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watchmegetobsessed · 5 years ago

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Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

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bipercabeth · 4 years ago

Note

28, gimmie your hand

sequel to this photographer percy au

When Percy took pictures of Annabeth before they started dating, she could never tell if he was looking at her through the lens of artist or lover. Now, she’s beginning to think it’s the same thing. There’s a delicacy to his gaze, as though his smile is meant both for Annabeth and the light shining on her. His taking a picture so often looks like gratitude, like the fear of forgetting his luck in a moment so blissful. And he immortalizes her on film, takes his care to capture and develop her image. It is no small thing, being a muse.

She envies it, sometimes. Percy gets to show Annabeth and the world exactly how he sees her, while she is left with her words, which can only ever fall short. He captures time and frames her suspended in the golden glow of sunlight, he makes her laugh moments before the flash, and he does not believe in bad photos. He photographs her bedhead, her soft stomach, her bent posture, and her chewed fingernails. He photographs her genuine laugh, her pouted lips, her pensive expression, her golden curls. Annabeth has never liked the sharp upturn of her nose, but Percy photographs her profile with such care that she can’t help but soften to it.

They’re at the beach for what feels like the last warm day of September. The Atlantic ocean is too vast to be swayed by the local weather, so they stay on the sand until they need to cool off. Percy’s camera is buried in their beach bag as they soak up the day—not every moment needs to be captured. Sometimes happiness demands to be fleeting. Nostalgia wouldn’t be as powerful if Annabeth could remember exactly how many freckles the sun kissed into Percy’s cheeks today. The longing comes from the fear of forgetting.

Sunset brings a gentle chill and sends Annabeth into Percy’s side. He pulls her bare legs into his lap and rubs his hands up and down them. It only works for a few seconds, but she’ll take any excuse to keep his hands on her. (She thinks he will too.)

One of the best parts about being in a relationship, she thinks, is not needing an excuse. There is an agreement between them that says you can touch me. I am trusting you to handle me at my best and my worst. I think that’s love. Please touch me.

Annabeth shifts her weight and straddles her boyfriend in a way that’s a bit indecent for a public beach, but the closest people are specs on the horizon and Percy is leaning back on his palms, his face to the orange sky and throat exposed. His skin looks golden, dripping in sunlight like honey, and Annabeth watches his Adam’s apple bob as she tastes. Even his smile is sweet. Annabeth is not an artist, but sometimes loving him makes her rethink that.

“Baby,” he whispers, and Annabeth opens her eyes to him chewing his lip. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is stop making out with my beautiful girlfriend on the beach, but...” He juts his chin to the sun, then to her general face. “I‘ll kick myself if I don’t get this.”

Annabeth pretends to roll her eyes as he lays back on the beach blanket with his camera in hand, but the way he looks at her is too profound for her to do much else. She’s always loved the way he looks at the world, though it wasn’t until recently that she discovered she likes the way he looks at her more. All that wonder, all that love, plus a surety that is so rare on him. There is the boyish boldness that makes her want to strangle and kiss him, plus the sly cockiness that has her leaning toward the former, but that gleam in his eyes cannot compare to this glimmer. His fingers slide along her chin, angling her kindly from the harsh angle he captures her at.

She chuckles, gestures to his hand. “We wouldn’t get anywhere without this. Piper says I can’t pose for any camera you’re not behind.”

Percy pokes her in the side quickly, snapping a photo when she laughs. “That’s because Piper is a terrible photographer.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more than landscapes and lighting. If you’re taking pictures of people, you should try to capture something real. Something human.”

“Her Instagram feed is very focused on humanity.”

She said it to rile him up—passionate Percy is one of her favorite versions of the boy she loves. She’s snuck more than a few photos of her own during a long-winded rant about camera lenses and color editing.

But this passion is quieter than what Annabeth is used to. Honest. Soft. Percy rests the camera on his chest and trails his fingers from Annabeth’s wrist to her elbow, his eyes following the slow migration.

“I don’t always know why you’re looking at me the way you do. I think that’s why I picked up a camera in the first place—my mom looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her, and I was scared that one day she’d come to her senses. I wanted to remember that face before it disappeared.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t, maybe. “It’s been over a decade, and that look is still there. I guess now I take pictures to try and understand it. Because I don’t— I want—“

Annabeth takes hold of his wrist. It’s then that he looks at her, propped up on an elbow. He breathes.

“You look at me like I’m a good thing.” And he’s opening his mouth like there are more words he wants to say, but they won’t come.

Annabeth kisses him, sweet and soft and a bit desperate. The lens of the camera presses into her chest, and she slides it out of Percy’s grip as she presses a kiss to his nose, his forehead.

“Lay down for me,” she says. And, at his hesitation. “C’mon, Jackson. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had you on your back.”

That earns a laugh, which earns the first picture. The camera may be out of Annabeth’s league, but she’s seen Percy use this thing enough to know that the big black button is all she really needs for what she’s trying to do.

She says, “I love you,” says, “You’re everything to me,” and, “You are so beautiful,” for the sake of his smile. She says, “Gimme your hand,” and kisses his knuckles. She sits a little lower in his lap and photographs the way his eyes darken, and his hands, still itching for the camera, busy themselves with her thighs. The sun is disappearing quickly, but Percy is glowing with the last of the New York summer. His skin is still damp from the kiss of the Atlantic, and Annabeth thinks that he was born to look like this. Love and light, gentle and summer-warm by the seaside. Percy Jackson summed up in a time, a place, a feeling.

And Annabeth isn’t great with words, but he needs to hear them.

“The sun is gonna set,” she leans in, throwing her shadow over his face, and sets the camera down, “and it’s gonna rise, again and again and again, and I am never gonna stop looking at you like this. Even if you never take my picture again.” She plants her hand over his shoulder to lean down. “You’re gonna spend your entire life by my side waiting for it to go away, and one day you’re going to forget to worry. Just like you help me forget to worry.”

And then he smiles a bit sideways, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “You proposing to me, Chase?”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “As if you won’t know when I propose.”

Percy’s hands skim up her back, where the last of the light stretches over the horizon of her skin. “Not if I beat you to it.”

He pulls her down for a long kiss. When Annabeth comes up, it’s nearly dark out.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to photograph your own wedding.”

“Yeah, well.” And he’s arching up for one last kiss before they have to leave, a comma on the page of this long day turned night. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

#annabethsinvibilitycap #pjo fics #my fic #my percabeth #drabbles #percabeth #pjo

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years ago

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence. A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy! The Purest Things Masterlist

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The team gathers around the conference room table as JJ introduces the next case. Her usual composure is absent, and it’sclear this one weighs heavily on her.

“Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted. She’s the third to go missing in the last six weeks. All of them disappeared from public places. No one has seen them since,” she begins, her voice tight.

“Until now,” Rossi adds grimly.

JJ presses on, “Two days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park—former site of the Battle of Chancellorsville.”

You glance up at Hotch across the table, sensing the wheels turning in his mind. Something about this case feels familiar to you too, but the connection eludes you. His eyes meet yours, reflecting a similar train of thought. You shrug slightly, and he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head—nothing definitive yet.

“Were they able to make an ID?” Hotch asks.

JJ nods. “It was the first victim, taken six weeks ago. Decomposition suggests she’d been dead just over a week.”

Hotch leans back slightly, his focus sharpening. “So he’s keeping them alive for a while.”

The idea jogs something in your memory. You sift through fragments of cases, searching for the connection. Hotch slides a photo across the table toward you, almost testing your instincts. Examining it closely, the pieces finally fall into place.

“I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania County,” you say. “The markings, the location, even the time of year—it all lines up.”

Hotch nods, picking up the thread. “If he spends that much time with them, it’s possible the two most recent victims are still alive.”

He gives you a subtle nod, a gesture of acknowledgment for your insight. Your mouth a quiet “thank you,” feeling a small wave of validation.

“Wait,” Emily interjects. “Are we saying this could be the same killer? That’s a long cooling-off period.”

“It’s rare, but it happens,” you reply. “BTK resurfaced after 25 years. Some killers go dormant for reasons we may never fully understand.”

“And the details from the Spotsylvania case were never released,” Rossi adds. “This would be a tough one to copycat.”

As the briefing concludes, you notice JJ lingering near the evidence board, her gaze distant. You approach her gently.“Hey, you okay?”

She blinks, snapping out of her thoughts. “Yeah. Just… something about this one feels off.”

You study her, recognizing the haunted expression. “This one hits a bit too close to home.” You’re both young, ambitious women—frighteningly similar to the abductees. The parallels aren’t lost on either of you.

JJ nods, her discomfort palpable. You squeeze her arm lightly. “We’ll get them justice.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The ride to the crime scene is quiet. You watch the passing landscape, the trees blurring into shadows, but your attention keeps drifting to Hotch. His steady focus on the road contrasts with the tension radiating from his presence. There’s a gravity to him that draws you in, a depth you want to understand but can’t quite unravel.

When the car approaches the site, you snap out of your thoughts. Following Hotch, JJ, and Reid, you step through the field toward the taped-off area where the sheriff waits. As Spencer and Hotch begin discussing the unsub’s profile, you notice JJ turning away, her shoulders tense. The case is affecting her more than she’s letting on.

You glance at Hotch, subtly tilting your head toward JJ. He catches the gesture immediately and nods. “I’ll catch up. You and Reid go with the sheriff.”

Minutes later, Hotch and JJ rejoin the group. He lingers near the back and motions for you to step with him. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” he says quietly.

You offer a small smile. “Of course. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed. I’d want someone to notice if it were me.”

His tone softens slightly. “This job reminds us that we’re human. Cases like this tend to hit hardest when they reflect pieces of our own lives.”

You glance at him, hesitant but curious. “What cases make you feel most human?”

His expression darkens for a moment. “Any case involving kids,” he admits. “Since Jack was born, those are the ones I can’t shake.”

“It doesn’t show,” you say gently. “You seem… unshakable.”

He exhales quietly, almost a sigh. “Maybe I’ve just gotten too good at hiding it.”

You sense a deeper regret behind his words but decide not to push. You’ve heard whispers about his separation from Rossi, about how his work drove a wedge between him and Haley. It’s not your place to ask, but its weight lingers in the air.

“Let’s catch up with the others,” he says finally, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. But his earlier vulnerability stays with you, a rare glimpse into the man beneath the suit.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

Your team gathers to try and connect the dots, the tension in the room mounting as time slips away.

“We’ve got another abduction,” JJ announces, rushing into the room.

The sheriff and JJ quickly outline the details of the latest victim. You jot down notes, comparing them to the other cases, the pieces just out of reach.

“We know he kills after taking another victim,” JJ says, her voice tight with urgency. “We’re running out of time.”

You glance toward Hotch, and his steady gaze is already fixed on you. “What do we know?” he asks, putting you in the spotlight.

You take a breath, focusing. “It’s a copycat,” you begin. “Same MO, same dumpsite.”

“But those details were never released to the press,” Rossi interjects a pointed reminder.

“Then he had to learn it from someone close—family or a friend,” you say, sitting up straighter as the realization dawns.

Hotch nods subtly, an unspoken acknowledgment that you’re on the right track. A flicker of heat rises to your cheeks under his steady approval.

“Mary and Robert Wilkinson had a son,” JJ says, flipping through files.

“I remember Charlie Wilkinson,” John Caufield, the former sheriff on the original case, chimes in. “When he was 15, he killed a neighbor’s cat.”

“How old is Charlie now?” Emily asks, her tone sharp.

“Mary was pregnant with him when Robert died,” Caufield recalls.

The room collectively stills as the implication hits. You and Hotch exchange a glance, the pieces snapping into place between you.

“That was 27 years ago,” Emily continues urgently. “That would make him about the same age Robert was when he started killing.”

Hotch’s expression hardens. “With me,” he orders, motioning for you to follow.

Hotch’s pace is brisk as you follow him out to the SUVs. The sun is high, casting a harsh light over the unfolding day. As you climb into the passenger seat beside him, he pulls a map from the dashboard, scanning it briefly before starting the engine.

“We’ve got another site to check,” he says, his tone clipped but steady.

You nod, tightening your grip on your notebook as the car hums to life. The team’s urgency weighs heavily on you, but something is grounding about Hotch’s quiet determination.

The rhythmic motion of the road and the hum of the engine fill the silence, but it’s not awkward. You peek over at him, studying his keen focus as he navigates.

“You’re good at this,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. His tone is calm but carries the faintest trace of encouragement.

“Thank you,” you answer, momentarily caught off guard. “I still feel like I have a lot to learn.”

His eyes flick toward you briefly before returning to the road. “You’re already asking the right questions, seeing the connections. That’s what matters.”

The words settle over you, a slight spark of pride lifting the edge of your fatigue. You tuck them away, a reminder of why you’re here.

Hotch speaks again, his voice lower but just as stable. “Trust your instincts. They’re what got you this far.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the compliment and the responsibility it carries. The car slows as you approach the site.

Hotch cuts the engine and glances your way, his expression unreadable but somehow reassuring. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

With a deep breath, you step out into the sunlight, squinting against the glare as the latest victim’s car looms in the parking lot like a grim omen. Your stomach tightens at the sight. JJ isn’t here, and for that, you’re grateful—she doesn’tneed to see this.

“How long has the car been here?” Hotch asks, his tone sharp and efficient.

“Owner said since last night,” the sheriff responds, clearly uneasy.

You scoff in disbelief, your anger bubbling to the surface. “How the hell did no one find that suspicious?”

The sheriff scratches the back of his neck, defensively. “He said he’s back and forth from the farm, didn’t pay much attention until he heard Tara was missing.”

Your jaw tightens as you glance at Hotch, whose stoic expression doesn’t mask the faint crease of concern between his brows. “Four girls are missing,” you say, your voice low but sharp, “and no one notices an abandoned car?”

