#that makes it sound like it's impossible to get rid of. but it is possible. he's not op pls don't call him op | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lolokouhm · 8 months

Text

Could you rail me? pt. 2

Don’t overthink it. Just let go.

Sounds easy, right?

Not for Megumi, no.

Especially with your body in his T-shirt underneath him. On his own bed, in his own bedroom, way after dark, with some faint sound of an autumn playlist that’s been playing for hours now.

Right now, there are two problems.

First of all - he’s not a virgin, but he wouldn’t call himself a sex god either, by no means. It’s not like female pleasure has been some sort of black magic he hasn’t learned - the few girls he’s been with seemed rather satisfied and they even tried to contact him the day after, but he rarely replied. Not that he ghosted them, rather politely suggested that he wasn’t interested in exploring the relationship (or situationship) further. That was the truth - he wasn’t. He couldn’t force himself to do that, it would be simply rude. The girls could be nice, but they just weren’t you. And when the thought pops up in his head, he’s shattered. „Rather satisfied” with you won’t do. It just won’t. You need to see stars. Hell, fucking galaxies - which leads straight to the second problem.

Megumi is pretty sure the moment you touch him he will come. Like, straightaway.

But you don’t mind. Like at all. Because the way he looks at you, so hungry, so messy - it’s so different from his usual IDGAF attire and that honestly turns you on beyond comprehension. You lean in and pull him into a kiss, another one of these incredible ones you’ve shared in the kitchen a few moments ago. These are enough to make you see stars, as his fingers slowly slide down your collarbone.

„Please”, you whimper and he pulls back, startled by your tearful tone. God, you’re so pretty. „Touch me, Megumi. I need you.”

And for the first time in forever, Megumi actually lets go.

He doesn’t hesitate anymore - with a low groan his hands travel under your T-shirt and he closes his eyes when his cold hands finally land on your tits. He leaves a few more kisses on your neck, caressing them gently at first, but getting more and more rougher with every squeeze. They are so soft. He imagined how they would feel many, many times - you’ve even caught him staring once when you went to the beach back in the summer. You made a snarky comment about respectful men being disrespectful, but he brushed it off with such disinterest that you couldn’t possibly know what was going on in his head. But this - this is different. He wants to see them, not in the bikini, not in the bra, and the curiosity wins. He catches the hem of your T-shirt and rolls it up to expose your body, and you don’t even have time to say his name before he’s sucking your left nipple, gently swiping his thumb over the right one.

„Fuck, Megumi. It feels so good.” His tongue is circling over your protruding buds and you’re so impossibly wet that you’re scared you’re actually going to drown. It’s like he’s got some spidey sense or something, because the moment you think about it his hand is already reaching down and grabbing the boxers he gave you. You try to lift your hips to help him, but he’s doing just fine. A silent curse leaves his lips as he feels, on his own fingers, how wet you are and just the sensation makes his head spin. He caresses your clit for a moment, but you really don’t need any additional stimulation. You need him inside. Now.

So that’s what you get. The T-shirt falls back on your breasts as Megumi moves down and slides the boxers off you, full of slick and completely ruined. He hasn’t even taken a single part of his wardrobe yet, he really doesn’t want to stop pleasuring you, no matter how tight his own boxers feel right now - but it’s just too hot, so he finally gets rid of the sweater and you just stare in awe. You’ve seen his bare chest before, but not like that. He’s sculpted in the tastiest way possible.

„Come here.” You suddenly feel his hands on your thighs as he’s dragging you down the bed, just a little bit so your hips are on the verge of the mattress. „Tell me if it feels good, okay? I… I really want you to feel good. So if it’s not it then you need to say it.”

With wide-opened eyes you observe as Megumi gets on his knees in front of the bed, placing your legs on both of his shoulders, and you could swear you’re salivating.

„I’m not the one who has problems with expressing — fuck.” You don’t really have time to think about it any further as you suddenly feel his tongue on your clit - he moves it up and down, slowly and delicately, trying not to overwhelm you with the sensation. „That definitely doesn’t feel bad, oh god. W-why are you laughing?” You could swear you heard him chuckle.

„You’re just so cute” he mutters, slowly sliding his finger inside of you. Your fear is actually becoming reality - if the two of you keep going on like this, Megumi’s going to fucking drown. „And so wet. Oh god.” His voice sounds so hazy and dreamy, as if he wasn’t in his right mind. And maybe he isn’t. You could never imagine him saying these things, but now, with him on his knees in front of you, it’s more than real, even though, at the same time, it isn’t. His left hand is keeping your hips in place, but it’s not the easiest task. Especially with his erection slowly becoming just painful. „And so sweet” he murmurs, and you get the chills - and it’s over. You actually needed his one finger and three compliments to come, and you’re shaking like crazy.

That’s just embarrassing.

But Megumi doesn’t see it. He’s in awe. He’s happier the ever, which is pretty ironic, as that’s exactly what plays in the background right now from his speakers. He makes you ride your orgasm out - it’s messy and it gets you a little scared as Megumi really loves to keep things clean - but it’s different for him. He’s high. He’s pussy drunk, no, scratch that. He’s drunk on you.

You can see that clearly when he’s on top of you again. Not only that - he’s also in pain. And you feel more than determined to help him.

„It’s my turn now”, you whisper, wiggling your way out of his embrace. „You were amazing.” Your hands automatically run to his pants, but before you’re even able to unbuckle his belt, his palm lands on top of your fingers.

„No, (Y/N)…” he mutters, and his gaze is feverish. „If you touch me I’ll come right away.”

„Well, that’s a pity then” you say, still shaking a little from your orgasm. „At least you’ll be coming inside of me.”

Megumi just groans and his head falls back on the pillow as you continue unzipping his pants, getting rid of your t-shirt somewhere in-between.

„Don’t say such things.” You feel a squeeze on your thigh as you’re straddling his ABS, his whole body tense with need. „It’s not helping.”

„Just shut up and be my pillow princess now, okay?” You finally manage to get the pants off him and feel nervous again. You expected him to be big, just not that big. And hard. He squirms when your fingers brush against his leaking tip, and then - well, he’s just a moaning mess. It’s still going better than he expected, he thinks when your lips touch him softly.

„Oh, fuck it, just sit on it. Have some mercy.”

But you don’t. Instead you take him a little bit deeper into your throat and you squeeze his heavy balls, and by that time Megumi’s had enough. The moment his cock leaves your throat he grabs you by the waist and turns you around so you can finally face him. He fixes his position, sitting up and leaning against the bed’s soft headboard, surprising you with his rough movements as you wiggle on his lap.

„I told you” he whispers, fingers sliding from your sweaty forehead to your parted lips. He throws his head back the moment you take his thumb into your own mouth and suck it. „Have some mercy on me.”

And even though you’d love to play with him more, you just cannot stand the way he looks at you. Like he’s begging. Maybe he really is?

So you do it.

He still holds you, when you painfully slowly slide down his cock, your walls hugging him so tightly that he’s going insane.

„Fuck” he whimpers. „I didn’t know you’d be so tight.”

„I didn’t know you’d be so talkative”, you purr before leaning in for a kiss. He’s stretching you so much that now you’re grateful for your embarrassing wetness - if you weren’t leaking, you’d have a problem fitting him inside.

„Are you all right?” he asks, but he already looks so fucked out that the question is just adorable. You finally move, and his head falls back with a moan. „Oh fuck.”

„You need to stop cursing” you whine, trying to set a tempo and then follow it, but your legs feel like jelly. You begin bouncing on him and you’re really grateful for being on top, just for the view - Megumi’s breathtaking. And surprisingly loud. He moans when he sucks your nipples, incredibly sensitive by now and as his fingers brush your clit again, your ability to think logically is completely gone. You chase your next high and then he suddenly stops, grabs you and now he’s on top again, thrusting into you and caressing your pussy in slow, deep strokes. He’s so close, but it’s like a challenge he’s not going to lose - you need to come first, and you need to come on his cock. Megumi is stubborn.

He’s really close to losing, but he perseveres yet again, just to fall apart right after you - your walls squeezing him like that is simply too much for him to handle. Both of you are a moaning, groaning mess as he squeezes your hand so tight you’re definitely getting some bruises from that. Despite being harsh, his touch is full of pure passion and it feels weirdly safe.

His thrusts get more and more sloppier as he’s emptying in you, and it takes a while - you’ve overstimulated him a little too much. After a few final strokes, Megumi’s body finally falls heavy on yours. He should probably pull out, but as his cum is slowly leaking and dripping down the sheets, none of you care. You’re too tired to even move a limb.

„It’s a mess.” That’s a fact, and you just state it. His body against yours. His bed. Your relationship.

„Yeah.” Megumi nuzzles into your neck as his fingers intertwine with yours, yet again. „But I guess I could live with that.”

masterlist ❤️

#I NEED HIM #megumi smut #Megumi x reader #Megumi x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #Megumi drabble #fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi

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fraugwinska · 2 months

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Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #hazbin hotel niffty #quick fic #oh so fluffy #i love ieatcocoa #fraugwinskas frauchen

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k9wa · 7 months

Text

𑣲 RENEWAL. ft. DAN (F)HENG

⠀ — it is not he that is familiar to you, nor you to him.

⠀ OR

⠀ — time and reincarnation aren’t enough to ever make you truly forget each other.

⚠︎ angst if you squint, fluff, mild hsr spoilers? thank u to the high cloud quintet for having the most heart breaking lore, i listened to memory by toby fox on repeat while writing this.

dan heng wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes met yours.

familiarity? no, that’s not possible. he’s never met you.

nostalgia? no, that too was not possible. he cannot name one person who your eyes could possibly remind him of.

…what was it? what was it that had left dan heng unable to will his gaze to move somewhere else? surely the intense eye contact was leaving you uncomfortable, even he was beginning to feel squirmy in his own skin as you stared back at him with an equal intensity.

dan heng can feel something in the deepest pit of his mind, leaking down and adding to the tense knot in his gut.

yet, the feeling isn’t…unwelcome.

it’s warm. it’s akin to a comforting hand on his shoulder, or a small squeeze to his fingers. he could not, no matter how hard he tried, recall a time such a sensation had left him so utterly speechless.

“dan heng?”

it’s welt’s voice that finally pulled him out of his trance, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times before he turned his head to look at the older man.

“sorry. what was that?”

dan heng shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of you. what was your name again? yukong had just informed him. not that he was really listening, anyway.

the conversation between his crew and the sky-faring commissions helm master continued on, talk of stellarons and something about the cloud knight’s general. dan heng couldn’t seem to focus despite his efforts.

another voice calls out to him just before he can depart alongside caelus and march, however this time it is not the deep and rough voice of his companion, but one that is much sweeter, and seems to strike a chord somewhere within him.

“dan heng?”

he turns around and is once more met with your eyes. dan heng willed himself to blink and nod before he could be entranced by them once more.

“i apologize, but…”

you trailed off before you were able to get the words out of your mouth, and there you found yourself back in the odd silence the two of you had just broken out of.

“…have we met before?”

you asked, and it finally clicked with dan heng where he had seen only snippets and flashes of you before.

my dreams, he thought. the dreams that haunted him night in and night out, but would occasionally grant him just a glance of a peaceful memory.

“no. we haven’t.”

you’re an amicassador of the sky-fairing commission, one brought on board long after he was banned from the ship that you called home. your meeting at any point before now would have been impossible.

yet, his mind drifts to the occasional memory he has only when deep in slumber.

