Rhys promptly stood up, arching an eyebrow at you with an expression of pure amusement. “Impatient, are we love? The fifteen minutes it took me to get to you was too much?” he cooed with fake sympathy as he towered over your form. “I won’t be gentle, darling,” he said, looking in your eyes as one hand idly stroked your hip. You found yourself feeling overheated despite the frigid temperature in the room, begging, “I don’t want gentle. I need you now, Rhys.”

“Well, who am I to deny my High Lady of her requests?” Rhys hummed as his clothes disappeared. He wasted no time lining himself up at your entrance. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” he  growled, swiping his free hand under his length to swipe your excess arousal from the table and sucking it into his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, and something snapped inside of him. He moved both of his hands to your hips and pushed himself fully into you, immediately starting to pound at a relentless pace. The sounds of your collective moans and skin against skin echoed through the stone of the castle. “Fuck, harder Rhys,” you whined, wanting to have him as deep inside of you as possible. Wanting to be consumed by him. He grunted, flipping you over on your stomach so you were bent over the table, his hand wrapping your hair around one fist while he brought the other down to rub your clit. You reached your orgasm almost immediately as you screamed his name, clenching around his cock as he continued pounding into you. 

After a few moments, Rhys ground out that he was close to finishing. You felt him twitch inside of you just as the glass table cracked beneath you and split in two. Rhys quickly hauled you up by your chest before you could fall, slipping out of you as  his release spilled over your back. You both stood in silent shock for a moment before you turned to look at Rhys, and both of you burst out laughing. 

Running a hand through his hair and chuckling, Rhys consoled, “well, that table was older than I am. I guess it’s time we redecorated.” You gave him a mischievous smile as you leaned up to kiss his cheek and said, “maybe something more sturdy to fuck on next time.”