Before Hotch can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and answer quickly. “This is Y/N.”

Reid’s voice filters through, calm but direct. “Do you think you and Hotch could check on Charlie Wilkinson? He didn’tshow up for work today.”

Your heart sinks. “He didn’t?”

“No,” Reid confirms. “I checked with his employer. They said it’s completely out of character.”

“Got it. Thanks, Reid,” you say, ending the call. Turning to Hotch, you relay the news. “Charlie Wilkinson never showed up for work today.”

Hotch nods, already moving toward the SUV. “Let’s see if he’s home.”

The drive to Charlie’s house is thick with unspoken tension. The weight of the case presses heavily on your shoulders, and your leg starts to bounce unconsciously. Hotch notices, his eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road.

“We’ll catch him,” he says, his voice low but firm as if willing the words into existence.

You let out a breath, shaky but steadying. “I know. It’s just…the idea of this man evolving into a carbon copy of his father—it’s terrifying. It’s like the instinct to kill was lying dormant in his DNA, waiting to surface.”

Hotch’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “We study and profile these unsubs every day. The truth of evil is rarely straightforward.”

“But you’d think,” you say, frustration creeping into your tone, “at some point, the cycle would end. If he knew all the terrible things his father did, wouldn’t he want to stop it? History shouldn’t have to repeat itself.”

Hotch glances at you, his expression softening just enough to be noticeable. “Don’t lose that perspective,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’ll ground you in this line of work. The second we stop believing people are capable of change is the moment we lose our humanity.”

You nod, his words settling over you like a protective layer. Still, the tension doesn’t fully leave your chest. You glance out the window, watching as the rural landscape rushes past. Each mile closer to Charlie Wilkinson’s house feels like another step into a storm you’re not sure you are ready to face.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

At Charlie Wilkinson’s house, you and Derek approach the door. It creaks open, revealing his wife, Chrissy Wilkinson, standing there with wide, nervous eyes. Your stomach drops when you notice her hand instinctively resting on her swollen belly—she’s pregnant. For a moment, you’re frozen, bile rising in your throat as the weight of this revelation sinks in. You swallow it down, steeling yourself. You’re here to do a job.

“Chrissy Wilkinson?” you begin, your voice steady despite the emotions churning inside. “I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Agent Morgan. We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for Charles Wilkinson.”

Chrissy’s expression shifts, confusion mingling with dread. “What’s this about?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

You exchange a glance with Derek before answering, your tone careful but firm. “We’re investigating the murders of some local women,” you say, watching as her face blanches.

“And you’re looking for Charlie?” she whispers, her free hand gripping the doorframe for support.

You nod, your heart aching as she steps aside, allowing you and the team to search the property.

Inside, Chrissy sits at the kitchen table, wringing her hands as you and Hotch stand across from her. His demeanor is firm, his posture straight, radiating authority.

“Charlie didn’t show up for work today,” Hotch says, his voice edged with an intimidating calm. “Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?”

Chrissy shakes her head quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No, I don’t know,” she stammers, her eyes darting around the room.

Hotch’s attention is drawn to JJ and Reid in the other room, and after a glance, he steps away to join them. Before leaving, he nods at you, signaling for you to continue the questioning.

You take a seat across from Chrissy, softening your tone. “Can I get you some water?” you ask, noticing how her hands tremble slightly.

She looks up at you, startled, but nods gratefully. “Yes, please.”

When you return with a glass, she manages a faint smile. “You’re a lot nicer than him,” she murmurs, taking a small sip.

You chuckle softly, tilting your head. “He’s been doing this job a lot longer than I have.”

Her smile fades, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Did the father of my child hurt those poor women?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as her hand instinctively cradles her baby bump.

Your heart tightens. There’s no easy answer to that question, and you know she’s not looking for one. You choose silence, letting the unspoken truth settle in the room. Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.

The sound of hurried footsteps breaks the moment. Hotch appears in the doorway, his expression unreadable but urgent.“The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkinson. We need you with us,” he says firmly.

Standing, you place your hand atop Chrissy’s trembling one, your voice low but steady. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you tell her, meeting her eyes. You can see the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind, the whispers of inevitability that threaten to consume her. Your words are an anchor—a small reminder that there’s always another choice.

The forest feels endless as you race after Hotch, the cool air sharp against your skin. Leaves and twigs crackle underfoot with every hurried step.

“Hotch, this way!” you call, gesturing toward a narrow path leading deeper into the woods.

You push forward, branches whipping against your arms until a sudden gunshot pierces the air. The sound is deafening, freezing you in your tracks. Your gaze snaps to Hotch, who mirrors your shock for a split second before the two of you sprint toward the source of the shot.

Your heart pounds in sync with your frantic footsteps, each beat carrying you closer to the clearing. You have a sinking feeling, one born of your earlier conversation with Chrissy, and dread churns in your stomach.

Breaking through the trees, you skid to a stop at the top of a hill, the scene below confirming your worst fears.

Chrissy Wilkinson stands over her husband’s lifeless body, a gun clutched in her shaking hands. Her face is pale, streaked with tears, and her rounded belly heaves with each ragged breath.

Charlie’s body lies sprawled at her feet, a haunting echo of the violence he was raised with—a man trapped by the legacy of his father’s evil.

The team converges around you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Chrissy. Her entire frame trembles as she stares down at her husband, her face etched with a mix of anguish and grim resolve. You take a cautious step forward, your voice calm and even.

“Chrissy put the gun down,” you say gently.

For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze fixed on Charlie. Then, with a shaky exhale, she lowers the weapon, her knees buckling as she sinks to the ground.

As you approach her, your earlier words echo in your mind: History doesn't have to repeat itself. But looking at her now, you realize how heavy the weight of breaking that cycle truly is. Just as Charlie's mother killed his father decades ago, so now Chrissy has killed Charlie. The brutal symmetry of it all tightens a knot in your chest, a grim reminder thatsometimes, the echoes of the past are impossible to silence.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyway. You watch as she’s guided into the back of the squad car, her face streaked with tears. Inside, you feel conflicted, the weight of the case pressing against your chest.

Hotch appears at your side, his presence steady but quiet. You bite your lip, trying to keep it from quivering, though the day’s events have taken their toll.

“What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?” Hotch asks, his voice low.

“I told her that history doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you admit softly. “That even when it feels like you’re backed into a corner, there’s always another way out. But… sometimes people don’t know where to look for that way out.”

Hotch studies you for a moment, then lightly touches your arm. It’s brief but enough to ground you.

“You did everything you could,” he says. “We’ll never do this job perfectly. Sometimes doing the right thing costs more than it pays.”

You shake your head slightly. “And what if that’s not enough?”

Hotch’s gaze sharpens. “If you can leave a case knowing you made the best choice you could with what you had, it’senough. Anything else will tear you apart over time.”

You glance back at the squad car as it disappears down the road. “What if the only way she saw out was this?”

Hotch exhales, his jaw tightening. “I wish I could make this easier for you. I wish I could tell you that this case won'thaunt you. Just know that if it becomes too heavy, you have people in your corner, ready to listen.”

The words are meant to reassure you, but the weight of the day lingers between you both. He turns slightly, his hand brushing yours as though he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Instead, he walks back toward the sheriff, leaving you to wrestle with the truth he’s laid out.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

After what feels like an endless day, you and the team finally arrive back at Quantico.

“I could go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie’s buying,” you tease, waving your wallet around frivolously.

“I could go for five drinks!” Prentiss exclaims, eyes lighting up.

“Count me in,” Morgan grins, winking at you. His charm never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates, and you give him your best pleading look, sticking out your bottom lip. “Please, Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?”

Hotch, who’s just come down the stairs, raises an eyebrow. “Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?”

You and Derek snicker, sharing a look as Reid squirms in place, trying to diffuse his embarrassment.

“‘9 to 5’ is an iconic anthem. It has a rather bewitching effect on a man when mixed with alcohol,” Reid says, adjusting his glasses.

“You only drank Diet Coke that night,” you roll your eyes, smirking.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group gathered near the desks. You take a breath and make your way over to him.

“Want a beer?” you ask, second-guessing yourself as soon as the words leave your mouth.

For a split second, Hotch’s stern expression softens, and he turns to look at you. “I would like that,” he replies quietly.

He turns back to his original path, heading toward the glass doors, and you follow, joined by Dave and Emily.

Just as you’re about to walk out the door with him, a man barges through the glass doors, holding a yellow package in his hands.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Yes,” Hotch replies, his tone sharp but tired, as though bracing himself.

The man holds a yellow envelope, the sight of which churns your stomach into knots. You bite down hard on your lip, the metallic taste grounding you as dread washes over you.

“What is it?” Emily asks cautiously.

But you already know. That package is far too familiar.

Hotch’s gaze lingers on the envelope for a long moment, tracing the corners with a disbelief that is almost painful to witness. When he finally speaks, his voice is hollow. “Haley’s filing for divorce. I’ve been served.”

His words hang in the air like a weight, heavy and inescapable. You swallow hard, glancing at the envelope, then back at Hotch. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the breath catches in your throat.

His eyes—usually so guarded, so composed—are now raw and exposed, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before. Gone is the unshakeable Unit Chief. What’s left is a man barely holding himself together, drowning in quiet agony.

You want nothing more than to close the distance between you, to offer comfort in a way words never could. For a moment, you hope he can see, the depth of your care written in your expression. You don’t say a word, but sometimes silence carries a weight all its own.

Eventually, he breaks eye contact, releasing a shaky breath. Dave steps closer, his hand gently resting on your arm, sensing the weight of the moment. His touch offers quiet support, silently acknowledging the bond between you and Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can join you tonight.”

Without another word, he turns and wanders out through the glass doors, leaving the rest of you standing in stunned silence.

You watch him go, your chest aching with unspoken emotion.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

Tag List:

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writinglizards · 4 years ago

Note

someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary: Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: teen #reader reviews #Anonymous

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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 4 years ago

Text

Floating

For my dearest @frenchfryfranki, happiest of birthdays my darling! Please enjoy this Aquarium date with a very soft and sweet Jack Daniels AKA Agent Whiskey.

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF ILY

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The evening is quiet as you sit in the passenger seat of Jack’s car listening to soft country music play out of the speaker. You rest your crossed arms across the window of his black mustang, watching as the landscape of the city suburbs rushes past, the sun setting in the distance and turning the sky into a vibrant orange, pink and purple gradient. You smile contentedly at the beautiful evening. It was your birthday and Jack was taking you out on a date. You had spent the entire day enjoying time with your family and friends, but you were taken completely by surprise when Jack had whispered in your ear that he had something special planned, just the two of you for later that evening. You had said goodbye to everyone, and Jack had whisked you away, seeming just as excited as you.

Turning to Jack once more you analyse the features of his face, the lights of the highway glimmered in his soft brown eyes, the profile of his nose resting prominently above his mouth, turned up in the corners into a warm and comforting smile, the soft creases in his expression showing off his adorable dimples and the crinkles by his eyes. He notices you staring and flashes you a broad grin. “What’s on your mind little one?”

You match his smile with one of your own as you rest your head back onto the soft leather of the seat. “Just wondering what you’ve got planned for this evening Jack. You’ve been very elusive with the details… Agent Whiskey…” You giggle lightly to yourself.

“Well just know that you’ll like it sugar. I know you pretty well darlin’ and I think I’ve planned a pretty good surprise for you.” His smile broadens and his brow quirks as he looks over to you. You sigh happily as he rests a reassuring palm on the top of your thigh as he continues to steer with his other hand. Whiskey continues to drive as you make your way further out of the city finally pulling up into a large dark carpark. You look over at Jack, a quizzical expression evident on your face. You had never been good at hiding your emotions, Jack always said he could tell exactly how you felt whenever he looked at you. He loved that you were such an open book, and as soon as he looked at you, he burst out laughing. “Have you finally taken me to a deserted carpark in the middle of the night to kill me agent? These past three months of dating was just a cover wasn’t it?” You say jokingly, your tone dramatic and silly as you try to hold back your own giggles.

Once Whiskey had finally recovered from his bout of laughter he hops out of the car and opens the passenger door with his arm outstretched. You wrap your arm around the crook of his elbow as he shuts the door behind you and leads you towards a large building shrouded in the darkness of the night. He takes you to one of the back doors your confusion only growing as he says, “Close your eyes darlin, I want this to be a proper surprise.” You smile as he places his hands over your eyes, “Just to make sure you’re not peeking!” Giggling as he you hear the door open and feel Whiskey lead you inside. Continuing forward Whiskey finally pulls you to a halt. “Ok you can open your eyes now sugar.” You hear Jack whisper softly in your ear as he takes his hands away from your face. Blinking your eyes open slowly you are met with the most beautiful scene laid out in front of you, so pretty it could be the cover of a postcard. You were standing in a tunnel made of glass, surrounded by water and thousands of different sea creatures floating above you. You look up in awe, a huge smile breaking out across your face. Scattered across the floor at your feet was a trail of red rose petals creating a little pathway through the tunnel and further. Whipping around to face Jack you see him standing behind you, hands behind his back as he looked up at you with a nervous smile.

“So what do you think sweetheart… do you like your surprise?”

You don’t know how but your smile gets even wider, so much so that your cheeks begin to hurt. “The surprise was taking me to the Aquarium? Jack I love it…”

He pulls you up to him, a hand on your cheek, and plants a tender kiss on your lips. “I’m so glad darlin.” You both look into each other’s eyes, brimming with emotion. Kissing you gently on the nose, Jack finally breaks the silence, “So are you ready for your private aquarium tour sugar?”

“Am I ever!” The excitement evident in your voice.