“yingxing gifted me this.”

he looks down at you, head in his lap as you pull a small jade coin out of your pocket, a fine “永” carefully carved into the surface.

“he has too much time on his hands now that jing yuan is growing.”

your chuckle is soothing to his ears, the sound like a balm applied directly to his soul.

your face is unclear, almost as if his eyes are unfocused. yet your voice is unmistakable.

“i don’t disagree.”

is all he responds, fingers idly pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he looks down at you. although he can’t see it, he can feel the grass he and you reside on, smell the pollen off the fresh flowers the breeze blows towards him, can feel the sun on his skin.

“you’re sure?” you question again, voice just as calming as he was sure he’d imagined until now.

“you just—“ you chuckle a bit, almost awkwardly. “—seem so familiar, is all.”

you try to approach the topic subtly, but you truly did know him. from your own dreams, the ones you had that woke you in a cold sweat from just how real and jarring they felt, regardless of whether they were mild or sweet in nature. they conjured such emotion in you.

“baiheng was telling me of reincarnation.”

you muse to him, sitting with one hand on the ground just over his crossed legs, leaving you leaning across him.

“do you believe in such a thing?”

“of course.”

he nods, hand naturally finding it’s place on your waist.

“don’t you?”

“i don’t think so.”

you reach your free hand out to play mindlessly with the silver trim of his robes.

“it’s a nice thought, though.”

dan feng can only hum quietly.

“some day,” he began, drawing your attention back up to his face. “after i reach my end, i’ll come back to find you.”

the small tug of his lips could only be described as a smirk, but it felt softer than that.

“to prove it to you.”

you tilt your head teasingly, brow cocked.

“how will you recognize me?” “I would know you blind.”

he can feel his chest warm as you smile at him.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

“sorry.” dan heng bowed his head lightly.

“but we haven’t met before.”

he was being truthful, you hadn’t. it was your past lives that you two had been acquainted, had formed a bond so strong that it appeared to have transcended death itself.

dan heng did not wish to have dan feng’s deeds or past haunt him any more than they already do. the urge he felt to sit and talk with you, to perhaps hold your hand or touch your face would surely only lead him down a path he’d apparently gone down centuries ago.

“right.”

you nod at him, bowing yourself.

“sorry to keep you, it was nice to meet you.”

dan heng was released and regrouped with his crew, march and caelus bickering about something or the other and walking ahead of him. he decided to stay a bit further behind with welt.

his decision quickly regretted when welt gave him a knowing look, the lines on the older man’s forehead deepening as his eyebrows pushed together.

“you know them.”

“i know who they used to be. that’s all.”

welt can read the room well enough to know to end the topic there. dan heng had never enjoyed or been keen on talking of dan feng, and being back on the xianzhou alone had already left him with an unusual tension in his shoulders.

even as he walked away, moving up to engage in conversation with the sillier two of the quadrant, dan heng couldn’t shake you from his head. your smile, the way you held yourself as yukong introduced you, the small laugh that he had not expected would weave itself so deeply in his chest.

he kept walking on anyway. dan heng was not him.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

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gardenschedule · 20 days

Text

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

+ 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.”

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #there are probably a million posts on this topic but the completionist in me had to do one too

242 notes · View notes

thebluejoker · 8 months

Text

SHARING A ROOM WITH THEM

WARNINGS: No NSFW, SFW ONLY

TAGS: Teasing, feeling a little bit guilty, fluff

SHIP: Jax x reader, Ragatha x reader

JAX

It's his fault

He decided to sneak into your room and leave some spiders there

Yeah, he knew you were afraid of them, that's kinda the point

He expected some screams, yells and frustration

What he didn't expect, was you not entering your room after finding out about the spiders

You REFUSED to go to sleep or even be near your door

Caine was somewhere else so he couldn't help you with the bugs

Ragatha isn't fan of bugs as well, so she politely declined your offer to get rid of them

She could take you into her room, but she wouldn't leave Jax with a punishment

And his punishment was you sad, right?

He wasn't satisfied with the news

I mean, yeah he pranked you, so what?

"Get over it, kid. You're not spending this night in my room"

He said and turned away to leave

He would eventually leave, if Ragatha didn't threatened to push him into the void

It sounded more like a promise by the way

So, later on, you were in his room, standing with a pillow and blanket that Ragatha gave you

She prayed for you as well

Jax, without hesitation, told you to sleep on the floor

There was only one bed and it was his only

As always, he expected you to be mad or upset

"Alright"

You said and seriously laid down on the floor, covering yourself up with the warm blanket and nuzzling into the pillow

That did surprise Jax

You didn't want to be near him so bad that you just went along with sleeping on the floor?

So easily???

WITHOUT SAYING A WORD???????

Nah, that cracked his ego

Yeah, he's an asshole, but not that bad one that you just sleep on the floor, without even looking bothered by it

Eventually he just dragged you into the bed

And I mean, DRAGGED

You refused to go into his bed, your literally fighted for your life, self-love and ego

But that purple bitch is taller and stronger than you even though he looks like a damn stick

He didn't just dragged you into his bed cause his ego was slightly cracked, but also cause he wanted to test a new way of teasing

He wrapped his arms around you

Yeah, it seems to sound romantic, but it was more like he was keeping you in jail

"You leave and I put a spider in your mouth"

You immediately stop fighting and just laid there, hoping that he was joking

The night started to get darker and deeper

But that doesn't mean he stopped talking

Or rather teasing

"I can hear you heartbeat getting quicker, crybaby"

He couldn't

You were the one pressed against his chest

In fact, his heartbeat was quicker than usual

He would never admit it, but it was the best night of his life here

You on other side couldn't sleep, thinking of how he would put a spider in your mouth

By the way, after that he putted bugs into your room more often

RAGATHA

Oh, you both were having a sleepover

After you appeared in the amazing digital circus, you both quickly got along

You were good friends

Spending time with each other everyday

Eating lunch, dinner, dinner, breakfast, dinner, lunch together don't know what time it is, so..

Joking together

Hating Jax together

Being afraid of centipedes together

So, no wonder you came up with an idea to have a sleepover

You seemed to be very excited

While Ragatha too, but she felt nervous at the thought of sharing a bed with you

Not like she didn't wanted it

In fact, she wanted it very much

But it was quite embarrassing and it made her doll heart race

At the beginning, you both gossiped

Guess about who

You both also laughed like horses, interrupting everyone else sleep

You also tried to make her hair, but it was quite impossible

It was all good and nice until you both were tired if it's even possible in Digital circus

It was time for sleep

When you both laid down together, Ragatha thought she would "die"

You on the other side immediately fell asleep, feeling really comfortable

She's a soft toy after all

Ragatha couldn't sleep

Or move

Not sure if breath

She was afraid to wake you up

"They looks so cute.."

#jax x reader #ragatha x reader #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc #tadc ragatha #fluff

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judeswhore · 1 year

Text

the alter is my hips; jude bellingham

summary: jude needs to relax and you have the perfect plan

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected p in v sex, soft jude, praise

notes: you can find my masterlist here.

"oh," jude's sigh was loud, his shoulders relaxing as tension eased out of them. "that feels good." the following groan vibrated through his chest, travelled along your arms and made you shiver, thumbs pressing a little harder into his bunched muscles. you hands had been on him less than five minutes and he'd already half sunk into the back of the sofa, your body settled in his lap for the best access. his eyes had fallen closed, a soft sound of surprise tickling your skin when you leant in to kiss across his jaw.

"yeah? y'need to relax more, baby, working too hard without giving yourself a break." you nipped at his skin, pushed your fingers in circles over the very top of his back, eased down a little further with each pass. "let me take care of you." your tone was soft, a gentle brush of heat over his throat when you pressed a line of open mouthed kisses over him.

jude's hands found your hips, fingers light on your skin when he pushed beneath the fabric of your shirt to tug you closer. not that you could get much closer, your body was glued to his, chest to chest, your lower half pressed so tight against his you could feel every curve and ridge of him. another throaty groan bounced around the quiet room when your thumbs dug in just above his collarbones before settling over the space where his neck met his shoulders. that's where the tension was so tight and as you rubbed soothingly into his right shoulder, you dropped your head and kissed over his left.

"i'm kinda mad at you for letting it get to this point." you mumbled, just loud enough for the man beneath you to hear and you heard his sharp intake of air when your teeth grazed the same spots your other hand was working over.

"i'm sensing a but."

"but i like this. touching you like this."

"yeah?"

"mhm." you tugged playfully on his earlobe and he huffed a pleased sigh, tugged at your hips and shifted beneath you. the clothing between you was limited, a pair of shorts on jude's end, a warn t-shirt and cotton underwear on yours. it was so limited in fact you could feel him hot and hard against you, felt how obviously your fingers and lips over his skin was turning him on. just to make sure, you rolled your hips, a fake shift to get comfortable but jude knew what you were doing. his fingers gripped a little harder. "doesn't mean i wanna see you in those stupid straps again though. y'need to start resting."

"i'm resting now." his head had fallen back against the sofa, eyes closed, lips parted on a content sigh and it was impossible not to drag your lips across his neck, to bite softly into his pulse point.

"i know."

again you rocked your hips, pressed down enough to feel friction over your clit until you shuddered, jude's soft moan of your name making your skin hot. his hands gripped at your hips, lifted you a little so he could shuffle beneath you and when he settled you back against him you could feel the full extent of what your fingers were doing to him. intent on making him feel as good as possible you kept up the slow drags and pushes of your finger tips into his skin, focused on the points that had him physically melting under you.

his lashes fluttered open on a particular delve of your thumb, one that matched the skilful roll of your hips and he held your gaze, dark eyes impossibly darker, hooded and swimming with lust. it was a battle of who would look away first, who would let slip the next moan as you kept the slow pace of rocking into him. the cotton of your underwear was soaked, you knew jude could feel it through his own boxers as you repeatedly dragged your pussy over his cock. you wanted to get rid of all the barriers between you, wanted to feel him inside of you but you wanted him to break first.

his grip on your hips had fallen to your ass, kneading the soft flesh and using it to guide your movements, to press you over him just a little bit harder. he didn't attempt to get you to speed up though, let you move at your own pace, the muscles in his thighs flexing with the effort to not buck up into you. his cock twitched against your clit when you circled your hips, a notch of pleasure appearing between his brows.

"baby," his moan was half strangled, half hidden in a laugh as he finally broke eye contact, let his head fall back again. he pulled your hips back, stopped your movements and you couldn't hold back your whine of disappointment, the pleasure that was tingling in the pit of your stomach fizzling out. fingers slid around the back of his neck, thumb brushing light over his skin as you wiggled in his hold. "you're killing me."

"just wanna make you feel good." your other hand dragged over his shoulder, smoothed down his chest, the light hair trailing down tickling over your fingers. his muscles jumped beneath your touch, stomach tensing when you tiptoed the tips of your fingers over the ladder leading into his boxers.

he was watching you through lowered lashes again, his face a mix of lust and adoration, his need for you obvious in the way his hands ran along your thighs, his gaze flickering to where you were perched. he was hard, achingly so and it was killing you only being able to feel the heat of him through your clothing. the wet patch in your underwear was obvious, had made a little mess of jude's dark underwear and heat flared in his gaze when he spotted it.

you shifted back to perch on his thighs, slipped your hand into his underwear and wrapped your fingers around his cock. squeezing lightly, you revelled in his breathy sigh and the way his nails sunk into your skin. the first brush of your fingers over the swollen tip had his jaw going slack, thighs tensing beneath you.