The two of you wander slowly through the aquarium taking in every exhibit following his trail of rose petals through the empty halls. You felt like a kid in a candy store, enjoying every single little thing that you came across. Jack was enjoying it just as much but all he could really focus on was you and how happy and excited you were. He loved seeing you like this, full of unbridled joy as you pointed out different things that he just had to see. Constant calls to him as you pulled him along as you walked hand in hand, “Jack you have to see this!... Woah did you know that this species of star fish glows in the dark?!... Oh my goodness look at that one!” You walked from one exhibit to the other, from the coral reefs full of vibrant colours of different flora and fauna, to the touch pools full of star fish, sea urchins, and anenomes. You both put your hands into the water excited as small children to touch the little animals. As you pulled your hands out of the water, you flicked your fingers spraying each other with little water droplets, giggling together. As you laughed Jack grabbed you around the waist and lifted you up as you both continue to laugh together, voices ringing out joyfully in the empty space. He puts you down and you both catch your breath as you grab his hand once more and lead him further through the space.

You continue, both smiling happily as you walk through the other exhibits moving through the coastal waters. You watched as the seals and otters frolicked through the water or rested together in the waning light of the evening on the shore of the enclosure. You let a small aww leave your lips as Jack pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. Continuing along you reach the deep-sea area with colourful luminescent jellyfish and camouflaging fish, looking around the tank eagerly all of a sudden the face of a shark appears out of the darkness and you jump back scared, nuzzling your face into the centre of Jacks broad chest to hide. “What’s wrong sugar?” He says looking down at your eyes worry evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I really don’t like sharks Jack, they freak me out!” You say, voice being muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles lightly as you look up at him with doe eyes, melting him in an instant. He lifts the black Stetson off of his head, revealing the soft fluffy brown hair beneath, slightly tousled after being under the hat all evening. He slowly lowers it onto the top of your head and as he does it slips over your brow. It as just a little too big for you. He chuckled as the hat fell onto the bridge of your nose, all he could think was that you’d never looked more precious. “Is that better darlin? You can’t see them now and they can’t see you. Alright sweetheart lets get you out of here then, shall we?” You nodded lightly, the hat wobbling on your head slightly at the motion. He took your hand in his and slowly steered you out. You finally came out into the open, slowly taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Jack leaned down to you and lifted his Stetson off of your nose so it rested lightly on the top of your head. “There you go little one… much better.” You both chuckled to each other at the situation feeling giddy once more at his romantic gesture. “I think you look even better than I do in that hat sweetheart, and that’s saying something.” He smirked at you, a cocky glint in his eye.

Swatting his arm lightly you rolled your eyes. This was the silly cowboy that you had head over heels fallen for, the sweet and the ridiculous. All rolled into one. Reaching out his arm once more you took it and began to follow him down the flight of steps around the back of the building. Watching your feet as you went you slowly began to hear sloshing waves as you rounded the corner. Looking up you saw the shoreline of the ocean right in front of you, another part of the aquarium but out in the open. Your mouth dropped open for the second time this evening at the beauty of it all. The moon shone brightly giving the waves a beautiful white glow, the sound of birds rustling as they settled for the night.

“One last surprise my love.” You looked over to where Jack had walked to, the platform of the aquarium that jutted out over the water, where a beautiful picnic was laid out. Candles and fairy lights surrounding a red and white checkered picnic blanket, a small wicker picnic basket full of your favourite foods and a smiling cowboy, with the biggest grin resting underneath his scruffy moustache.

You had never been so happy in your entire life. You run over to him, one hand holding onto the black Stetson resting atop your head, and the other quickly wrapping around the back of Jacks neck as you jump into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist once more as he lifted you up to his height and pulled you into the softness of his lips. You kiss him back passionately, both holding onto each other closely as you conveyed every last ounce of joy you felt, being here, with him, in this moment. Finally breaking away from him you looked up into his soulful brown eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “I love you Jack.” You whispered as your eyes started to well up. He gently brushed a stray hair that had fallen across your face back behind your ear.

“I love you too sugar. Happy birthday.”

Permanent Taglist: @pedrohoe04

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x y/n #fluff #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #fic club

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jaehotbuns · 4 years ago

Text

idolboyfriend!mark

♡ 2.6k, fluff =^._.^= ∫

you first met Mark on a Nature Republic photo shoot where your friend was a hair stylist

she called you frantically because the SM staff caught multiple employees from each department posting on their personal social media stories the location and whereabouts of the members and dismissed them from the site

they were shooting at an island in the middle of nowhere which you were conveniently writing a thesis on different landscapes of South Korea

you had no experience of styling other people and only did it for yourself but you knew you couldn’t leave your friend deserted so you came to help in any way that you could

half of the staff were fired on the spot so they immediately pushed you towards the members to prepare them for their next shoot after threatening legal action if you decided to act as stupidly as the other stylists did

you saw your friend quickly adjusting the collar of theHawaiian shirt that was roughly put on Jaehyun and she gave you an apologetic look and mouthed a ‘thank you’

you were assigned at styling Mark’s hair, which you were scared of because you had never styled a man’s hair before never mind a celebrity but you squared your shoulders and hoped for the best

he was already used to the chaos but he was slightly concerned at how well you would perform considering that your eyebrows were furrowed and had sweat rolling down your temples as you scrunched the ends of his hair with mousse to create beachy waves

every stylist that he met was always either professional and stoic or overly friendly to try and get with the members romantically but he tried to suppress his laughter when he saw your distressed face under your medical mask

in such a stressful and hectic situation, he would never talk to the staff to help them focus but he couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with you

you looked younger than him too so he felt more comfortable

“first time?” he asked with a smile on his face as he looked up at you

your hands stopped in the middle of combing the fluffy mousse through his hair and your face dropped slightly, “you could tell?”

Mark covered his laugh with his hand as he didn’t want to discourage you but couldn’t help but chuckle at the cute expression on your face

“yeah,” he answered but then realized that it came out meaner than he had intended

“but you’re doing a great job! Keep going!” He tried to encourage you by motioning with his hands to continue

you patted his hair into place for finishing touches but you pouted under your mask when you realized, “how would you know? You can’t even see it”

there were no mirrors in sight except for the hand mirrors that stylists held on their belt

he choked on his saliva out of embarrassment and rubbed his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck

“well let’s see then!” He exclaimed and you begrudgingly gave him the hand mirror to see

you were bracing yourself in case he thought you made his hair into a bird’s nest and demanded you to be fired on the spot but he let a “wahh” escape his mouth as he admired the hairstyle

“this actually looks great!” He said a little too excitedly

“we were both expecting it to look bad then, huh?” You joked but really you were relieved that he thought it didn’t look atrocious

Mark shook his head to deny but you held his shoulders in place to not disrupt his hair

his face went pink and you realized that you just touched a client, a very influential client

you lifted your hands off of him quickly and stepped back so that he could stand up from his chair and go in front of the cameras to prepare for the shoot

“thank you” he said and you both exchanged bows before awkwardly getting back to work

you stayed on the set with your friend for the rest of the day until the sun went down and the sky turned a bright pink from the previous ocean blue

luckily, that was the last hair and clothes change that NCT needed and everyone started to pack up after the photographer and managers shouted “thank you for your work” and everyone bowed and clapped to each other

while each member started to load into their vans to get back to the city for their next schedule, Mark ran up to you and asked if you were apart of the SM staff or were for hire from another beauty boutique

“oh, I just came last minute,” you said

“I’m not actually licensed for this I came to help”

he let out a disappointed “oh” and decided not to take your number down since it was unprofessional and knew that after the fiasco today that there could be anyone around to expose him if he did

“good night, see you around,” he said in hopes that he would see you again

you doubted that he would see you around but you repeated what he said and waved at him as he ran into the van

the other members were confused as to why he ran off to greet you and were ready to tease him since they noticed that you were his type physically

but he knew that they were about to so he lied and said that he forgot to take a bracelet from you and pretended to fall asleep so that they couldn’t question him further

you thought about that was a once in a lifetime experience until 2 weeks later the campaign was a hit and everyone was fawning over Mark specifically since he looked like boyfriend material in a white button up shirt and blue jeans with messy beach hair

your friend called to tell you that she recommended you as a freelance hair stylist after they asked her who did Mark’s hair

as a broke college student living in another country you took the offer but felt guilty getting an amazing job with no credentials so you got licensed at a beauty school within 2 months

the next time you saw Mark was on the Punch music video set

he had everything on except makeup and hair

you were taken aback at how different he looked with the leather pieces, chain jewelry, and overall bad boy vibes

he was sitting in front of the dressing room vanities and his face lit up when he saw you stand behind him with your cart of hair products and tools

usually he’d stay still in his chair but this time he turned around to face you, “hey! I thought you said you weren’t even licensed?”

“I decided to after getting offered a job” you smiled

he turned around and looked at you through the mirror’s reflection, “or did you come back because of me?”

you coughed through your mask and felt the heat creep from your neck all the way to your cheeks and temples

Mark smiled to himself when he saw your bright red face and was even more excited for the music video shoot knowing that the stylist he thought was cute would be doing his hair on a regular basis and could see him act cool on stage

to not let you out of his sights again, Mark pulled his phone off of the vanity table in front of him and went straight to his Instagram search page, “can I have your Insta by the way?”

you were combing the translucent gel through his hair when you tilted your head out of curiosity of why he would want your socials

“I send what kind of hairstyles and concepts I’d like to try to stylists on here,” he said

in actuality Mark wasn’t one of the idols that really cared of how his stylists dressed him like Johnny or Jaehyun but he wanted an excuse so that his interest in you was too obvious

“oh sure,” you spelled out your Instagram handle and you saw him follow you right away

for the rest of the shoot for the two days that it took place, Mark would admire you every time you came up to him between scenes to wipe the sweat off his forehead and to spray his hair with setting mist

although you were a fan of the group, you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable so you invested all of your focus on making them look their best

Mark appreciated that; you weren’t completely cold and professional but you also didn’t cross any boundaries by asking him about his personal life or interviewing him like some new stylists did

when you got home you decided to look at Mark’s profile and saw that he was only following his family, friends from Vancouver, idols friends, and a few celebrities that he looked up to

you were the only staff member that he was following other than his managers

but you didn’t think for a second Mark liked you

even though during promotions he would text you on his time off about your day and ask you about yourself

“because I don’t want to be to formal” was his excuse to his unofficial game of 21 questions

even though after promotions when he was on his break, he’d ask you to go shopping with him “to get some inspiration from uh hair stuff”

at one point he was bold enough to ask you to go to a cafe because he said he felt like you two were friends at one point

behind the scenes, Johnny caught on quickly at how Mark was on his phone more often when he’d usually just use it to play mobile games or listen to music

“I don’t think you left the bracelet with the pretty stylist,” Johnny would tease Mark one day when he saw him re-reading your texts and smiling to himself

“you left your heart,” he’d say and slap himself on the knee from laughing too hard at his own joke

“can you get out of my room?” Mark would retort in embarrassment but it was worse for him from there

Johnny told both floors that Mark had a big fat crush on the young stylist and was flirting with them 24/7

Mark wasn’t really the type to get in his feelings

sure he’d find different celebrities or employees that he’d work with attractive but he knew it was for business or that they’d just be really good friends in the industry

but you felt like home

like he could imagine that if he was back in Vancouver that you two would meet at a library or something and he’d ask you for a coffee after you asked him to watch your bag to go to the washroom

that was what he’d imagine before he went to sleep at night anyways

half of the time he’d stay up thinking about asking you out officially and keeping your relationship as a secret and the other half of the time he’d kick his blankets scolding himself for even thinking that because it would put both of your careers on the line and he didn’t want you to feel the burden of dating in secret

you also had feelings for Mark but thought that he was just friendly and flirty

even if he did have feelings for you, you thought that it would be best to just stay as friends because you didn’t want to get in the way of his career

one day Mark couldn’t take it anymore and went to the convenient store by himself instead of riding bikes with Haechan and Renjun like he originally planned to

they noticed that he didn’t get embarrassed or annoyed at the teasing anymore and just kept to himself so they followed him to the store and found him outside on a bench with a beer in his hand

both of them sat beside him and Haechan grabbed the beer and took a swig, “just tell her”

Mark placed his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I don’t want to ruin it for us… Or for her”

Renjun placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “if you both have strong feelings for each other then it’ll always work out in the end”

Mark shook his head although he appreciated the support, “what if the stress gets us to break up? What if I make it awkward for her at work?”

Haechan stopped him and told him sternly, “I see the way you two look at each other and I know that she’d accept if you asked. If the press or pressure causes you to break up then at least you tried.”

Renjun added on more gently, “do you just want to continue suffering forever? What if she’s waiting for you too?”

Mark didn’t want to think about it any longer and as a lightweight, the 2 cans of beer in his system were already giving him courage

if he had another night to think about it, he’d probably never confess to you so he decided in his tipsy state to confess right then

with urgency, he told you to meet you at Hangang River right away

“thank you guys,” he said while standing up too quickly

he stumbled a little bit before starting to walk towards the meeting place, “I can do it!”

“you can do it!” Renjun laughed while holding up too fists to show his support

Haechan on the other hand held up his phone and started to record Mark walking clumsily towards the river, “don’t mess up loser!”

you were finishing up on your readings when you got Mark’s text

it sounded like he was going to confess but you shook the thought out of your head at the thought of a global star asking you out

“probably wants to de-stress with a friend,” you thought before putting on a hoodie and jeans before walking to Hangang

when you arrived you could smell a mixture of beer and mint in his breath

His face was flushed pink which was a result of the alcohol and the 2.2km he had just walked

“why did you call me out all of a sudden?” You asked

“will you go out with me?” He said a little bit too loudly

you quickly looked around to make sure that no one was within a kilometre near you too and asked in a hushed voice, “what?”

“I like you!” He nearly shouted, not aware of his volume due to the nervousness of the chance of rejection

“I tried not to like you ever since I met you but I can’t get you out of my head,” he avoided your gaze and couldn’t believe how cheesy he sounded

Mark continued regardless, “I know that we have to date in secret if you do like me but I promise to protect you and I won’t regret my decision if anything happens. So uh-”

“yes,” you grinned. “I’ll go out with you”

he was surprised at how you accepted with ease, “oh wow I wasn’t expecting this. Thank you for listening to me talk on haha, I don’t even know what to say I-”

to stop his blabbering you held onto his arms to steady yourself for when you went on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips

“that’s not fair” he pouted

“what’s not fair?”

“that’s it?” He murmured under his breath

“then get some more” you teased

his hands cupped the sides of your face and bent his neck down to reach your height

your hand wrapped around his waist to pull him into a hug while his warm lips pressed onto yours

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litchi0jo · 5 years ago

Text

Picture source : @Mnine5 (Meijo) in Twitter

Note : actually, it’s not a request but I was bored and I wondered « what kind of person would the SNK characters on the social medias be » - soo here we go

Sorry for my english…I am french and I still learning - please forgive me and protect your eyes 🤧

Warning : (12+) social media can be dangerous

SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN ON SOCIAL MEDIA 💥

Eren

Instagram : friends, family, abs, outfits, travel….king of instagram, super popular on instagram, everyone follow him but he only follows his friends and instagram he finds interesting, over time it has become an influence, Eren has like a million followers on Insta @IamErenJaeger

Snapchat : « who has a netflix account ? » in story, selfies with friends at all kinds of events, often takes pictures of Mikasa and Armin by surprise, never puts a filter on for him or for the people he snaps, everyone can watch his story and comment (public baby), already received nudes… @ErenJaegeeer

Whatsapp : he is in all group discussions but rarely answers, when he answers it is surely because the conversation becomes funny or because they talk about Jean and then it degenerates (when too far between Eren and Jean everyone leaves the group and they end up « wait…everyone is gone…? ») and a new groupe is created but the fight starts again (others are like « here we go again » )

Twitter : can easily get upset in a debate, is not afraid to say what he thinks, it is blocked by a lot of people (please take away his twitter), has a large fanbase : Jaegerist (@CaptainFlochForster is the leader fanbase…best to avoid them.) it’s very simple : either you’re wrong or you’re not right @ErenJaeger

Tumblr : He is not really known on tumblr, follow only his friends and is followed only by his friends. Does a lot of reblog tumblr he likes and post a lot kind of sick jokes like « What is the only dog you can eat? - A Hot Dog » (20 followers…)

Armin

Instagram : sharing photos of his travels around the world, a lot of ocean scenery, monuments like the Eifel Tower, does not put a photo of him or his friends, his instagram is public to share his beautiful photos with the world (2,5K followers) @ArminVibe

Twitter : Sharing conspiracy theories with other twittos, if by misfortune a conspiracy ends up in TT you can be sure that it will tweet all evening, twitter reveals its dark side, It can deal with all subjects and he’s gonna take his time to make you understand that you’re WRONG @ArminArlett

Snapchat : he doesn’t know why he has a snapchat, if you send him a snap photo he will just look without answering but if you start a discussion he will probably lose your message if you have not recorded (his fault, but he really does not do it on purpose, he does not really drag on this social media)

Whatsapp : quite active on whatsapp, in groups it is the one that stays the longest active, uses a correct grammar, always has time for someone who needs to talk (a colossal heart…)

Tumblr : very popular on tumblr with his famous landscape photos, he also likes to share theories with whoever wants it, has created a discussion group of which Erwin and Hanji are part (these three are often found in several discussion groups…), is subscribed to Annie

Mikasa

Instagram : her account is private (like most of his social medias) if she does not know you be sure that she will never accept a subscription request (and she receives a lot of subscription requests), sometimes post photos of Eren and her, sometimes with Armin and a picture with the whole group together, has maximum 5 publications and has maximum 100 subscriptions and she subscribes to only 25 people (who are they?) and her favorite girl’s band @MikasaAckerman

Twitter : is fan of girl’s band, a twitter just to follow their news, she has already been on top tweet (never knew why and honestly she doesn’t care), her account is totally private but she receives a lot of follow requests (she declines) @MikasaAckerman

Snapchat : does not do a lot of selfie but she likes cute filters, often does black snap with dark quotes « the sun always shines after a dark night » , tends to reply 2 days after being sent a snap (🤡) yet she makes the flames with Eren (already 834 flames) so she just ignores snaps

Whatsapp : she is in full of group discussions, but always reads without answering (”Read”), she often ends up leaving the discussion groups (but there is always someone to add her to the group, often Sasha)

Tumblr : has a fake account, by the way she is super popular, she posts her covers of her favorite songs @Mikasong (fucking great voice), already has a small community

Reiner

Instagram : is totally subscribed to Emily Ratajkowski (but who is not?), was the first happy to know that the likes are hidden, kind to like a lot of ass and body fitness (…<.<) it’s sure Historia blocked him (probably deserved) @ReinerBraun

Twitter : profile photo of a football player, often mentions his friends, and ALWAYS mentions Conny for challenges « Dare or not to ring your neighbor’s door at 3:00am and ask him for sugar », the kind to tweets like « Nicki Minaj or Cardi b ? » @ReinerTheBigBrother

Snapchat : You see this guy who makes a lot of views on snap and who everyone asks for publicity? Yes, it’s Reiner. Become master of the screenshot (already found himself in a complicated situation because of it…this awkward moment where you catch something you shouldn’t capture…), also receives nudes (btw 🤡) he never watches stories @ReineerGg

Whatsapp : he often ends up being ejected from discussion groups for his dubious humour and is often the victim of Ymir’s blackmail (screenshots can be fatal…)

Tumblr : he doesn’t even know what it’s for

Bertholdt

Instagram : has two instagram accounts, the first is his real account, he only follows his friends and is only followed by his friends and the second is a (secret) fan account on Annie Leonhart @fannie-kickass

Snapchat : goes selfie on occasions like birthdays (party) or when he is with friends, likes animal filters, snap everyone and without warning, during the evenings with friends he often finds himself in the snap of everyone without his knowledge and discovers him the next day (sleeper pose) @Berth5

Whatsapp : the kind of person to share a lot of petitions like « Hi, Nolan still needs 300,000 signatures to be able to convince his parents to buy him ps5 » (he can’t refuse to share when asked…colossal heart - like Armin <.<), calm in group discussions (is not the type to get involved in an argument, always remains neutral when the situation degenerates), he often speaks with Reiner privately and gives him advice on how to approach Annie - but by the time he decided to send a message to Annie, she had already deleted the application… (legend says he’s still waiting for an answer)

Twitter : if you identify him in a tweet, it will probably not read it but will still like it (why not), he does definitely part of the commentators of entertainment shows or sports matches @Bertholdt

Tumblr : hesitates to create a tumblr but does not really know what he could talk about

Annie

Instagram : shares his training and does not hesitate to make demonstrations of his techniques, is quite popular on instagram, to a lot of publication, post a photo with his father just after each victory with a caption « It is God who gives » ; already has a good community (320K followers), account is certified

Snapchat : never goes on his account, totally professional use, it is his father who manages his snapchat to post in story the videos her training and his official matches with the caption « Little Rocky 🔥 »

Whatsapp : it ended up deleting the app because too much discussion that ends in spam (it will be for a next time Berth)

Tumblr : her little cocoon where she can be herself, the only social media that has her interest, her tumblr is dedicated to the cat, she is a fan @Kitty-Catnnie , the only person in the group to know her tumblr is Armin with whom she sometimes chat

Twitter : She is still on top tweet despite her « Mikasa vs Annie, who wins ??? », she never tweet but retweet a lot of things especially those of Conny, it happens to like the tweets of commentator Jean

Jean

Instagram : if you want to see his account you must first subscribe, generally accept all requests, send quite a lot of DM like « you wouldn’t have a bandage because I hurt myself by falling in love with you » sometimes succeeds other times it ends blocked ( or screenshots that end up on Twitter) @JeanOfficiel

Snapchat : He was blocked by Mikasa and Eren (not for the same reasons), made the flames with everyone (but the most with Marco), has already tried to snap Mikasa in secret (it is caught in the act), loves selfies @Ihateeren

Whatsapp : the kind who doesn’t look to whom he sends a message and always has the wrong discussion, so becomes panicked « DONT READ!!! » accidentally already sent a nude in a group discussion (unfortunately screenshots have been made) Eren laughed about this story for several months like « How is Jeanbo doing ? He’s grown up since last time? » (he doesn’t talk about Jean…you know…)

Tumblr : he created a popular mini series on tumblr « You prefer…? » and also « If you were… » (the concept is very cool and we can do it with all the subjects), made a lot reblog, reblog ALL covers of Mikasa

Twitter : has been blocked by half of the tweetos sphere after several heated debates, is one of the people who comment on the shows mainly reality TV (he does it with passion) « SANDRA LEAVES WITH ANTONIO W/O MONEY !!!! IT’S A FUCKIIIING JOKE ?????!!!!! #TheVillaOfBrokenHeart2 » or « I’m the only one who hates Mike ? #MonacoShore » , it’s that kind of tweet that Annie likes) @JeanKirschtein

Marco

Instagram : accepts only requests from friends, his account is private, sharing small moments of his life with friends and families, use many hashtag like #AllThatGlittersIsNotGoldEvenJean (but nobody understands what he means)

Snapchat : often comments his friends’ stories, is the kind to come talk to you if you put a dark snap like « cruel world »

Whatsapp : often receives private messages like « Marco, are you there? » it always ends in long discussions (« The confidant ») he knows how to find the right words, it is active and always “available” if someone needs it

Twitter : always makes Jean’s defense on twitter, the kind of person to be part of a fanbase (like HarryPotter), uses hastag LGBT+

Tumblr : super popular on tumblr, he makes headcanons and screenplays of his favorite books, series and movies, has a preference for Yaoi but he can make any request (2K followers) @HalfMan

Conny

Instagram : very very popular on instagram thanks to his account with Sacha where they share their farce and does not hesitate to challenge, they post the pranks they make to their friends (1M followers) they are not yet certified @TwoDummies , he has a second private account : with just family and friends (arround 55 followers) @hismotherson

Snapchat : the kind of person who does a snap at 2H00 of the mat « who for the flames », has a lot of snap discussions, always makes stories that ends badly like « I’m going to ride a bike » and in his last snap he ends up in emergency… (true story)

Whatsapp : has an unimaginable number of “caption this” for ALL situations, it sometimes created discussion groups (it’s just that it prepares a stupidity) otherwise is not super active but will always answer if it has a message

Twitter : clash with everyone « Your mother was pregnant for 9 months of your big head but you can’t stand a joke ? SHAME » (blocked), king of challenges, makes all the challenges where it is mentioned, retweet all the « Dare or not… » of Reiner, uses a lot of abbreviation, he invented a lot of hastag like #AlphaLevi and people have fun with his hastag

Tumblr : his more than empty tumblr, has no profile photo, and compulsive liker, it’s literally a fake account for liking funny things @JustConny

Sasha

Instagram : receives many comments under the photos of his joint account with Conny like « POTAETOS GIRL WE LOVE U » and « POTAETOS POWER », often pranks and ends up in the account, has a second private instafood account and also post photos with Nikolo @MadamePatate

Snapchat : oh my dear, he gets into a lot of trouble (funny drama) so stay connected for his “Storytime” evenings (we often hear Ymir commenting in the background with sarcasm and Conny’s laugh)

Whatsapp : the kind of person to send in a « bbiad » discussion (I’ll be back in a bit) and never come back in the discussion, written in abbreviation, loves group conversations

Twitter : has disabled twitter because of a "caption” that Conny posted on it (potaetos girl exists thanks to a tweet) but there reactivated a week later, tweets like a dramaqueen « WHAAAAT @netflix SEASON TWO IS COMING OUT TOMORROW BUT NOT TODAY ???? WHYYYYYYYYY ! I’m never gonna be able to wait till tomorrow to eat my popcorns frkrkellelrlrl BUY ME POPCORNS NETFLIX BUUUY », has already been on top tweet #potatoesgirl

Tumblr : victim of her reputation even on tumblr, reblog a lot of post food and potential future challenges from Conny, often finds “caption this” with her face and always reacts with a more than dramatic surprise « SHIT AGAIN ??! »

Historia

Instagram : receives a lot of DM from people she doesn’t know, never accept them, like all the photos of her friends, you can see her insta only if you subscribe…(15K followers) @RealHistoria

Snapchat : renames all her friends by cute nicknames, the kind that snaps the place where she is or her food with a « have a nice day », queen of selfie, likes the filters

Whatsapp : uses a lot of emoji, hearts have become a punctuation, in group discussions she often comments « Ymir !! » after a sarcastic comment, tries to temper when the situation becomes too stormy

Twitter : avoids twitter like the plague, has disabled her account, reactivates it on occasions before losing interest once again, in fact her account is a fake where she is named @christaLenz

Tumblr : pretty active, committed LGBT+ activist, reblog testimonials, lots of likes, reblog Mikasa covers a.k.a Mikasong

Ymir

Instagram : a lot of photos of Historia (it looks like a fan account), often comments the photos of her friends (unfortunately for them) @Ymir

Snapchat : a lot of selfie with Historia, if a fight or something awkward happens in front of her she will be the first to make a snap (and no scruple to put it in her story), if Reiner is the King of awkward screenshots then she is the Queen for INTENTIONAL screenshots, her memories are filled with compromising photos on EVERYONE

Whatsapp : Do you remember the screenshots on snap? Well it is on Whatsapp that they find their usefulness. Can send them to a discussion group as if nothing had happened but her specialty is a service for her silence (yes blackmail) it’s never anything bad, but enough to piss off the victim (who is often Reiner)

Tumblr : forgot her password and honestly she doesn’t want to find it, why did she tumblr ?