"wanna make you feel good, baby." you mumbled the words again, leaning in to slot your mouth over his, stopping his dazed nod halfway through. he accepted your kisses easily, brought his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you closer, his thumb swiping soft over your cheek. he was almost pliant beneath you, letting you kiss him at your own pace, succumbing to the slow strokes of your hand around his cock.

jude moaned into your mouth, a sound that had a direct effect on the space between your thighs and as though he could read your mind, his thumb pressed down over your clit. the pleasure was hot and sharp, had your hips stuttering forward, your nails sinking into the back of his neck. he circled the little bundle of nerves slowly over your underwear, fell further back into the sofa until you were crowding over him, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other still tugging at his leaking cock.

his kisses grew a little more desperate, messy and uncoordinated as he panted into your mouth before he drew back, pressed his thumb against your bottom lip to stop you going in for more. warm breath fanned over your cheek and he blinked a few times, blown out eyes making you wonder if you looked just as fucked out as he did.

"need to fuck you." you were nodding slowly, letting him slip his thumb past your lips and teeth, tongue lolling over it as you suckled softly. jude's chest heaved, his brows drawing in, gaze locking on your mouth. "you're- god i fuckin' love you." you let his thumb go with a pop, lips tilting into a smile and then he was fumbling with his boxers, pushing them down just enough to pull his cock free.

you pushed up on your knees a little, watching his fingers wrap around the base and give a slow tug, pre cum making the head sticky beneath his hand. he flicked his gaze down to the ruined cotton covering the one thing he really wanted.

"take 'em off for me, babe." while you were standing he shuffled his boxers completely down his legs, kicked them off one ankle to slide across the floor. there was nothing graceful about the way you discarded your underwear and jude laughed with a low snort when it landed on the other sofa. the laugh died off quickly when you straddled him again, both of your hands against his shoulders for leverage. "this too." he tugged at the ends of your shirt and within seconds you were both completely naked.

with one hand on his cock, he used the other to pull your hips toward, your body rising just slightly until you hovered over him. eyes on your pussy, he pushed the tip of his cock through your folds, your wetness gathering over him and you whimpered when he nudged at your clit. he pressed just the tip into your hole, stretched you just a little before pulling back out and teasing over your clit again. your hips bucked go chase his hand, a desperate sigh catching in your chest.

"jude,"

"i know, m'sorry, c'mere." his hand clamped your hip and then he was pushing into you properly, your pussy opening to accommodate his thick length. he helped you settle down on him, until he was seated completely inside you and couldn't go any further. "there you go, fuck, i don't- you're so tight."

“feels good.”

“yeah?” you could only nod, one hand on his shoulder, the other against the back of his head, your own head turning to press your nose against his temple. a slow circle of your hips had jude groaning, a deep, low sound and your pussy clenched around him, clit throbbing for attention.

with his hands on your ass again you lifted your hips, let his cock slide halfway out before swallowing him back in, adopting a slow, toe curling rhythm. jude let his head tilt back, let you ride him the way you wanted, basked in the pleasure rippling through him. you were so warm and wet, pussy swallowing him completely and he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when you dragged your lips over his neck. one hand held your hip, helped you rock against him.

“tell me it feels good.” your words were quiet in his ear, breathy and just edging on whiney because you were pressed so tight against him, each shift of your hips had your clit rubbing against the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. it was a tortuous kind of pleasure, not enough to get you there but enough to have your thighs going weak.

jude kissed your shoulder, slid the palm of his hand up your back and pulled you impossibly closer.

“feels so good, pretty girl. you’re doing so well for me. taking care of me just like you said, yeah?” again you nodded, muttered a weak “yeah” back in reply. his words of praise, however simple, had made you even wetter, the sound of jude’s cock fucking into you loud in the room. your moans were growing louder too, jude’s becoming a lot more whimpery, a telltale sign his orgasm was creeping up on him.

you shifted to press your foreheads together, rolled your hips a little quicker and angled yourself so that each time his cock slid into your walls the tip pressed as deep as possible. it repeatedly prodded the spot that made you dizzy and you gasped into against his mouth when his thumb found your clit again. he kept his eyes on you, brow furrowed deep in pleasure, lips parted so they could brush over yours. you were dripping down cock, making a mess beneath you but neither of you could bring yourselves to care.

jude made little tight circles over your clit and your nails bit into the skin on his bicep, your other hand clutching so tight to his shoulder it was like your massage was still ongoing. with burning thighs you rode him a little faster, his cock pulsing inside of you and you knew he was about to cum, his moans breathy to match your own.

“want you to cum, please, jude. need you to cum.”

“shh, i know, baby.” he rubbed a little quicker at your clit because your legs had started to shake, your pussy clamping down so tight around him it was a miracle he could still fuck you. you hadn’t realised you’d half fell into his chest and he’d taken over with short quick snaps of his hips. he was more grinding his cock into you, ready to cum the second he got you there.

“oh, i’m-“ you pressed your mouth to his and he swallowed your whimpery cries against his tongue, tugged and pulled at your ass with one hand to keep your rhythm going. the gush of wetness and tightening of your pussy made him groan, cock pulsing as he came. he filled you with hot spurts, both of you shuddering and moaning softly, each noise drowned out with slow swipes of your lips.

“fuck, baby, there it is. yeah, just like that.” jude went limp against the sofa, his hand leaving your clit to hold both of your hips and slow your rocking. you were still gripping his bicep but your other hand was at the back of his head, nails scratching over him as you both tried to catch you breath. you finally came to a stop, his cock still nestled deep inside of you, his cum dripping out and making a mess.

“that was-“

“yeah.” he gave a breathless laugh, kissed the corner of your mouth and brushed his hand over the side of your face. you were both sweaty, sticking to each other almost uncomfortably but neither had any intentions of moving just yet. your body was still tingling from your orgasm, legs weak and you worried if you stood up you’d only fall back down. “if this is the treatment i get when i’m warn out i might have to work even harder.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff

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ahoycaptainautumn · 9 months

Text

Fated Mates Part 6

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

In your travels towards a hopeful cure at the Selunite Temple you come across a small village of travelers. With a psychic nearly giving away Astarion's biggest secret you find company elsewhere. Astarion does not approve, to say the least.

Astarion whips the openings of his tent open as he trudges inside. This was not good. Not good at all. He could nearly laugh at himself for believing for one moment he had any power over this bond. That there was even a possibility of controlling you through it. It felt as if it controlled him more than anything else. He stomps over to his chest and digs through to find the mating book he had found in the last town's library. He flips forward to the section on vampiric mates. He obsessively reads over and over again. There has to be a way to break this incessant bond. To end this crushing weight of it inside his chest. He couldn’t take it. The vulnerability to love and be loved. No one could love a monster like him. Nor should they be forced to.

You on the other hand are oblivious to Astarions plight. You spend the rest of your time checking in on all your teammates and packing up camp. It would be a few days before getting to the temple. According to the map you “borrowed” from a drunken traveler, there was a town in between where you needed to go. You met with each companion to let them know your plan and direction you were going. The only one not outside was Astarion. You grumble your discontent and make way to his tent. Astarions pointed ears perk up at the all too familiar sound of your boots hitting the ground. He panics, not wanting you to even get a hint with the very obvious book he was reading. Whipping his head back and forth he notices the raunchy romance novel he had snagged from someone at the tavern. He quickly replaces that book's sleeve on top of the cover of the mating book. Thankfully he does so just in time for you to appear at his tent's opening. You push back the flaps and peer inside. He gives you a cheeky smile and waves.

“Just catching up on some reading, are we?” You ask. Your eyes finally fall onto the cover of the book. A shirtless man embracing a frail woman with his tongue knee deep in her mouth. You make a gag noise as you shrivel your nose in disgust.

“Oh you know, I have to study even on the road.” Astarion jokes. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Vile.” You fake gag. He quips an eyebrow up at you.

“You didn’t seem to think so.” His words come out as sweet as honey. It’s too easy to play with you, to tease you. Your whole body turns red and you swear you might just jump out of your skin in embarrassment. You shake your head as if to rid the words from the air.

“I- well- we are leaving in two minutes blood sucker!” You divert your gaze away from him and practically run over yourself away from him. You mutter something along the way about hating him. He can’t help but chuckle at your embarrassed state. He throws his head into his hands and groans. Yes this really, really, wasn’t good at all.

Besides stopping for one meal and a few bathroom breaks you are still about a days way from the next town. You had been following the path forward as you noticed more and more travelers coming and going. As you all get closer towards town you come upon what seems to be a small village. Hundreds of tents propped up in a large and lush valley. The smells of a market wafts towards your company. Cheer and merriment with the dancing sounds of music can be heard above all else. It is nearly nightfall and you don’t see the harm in checking it out. Though you get more than a few grumbles from Lae’zel and Astarion. You ignore them and lead the way into the heart of the tents. Calling it a small village was just about exactly what it was. Hordes of people all coming and going from tents and impromptu shops. There’s an alley just of multicolored canopies holding food stands. Meat hangs from sturdy clothing lines and fruits overflowing in barrels. The intoxicating smell of roasting pig flows from a large fire nearby. Other sites have signs enticing people to buy jewels or tarot readings. Your stomach grumbles and with a look you can tell everyone is thinking the same.

“We will spend the night here and round back up in the morning and set off first thing.” you tell the others. Everyone nods wildly, already eyeing different stands to venture off to. Some go in pairs while others wander off on their lonesome. You were just about to do the same before Astarion came to your side. You give him an exasperated face. He only gives a brazen smile in return.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, folding your arms in front of you. You lean on one leg and raise an eyebrow. You were hoping to find a nice hot meal and quiet. The latter not happening with Astarion around.

“Oh come on, you could use the company. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be eating anything here. Unless you’d rather me find some delectable company.'' His toothy grin only emphasizes what he would like to be doing with those canines. A weird pang hits you and you shake your head.

“I do not need another angry mob, especially because one of my companions ate somebody.” you sigh. His eyes perk up at your words.

“Companions are we?” he stoops at the waist to look you in the eyes with his grin still locked in place. You bristle, tripping over your words.

“Companions only in travel , I absolutely assure you.” you bite back. He only laughs at your scowl and equally sour words.

“And here I thought we were mortal enemies. Seems I’ve made progress already.” He laughs. You point a finger into his chest and seethe your next words from between your teeth.

“Dream on blood sucker. Now let’s get going, I want some food.” You retract your hand and walk forward without a glance to see if Astarion is following. He quickly adjusts and follows behind you. He tells himself he doesn’t want to be in your company. If the universe hadn’t given him a chance mate he would of been spending this time either drinking or fucking, or better, both. But there was a gnawing feeling at the thought of you not being near him. Without you in his line of vision how was he to know you were okay? That you hadn’t gotten yourself into some mess? Or worse, courting with some random person in one of these tents. He can’t help the way that thought makes his anger flare. His teeth grind on each other and his hands ball into fists. Stupid mate instincts. Just as he has that thought a drunken patron from one of the bar tents nearly stumbles into you. You are too transfixed looking between meal stalls to notice. Astarion’s hand snakes around your hips and pulls your hip to his. You stumble into his side just as the man falls over on himself next to you. Your eyes follow the man now scrambling on the ground to Astarion’s death glare he gives him. His nails dig into your hip as he squeezes you in close. Your hand comes up to his chest to balance yourself. Astarion’s glare nearly stabs daggers into the man's eyes. The man gets one look at Astarion’s flaming rage evident in his face and body language and he clambers up. He just barely gets an apology out before Astarions voice overpowers his.