Twitter : she is often upset about debates, often sarcastic in her retweets, « Caption This », always the last word, she is very popular on Twitter, she’s already been on top tweet (because a drama with her identity) @LadyYmir

Levi

Instagram : does not really look at his newsline, Instagram in black and white and very orderly (#GrandArt), his account is public but no one can comment on his photos @LeviAckerman

Snapchat : a block Hanji (too many snap video that turned into spam), to rename all his contacts by nicknames like « Brat Number one », « Brat Number 2 » (etc.) and Zeke « shithead » nothing abnormal, It has already posted a snap of his head in front camera (had not done it on purpose) deleted after realizing…(especially after receiving plenty of notifications), he and Zeke attack each other by proxy story (no one understands…but it’s funny to read)

Whatsapp : is always “offline” or “busy” but will always respond if sent a message, probably blocked Zeke on all social medias

Tumblr : shares his passion for tea and cleanliness, loves the healthy atmosphere of tumblr, has quite a fan, reblog and subscribes to Armin @TeaWithLevi

Twitter : Tweet by accident (in the pocket >.<) like « jf’dyt’rimsjrdy’yfgi » but other thant he almost never tweets, but when he does it is to complain or creepy « today I learned that a lollipop breaks easily like the legs of a clown » (…we don’t want understand), he’s already been on top tweet with the #AlphaLevi like « #AlphaLevi can surround his ennemies. Alone. » ; « #AlphaLevi makes the onions cry » ; « #AlphaLevi can go up downstairs » (we thank Conny for this hashtag) @LeviAckerman

Hanji

Instagram : honestly if you want to do a search on someone you have to check with Hanji, FBI of the net (”the stalker”), its account is public : post photos with Levi (who has to be taken by surprise) mentions everyone on its posts, photo with Moblit during their experiences (like “Break”), its instagram looks cool @OfficerZoe

Snapchat : snap often its scientific experiments (and other) and we always hear Moblit screaming in the background « Hanji-san! Back ! » , they like to comment on the stories of Levi and Zeke, already tried to make the flames with Levi and Erwin (tried without success)

Whatsapp : spends its time doing focus groups before it degenerates, its favorite pairs are Eren/ Jean and Levi/ Zeke but never has a battery

Tumblr : strangely its tumblr is very serious, they share its hypotheses and theories on scientific subjects, they talk about its experiences and future scientific experiments, they post the results of its research, has its own focus group (Erwin is one of them) @DrHZoe

Twitter : @Dr.troublegirl everything is in the pseudo, will accumulate and then become spectator of a massacre, his catchphrase is « you’re implying… »

Erwin

Instagram : it is very orderly and pleasant to look at, post works of art that crosses his path, does not often check his actuality but when he does it everyone is happy…(always the little comment that makes a good mood and a little like)

Snapchat : his story is public but only his “friends” can comment, snap his visits to the museum and snap a lot the streetart but is not really active when he makes “snap discussion” @Eyebrow (account created by Hanji…)

Whatsapp : uses impeccable punctuation and grammar, often discusses with Armin on intellectual topics and confronts their assumption he is the only one who is not part of a discussion group with ALL the characters (just a few groups like Hanji/Levi/Mike), from time to time he receives family photos of Niail and talks about old times

Twitter : activist totally committed to good causes ( #blacklivesmatter) (#justicepourAdama ), retweet the political news, has already tweeted with the #AlphaLevi @ErwinSmitt

Tumblr : pretty active, post on subjects that fascinate him (like history), his tumblr is very interesting and orderly, proposes developed theories and some people (students like Conny) go there to find answers to their homework… @Sasageyo

Zeke / Sieg

Instagram : created an insta to talk with Eren but he got blocked after commenting on one of his photos « Beautiful sweetren, you grow up day by day, signed your beloved brother » didn’t understand why he couldn’t see his instagram after that ; his instagram is very neat : instafood & instabook but doesn’t have many followers because his instagram account is private (like 150 follower) @ZekeJaerger

Snapchat : made stories to address to Eren instead of sending him directly in private (didn’t really understand the concept) that’s how to start the attacks between him and Levi, Eren ended up deleting the app to him

Whatsapp : uses impeccable grammar (also blocked Livai on all its social medias), tends to read without answering « Read since two days »

Twitter : tweets like « I am now on twitter. » or « Good Morning Twitter. » and lots of « Join me on Candy Crush » , he also likes to comment on his favorite culinary shows with a lot hastag, honestly he is one of the people who blocked Eren on Twitter but does not really assume it « What ? Weird…I must have hit the wrong button… » yes of course… @ZekeJaeger

Tumblr : reblog Erwin’s posts which he finds very interesting, to himself his own theories which he confronts with Erwin in discussion groups, is part of a quite popular team on tumblr “GenshiKyojin”, (with leader Eren Kruger) #uses #too #much #hastag (#like #me) @KemenoNoKyojin

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moon-lixie · 4 years ago

Text

"Ready?"- Hwang Hyunjin

word count: 1.575k

song: Starlight - Jai Wolf, Mr Gabriel

warnings: brief mention of alcohol, other than that it's just more fluff.

“Shall we ditch this hideous party?” Such cliché words escaped the plumpness of his rosy lips one at a time, almost in slow motion, and if this was a movie then the camera would have zoomed in on his breathtaking face.

“Nothing can be worse than this.” If you could etch just one image into your memory for the rest of your life then it would be the smile tugging up at the cushion of flesh that must feel unbelievably soft under the pads of your fingers.

He stood up and offered you his hand which you took in the blink of an eye. Once on your feet he started walking through the crowd, the material of his denim jacket brushing the edge of your palm, the ring on his fingers contrasting the warmth of his hand with its coolness.

Stranger’s bodies pressed against your sides but nothing seemed to matter once the door appeared on your sight, right in front of the tall man that guided you carefully into a successful escape.

The night air welcomed the both of you, making you shiver at the lack of fabric covering your arms. Inside the party there was no need for extra layers of fabric but now outside you started to understand the reason for your companion's jacket.

Another smile grazed his lips, this time much smaller and cunning that before. Without saying a word he took his jacket off and handed it to you, completely nonchalant.

He let go of your hand and waited for you to put the jacket on as he reached to tie half of his hair into a small bun with the black hair tie around his wrist that you had only noticed now. Mesmerizing was left short at the sight of his profile being accentuated by the new hairstyle.

The denim was not cold against your arms once you wore it, on it you felt the warmth of his hand all over again making you shiver. Funny how someone you barely knew could have such an effect on you.

“Ready?” he asked and you meant to reply with For what? but you quickly stopped yourself and nodded at him.

You could see hesitation lingering in his eyes when almost instinctively he had reached to hold your hand once again so you helped him by intertwining your fingers with his. You might as well, if you were already escaping with him to god knows where there was no point in playing pretend, as if you hadn’t been dying to hold his hand since the first time you heard him laugh.

Satisfaction crept up your face as you noticed the flustered state that the faint coat of coral on his cheeks let through; at least you weren’t the only one enjoying.

“Where are we going?” you asked after you were seemingly far from the house that seemed to contain the most dreadfully drunk ambient you had ever witnessed.

He didn’t answer and instead approached a slightly old, black Versa whose lights immediately blinked when he stuffed his free hand in his pocket, taking out a pair of car keys. And here you were thinking that you would walk all the way to this unknown location.

Moving quickly he opened the door for you and reluctantly let go of your hand. After closing your door he got on his side of the car and in no time he was driving on the empty streets.

The clock on the car said it was 2 am, you couldn’t believe you had spent so much time inside the dull party that had brought you the boy whose eyes shone like stars. You wouldn’t complain much because the night had in fact brought you something more promising that the red cup you had been holding an hour before.

The city that you knew to be a lively one during the day was almost completely deserted as he drove calmly, eyes never leaving the road even as you shamelessly stared at him before averting your gaze at the city.

After receiving an approving hum from him you had rolled down your window and turned the faint music slightly louder. The air was way more ruthless as the speed concentrated it against your skin but it felt like freedom, the weird one that can only be gained at a car in the most ungodly hours of the night.

Giggles escaped your lips at the ecstatic euphoria that burned on your chest. There was nowhere you would rather be than there in the front seat of his car with worries long forgotten at the party he had rescued you from.

Humming the songs playing on the radio seemed to be your new way of communicating with him because that’s all you did the rest of the ride until the car slowly came to a halt.

He had brought you somewhere you could perfectly appreciate the whole city sprawled senselessly everywhere, just like the stars covering the night sky. Breathtaking fell short when it came to describing the scene unfolding in front of you; having been there a million times you thought there was nothing that could add to the landscape but now you knew you were wrong.

He opened your door and once again offered you his hand to help you get out of the car or perhaps as an excuse to relish on the warmth of your skin against his for a second more. The night air greeted you once again, this time tasting like liveliness and freedom mixing violently with the slight taste of alcohol at the back of your mouth.

It was the boy beside you whose touch was long gone and the feeling that the night was stretching out infinitely in front of your eyes that made everything feel somewhat perfect and unrealistic.

Curious glances followed him as he walked to his car, half of his body entering and leaving his long legs for you to watch. Struggling slightly he finally managed to turn up the volume of the radio to what you believe had to be at least near full intensity, a soft melody filling your ears.

When he exited the car he left the door ajar and walked towards you with a pleased smile as if praising himself for the good job he was doing. He held one of his hands out to you and you didn’t hesitate to throw him a questioning look before accepting his inviting fingers.

He pulled you close, the warmth of his body now seeping in on you as his hand found its way right above your waist. “You said you wanted to dance,” he simply cooed before starting to do just what he said.

That’s right, upon getting more comfortable with him you could remember saying I wish I could dance but the music here is dreadful. And it made your heart warm that he had paid so much attention to the words that you had carelessly shared with him.

His feet moved carefully guiding you, the air unknowingly pushing your head softly to finally rest on his shoulder. Slowly but steadily melting into him and the small details that grazed his existence, like the small hairs that had escaped his bun and freely hung out framing his forehead, the tiny and faint mole under his eye, the way his touch was intoxicating, the scent of his body wash that betrayed one important detail about him, he didn’t wear any cologne.

The song was followed by another one and then one more that kept the soft pace that presented the perfect excuse not to pull away from each other; you had to give it to him, this was way better than the party and the merit of having found a radio station with such soft music and not much interruptions had to be a talent you were eager to learn from him if time allowed it.

Once the music finally subsided and a man’s voice cut through the air saying the slogan of his radio station you let a giggle slip past your lips and your head to move away from his shoulder to face him.

Behind him stars seemed to shine ten times brighter and more charming, again, if this was a movie then he would lean in to kiss you, sealing like that the adventure he had brought you in.

It was your life so it could be your own movie; you closed the gap between the both of you when you crashed your lips against his, no warning needed for him to welcome you with content.

His lips were as soft as you had imagined, warm beyond comprehension, and addictive in a way that words could never describe. Holding you by the waist he brought you a bit closer to him just to take in more of your scent, a bit more of your warmth even if for just a second.

Your fingers played with the slightly wavy ends of his black hair at the same time he smiled against your mouth. When he pulled away you finally understood his question from before and you were glad that you had accepted because you were ready for this, for him so beautiful under the stars and the city witnessing your 3 am high.

Sometimes it just took a hideous party and a charming boy to have a picture perfect adventure under the veil of the sky.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin

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ecrivant · 4 years ago

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mind’s eye | jean kirstein

(jean kirstein x reader)

jean reflects on a memory of you and his wishes for the future. takes place in that undefined year after the battle for shiganshina.

word count: 1.5k

a.n. – simply me revolutionizing the x reader fanfiction subgenre by hardly including any romantic aspects. approach this as a self-indulgent jean kirstein character study.

He was never struck by his own exhaustion until he found time to rest. He had learned to carry it, bearing that weight, grudgingly, out of necessity. Thinking of you and your abject willingness to shoulder his burden with him. Selfishness pressured him to concede, to lighten his own load and pass it off to a disposed other, but he did not wish that on you, on anyone. He saw those around him buckling under their own weight. So he carried his. But, in moments of solitary repose, he would find himself collapsed under his own burden.

He sat high above the city, himself having snuck onto the walls past curfew. Overlooking the terrain outside of Wall Maria. The night was cloudy but the ground, clear. The moon, sliced crescent and half-enshrouded by tenebrous clouds, cast a low, even glow. The hazeless air revealed several miles of flat country, distantly and ultimately swallowed by oscillating hills which followed the curvature of the earth. The breeze numbed his exposed skin; winter neared. The leaves on the trees had long since tinged and fallen and decomposed among the detritus, and the now-disrobed branches, like sainted arms proffered towards the sky, swayed, noiseless, their prayers unheard. A silence, disrupted only by his own presence. This barren landscape was marked by an austerity, a quietly plaintive cry uttered by and for some unknown in an unworldly call and response. He realized he had never verily looked at the lay of the outside land. No one had ever been afforded the luxury of regard—landscapes were heretofore solely backdrops of violence—but things were changing, and only with hindsight could one say whether for better or for worse.

He thought of a memory. From a night like this one. You, in the light of the moon, hair glowing and itself luminescent, a fond smile on your face. Airy laughs, timid glances. Instinctively, he shook his head as if to cast it off, familiar with the dangerously seductive quality of his memories. He always worried that if he indulged himself in remembrance, even for a moment, he would render himself incapable of facing the present, for the comfort of memory was beguiling and often lured him like some Ogygian temptress. But he was so flattened, so exhausted by that incessant weight. Was he not allowed some form of respite? Annoyed, defiant, he unfocused his gaze and dissolved into this thought of you.

It commences behind the barracks. He waits, anxiously tapping his foot, hoping your rendezvous would not include Sadies as an unwelcomed third. His pedal movement shakes the unlit lamp in his hands, a quiet toll of metal on metal. Your hooded figure soon rounds the corner, eyes flashing in the dim light, easing his nerves. You walk ahead on the path, he behind you and dragged by an unseen force. Your allure, he posits, always the romantic. Still facing forward, you speak his name, a quiet utterance jettisoned into the woods ahead of you. He hums in response, liking the way your vocalization rings out, clear, in the brisk air. An innocuous invocation of his attention.

“Did I keep you waiting?” An audible smile, coy.

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

A quick laugh, ephemeral, your hood quivering. Your lanterns clink as you walk, the only indication of your movement, as your steps fell silent on the padded forest floor. Cresting a hill, you stop, finally turning to face him. Hands held out with a flourish.

Standing on an overlook, his eyes fall on the view before him. A valley, bathed in dark cobalt. A vast loch tenants the basinous land, flanked by a thick canopy of trees, the mass its own verdant topography. The water, mirroresque. Moonlight captured in scattered reflection. Low-hanging mist, gathered in clouds like a cottoned assembly, divine overseers looming over their aquatic terrain.

“Not bad.”

Your proud smile.

“Thanks, Eren showed it to me.”

Eren, a challenge, playful. He refuses to acquiesce, hiding annoyance, feigning indifference. He instead sits at the interstice between the dirt path and the grassy encroachment, opting to say nothing at all. You seat yourself next to him, head resting on your knees.

“I’m impressed. Someone says ‘Eren’ and you usually see red.” He notices how your head bobs as you speak, chin pushing against your kneecaps.

“So, you’re trying to be an ass, then?” A playful query, devoid of malice.

You turn your head to him, smirking, a wide, toothless smile. Shrugging, you give a noncommittal answer. He admires you; he never really gets the chance to. The way moonlight and shadow compliment your features. It’s nice.

“What’s with the look?”

His eyebrows shoot up, questioning.

“What look?”

You laugh at him—he loves the way your laugh never degrades him. It’s bubbly, effervescent.

“You look like you just fell in love, Kirstein.”

His smile drops. He’s flushed—had he always been so easy to read? Suddenly self-conscious of all the moments past in which he revealed himself and you stayed silent. Your body turns to face him.

“Such adoration,” you remark quietly. An ostensible taunt infused with a subtle sincerity.

“It’s okay, it looks nice in your eyes. Makes them shine. I like it.”

He swallows. When did you get so bold? He looks around, towards the sky, between his feet, anywhere but at you. He feels you inching towards him, a mass of warmth. Swallowing his pride, he looks you in the eyes. They’re affectionately gazing at him, questioning, asking for permission. He stays static. Nervous, excited. The setting, the cool breeze—the perfect backdrop for the memory of a first kiss, he thinks. Always the romantic.

You lean in and press your forehead to his, pausing. His head spins, drunk on potential. You whisper something, barely perceptible:

“Pretty boy.” A simple remark, lovingly stated like an assertion of fact. Dizzying. You pull away, and he falls forward, disoriented. Embarrassed by the meek sound of disappointment that leaves him. Your hand rubs at your neck, involuntary, sheepish.

“I’m not sure if I want this to be the memory of our first kiss.” Funny, he thinks, how the idea crossed both of your minds. Such a slavish focus on mnemonic posterity.

Maybe you were right, though. When he thought of this memory now, it filled him with an inexplicable exhilaration that the memory of your first kiss did not.

You had continued to talk, though his memory was hazy after this point. He remembered you mentioning joining the Scouts, to which he reacted badly: angry concern you had anticipated. You held him, hand in his hair, assuring him you were strong, you could take care of yourself: everything you knew he wanted to hear. He spoke of his mother, how he missed her. You cried together, though he could not remember why. He pressed a kiss to your cheek outside of the barracks, the early dawn gracing your complexion, warming it. In all, a memory sullied by hindsight. The last night before graduation, before Trost, before baggage began to wear the two of you down, spines curving under that weight. He still adored you, every version of you, everyone you had been and would be. Despite it all, he wished for you to one day return to that unburdened version of yourself. Maybe naively so.

“You know, the next expedition is to the coast. We’ll finally see the sea.”

He thought back to earlier today, your hand in his, ambling down a vacant side street. Excitement in your voice writ large—an expedition to a once-inconceivable, now within reach. He had glanced at you, your profile holding his gaze. The years had truly impressed on you a tangible density, a heaviness that bided in your drooped shoulders, the wrinkles of your brow, the sporadic grey in your hair. A dull, thoracic ache overcame him—you were a child, teenage, yet you carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes and had lived through a number equal. He was livid at the worldly injustice, the temporal excoriation. Stolen youth. Fairness was an antiquated concept, long foregone in exchange for a wholly inegalitarian system of cosmic justice—humans forced into meniality. Could you recoup? Get back the purloined years and people and solace that were justifiably yours?

He yearned to see your expression as you stood over that expansive azure. Soon, you would face that endless horizon, representative of new beginnings, possibilities, genesis, loosed of your burdens by some benevolent Parca. He verily hoped for your emancipation, realized through what the Scouts were to discover beyond the walls. Then, there would be time for your affaire—love, veracious, before a backdrop of utopia. It’s all he could hope for, a grail he quietly and firmly embosomed: an aspiration for your shared, future memories to be marked by self-actualized deliverance and impudent love.

—

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated! i hope you enjoyed this even though it’s not really explicitly romantic in any sense. it’s mostly jean ruminating + some yearning and pining for unachievable things. maybe the next piece will be completely, 100% soft. maybe.

below are the beginnings of a taglist! if you’re interested, drop a line and i’ll tag you in my writing posts! xoxo

taglist: @flam3bird

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschtein imagine #writing!

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kicksaddictny · 4 years ago

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Kicksaddict Sneakerhead PROFILES Interview Series: @CakedaGawd

After a long Hiatus, we’ve returned! Our popular Profile series has been requested almost on a daily basis (Thanks for the tweets, dms and emails). We were even threatened! (Thanks by the way).

Cake The Gawd! This one was so much fun. Tap in.

Where are you from? Brooklyn, NY born in Crown Heights raised in East Flatbush.

How long have you been collecting sneakers? I was introduced to sneakers in 1991 but I started collecting for myself in 98.

What’s your favorite sneaker and why? Air Jordan 6 Infrared. It's the shoe Michael was wearing when he won his first championship, and to me just it’s just the most beautiful Jordan shoe to date! The silhouette is unmatched, it is timeless, and no matter how many times it is retroed I will buy it!

Besides your hometown, what is the best city for sneakerheads that you know of? Why? I would say LA 100% !! It is a vibe out there. I am part of a sneaker group and 75% of the people in there are from LA. They really about the culture they know their shit and they are fresh as fuck too.

Do you collect just for collecting or do you collect and rock? I collect and rock. That is why I double up on certain shoes.. Some kicks you gotta have for store and show but some you just have to rock them!

What sneaker got you into the sneaker game? I cannot pinpoint one thing, it is so many things. It was Music, my parents introducing me to Nike, my older cousin, basketball, the dope boys around the way, and my 3rd grade crush and her cousin who both had Aqua 8's. (LOL) I cannot just say 1 thing because they all had a significant part in it.

What are your thoughts on these fake celebrity sneakerheads? I hate them all! All of these dudes just get perks, some of them do not even know the shoes. That shit really gets under my skin. Showing off shoes that they get and not even knowing the name or numbers of the shoes, creating their own names. Shit is sickening. S/O to the Sneaker Gawd Wale !

How do you feel about the Off white collabs? I liked the first round of the collabs. With the Presto's, Air maxes, Blazers, and Jordan 1's. I think after that it should've been left alone. But I can respect what they are doing over there. I just won my first pair of Off-White's with the Lot 50 joint.

If you could wear only one sneaker for the rest of your life, what would it be? Air Jordan 3 Black Cement. Yes 6's are my favorite of all time but the Black Cement 3's just go with EVERYTHING!

What advice would you give as far as storing and preservation of your sneakers? Wear your kicks man. I store and rock! I get it, wanting to save shoes but putting them away and never rocking them, when you finally do ya it’s separating and crumbling. In order for your kicks to last they gotta be worn anyway. Unless you're truly just on some collecting only for show vibes.

What is the most you’ve ever spent on a pair of sneakers? $900... I was able to land Black and Red and Royal 1's from 2001 together. A friend of mine had them and said he couldn't think of anyone else. I had literally just started my new job. A chunk of my first check went to that pick up.

Have you ever waited in line for a pair of kicks? I waited in line once in my life for shoes and swore I would never do it again. It was for the 2001 True Blue 3's. I waited online at like 7 in the morning at Kings Plaza. LMAO I said this will never happen again. I didn't have the patience for it. I do not know how ppl used to do that shit or camp for kicks. I was there for 1 hour and I was like this is ridiculous.

You're also a photographer, how long have you been taking photos? I have been taking photos since 2011 but officially became a photographer in 2013.

How do sneakers play a role in your photography? That is a great question because I didn't want the 2 to mix at all. Because I'm a scenery and landscape photographer. But I got into photography because of sneakers. No offense to anyone but a bunch of these "influencers" get on IG with their DSLR cameras, take some on foot shots and call themselves "Photographers". 90% of them do not even understand lighting. I didn't wanna be one of those guys because I actually live this and study it. But recently I just started letting it be that and owning it. I am nice with this photography shit when it comes to sneakers. I have a deep connection with shoes and I love incorporating that into my art. I thank my wife for that. I told her I don't wanna be just another sneaker photographer and she said to me who said you have to be ?! I took that and ran with it. Off-White just recently featured some of my pictures on their Instagram.

I remember you saying you're a sneaker enthusiast, what is the difference between that and a sneakerhead? An enthusiast really studies sneakers. Sneakerheads just love sneakers like it ain't really about the history and all that for them. They just love shoes because it is cool and makes them feel good. Us Enthusiasts are invested. Things matter like knowing years of a shoe. For example, an enthusiast would look at a pair of Jordan's like Taxi 12's, We know Michael wore those in the 1996 - 97 season, but we also know that Martin gave away a pair on his show for the Christmas episode to the kid who had holes in shoes. They are tied to iconic moments. A sneakerhead may love Bordeaux 7's because they are dope looking shoes. Where for me it's that Michael Jordan wore those in a video with Michael Jackson and Kris Kross in the 92 Jam video. MJ and MJ in a video with Kris Kross, do you know what that did to my childhood?! Give you one more example that is not even Michael Jordan related. Piggy backing off of Kris Kross,The Patrick Ewing’s were one of my favorite kicks growing up besides seeing Pat play in them one of my favorite Hip Hop covers of all time is "Totally Krossed Out" and Kris Kross is wearing both colorways. So you see what I mean there is so much tied to it with being an enthusiast. This is just my opinion though some may not agree so don't shoot me! (Ha)

From the time you started collecting up until now, would you say that the sneaker game changed for the best or the worst? I have been collecting for 20 plus years now. I have seen the game at it's best, I have seen it die, I have seen it revive, and now I am witnessing the death of it again. The sneaker game is disgusting right now, and I honestly do not think it will ever recover. It really saddens me. It is a popularity and money contest right now.

Does pricing affect your collection? Hell No! And I hate that some people are trying to make this the norm. IDGAF if you paid $500 - $2000 for a pair, It doesn't mean shit. The narrative is getting outta hand.

What does the word “Hypebeast” mean to you? Hypebeast is a person that only buys shit for status and popularity. They cannot form their own opinion about shit. They have to wear and cop items based on what every celeb is wearing or whatever these Social Media "Influencers" are saying is hot! It is not only sneaker related either. N*ggaz were hypebeasting for PS5 last year..

What are your thoughts on the females in the sneaker game? They are the best! I wish we had a Sneaker union and it was only run by females! The men in this game are annoying and so over the top. It is so bad that they feel the need to compete with women. The men get shoes just to show off to one another. Like what type of shit is that? The females are cool. I had a dude on twitter tell me women don't know the value of a shoe let alone about the shoe. The men feel like they always gotta try to shit on the women. The women are just trying to be part of the culture and enjoy it. And they shouldn't have to try to be part of something that is open to anyone who is willing to be invested and understand the culture.

Any advice for a young kid coming up in the sneaker game? Wear what you like! Respect the game and the people who have been doing it before you. Because this new generation of sneakerheads are little entitled dicks. No respect whatsoever!! I don't care about Travis Scott shoes. Without Jordan being who he is Travis wouldn't have a Jordan silhouette to collaborate with! Same with Off-White. These silhouettes were here before these guys. Say know your history and pay homage!! BUT STAY humble.

See I follow you and I'm loving the way you include your daughter in your work, what does that mean to you? Man, it is beautiful!!!! Without even trying she is invested in the culture. Both photography and shoes. Myself and my wife are both heavy into photography, art, music, sneakers, and clothes. My daughter is into all the same things but we are letting it be her own experience. We are not forcing anything on her. We want her to enjoy being a child and whatever things she picks up from us along the way is just a bonus. But I love shooting her, and I love when she asks myself and her mother "do we like her fit". It is truly a blessing man!