“Watch where you are going imbecile.” Astarions voice is glacier cool and it has the man running as if for his life. You swat at Astarion which breaks the spell of anger that was only climbing inside of him. He looks to you and finds you giggling.

“Astarion! It really was not that big of a deal! I can handle some drunken fool.”

“Well someone has to protect our leader.” Astarion jokes.

“I fended you off quite well in our original meeting now didn’t I?” you shake yourself out of Astarions rock solid hold and tug his hand forward. “Come, I’m practically starving.” Astarion shakes as if ridding himself of a clinging sensation of emotion. He hadn’t even thought before grabbing onto you. Of the drunk getting his filth all over you. Something about it riled him up more than he would've ever thought. The bond inside him tugged for attention, begging for Astarion to heed its gift. He swallowed that feeling down and weaved through the stalls alongside you. You finally stop inside a stall and grab a plate of food and ale from a vendor. There’s a large picnic area filled with tables and chairs off to the side with a band just beginning to tune up for a performance. You find a small empty table and sit down to enjoy your food. Astarion sits across from you and props his head on his hand in boredom. He people watches a bit before you cut into his thinking.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask in between mouthfuls. His head snaps back to you and gives you a quizzical look. You make a gesture down to your nearly finished food.

“Oh, uh no. Well, it’s not like I can even remember it truthfully.” he responds.

“What do you mean, how long has it been since you were, you know, not what you are.” you ask. He nearly laughs at the hoops you jump through to avoid the word vampire.

“Darling it's been nearly two centuries since I’ve been turned.” he replies. Ale nearly flies from your mouth in surprise. You gulp down what you can and cough before you wipe your mouth.

“You’re over two hundred years old?” you asked incredulously.

“I know, I look barely a day over 30.” he smiles, swiping nonexistent lint from his shoulders, all bravado.

“More like I can’t believe I kissed such a geriatric man.” you tease. Astarion flares at your words.

“G- Geriatric! Geriatric! I assure you I don’t fuck like a-” your laugh cuts him off.

“You’re so easy to get riled up!” you belly laugh before you finish your ale. He mumbles some insult or another as he pouts. You stand from your seat and cock your head at Astarion. “Are you going to continue to follow me or are you going to sit and pout about being old?” you ask. He pushes off the table and stands to follow you. You get lost back into the crowd and look through the different merchants. As you eye through weaponry and treasures you walk past a tall tabaxi woman. She stands in front of her tent with a sign labeled “Psychic Readings - 10 pence”. She's dressed in embellished azure robes with several silver necklaces looped around her neck. She waves at the both of you.

“My my, the oracle has much to say about your future.” she entices. Your eyebrow perks up but Astarion only tries to steer you away with a very obvious annoyed face.

“Tricksters, the lot of them.” he explains.

“Tricky is what you have swimming around in that brain of yours.” she responds nonchalantly as she turns into her tent. You give Astarion a stunned look and make to follow her.

“There’s no way a trickster knows that! Come on, let’s just see.” you pull Astarion along with you. Though he doesn’t know how she could know about the tadpoles he still holds the thought of her being nothing but a con man. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the hustle, just that it won’t work on someone who once conned just as much. Astarion plops into a plush chair next to you. The tabaxi woman sits on the other side of the table with a cloudy orb sitting between you all. The tent is filled with a large prayer stand to a goddess neither of you are familiar with. Idols and offerings line the counters and tables around the circle of candles set up in the goddesses name. Golden candelabras line any other open space with oriental rugs covering the inside completely. The psychic places her hand upon the orb and swirls her palms around it till murky clouds appear from within.

“Now, both of you place your palms upon the crystal ball. The oracle will grace me with a vision.” she explains. You immediately clip in.

“Can she tell us about the tadpoles?” you ask feverishly. The tabaxi woman only shakes her head.

“I do not control the subject of the vision, I am only a voice for the beyond.” she explains. Astarion throws up his hands in irritation with a scowl on his lips.

“Then what good is this? A waste of time!” he frowns. He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to leave. You pat his thigh to make him look at you and try to give a reassuring smile.

“It’s worth a shot, right? Besides, what else can it tell us besides you being older than 200?” you joke. His irritation from the woman gets redirected at you.

“I should've never told you that! Fine, we can do the weird mystical orb then.” He looks away from you and throws his hand onto the ball impatiently. You place your hand partially on top of his and look to the psychic for a sign. The slits of her eyes get replaced with bright white, taking over her entire eyes. Her paws face upwards on the table and you notice the scripture tattooed onto them begins to hum in equally bright light. The candelabras flames shake as a wind rushes into the tent and wraps around you all. You can feel in your bones the power sweeping over the tabaxi before she even speaks.

“What is ancient can not be broken. What is meant, will be. Love is slow but it is strong. What begins as hate will blossom to the heart. One for another. A solution and a curse.” her voice is otherworldly, coming from somewhere far and primitive. A cold shiver wracks your body and your voice shakes.

“What- what does that mean?” you can barely get out. Her white orbs look over to you.

“Feelings can be denied but I see you, and he will too.” she responds before the wind dies from inside the tent. The candles go back to their full strength and her eyes return to the green cat-like that they were previous. Your whole body stills as your mind goes over and over what she says. Maybe, sure you thought Astarion was physically attractive. That much is obvious to anyone with a brain. And maybe you enjoyed the banter you two had. And yeah maybe you felt a terror grip you seeing his injuries the other day. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that felt ravished by his touch. By the electricity and pure passion that welled deep in your body at his bite. And how you wanted it again. You look over to Astarion to check his reaction and immediately wish you hadn’t. His face is of revulsion. His nose is scrunched with his eyebrows furrowed. He looks over at you and you can barely breathe. He looks nothing short of nauseated. You slam your hands down as you break from your seat. The ornate chair goes flying behind you at your actions. Your face is hot with shame and you can feel wet tears welling up in your eyes. You throw the 10 pence down on the table and make haste in getting far far away from the psychic and Astarion. You can’t believe that for even a second he would have another reaction. You felt stupid, and a little heart broken if not also confused at your foreign feelings.

On the other hand Astarion had heard the woman's words and felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped onto him. Here he was trying to get information on the tadpoles and the bloody woman had just given away his biggest secret to the exact person he didn’t want to hear it. Astarion has to hold back a snarl at the woman. His anger and disgust with the woman coming to him fast. He holds a breath he knows he doesn’t need and finally faces your stare. You look like a fawn caught by a wolf. Your whole body shivers and your eyes are blown wide. You bite your lip and look as if you are about to leap from your seat if he were to make a move. He had never seen you so.. Scared. He is about to say something, about how ridiculous this all was and how this woman must be a lunatic before you leap up and out of the tent. Astarion barely has time to turn his head before you're out the door and rounding a corner. He doesn’t bother wasting the time to lash out at the woman and tries to follow after you. But he immediately loses you. His heart clamps down around itself and a shot of fear races up his spine. Where in the hells were you? Where was his mate?

Sloshing amber liquid dribbles down your chin as you finish another round of ambrosia. You had run as fast as your feet could carry you until you were sure Astarion would not be able to follow you. You needed to be anywhere else. Your mind needed to be anywhere else. You found a liquor stall and helped yourself to a spot. The orc bartender drying a glass came to you and asked what he could do for you.

“What do you have for someone needing to forget someone?” you ask solemnly. The orc had only given a slight chuckle before reaching deep into a locked chest behind the counter. He brings a glass and the large bottle to you.

“Ambrosia. ‘Pose to be blessed with a crave beyond the bottle. You’ll have someone else to forget with that.” he offers to you with a wink. You had greedily poured yourself a glass and now found yourself nearly finishing the bottle. Your vision blurs and doubles. The liquor warms your being and turns your brain to mush. Your limbs feel loose and free and all you can do is smile and laugh at nothing. You’ve never felt so good. So free. Like you could dance the night away. Just as you finish off the bottle and pay the kind orc you hear the strumming of a band. Your ears perk up at the sound and you follow it. You want nothing more than to dance. To forget that stupid handsome vampire and dance with someone half as pretty and forget. As if your thoughts bring truth the picnic area had now been turned into a dance floor. Carpets and furs are thrown haphazardly on the ground creating a space for dancing. The speed of the music is hot and fast. People of all kinds dance and grind against each other as magical lights in varied colors twinkle on strings above you. It creates a vision of neon lights strobing over the swaying bodies. You rush to meet them and enter into this haven. You make your way onto the floor and lose any inhibition you still had left. Your hips twirl as you run your hands over your body and hair. Gods you’ve never felt so so very good. You sway and dance in time to the music. A man's body comes pressed to the back of yours. Your hands fly up and back to grab onto his neck and shoulder. You turn your face to look over at him. A dark haired elf smiles down at you with twinkling green eyes. Handsome, not as much as Astarion, but he would do. You give a seductive smile and grind against him. His hands fly down to grip your hips as he moves with you. Your head finds a home into the nape of his neck as you give a bold kiss to his collarbone. He gives you a smile in return and nestles his head next to yours. Just as your lips were about to seal over one anothers a clawed hand rips him away from you. You’re still too drunk on ambrosia to catch the action and you nearly fall over from the loss of balance. Astarion grabs your wrists and catches you to right yourself. He stands between you and the elf.

“What the hells? What do you think you’re doing?” the man shouts at Astarion. Normally Astarion feels ice cold but the caged inferno of rage inside of him makes his skin nearly hot. Astarion bares his teeth and nearly rips the man apart. Astarion feels as if he could tear through the center of the earth over and over again. He would take on a thousand men before allowing one to touch you so eagerly.

“Taking what is mine.” Astarion growls before he turns and hoists you up and over his shoulder. You yelp in surprise and weakly attempt to punch on Astarion’s back to make him put you down. Astarion pays it no mind and trudges away from the dance floor and towards where his tent is on the outskirts of the gathering lies in waiting.

“The hells do you think you are doing? I was quite enjoying my company!” you argue, your words slurring. Astarion lets out a deep snarl at your words.

“Not anymore.” he curtly replies.

“What is it to you? It’s not like you enjoy my company so I had to make my own!” you counter with a huff. Astarion nearly stops but continues on.

“What in the world gave you that impression?” he asks.

“I saw how you looked at me in the psychic’s tent! You look at me with disgust!” you huff. You hadn’t noticed you had made it back to Astarion’s tent before he drops you on his abundant pillows. Your back hits your plush surroundings as your limbs try to cooperate to sit you up even a bit. Astarion drops to his knees in front of you with each leg on the sides of yours. His hands hold him in place on either side of your head as you find yourself lost in his crimson eyes.

“And how am I looking at you now?” he whispers. His words cause a stir in your abdomen and your body whines to touch his. His pupils are blown wide as his tongue wipes over his sharp teeth.

“Hungry.” you barely reply, clenching your aching thighs together.

“Starved.”

part five here

part seven here

comment below and ill reply when the next one is up :)

#smut #reader insert #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bd3 #mates #balders gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #slow burn #enemies to lovers

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dontexpectmuch · 9 months

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ahdjkfl i saw your post asking for cute requests and while i was rewatching the gio-jude video where they do that black or yellow game i was wondering what jude would be like with an s/o who loves to sleep/is impossible to wake up since he laughs at gio's sleeping habits so much... especially curious as a gal who loves to sleep and would wake up at 2pm everyday if i could

a silent groan leaves jude mouth.

yes, he was kind of annoyed that you were still sleeping, but he also couldn’t bring it over his heart to wake you. you just looked so comfortable and cute, enough for jude to just wait for you to wake up on your own.

he slowly closed the door to your bedroom behind him, moving back to the living room, where he’d wait for you even longer.

it’s already 12pm, he went out for a run, worked out, had breakfast, talked to his family and called every other person he knew. he kind of did everything he could to pass time, waiting for you patiently.

sitting back on your couch, his head leaned against the back, eyes staring up as he was deep in thought. maybe this was his punishment for talking too much?

maybe he shouldn’t have said that he disliked people that sleep too long, ‘cause now his favorite person ever turned out to be a night owl and heavy sleeper in the morning. and as much as he wanted to help you get rid of this habit of staying up all night, only to sleep throughout the day, he just couldn’t. jude didn’t know how to explain it, but all of it made him even more enamored by you than he ever thought would be possible.

sighing, he picks up his phone to scroll through every social media platform he had. however, the sound of your bedroom door opening made him halt his movements, hope settling in his chest as he looked up with wide eyes.

there you were, his person, his lover, looking tired, as if you hadn’t slept for much longer than any other normal person.

your hair was a mess, your face was puffy and your clothes were wrinkled, but you just looked so ethereal to him, making him get up from his usual spot on your couch, to greet you with a forehead kiss.

you tiredly lean your body against his, face snuggling into his neck, “morning.” your voice is rather raspy after you wake up, but jude can’t help but melt when he hears you greet him.

“it’s almost 1pm, babe.” he grins, hands resting on your hips as he slightly sways you both from side to side.

groaning, you stepped back from his body, stretching your arms above your head, moving to the kitchen to make yourself a coffee.

“when did you arrive?”

following you, jude made himself comfortable on one of the kitchen chairs, eyes never leaving your figure, “an hour ago, waited for you to wake up.”

you faced him, eyes meeting his, “why didn’t you wake me?”

your boyfriend just shrugged, “you looked comfy, didn’t want to disturb you.”

you shook your head, turning back to pour the boiling water into your mug.

“wake me up next time, wanna spend as much as time with you as possible.” you say, taking a seat on the chair next to his.

jude couldn’t help but smile, nodding at your words.

“sure, babe.”

———————————————

a short one but it’s cutee

#jude bellingham #football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff

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hwajin · 8 months

Text

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 005. — 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 | 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut, angst

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: ghost!jisung x fem!reader

𝖜𝖈: 1.8k

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: you loved him. desired for him. desired his touch, his closure, his body next to your own — yet he was different, wasn't as much a body as a hue; and his touch meant death.

𝖈𝖜: this fic explores dark themes such as DEATH, THE WISH OF DYING AND CHARACTER DEATH!!!! don't proceed reading if sensitive to said themes. smut warnings: mutual masturabtion

It was torturous. The air in the stuffed room far too cold, dark, blinds half open to let in only a shimmer of the moon, full and white against deepest blue. It was a night starless, mostly, all of them caught within him; he was shining, blueish hues surrounding his figure – you couldn’t much call it a body – his eyes translucent, laid upon you, barely blinking. Stars would never be the same to you. Stars would always equal death after meeting Jisung.

His lids were hooded, heavy with arousal – you hadn’t known such feelings, bodily sensations bore possibility for someone his kind; ghosts, untouchable by humans though without the ability to pass objects. You wished it was the other way around. You wished Jisung could walk through walls and sink into floors and was unable to hold pencils or books or phones – instead he could eat and sit in chairs and lay in beds, though not touch you. He couldn’t put a hand on your shoulder, couldn’t possibly wrap his arms around your figure – in fact, he had jolted back, scared and face painted in utter fear, when you had approached his body, cold and dead, and had urged him to try. Maybe you were different, maybe his curse would make an exception for you. Though, he’d explained; it was dangerous to even be close to you. That he broke a million rules for even finding himself in the same room as you, let alone at a distance of less than five meters. Though trying to touch you, trying to prove his death right and your desire wrong – it would near kill you. If his hand – blue, cold, glistening veins in brightest blue – would pass through your body, graze your heart and caress your organs, touch your insides, your blood would stop pumping, your heart would stop beating, your lungs would suffer the inability to take breath. You’d freeze to death before your halted heart could cause you damage, your body would experience enough harm at once to never repair – Jisung would, undeniably and simply, kill you.

The coldness Jisung radiated had decreased when he’d sat on the chair by your desk, far enough from the bed where you’d been positioned. His coldness alone wasn’t strong enough to bring you to death – it surely wasn’t comfortable for you, a coldness sharp and stinging you didn’t know another feeling like it, a bodily instinct, making you understand he was something to flee from, not something to be around – not someone to desire. And yet you did, against all rules of nature, against all sense of coherence – and he did too, body ironically burning while he’d watched you, while his eyes had wandered you up and down as your hands had undone the buttons of your shirt, had slid off top and shorts in swift motion, had gotten rid of underwear entirely. He wasn’t supposed to grow erect from the sight; you weren’t supposed to get wet at your actions – unnatural if anything, impossibly otherworldly.

You were sighing his name, legs apart, a frantic hand in between them, fingers eliciting sloppy sounds which filled the entirety of the room. You were sweating, a cold sweat which dripped down your neck, collected in the hollow of your knee, drowned your body in shivers and wet. Jisung watched, attentively, following your every move – your fingers against your clit, disappearing inside of you occasionally only to circle back at your sensitivity; your legs closing in pleasure until you remembered you had a spectator, until you continued putting on a show for him, spreading thighs apart, giving him nothing to imagine, granting him to see your every inch; your head lulling into your neck, glistening, dripping – he wanted to kiss it off you, wanted to lay lips on your skin, on every bead of sweat forming on your electrified body. He urged to be closer to you, his hand palming his erection not half enough, not close to the satisfaction he knew you would grant him. Never before has he longed for a mere human the way he did for you – after all, it wasn’t in his nature, not only dangerous but impossible; the inability to be with you, to touch you, love you the way he wanted it, the way he knew you needed was by far a bigger curse than wandering the earth in loneliness, for the entirety of time.

“Jisung… need to touch you…”

Your words barely a whisper, your body trembling, your legs fighting the urge to clamp down around your hand – and Jisung slapped himself internally at the thoughts wandering his mind at watching the sight of you, at finally wrapping a hand around his erection properly, granting him a fraction of the pleasure he desired; if only you were like him, not alive and yet wandering the earth – infinity wouldn’t feel so lonely, entirety would maybe be enjoyable, with you by his side. He wished you dead in his selfishness, and he knew that continue seeing you after tonight would be irresponsible on his side, surely, if he wished for your death; he’d have to flee, leave you behind if only for your own safety. Yet he didn’t stop in his tracks. Told himself that tonight must be finished, that he couldn’t cause you any more damage than he’s done already. That granting himself a last orgasm in your presence, watching you finish in spasms around your own hand a very last time wouldn’t harm any more than fleeing right the moment – so he kept his hand moving, up and down and around his tip, whimpers leaving his throat in calls of your name. Maybe he was a sucker for pain, for torture, for the sheer impossible – or maybe he didn’t want to let go of you after all, couldn’t in missing self-control.

The fingers against your slit were frantic now, your eyes only half-open and laying on Jisung, taking in the sight before you – his own hand tugged and pulled at his erection, veins along his dick blue and shimmering, like the rest of his body. He didn’t dare to convert his eyes, fighting urges to throw back his neck in bliss, watching you instead, holding eye contact that spoke more than a million of your words ever could. An unsaid pact, a promise written simply in a gaze – you wished for death yourself, if it meant being with him. Didn’t care much for your life if Jisung couldn’t be in it, if as much as a touch was forbidden, deadly. Jisung’s hand along his shaft quickened, collecting precum rolling off his tip and spreading it along his base, hips bucking up from your chair, making it creak under his weight. His breath hitched, stuck in his throat – you were part of the reason, your free hand now toying with your breasts, groping and pulling at your nipple, hips rolling into your hand, heels dug into the softness of the mattress. Siren eyes on him without a break, pulling him into your trance, making him wish for things dangerous for either of you – and none of you could care. Not when release was right around the corner, bubbling and brewing in the pits of your stomachs, hips chasing touch, further friction; hips chasing bodies, another person’s hand, another person's closure.

“Touch me.”

Jisung’s eyes fixated yours at your words, stuttering though not halting in his movements. Hand stroking along his dick, growing harder and wetter, inching closer to finish, closer to the end of him and you. He wouldn’t see you again, couldn’t possibly, not if he was right-minded – yet maybe he was twisted, damaged entirely; because your command set off satisfaction in him, pleasure which he jolted at, thrusting frantic hip into his hand, desperately. You wanted him, badly so, just as much as it was the case the other way around. He kept watching you fingering yourself, proposing a death wish while in a state of utter bliss – maybe you were as twisted as he was, maybe you didn’t quite understand what you’d suggested; though Jisung deemed that to be unlikely.

“I’ll kill you if- if I do.”

Voice caught in his throat, spurting out in stutter. He was unbearably close, dick twitching in his hold, hard and slick against his hand – he needed your touch as well, urged for it in moment of helplessness, on the verge of release, teetering and daring to fall off the edge. Your eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze, fingers quickening on your clit – a whimper soul-wrenching left you, ripping through the room. Your pussy was glistening, growing wetter the more you thought about your own offer, the harder you saw Jisung think about it; you were insane, ready for death if it meant trading it for love.

“Touch me, Ji. I don’t want to live if it’s a life without you.”

He came in spurts of blueish white, strings upon strings of his release coating his hand, making a mess of his clothes. His eyes shut and his neck against the head of the chair, hips still spasming, riding out high, muscles calming. You were crazy, insane. Your offer was; and yet he stood up at your command after his body regained strength, after he looked at you for a moment which spoke agreement and held promise. He moved closer to you, slow steps, cautious, not to scare you. You didn’t stop touching yourself, fingers moving against your clit in fast motions, letting yourself grow colder with every inch he came nearer, towards your body. He stood before you eventually, body right before your own, and you shivered. Tension building up within you and stinging cold spreading through veins and cells, creating a gooses’ flesh on your own. Your nipples hardened, your body trembled – you would die tonight.

He kneeled down to your eye level – the confidence in your words scared him, set him back to reality; you were ready to die if for him, and he would gladly let you. Was too selfish to argue against it, to deny that it, too, was his most desired wish; so he leaned in, closer, far too risqué. Coldness must have paralyzed you by now, must have made you unable to feel body and limbs. He leaned in and you reached out your hand, towards his own. Palms only an inch from each other, not touching but hovering in the air, until he passed through it, through the skin and muscles and bones of your arm and your head threw back, if in pleasure or pain Jisung was unsure. And he came closer yet, if possible – lips hovering above your own, right hand just above your pumping heart; and you arched into him, took him off the decision, made him graze your heart, colden your insides. Made him take you with him, a blessing in disguise, wandering the world together side by side, tonight and forever.