All photos by CAKEDAGAWD

Follow : https://twitter.com/CakedaGawd

https://www.instagram.com/whatsinthesyrup/

#Kicksaddict #cake #photographer #cakedagawd #airjordan #airjordan1 #airjordan6 #clothing #baby #infrared #airjordan4

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badmoonyellow · 4 years ago

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HP HEADCANON: PARIS UNIVERSITY

𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓼 ✯ 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

(click here for contents)

There are five different facultés (abr. fac) in Paris, each one called by a number and the name of a famous wizard/witch or a district in Paris. Each fac has its specificities and various pathways that should please most of the young students trying to find what they want to do with their life after they graduate

Paris I — Babel: Modern languages, dead languages, magical languages, magicology, magical literature, theoretical studies of magical and non-magical art

Paris II — Ruggieri: Astrology, astronomy, divination, theology, psychology, philosophy and sociology

Paris III — Nicolas et Pernelle Flamel: Alchemy, occult sciences, arithmancy and mathematics, magical and non-magical medicine, biology

Paris IV — Cluny: Botanics, care of magical creatures, potions, magical geology and crystal healing, elementary magic

Paris V — Kardec: Necromancy, spiritism, divination, transfiguration, illusionism and oneiric magic, hypnosis and psychology

French students either use the number or the name of the uni to refer to it, never both. Ex: “I did my masters at Paris IV”, “I was a teacher at Cluny for two years” or “Flamel has the best course for arithmancy”

Paris universities are known for being selective but welcome students from every social class: there are no tuition fees except for social security which is calculated on the income of the student or their household if they still live with their parents. The more you earn, the more you pay but it is capped to 20 galleons per student (roughly 450€). If you’re doing a joint honour degree in two different fac, you won’t have to pay twice.

Be careful with this because French bureaucracy is kind of a mess, especially when it comes to uni life. Most people working for the administration have a precise timetable they like to stick to and won’t be kind to you if you raise your voice, even if you’ve been waiting for 2h at their door because the only free time you had is during their lunch break. But sometimes, the right owl sent to the right person will be enough, so don’t hesitate to communicate!

Depending on which fac you’re attending, you’ll probably meet a lot of different people but since we’re French (a.k.a. judgmental), each fac has a typical profile of students:

Students from Babel are considered clever and cultivated but most people think they just don’t really know what they want to do with their life yet. They enjoy uni life in Paris and spend time hanging out with a great deal of foreign students from every part of the world, learning and researching for academic purpose. They create more or less harmful spells and like to talk in latin or ancient greek on a daily basis. They make inside jokes about politics and are the first ones to go on strike any time they don’t agree with the government’s decisions. Very diplomatic and charismatic but also kinda conceited since Babel was the first actual French magical faculté in the Sorbonne (this title is also claimed by the Perrault Institute). They love to debate about any topic of the wizarding world and for the most part, they know a lot about the non-magical world too since they study languages spoken by muggles as well.

Students from Ruggieri are more discreet and contemplative. They are passionate and having your astral chart drawn up by one of them feels like becoming an open book, even though knowing about astrology doesn’t always mean being intuitive. They aren’t known for being empathetic though, and they have a tendency to despise divination techniques that aren’t based on what’s written in the stars (students from Kardec can tell). They love mythology, mind games and poetry. They often go to the countryside beyond Paris’ suburbs to escape light pollution and if you’re lucky, they might invite you to their next nocturnal picnic in Seine-et-Marne.

Students from Flamel are hard-working and competitive since medicine studies (and other courses taught in this university) follow the numerus clausus method. You have more chances to see a Flamel student at the BAM (Bibliothèque Académique de Magie, en. Academic Library for Magic) than attending any of the cool parties young French witches and wizards organise throughout the year. Actually, since the BAM is physically part of Paris I, this has created a long-time resentment among students who all claim priority to access the Library. Flamel students are ambitious and passionate by their field but suffer from a great deal of pressure since failing one exam can be eliminatory. They also have the worst writing ever.

Students from Cluny are seen as the weird hippies of the academic wizarding world. Always down for going on a trip or testing new things. Their shared interest in elementary magic makes them very welcoming and warm since they tend to focus on how a group is stronger than an individual and how you can always seek for help in others (“others” sometimes meaning plants, animals or rocks). They are very genuine and you won’t know for sure if they are really down-to-earth or if they constantly keep their head in the clouds. They love going outdoors and escape the city from time to time but they can also spend hours (days) underground cultivating fungi. Laugh now if you want to, but they get the best kind of psychedelics and liquors for your next party and they won’t bring any if you make fun of them. Also, they throw their own parties in cool speakeasies all over the Mines. Keep your ears open if you want to get the password!

Students from Kardec are actually the real anarchists of the academic landscape, even though Babel tries to steal their far-left thunder. Non-conformists, skeptical and teasing, they love throwing some unpopular opinion in a debate and watch how it takes. You’ll see them at protests and art events since they hang out a lot with students from the ENSBAMO and the Académie de Musique. They generally have no filter whatsoever and are also trying to figure out what they want to do with their life but even though they seem a bit puzzling at times, they’re really sweet. They might know their way around the Mines better than students from Cluny and believe me when I tell you this: they throw the best Halloween party every year — apparently being located in a cemetery helps a lot.

Of course, these are reputations, not distinctive character traits and every student is different from the other so don’t worry: you’ll fit right in wherever you want to go!

#harry potter #hp headcanon #hp headcanons #hp hc #hp hcs #beauxbatons #paris #hp rpg

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4point7 · 5 years ago

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THWACK - A Negan One Shot

Summary: a load of words slung haphazardly together to create a modern masterpiece. Written for @negans-lucille-tblr 6K Roll The Dice Challenge using the prompt “ I'm a slave to your games. I'm just a sucker for pain “.

Characters: Negan x Reader (ft. Floral Wallpaper)

Rating: 18+ but maybe less than 98

Warnings: All the warnings. Don’t read this if you get offended by anything typically Negan. Floral Wallpaper.

Word Count: 1,963

Tick.

The sound of the clock echos through your mind. It suffocates your thoughts as it reminds you of the monotonous grind of time. Every "tick" amplified through the dark. The space between each one extending for eternity as the silence between them crashes through you like unrelenting waves on a crumbling cliff face, slowly beating away at your resilience. The rest of the community sleeps blissfully as you lay there, your consciousness unwavering.

Tick.

You roll on to your side and open your eyes, staring blankly at the wall. The floral wallpaper, once pristine, now peels away slightly at the seems, unveiling the illusion of perfection, breaking the once perfect pattern.

The luxuries of the past have long been abandoned. What's the point in keeping the inside looking nice any more? Compared to the horror that lies in the world beyond the mildew covered window of The Sanctuary, the room you're in, even in this state, IS luxury these days. You only need to see a couple of Walkers have their heads smashed in to be cleansed of material desires and become satisfied with basic needs being met.

Another tick of the clock calls an end to the time you're willing to designate to falling asleep. You sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed, exposing them to the chill of the air that your bed sheets were protecting you from.

You feel the layer of dust and dirt on the soles of your feet as they connect with the cold floor. You reach to grab your clothes from the chair next to the bed and pull them on, taking the time to dust the debris from your feet before donning your boots.

You open the door, trying to muffle it's creak by pulling it softly and slowly away from the latch before stepping out into the hallway. You would rather not wake anyone. People would get suspicious if they saw someone walking The Sanctuary grounds in the early hours of the morning.

You make your way along the corridor to the door that leads outside and gently push it open. The cool breeze from outside washes over you, almost through you, as it breaks into the corridor. You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, calming you, if just for a moment.

The door comes to a stop with a soft thud, fully revealing the early morning landscape. The trees and buildings in the distance consumed by a mist that spills onto the roads towards you.

As you step out, gravel crunching underfoot, a glint catches your eye. You follow it to its origin, finally laying your eyes on the steel barb wire coiled tightly around a baseball bat, like a snake wrapped tightly around a branch. It's doing no harm where it is but anger it and it will bite! Lucille, resting by the man himself, Negan.

You wonder if you can back away, sink back into the darkness of the doorway but it's too late, even though he isn't facing you, you know he knows you're there.

He stands, leaning on a barrier, his folded arms resting along it supporting the weight of his upper body, leather jacket taught across is broad back. Lucille stands propped against the barrier beside him, perfectly inanimate yet still so menacing. It's like the bat had a presence all of it's own, bringing fear to many while being nothing more than a prop to the horrors of it's master.

You have wanted to be this close to Negan for such a long time but now, in his presence, you freeze. Just standing there taking him in, feeling your heart thump harder in your chest, adrenaline surging through you.

"You just gonna stand there pissin' your pants or are you gonna join me?" His deep voice startles you for a moment, you weren't expecting him to speak. You walk over and lean on the barrier next to him, staring out into the mist.

You sense him turn to look at you but you don't dare look back. Not yet.

"So... who are you?" He says in a gentle deep drawl.

"I am Negan", you respond, now turning your head to look him, traces of a smirk lining your lips.

He chuckles and looks back to the landscape. "Holy shit balls, we got ourselves a joker!"

You don't take your eyes from him, taking in his profile. It's not until you're up-close like this that you can see his imperfections, the lines starting to creep across his skin, breaking the perfect appearance, reminding you of that floral wallpaper.

"What the fuck are you doing awake at this time, Comedian?"

"Can't sleep", you respond.

"Huh. No fuckin' shit!" He pauses for a beat and you say nothing. "Me either."

"Why?" You pry and he lets out a sigh.

"Could you fuckin' sleep if you had to do the shit that I do? Smashin' dead fuckers' heads don't make my prick hard, Joker! Smashin' livin' fuckers', even less so but some fuck's got to protect and lead this community. They haunt me. Every one of the cunts marchin', around my fuckin' thoughts like they're on parade. That's why."

It's an honesty you weren't expecting from him. You had always been sold this fearless, unfazed persona yet here before you stood a man troubled by the actions of his past. Almost broken. For a moment you let yourself pity him.

"Does nothing ever help distract your mind? Help you sleep?" You ask.

"Fuckin' my wives! At least, it used to. But knowing their just fuckin' me out of fear has started to take the shine off the pussy, if you know what I mean? Shit! I wanna slip my cock down the throat of a fucker who wants it, not just because they feel obliged. Then I might have the release I need". His hand slips down and gently caresses the handle of Lucille as if unconsciously.

You're so close to getting what you have wanted for a long time and you know you can get it if you play your cards right.

"WANT ME TO GIVE THE OLD CODGER A DAVID BLOWIE?", you exclaim.

"Oooh err, yes please, if that's okay with you, like? If you like don't mind and stuff and that?" He says back in a melancholy tone not far from how a school boy might ask for his ball back when he kicked it into his neighbours garden.

"You want to?"

"WANT TO? I'D FUCKING LOVE TO!" you whisper. "GIMME THAT WONDER WURST!"

You drop to your knees. Ouch! You think. You should have gotten down gently. Why the fuck you decided to drop so hard no one fucking knows.

You undo his pants revealing his big, flaccid whopper. "It's flaccid." You say. "Yes" he replies.

You stick out your tongue and touch the head of his penis with it as though your testing an ice lolly to see how cold it is. THWACK! His instant erection ploughs into your chin, essentially upper cutting you, and knocks you over. His meat looks like a big fat sausage that's about to explode. You get back to your knees and take his shaft in your hand. "Hey ho, here we go, yo!", you sing into his flesh stick like it's a microphone, before... boom! You slam that happy package right on down your gob hole! Your head smacking back and forth like your headbanging to a heavy metal track. Your throat is making noises like a fucking plunger making hard work out of a toilet or some shit. Like gluh, ung, gug, guh, glug, guh, guh, guh, gug, gluh, ug, ugh, glug... ... guh, gluh, uh, ugh. You had to stop in the middle there to take a little breath. You are human after all.

Anyway your smashing his trouser snake and shit and he fucking loves it and all that and he is like "yeah, yeah, ooh, fuckin' yeah" and shit. Drool is all puddling on the floor beneath you and all that and like splashing all over the place, you know. Like, step off Shamoo, people need to be careful of MY splash zone! And you like grab the shaft in one hand and the balls in the other and stuff and your like working it like that. Your tongue giving it the biggun on his nut balls. Like slip, slop, lollipop mother fucker. Better tongue action than a fucking ant eater. You pushing your tongue down his urethra and give a good old lick all up in there. Then you start slurping on that junk like a fucking kid trying to get the last of their slushy. And his eyes are popping out his head and shit and he's like "Holy shit balls, joker this is a damn acceptable level blow jay." And you like slap it on your forehead and shit and like maybe prod yourself in the eye with it a bit, I dunno. And you like slap it and he looks at you like "uh okay, I s’pose" and then you slap it again because fuck it. And back in the face opening it goes. Plunger noise returns. And he maybe grabs your hair or maybe not, maybe if you're into that and you're not but maybe you are. And he is all like, "I'm going to do a cum" and you're like "pardon?" And he's like "I'm going to do a cum" and you're like, "sorry what?" And he's like "I'm going to..." and you stop sucking and are like, "I'm so sorry, I can't hear you over the racket". He's like, "ever so sorry, I was just letting you know, I was going to do a bit of a cum" and you're like, "Right you are, Sonny Jim" and stick his whoopsie back in your cock pocket of a mouth. Then all of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, *pew, pew* he does a bit of a cum in your throat making you gag. Then like a fucking fireman's house, white spaff juice sprays out of the end sending you flying backwards as he drenches you with his load. Like DRENCHES you. When he is done, you pull a hanky from your pocket and wipe the corners of your mouth. You have some class after all.

You get to your feet and walk back over to him, a twinkle in your pink eye.

"Thanks Joker, that was okay, I really fuckin' needed that".