@katsukis1wife @reianagarcia @mixtape-racha @bbyboychanyeol @artisticbirb @fire-08 @lxverss @unlikelysublimekryptonite @aiko0invalid @salfetkablog @saintriots @boi-bi-ahaha @summer3sworld @bangchans-angel @jenos-eye-smiles @alnex05 @imwithurmother @yangjeonginswifee @hydroyaksha @starlit-rin @channiesgoodgirl @lizzetmv @poody1608 @fandems @stanskzsstuff @cypher-girlx @kayleigh-28 @jetblackbelle @agnes-king @seoseoya @lipstickandloveletters @viviixlyy @hanjisungsgirl @having-an-internal-crisis-rn @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky

#han jisung smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

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dduane · 2 months

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In the TIL (Thematically Peripatetically) dep't

In the classic British war movie Ice Cold in Alex, one character who blames himself for a drinking problem that may have cost someone else their life declares he's not going to take another drink until he and the people fleeing across the African desert with him can sit down and have "an ice cold lager in Alex[andria]." This promise he keeps.

The interesting part lies in how the promise plays out on film.

youtube

A background issue (from the production standpoint) of what makes this scene so interesting is that it's always hard to get any scene right in just one take. There were apparently a fair number of takes on this shot.

The producers apparently tried hard to substitute something non-alcoholic for the beer, but this proved impossible, as there was no way to fake the head. So they used real beer.

John Mills, professional that he was, drank them one after another in multiple takes. As a result, co-star Sylvia Syms describes him as having been "a little heady" when they were done with that scene.

Another less problematic problem (as such things go...) was that the novel by Christopher Landon on which the film was based has the actors drinking a US beer called Rheingold... which the producers ruled out. They they felt there was no way the characters would willingly be drinking a German (or German-sounding) beer after being pursued across North Africa by the Afrika Korps. So Carlsberg was substituted.

...And it's at this point that things start to veer. @petermorwood was telling me about this, some of which I knew... but not about the Rheingold.

"Really?" I said. "You're kidding me!"

"Why?" he said.

At which point I did what any New Yorker of a certain age might very likely do under such circumstances: I burst into song. (And frankly, because you don't need to hear me doing that, here are the Golden Girls doing it.)

youtube

Rheingold was the best-selling beer in the New York metropolitan area, and apparently in New York state as well, at least partly due to numerous aggressive advertising campaigns on radio and then on TV. That jingle was known, in many permutations—including one in 6/8 time that appears in this stop-motion-animated commercial—by lots and lots of people.

Including me. So I sang it (at least some of it: I couldn't remember the final couple of stanzas) and Peter and I looked at each other in mild bemusement. "You think your mind's full of useless garbage," I said, "try mine sometime!" And we laughed and went back to whatever we'd been doing.

Out of curiosity, I then went over to YouTube to see (as I sometimes do) whether I was anywhere near the original key of the best-known version of the jingle while singing. Turns out I was pretty close. But along the line, I stumbled across the blog of a retired librarian who clued me in on something startling:

That jingle's music was ripped off, in whole cloth, from a French composer... whose authorship is apparently routinely obscured by the name of the music's (possibly better-known?) arranger.

Here it is, and apparently misattributed as above, in full classical glory: the Estudiantina Waltz. (Warning: the main chorus is a bit of an earworm, and you may not be able to get rid of it easily. I know I won't be, for the day anyway...)

youtube

...So that's the local installment of Today I Learned. May yours (if you have one) be way more useful and interesting. :)

#Youtube #Rheingold beer #Golden Girls #Paul Lacôme #Émile Waldteufel #Ice Cold in Alex #John Mills #tw: alcohol #tw: alcoholism

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twilight-saga-headcanons · 7 months

Text

Quileute Wolf Pack - Sleeping Habits

Suggested by: no one

oOo

Sam

An awful sleeper, not in the sense that he's awful to sleep next to, it's just that... he can't sleep for a few hours without waking up. He doesn't know if it's a holdover of sleeping lightly because he was terrified of when his father would randomly come home in the middle of the night drunk out of his mind, but it still happens

Up and down all night, but has mastered the art of not waking up his significant other

Looks stressed out even when he sleeps.

Jared

Mr. Cuddles

No sense of personal space when it comes to sleeping. You'll wake up sweating profusely because he has somehow wrapped all four of his limbs around you in the middle of the night and WILL not let go.

Snores, but it's a very quiet rumbling. A good noise to fall asleep to, but not something that will keep you up at night.

Sleeps in just his boxers, usually

Paul

Sleeps naked, doesn't care what anyone else thinks. The man ran hot even before he shifted, so now it's just ridiculous.

Shoves all of his blankets to the side and onto his partner

Kind of an obnoxious sleeper, snores loudly but ONLY if he's sleeping on his back.

Deeeeeep sleeper. Almost impossible to wake up when he's out. You have a problem in the middle of the night? lmao good luck

Embry

Curls up into a tight ball to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Likes being the little spoon

A light sleeper. Takes him a long time to fall asleep and if he wakes up, chances are that he'll be up for a while.

Sleeps with the window open. Doesn't care that his room might get damp; he likes the sounds of the crickets and the wind too much to care.

Mumbles in his sleep sometimes about nothing in particular.

Jacob

Doesn't move much when he sleeps. He'll probably reach out to touch you to make sure that you're still there, but otherwise he pretty much keeps to his side of the bed unless you are the one to move over to snuggle against him.

Kicks his blankets all the way to the end of the bed every night.

Three pillows: one for under his head, one for in his arms, and one to wrap his legs around.

Quil

Has like four fans spinning in his room at once because the man is H O T.

Has a thing about sleeping with his socks on? He has to sleep with socks. No question. Anyone who's sleeping next to him must ALSO have socks because he will jump and scream if cold bare feet touch him in the middle of the night.

Shirtless, but usually wears boxers or like basketball shorts or something to bed. It just can't be constricting, otherwise he won't be able to fall asleep

Leah

Don't even THINK about touching Leah when she sleeps because you WILL get a whole can of whoop-ass unleashed. Can't stand being touched in her sleep for whatever reason

She'll snuggle with you, but she'll be up all night because of it and will probably untangle herself from you in the middle of the night

It's a sensory thing - she doesn't know why it bothers her, it just does

Sleeps in shorts and a tank top, or sometimes just the tank top and underwear

Light sheet, lots of fluffy pillows

Seth

Don't judge him for his many stuffed animals, okay??? He has attachment issues and doesn't want to get rid of them

Doesn't snore, but flops around a lot. He's woken up sideways, half on the floor, limbs flailing around, feet near the headboard.

Likes to have noise when he sleeps, so he probably has the TV on and is half-listening to it while he dozes

#twilight saga headcanons #wolf pack headcanons #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black #sam uley #quil ateara #embry call #seth clearwater #paul lahote #leah clearwater #jared cameron

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cherry-holmes · 5 months

Text

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 13

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: After been kidnapped by Diego, Javier is desperate to find you. And he’s willing to give his own life if that mean you’ll be safe.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3.4k

Warnings: +18 THIS A HEAVY CHAPTER

Violence typical of the series. Gunfire. Wounds. Blood. Kidnapping. Swearing (slut, bitch to refer at Reader). Mentions of sexual assault, but nothing graphic. Mentions of death and dead bodies.

A/N: Hello! First of all I wanna apologize for taking me so long to bring you this chapter🥺 But I was struggling with my personal life and I wanted to do this chapter as well as possible. It was very difficult to write, to be honest😩 However, here it is! Hope you like it!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

As soon as you asked, Javi furrowed his brow, giving you a mock-serious look as if you had just transformed into an actual worm. There was a smile on his lips, though, and a sparkle in his softened eyes just for you.

"A what?" He couldn't contain the humor in his tone. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer," you insisted, shifting on the bed to face him, playing with the bare skin of his chest. "Yes or no?"

He let out a smile and a laugh, his hand now caressing the soft skin of your arm, "I guess I would have to learn to love worms then," he teased, his eyes filled with affection. "But luckily for me, you're not a worm. You're the most gorgeous woman I know."

You chuckled at his response, enjoying the playful banter. His hand continued its gentle exploration on your skin and the flower patterns adorning your pijama.

"You know," he said, his voice taking a more suggestive tone, "even if you were a worm, I'd probably still find you irresistibly charming."

You blushed at his comment, the mix of humor and sweetness making the moment even more special.

"Wow, smooth talker," you teased back, grateful for the lightheartedness in the air.

Javi grinned, pulling you a bit closer. "What can I say? I'm just being honest."

He leaned on your body, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. His arms rounded your torso, pulling you impossibly closer to him, absorbing your natural scent and relishing in the little sounds you made when he kissed you, when he touched you.

As Javier's fingers ran through the silk fabric of your pajama, he couldn't help but wonder if you were fine, if you were cold or harmed. The unsettling thought lingered in his mind, imagining you in a place only God knew, possibly frightened and alone.

He couldn't help but feel a deep guilt for everything that had happen to you.

It had been two days since Steve entered his hospital room and told him you had been kidnapped by Diego Ibarra. He thought he would die of a heart attack right there, but he used all the strength he could find to get up and look for you.

"You need to calm down, Javi," his partner had told him as Javier managed to get out of bed and rid himself of the intravenous on the back of his hand.

"I have to find her," he repeated like a chant for the millionth time as he moved around the hospital room, trying to reach his clothes.

Messina had assigned a team to help Javier and Steve to find you, but they hadn't succeed yet.

"Are you ready?" asked Steve from Javi's bedroom door, bringing him out of his musings.

Javier nodded reluctantly, grabbing his jacket and heading to the main door, the internal struggle evident on his face. The worry for your well-being weighed heavily on him, yet he knew Steve was right. Going headfirst into the situation without a plan could jeopardize everything.

As they drove through the raining streets of Medellín, each passing second intensified the anxiety that gripped Javier's chest.

Then, at the base, minutes felt like hours, the room seemed to close in on Javier, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The constant ringing of the phone became a haunting sound, each call bringing a surge of hope followed by crushing disappointment.

It wasn't just about finding you; it was about unraveling the complex web of danger that surrounded your lives. Javier couldn't escape the nagging thought that your safety rested precariously on the decisions he had made, the choices he had yet to make.

As Steve continued coordinating with the team and the authorities, Javier drifted his eyes to the framed picture on his desk—a moment of love from the fair's photobooth. Your first kiss, on your birthday, when you accepted him as your boyfriend. He couldn't have been happier that day and since then.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Javier felt like he was about to throw up, just hearing his personal cellphone ringing. He knew who it was.

Steve, Messina, and a couple of officers followed Javier as he answered and put it on speaker, ignoring the sharp pain in his side, where he had been shot.

"Peña," he couldn't contain the quiver in his voice as he answered.

"Ja... Javi?"

His heart stopped for a second, just to restart its pulse so fast it could make a hole in his chest. It was your voice, it was you. It was the first time in three days that he knew something about you.

He called your name softly, a mix of worry and relief flooding his tone. "Are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

"I'm..." you began, but your voice was abruptly cut off by someone else.

"Hola, Peñita," Diego's voice pierced through the line. Everyone around the phone got tense. His voice echoed through the speaker, a sinister undertone sending shivers down Javier's spine. "Don't worry, I've been taking good care of your girl."

Javier clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure. "Let her go, Diego. This is between us. Don't involve her."

"Oh, but she's quite involved, isn't she?" Diego chuckled, the sound dripping with malice. "Little fuckin' slut." Javier's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and desperation. "Listen, you're going to follow my instructions if you want her to stay in one piece."

Javier's mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmarish situation. "You see, I know all about your little dance with Los Pepes. Quite the federal crime, isn't it? I've got some juicy details that might interest the DEA, amigo."

Javier could feel everyone's eyes on him, shocked by the revelation. Agent Peña leaking to Los Pepes? He was fucked. However, he couldn't care less about his job in that moment. He was focused on you and bringing you back.

"What do you want?" he demanded, a mixture of anger and desperation in his voice.

Diego chuckled, relishing the upper hand. "Simple, Peñita. You go to your DEA pals and tell them about your new friends in Cali, about Don Berna and sweet Judy Moncada."

Diego continued, his voice dripping with malice, "And you tell them everything. I want you to spill the beans on your cozy little collaboration with Los Pepes. I'm gonna ruin your life like you ruined mine. Staring with your career."

And he hung up the phone.

Before anyone, even Javier, could say anything, Messina, visibly concerned, asked him, "What was all that about Los Pepes?"

Javier shared a look with Steve and took a deep breath before responding, "I'll explain later. Right now, we need to focus on tracking down Diego and saving her."

Messina nodded, not fully convinced, but she knew the urgency in finding you. For her, you weren't just Javier's girlfriend; you were her responsibility on the DEA administrative side. By kidnapping you, Diego had committed a federal crime just as Peña did by leaking information to Los Pepes. Eventually, both men had to pay for what they did, but in that very moment, your life was the main priority.

Trujillo, joining the conversation, added, "We've located the source of the call. It's a warehouse on the outskirts of Medellín. We should move quickly."

The urgency in the room escalated as the team prepared to mobilize.

Javier jumped into the passenger seat of Murphy's truck, who knew that recommending Javi to stay in the base because of his wound would be in vain. As they followed Trujillo, Javier spoke.

"If they ask you, you didn't know anything about Los Pepes," he reminded his partner.

"Fuck you, Javi," Steve answered. He was pissed at him for being so stupid to do such a thing as to form a kind of alliance with the enemies.

"It's all on me, Steve," Javi ended, acknowledging the weight of his actions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As soon as Diego ended the phone call, he grabbed you by the hairs behind your head, pulling back so you faced him. You cried out, tear falling down your cheeks, the burn of every bruise and scratch on your body remembering you your vulnerability. You were cold and starving, very scared. You had spend days and nights thinking about your abuelo, your sisters, your nephews and nieces... in Javi. They won't see you again. You were sure Diego was going to kill you as soon as Javi crossed that damn door.

Diego leaned in, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a sinister satisfaction. "That little call was just a taste, sweetheart. I've set up a nice little surprise for Peñita and his pals. A warm welcome, you know?"

Fear tightened its grip on you as you processed his words. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Diego's cruel smile widened, pleased with the terror he was instilling in you. "You should pray for your man, darling. Things are about to get messy."

You were too scared to said something, you were tired of the blows and screams, you knew there was nothing you could do to make him change his plans. On the other hand, you could make him more angry and then Javier and Steve would be dead before they even got out of the truck.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It must have been an hour or so when the door cracked open again. Before you could react, Diego's hands gripped around your arm, pulling you up and forcing you to walk through the dim light of the corridor.

You felt very weak, but the urgency of the moment made you follow him. It was the first time you had left that room since he brought you here.

Two men were waiting for you in the living room of the house. They held guns and wore sinister looks on their ugly faces. Diego threw your body onto a couch and ordered the men to keep an eye on you.

Your captor opened the door, and then, you saw him. Javier entered the room, and when he looked at you, a mix of relief and anguish flashed across his face. You locked eyes with him, your heart pounding in your chest. He tried to walk towards you, but Diego stopped him and made one of his men search him to verify that he was disarmed.

As soon as the man confirmed Javi hadn't had any weapons, Diego allowed him to approach you. Javi knelt down and squeezed you so hard you thought he could break a rib. However, you didn't mind that at all. Just the warmth of Javier's presence offered a comforting reassurance. You cried on his shoulder as his hand gently brushed your disheveled hair. "Te voy a sacar de aquí, te lo juro," he promised in a whisper.

"A-are you okay?" You asked him, taking his head between your shaking hands. The last thing you knew about him was that he had been shot.

Javier felt a lump in his throat. You were freezing, scared, seemingly beaten – which made his blood boil – and yet you asked for him, your eyes truly concerned for his well-being. He doesn't deserve you.

"Don't worry about me, baby, I'm good," he promised.

On the other side of the room, Diego grew impatient. "Enough of this touching reunion," he sneered, gesturing Javier to stand up.

"You want me. Let her go," your boyfriend pleaded, a mix of frustration and rage in his voice. He looked more violent and aggressive than ever.

Diego laughed sarcastically, and before you knew it, he smashed his fist into Javi's face.

Javier staggered back from the force of the blow, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. You gasped, fear gripping your heart as you watched the brutality unfold.

"You think you can make demands here, Peña? You're in no position to negotiate," Diego taunted. "Besides, she's the reason for all of this shit," he crossed the room towards you in just a few steps. His hands gripped around your head violently, making you gasp and cry louder. It hurt so bad, and you were so scared.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Javier bellowed, attempting to reach you. From the look in his brown eyes, he was about to kill Diego.

However, the two men pounced on Javier to stop him, and despite his efforts, they overpower him, keeping him at a distance. Javier's struggles intensified, his frustration and desperation evident. Diego reveled in the chaos he had created, enjoying the power he held over both of you.

"This little teasing bitch thought she could mess with me and then play like a fuckin' saint and accuse me to Messina?" Diego continued, his voice full of resentment and anger. "I'm telling you, Peña, you shouldn't have put her pretty tight pussy over your career. You might regret it."

Javier's gaze burned with a fiery determination as he continued to fight against the men restraining him. Each muscle in his body strained, fueled by the need to protect you.

"I swear you are a dead man," Javier snapped, without a drop of doubt or fear. He was dead serious, ready to take matters into his own hands.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about how I can make you pay for what you did to me," your captor proceeded, as if discussing events from yesterday. "And, as you might know, I came to the conclusion that none of us is clean, so you have to have some tail that I can step on. I did a little research, and that's how I know about your friendship with Los Pepes," he explained. For a moment, you tried to process what you were hearing. Javier working with Los Pepes?

Of course, you knew about them. They were famous for assassinating several of Escobar's men to send a message of fear and overpowering. But Javier somehow working with them? How? Since when? And if Diego knew it, who else? Javi could go to prison for a federal crime or get killed by Los Pepes themselves.

"So, at first, I planned to reveal all the details directly to the Embassy and watch you lose not only your career but your freedom," Diego mused, his eyes narrowing on you, "when I realized that I could do so much more. And I thought about your little girlfriend. I could use her to hurt you, too." He smirked, tightening his grip on your jaw and your hair. The pain shot through you, but you bit your lip to stifle the cries, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "It's killing two birds with one stone. I kill her in front of you, and then he threw you to the gringo wolves."

Javier's face contorted with anger, "You're a coward, Diego! Let her go, and we settle this man to man."

Diego sneered, "Oh, but she's the sweetest part of this revenge, Peña. I won't let her go that easily," he chuckled, enjoying the torment he was causing. "Plus, It would be a shame if I let her go without having a piece of her," he added, taking your face to made you look at him, his eyes darkened. "What about that, mamacita? Wanna know what you've been missing?"

You swore you were about to throw up when you realized what he was planning. You went pale, shaking as if you wouldn't been shaking enough.

And then, he pulled you off the couch and started dragging you upstairs again.

"NO, PLEASE," you cried, trying to trying to break free from his grip. But he was stronger.

"DIEGO LET HER GO!" Javier, fueled by desperation and anger, launched himself at the two men holding him back. His movements were fierce, a surge of adrenaline pushing him beyond the pain of his recent injuries. He fought with the strength of a man whose sole focus was freeing the person he loved.

You saw as the fist of one of them connected with Javi's stomach, taking his breath out.

"JAVI! NO, JAVI... PLEASE," you kicked and fought, but Diego was stronger and dragged you up the stairs.

You didn't know exactly how things happened, but next thing you knew you were face down on the bed, feeling him behind you, struggling as you cried Javier's name out loud.

"Yes, baby, I want you to scream as loud as you can," he said, "I want Javier Peña to hear everything about his little girl and me..."

Then, the gunfire rained down, echoing through the air like a thunderclap from downstairs. Diego freeze for a moment, and then he unfolded his gun with one hand as the other gripped around your arm again.

Downstairs, Javier seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength and determination, he broke free from the men holding him back. His movements were fueled by a raw mix of anger, fear, and desperation.

Diego, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, struggled to regain control. As Javier charged up the stairs, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The once confident captor now faced a furious agent on a mission to save you.

"Let her go, Diego!" Javier's voice boomed through the room, carrying the weight of an unwavering resolve.

Diego, realizing he was losing his grip on the situation, attempted to raise his gun, but Javier's adrenaline-fueled assault was too swift. In a moment of sheer determination, Javier lunged at Diego, knocking the gun out of his hand and pinning him against the wall.

The room became a battleground, a collision of two men with everything to lose. Javier fought with a primal intensity; and you, still pinned to the bed, watched the chaotic scene unfold, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, another round of gunfire erupted from downstairs. The sound reverberated through the building, adding to the chaos. Downstairs, the house became a battleground between new Diego's man and the team that had stormed the building, led by Steve. Both of them came from nowhere, for as much as you knew. In the momentary distraction, Diego landed a powerful blow on Javier, causing him to stagger back.

You gazed at the gun lying in a corner of the room, so you didn't think twice and reached for it. The metallic coolness felt unfamiliar in your trembling hands. Clutching the gun, uncertainty gripped you as you realized you were no expert in handling firearms.

Considering shooting into the air to capture Diego's attention, you hesitated. Amidst the chaos downstairs, you knew it might go unnoticed. Instead, you aimed the gun at Diego, but his movements were erratic, and the fear of accidentally hitting Javier paralyzed you.

But you had to do something, or Diego could kill your Javi. So you did it. You pulled the trigger, and fortunately, you hit the target.

The gunshot echoed through the room as Diego howled in pain, clutching his leg. The sudden turn of events shifted the power dynamics in the room. Javier, momentarily free from Diego's grip, seized the opportunity to tackle him to the ground.

Javier stood up immediately and took the gun from you. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he scanned you for any signs of harm.

"S-si," you mumbled, eyes staring into his, full of tears and fear. You wanted to put your arms around his neck, to have him pick you up and reassure you.

However, Trujillo and Steve appeared through the door. It was then that you realized that the gunshots below had also stopped.

"Go with him," Javier ordered, pointing at Trujillo.

You didn't understand what was happening. "I'm not going anywhere without you," you said, your fists clenched around his shirt.

"Please, baby, I need to protect you," he insisted.

So you obeyed, leaving Steve and Javier alone with Diego.

As you stepped outside the house, you came across an entire crime scene. There were bodies lying around, Colombian police cars, and a couple of ambulances waiting for you.

Javier and Steve must have been locked in with Diego for about fifteen minutes when a final shot pierced through the midnight air. Through Trujillo's radio, Murphy confirmed that Javier had made Diego no longer a menace.

NEXT CHAPTER

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foreverinadais · 2 years

Text

friends: s.g

summary: i cannot stop thinking about friends to lovers with steven. a night drinking wine with steven turns into more than you either of you ever expected.

warnings: alcohol consumption, references to smut, language, fluff overload with some clichés :)

word count: 2k

“All I’m saying is that it would be pretty easy to frame her for something. Doesn’t have to be something huge, maybe drugs or like, stealing cars or something? It would solve all your problems.”

“As great as that would be, like really great, I can’t do that to anyone, not even my knob of a boss.”

“You sure? Not even a little tempted?”

“As hard as it is to refuse such an offer… ‘m sure. Besides, it wouldn’t solve all my problems, now, would it?” Your face dropped slightly, despite Steven’s light tone, as brushed his shoulder with your hand comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. Still having trouble sleeping?” He hummed in reply, taking a long sip of wine, already on the second glass. The restaurant was fairly busy, the sounds of plates clanking and couples bickering moulding into the air. But an outing was much needed after the stressful week Steven had. He’d called you in a flush, stumbling over his words until you got the gist of what he so desperately needed- a night out with his best friend.

“Starting to think there’s somethin’ wrong with me.”

“You think? “You joked, but a sympathetic smile was placed on your lips, worry evident in your tone.

“Cheeky.” Steven chuckled, but you couldn’t ignore the tired look behind his eyes, as he began dabbing the side of his lips with a cloth to get rid of any excess food. You wondered if he needed to do the action quite so long.

“Hey, I’m sure its just a… phase. There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven, apart from your horrible taste in food.” You grimaced at the olives on his plate to which he put one on his fork to wave tauntingly in front of you.

“Want some? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Meanie.”

“Awfully sorry, how inconsiderate of me. please accept my sincerest of apologies.” He put on his poshest accent, making you curl over in laughter.

“Oh why Mr Grant, how could I possibly refuse such chivalry?” You laughed again, head beginning to feel lighter as the wine combined with the serotonin in your system.

You always laughed with Steven. There was something about him, a charm, a wit, that made it impossible to be sad. You had been drawn to him the moment you laid your eyes on him. And you had soon formed a friendship with the man.

“Right, I need another glass.” You got out as the laughter subsided. Steven nodded, quickly finishing his, making your eyebrow raise. “Might want to slow down, Grant, don’t wanna have to carry you back again.”

“That was one time. Besides, you might want to speed up, slow pokes. You’re behind.”

“You’re on.”

By the time the bottle was finished, the two of you were nicely tipsy. Whilst your words were in tact and head on tight, you felt fuzzy, all worries dissipated from your body. “Where’s the other? ‘m thirsty,” You said, holding up the empty bottle sadly.

“Certainly. ‘M sure the waiter will be around any minute now.” As soon as Steven had said it, a man came over, notebook in hand as he smiled.

“Another bottle for the lovely couple.” You looked at each other, silent for a moment before you burst out laughing.

“S-Sorry, we’re not a couple.” You got out behind giggles, gathering yourself as you added, “Thank you.”

“Not a couple, eh? So… you’re single?” It caught you off guard as you coughed slightly, hesitant on your reply.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I am.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The waiter offered a smile, eyes lingering before he left.

“Think he was flirting with you.” You couldn’t help but scoff, hiding your embarrassment by taking a long sip of your fresh drink.

“No way.”

“He’s not your type?” You shrugged, avoiding Steven’s curious gaze. “What is your type?”

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. “God, Steven, you’re so nosy.”

“Nuh uh, ‘m just wondering.” His tone was playful as he finally caught your eyes. “C’mon. Spill the beans. Share your secrets, safe with me, eh?” There was something about the man that was so utterly convincing that you found you needed little encouragement to do as he asked.

“Someone who’ll make me laugh.”

“Oh yeah? Knock knock.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the smile tug at your lips as Steven joked.

“Someone who I’m comfortable with. Like, I’ll be myself around, completely myself.”

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less. Go on, what else?” He pressed for you to continue, and you did.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that encouraged you too say, “Someone who… knows what their doing. You know, in the bedroom.” Steven froze slightly, throat bobbing as he swallowed. You didn’t talk about sex with each other, both deciding it would be easier to keep well within the friend boundary without associating the other with it at all.

“The bedroom?”

“Yeah. Well, you know, someone who isn’t afraid to take… control.” The word lingered in the air, a bubble of images quickly finding it’s way into Steven’s brain. But no sooner than it had formed, he popped it, physically shaking the thoughts of you, his friend, in that way.

“Is that all your looking for? Bit of a short list, if you ask me. Standards are pretty low. No wonder you always date such knobheads.” You gasped in mock surprise, hitting his arm playfully over the table- and just like that, the newfound tension had eased.

“Rude! But maybe you’re right. I won’t settle ever again.” He nodded, agreeing, before pouring more liquid into his glass. “I’ll take some of that, Grant.”

---

Your head was swimming, mushy with the aftermath of the wine. Steven was just as bad, muttering mindlessly to himself about how he ‘should get a promotion’ and ‘vegans have plenty to eat at steakhouses’. It was a struggle to walk back to his flat, clutching onto his arm for support as you both navigated across the uneven pavements of London.

You all but stumbled through the door, hysterical laughter following at the fact Steven had been using the wrong key to unlock the door for five minutes before realising. “Bloody locks.” He let out as the laughter subsided, small gasps leaving your mouth as dramatically wiped the tears from under your eyes.

“Why is there… so many of them?”

“Gotta be safe, duh. Silly.” You solidified his point by poking your tongue out.

“Is that what this is for too?” You had made your way over to his bed, holding up one of the ankle restraints with a suggestive smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You chuckled again, leaving the cuffs to explore his desk.

“Messy,” You teased, picking up a notebook and flicking through the first few pages.

“Nosy,” he retorted back, though his tone matched yours- light, words slurred, a gleeful lift to your sentences. You began looking at the books on his shelves, as well as the piles scattered on the floor. Whilst it wasn’t for everyone, you loved the layout of his stuff, an organised chaos that felt much like home.

As you were rounding the corner to the kitchen, you nearly tripped, gasping as you fell forward. But Steven was quicker, bounding forward to catch you before you went completely over. “Careful there, you alright?” The genuine worry in his voice made your heart flutter, but you covered it with a giggle.

“ ‘m good, Steven, don’t worry.”

“Let’s sit down for a bit, yeah?” He chuckled, still very much feeling the effects of the wine himself.

“Okay, whatever you want.” The walk to the sofa was stumbly, amusing to the two of you before you collapsed into the cushions. A mutual sigh of content filled the air as you automatically began playing with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I love your flat.” You wondered aloud, resting your head back.

“Oh yeah? Well you’re welcome anytime, you know that, darlin’.” Oh. The word sparked something in you, making your gaze falter. You didn’t know Steven could sound like that.

“Shouldn’t have said that, Grant. I’ll stay forever. Like a vampire.”

“A vampire?” He laughed; the sound dreamlike.

“Yeah, you know, 'cause they need to be invited in to stay, and you just invited me anytime sooo.”

“Oh yeah? And what you gonna do as a vampire?”

“Obviously I’m going to come in and suck you.” Both parties froze, Steven’s face burning bright red. You quickly realised what you’d said, adding, “Your blood! Suck your blood. Like a… vampire.” He managed to chuckle, clearing his throat slightly as you dropped his sleeve.

A slightly uncomfortable silence ensued, though you weren’t sure if it was due to your comment or the newfound tension in the room. You tried to find words to break the awkwardness but found nothing to say.

“Would you rather have toes for fingers or fingers for toes?” The sudden question from Steven broke you from your thoughts as you pondered the question for a moment.

“Easy. Fingers for toes. Then I’d be able to climb really well and do better cleaning.”

“Huh. I agree. But it would be a bit strange to walk around on your hands all day, right? Might hurt more.”

“I could do it.”

“I’m sure you could. Would you rather… spend the rest if your life being itchy or being tickled?”

“What kinda question is that?” You laughed but Steven just shrugged.

“The most important one of your life.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his goofiness.

“Fine… itchy. I hate being tickled.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. A devious look rose in Steven’s eyes. “Steven if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I swear I will leave so fucking fast-” You were cut off by your own shriek as his hands found your sides, tickling as he did so.

You moved up the sofa to escape his tickles, only to find him going with you. “Please I can’t, hurts.” You got out through laughs, and he finally let up, shaking his head.

“Couldn’t help it.” He defended, words teasing. You smiled, gaze lingering on him. It was then you realised just how close you had gotten to him. So close, you realised, his breath was tickling your nose. You swallowed; mouth suddenly dry as his eyes searched your face.

You wanted to kiss him.

Wanted to move closer by just an inch and touch his lips with your own. You wanted to feel his curls in your hands, to feel his breath everywhere. But you were friends. Just friends. Because he was Steven, the one you gossiped with, the man you told about your failed first dates, someone you laughed with.

And suddenly you were overwhelmed, coughing slightly to signal you wanted to get up. “I should probably get going.” You said, voice slightly shaky as Steven moved to the side.

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course, whatever, yeah, you want.” You nodded, inhaling deeply before standing, legs feeling like jelly.

“I had fun though.” You added, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah? I did too, it was great.” A silence lingered as you rocked on your feet. Steven was looking at the books on his shelves, re-reading the titles of every one to avoid you. It was beginning to get too much to keep looking at your face, your eyes, your lips, without the incredible urge to kiss them.

“So-”

“Anyway-” The two of you chuckled uncomfortably at the mishap.

“Go ahead.” You offered.

“No no, please, be my guest.”

“It’s fine-”

“I insist.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes, suddenly finding the humour in the situation.

“What are we doing? I mean, this isn’t us, we can always talk to each other.” Steven chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, nodding as he did.

“Bit strange, innit?”

“Must be the wine.” Although you weren’t convinced.

“Must be.” And neither was he.

“So, I’m gonna go.”

“Right. You be safe, now.”

“I’ll try.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…” You hardly looked as you left, door shutting behind you. Instantly, you released a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, eyes shutting briefly to regain some control. The wine felt distant now, but you were still tipsy, head swimming with thoughts you struggled to push down, feelings that only made themselves heard when you couldn’t hide from them.

Did you like him?

He was Steven. Sweet Steven Grant who always made you laugh. You felt completely, unadulteratedly comfortable around him. He was your rock, the one who made you smile, who made you heart skip, who made your dark days brighter, in fact every day brighter-

And there it was. Perhaps it was the wine that made these truths impossible to avoid, that finally made the words arise in your brain, unavoidable; you liked Steven Grant.

And then you were knocking. Knuckles rapping the door with a newfound desperation. Steven answered so fast you wondered if he’d been waiting, too. Just stood on either side of the wood. Maybe he’d been wondering, too.

He looked surprised to see you again, voicing it by saying, “Thought you’d left.”

“Thought I’d take you up on your offer. You know, invite myself back. Like a-”

His lips met yours in a frenzied, desperate kiss, one hand resting on your waist as the other went to the back of your head. It was as if you were something he’d been deprived of, something he desperately needed just to survive. But it was over a mere minute after it had begun as he suddenly stepped back.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer, is this okay? Oh fuck, have I ruined this?” But he didn’t have time to worry anymore, as now it was your turn to kiss him. He settled instantly, lips moving in a slow, passionate kiss. It was dizzying. More so than any alcohol you’d ever consumed. It was the type of feeling you’d searched for your entire being, and now, it was here, in the shape of your friend, the love of your life.

You both pulled away, only because of the need for air. “Do you want to stay over? Not in a, you know, weird way. We can take it slow; you know? Find out what this is. Plus, we’ve been drinking, and I don’t want to rush this cause I’ve waited so long and I just-”

“Steven.” You interrupted, taking both of his hands in yours. “It’s okay. You're worth the wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now… you want to watch a movie?”

“I’ll put a pizza in. No olives.”

“Perfect.”

“Just like you.”

“When did we get so cheesy?”

“Must be the wine.”

#Steven Grant #steven with a v #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #fluff #ff #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fluff #stevengrantfanfic

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