You blush slightly and lean in for a kiss. As your faces connect you take his lip in between your teeth and hold it there. You hold it there until you feel it go slack in your grasp, until his eye's glaze over and then you pull out the knife you had plunged into his throat, his blood starting to gush over you. His body goes limp and falls to the floor with a thud. The vibration knocks Lucille from her perch and she falls across his slumped body. You wipe the blood from the knife on your shirt and place it back through your belt, behind your back. You had finally got what you had come for and you didn't care what it took to get it. You didn't fear the walking dead but you did fear what someone might do to you if they found you like this so you decide it best to head off. You step over Negan's lifeless body and start your walk home. After all, people will be waking up soon and it's a long walk back to Alexandria.

... oh yeah! You sing "I'm a slave to your games. I'm just a sucker for pain" as you walk off or something.

#bees6krollthedicechallenge #Negan Smut #Smut #Fan Fic #Walking Dead #Negan

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

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30 Questions Tag Game

tagged by @softbobamilktae my beloved <3333333

name/nickname: call me naomi !!

star sign: capricorn

height: 5′8″ (and getting closer to chim every day muhaha)

birthday: january 15!

favorite band: ummm bts, txt, twice, every day lol (and like any musical theatre cast ever lol)

time: 8:35 pm

favorite solo artist: taeyeon, baekhyun, agust d, jhope, rm

song stuck in your head: signal by twice :))

last movie you watched: the princess diaries !! iconic

free space!: hmmmm i’m giving you a big hug can you feel it !!!!

last show: the great british bake off (paul f*cking hollywood i hate him but i love the show)

when i created this blog: february 2021 (i think?)

what i post: bts fics and weird not quite shitposts?

last thing i googled: huening kai side profile (i was texting a friend it was relevant uh yeah)

other blogs: @naomis-library for fic recs !

do i get asks?: sometimes!! and i treasure every single one you guys make my day <3

why i chose my url?: @kidcoredreamz came up with it !! i explained a bit in this tag game

following: 43 blogs :)

followers: more than i deserve !!!

average hours of sleep: um like 5-7? but then i’ll make up for it once a week and sleep like 10 hours lol

lucky number: hmm 7, 10, 15

what am i wearing?: a hoodie and pajama shorts lol (i was dressed cute earlier though haha)

dream job: oh gosh i don’t know still figuring that out lol

favorite food: just one ????? probably my grandma’s cavatelli (alternatively cold pad thai i don’t know i don’t know)

tea or coffee: oh my gosh don’t make me choose >.< i guess tea bc it won’t give me the jitters?

nationality: american

favorite song: seesaw !!!

top three fictional universes i would like to live in: ugh okay before i decide this is so annoying bc to me my motivation is more the characters and friendships and relationships but i feel like this has to purely like the universe itself so i’m gonna do that and probably explain why for each lol (but also all the worlds seem so scary if you aren’t connected right ahhh !!)

1. harry potter obvs i have always wanted to be a wandmaker !!! i have a fic in the works (she says, having like a bajillion wips and ideas lol) kinda about that but i just think it’s such a cool career and it sounds so rewarding !!! i also just love kids and helping people so i think i’d love it someone pls hire me as a wandmaker

2. the mcu i guess ??? but i’d spend most of my time wandering nyc looking for a radioactive spider LOL having superpowers is the actual fun part (idk if i wanna be an avenger though that’s a lot of responsibility !!! i like the friendly neighborhood role a lot more i’ll take over for peter parker lol)

3. steven universe !!!! i really hope i could be involved with the gems but like even if not the whole show makes every scene and landscape and location look so gorgeous !!!! i’d love to explore that world if i could, but i’d also be just as content to hang with sadie at the donut shop <3 (but i’d very much like to move in with lapis and peridot at the farm LOL)

okay i went way too in depth with the last question but it was important and my answers would be different if i could like choose my life and friends and stuff haha (i ramble a bit more in the tags lol)

anyway~~~ i’ll tag @hyungieyoongi (sorry if you’ve done it already) and @kidcoredreamz my love <33

#tag game #ab naomi #softbobamilktae #this was so fun !!!#i took. so long to do the last question #i was staring at my bookshelf for ages #i wanted to say a studio ghibli movie but it felt like too much risk #like i loooove howl's moving castle but i don't wanna end up an unhappy city worker i wanna have magic powers dude !!!!!#and like i wanna marry howl but that's neither here nor there <33 #i also love haikyuu but that's not too much of a fictional universe and once again i'd like my beloved tooru's hand in marriage pls #like it is a fictional universe it just feels like a cop out lol the world isn't different it's just characters #i love this discussion omg i could go on but i shouldn't

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whirlybirbs · 5 years ago

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( gif, again, by @barissoffee ! )

— STARJOCKEY & CO. ; 2 of ?

summary: the bad batch gets a pilot, and they get a mission. acid rain happens. hunter & zip still don’t get along. no one is surprised. pairing: twi’lek!reader (zip nickname) x hunter word count: 3.2k a/n: pumping this out so i can write some hunter/reader content tonight to follow this character arc! we love some good ol’ action adventure acid rain! also, don’t try and neutralize acid with water, kids. that’s not how that works. but this is star wars, and it works here.

previous chapter | next (coming soon!)

It’s too early for this.

Despite having a steaming thermos of caf in your hands, you still have to pull your eyes open wide and try not to sway on your feel as you remind yourself this debrief is important. Very important.

Very early, but very important

Sleep, too, especially after the amount of hours you poured into repairs on the Havoc Marauder last night, is equally as important — but the debrief takes priority. For now.

Maybe you can bribe D-M1 to pilot for a bit once you take off. Just so you can plant your head on the dash and doze for a minute. A loth-cat nap.

Ugh -- a nap sounds good right about now.

You take a long sip of caf and rub your face as Cody continues to speak, gesturing to the glowing blue holomap that casts a glow across the entire room.

Through the thick of the swirling mission debrief, Hunter is staring.

Well, more glaring, really.

(Can you blame him? His senses have been cranked to 12 since he was made, and still, he can’t ignore the smell of your morning beverage of choice. All he can smell is your caf and the elaborator creamer you’d put in it. It smells like cocoa and star-cherries and caf and it’s all Hunter can smell. It’s giving him a damn headache.)

You’re beginning to wonder if that’s all his stupid -- albeit handsome -- face does. The scowl there digs in deep, and you have to try your hardest not to roll your eyes as you take another sip of your caf.

He’d walked in here, hauled the helmet off, and you’d realized Cody was right when he said they didn’t look like the other clones you knew. They were all different -- higher cheekbones on Crosshair and a sharper profile on Hunter. Tech was small and boggly-eyed, while Wrecker towered over everyone in the room with his round ol’ dome.

They were nothing like the others from the 212th.

Your lekku twitch, swatting a bit, as your attention moves from challenging Hunter’s glare back to the debrief at hand.

Hunter, as he pries his eyes away from your cock-hipped posture, wonders how in hell a civvie like you managed to land this job. He’d much rather have a reg flying him and his brothers around than a ex-criminal and her junkyard droid.

... He heaves an inward sigh.

Maybe he’s being a dick.

Cody trusts you. Hunter can at least try...

... Right?

Hunter diverts his attention back to Cody’s words, ignoring the unsettling idea of being civil with you. “What’s the status of Yanibar’s alliance?”

“None,” Cody drops a hand to his hip, resting it on his holster, “Neutral -- but it lays between the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. The inhabitants tend to be those running from things like the war. But, I’m sure the Separatists will have their eye on the space ports for GAR officials. It’ll be basic recon. You fly in under the radar, scope out the manufacturing lab on Yanibar, and get out.”

Cody pauses, takes in the affirmative nods of the room, then continues:

“And lucky for all of you -- that ship in the hangar has no Republic tags. You’re gonna be a ghost.”

“No Republic tags?” Hunter asks, dark brow lifting.

“We’ll be off the books -- Seps will think we’re probably just smugglers,” you shrug, explaining as Tech hums quietly at the realization, “Knowing them, they won’t wanna start anything with locals. Especially if they’re break neutrality laws and mining a planet in the grey zone.”

“Exactly.”

You cop a smirk Cody’s way. “Now I know why you kept that bucket of bolts.”

“Repo’s have their uses,” the Commander shirks, “And civvie pilots, too.”

Now this is all starting to make sense. They wanted you to play the part -- and with any luck, the boys in the back cargo hold will go unnoticed as you carry on on Yanibar.

D-M1 pipes up from her spot below the holo-map. “Zip plays a wonderful smuggler. Four varying counts of weapons, drug and wildlife trade have made her --”

“Alright, alright,” we swat at the droid’s bobbing head, “I swear, who ever programmed you should be shot.”

The droid makes a sound akin to a laugh. Cody snorts.

Hunter ignores the distrust settling under his skin.

“Everyone got the plan?” Cody asks, looking around the command center. When he’s met with silence, he nods to dismiss the Bad Batch and their new pilot, “Alright. Head out. Comm in if there’s any trouble.”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Hunter?” Cody calls, “Zip?”

You both linger in the doorway.

“Play nice, yea?” he grins, “And good luck.”

-- ↯ --

You realize, six hours later, as you hang yourself out of the landing ramp mid-flight, trying desperately to get a hold on Crosshair who’s trying to get a hold on Hunter, that Cody jinxed you.

He most definitely jinxed you.

-- ↯ --

The mission had started just fine, after all -- the ride was fast, the travel checkpoints passed with no trouble, and you’d entered Yanibar’s airspace on a pretty mild day. No questions were asked when you dropped the Havoc Marauder down fifteen klicks outside of the nearest space port. The boys off-loaded and headed for the manufacturing plant.

The landscape gave enough cover as if it.

Large, sweeping stone outcroppings punctured the dunes and climbed high towards the sky, casting long jagged shadows in the golden sand. Creatures moved with the shade, relaxing along the cooling surfaces as the suns moved high in the sky.

Parked in a ravine and hidden from sight, you’d spent the first two hours monitoring the location of the Batch; every half hour, Tech would radio in giving an update on their location. By hour four, they were close. By hour five, the line had gone silent.

And you were starting to get nervous.

Their geo-coordinates marked them about 30 klicks East -- in the estimated area of the manufacturing lab they were slotted to recon.

By hour five and a half, the sun was disappearing. Slowly, with clouds shrouding the sky, but... the spaces between the brown clouds were turning a muddied color. You leaned, squinting over the dashboard with a confused look, before moving to the back of the ship and punching open the landing ramp.

When you stepped into the hot, mid-day heat, you realized exactly what was happening. You kicked yourself for not realizing sooner.

D-M1′s the one that made a panicked sound.

“We’ve got a problem!”

You were fast, bounding up the ramp and skidding inside as you slam the lock for the door on your way to the cockpit -- in a flash, you’d started up the engine and flicked alive the comms.

“Boys,” you yelped, pulling the headset on over your lekku, “We’ve gotta get a move on, now.”

Hunter, elbows deep in a dune with his eyes plastered to a pair of specs, cursed. Your voice crackled from his helmet, resting between him and Crosshair, and Hunter was almost inclined to ignore it.

But, the sniper tapped his wrist without looking from his scope and spoke.

“Go ahead, Zip.”

“Acid rain storm,” you blurted out, leaning as D-M1 points at the meteorological gauge in her little hands in a panic. The radar swept across the map once and showed the brewing storms, “About five klicks South of me.”

You knew acid rain storms. The planet you’d grown up on had them enough -- and even Coruscant had them. But, the color of these clouds...

Your father always used to say, the dirtier the cloud, the quicker the shroud.

Y’know, like death shrouds?

“-- Shit.”

Hunter was hoping that feeling in his gut was nothing. He should have listened to it.

“She couldn’t a’ told us sooner?” Hunter gritted out, pushing up from his elbows in a flash. Not entirely fair, but damn. This was not going according to plan. First the patrol droids and now --

A deep bellow of thunder rolled in the distance, then.

And now this.

Crosshair inhaled sharply and proceeded to silently snap the attached scope from his rifle in one swift, practiced move. He’s not gettin’ in the middle of this.

“Unless you boys wanna melt your pretty armor,” came your voice, crackling alive in Hunter’s helmet as he pulled it over his head, “I’d say we hurry this little play date up --”

And that’s the precise moment Wrecker snapped one of three patrol droids over his thigh, much to Tech’s despair, and sent the entire op down the shitter.

You found the squadron, then, pinned in a rain of blaster-fire, trading shots with the handful of B1′s -- their shots lit up the kicked up sand from the winds, beginning to howl as the dark brown clouds to the South began to loom over the once sunny dunes.

“Bring it down low, Deemi!” you hollered, throwing your headset as you moved to the back of the ship, “Get ready to go when they’re loaded on!”

“Got it!”

You punched the ramp, pulling your green tinted goggles down over the slop of your nose as the door opened. Taking a braced step out, you were fast to spy the boys as the Havoc Marauder began to lower itself slowly.

Then, a blaster bolt skimmed your head -- it leaves a charred sizzzzle against the matte black paint job of the repo’d ship.

You leaned back, tugging your pistol from you hip and firing a quick volley back at the droid who’d aimed for your head. After three shots, you nailed the B1 unit down, and turned your attention back to the Bad Batch.

You’re about to wave Deemi down, to tell her to plant the ramp on a rising dune then, when an entire squadron’s worth of battle droids lumbered from the back entrance of the manufacturing plant and began laying down fire on you and the ship.

“SWING IT AROUND!” Hunter screamed, waving you off.

Deemi listened, and you fell back through the door as the ship pulls away fast from the oncoming fire. Your back hit the navicomputer’s paneling hard as the ship banked left, and your breath flew from your lungs as you did, gritting your teeth tightly at the impact.

You scrambled, quickly, to watch from the open side-ramp as the entirety of the plant came into view.

It’s huge.

A main control tower rises high in the sky, above the three conveyor bays that spark through the small slitted windows three stories up. The walls are encroached by dunes, and the desert threatens to swallow it up.

As Deemi banked wide, you planted your boot on the doorway as you watched the firefight disappear around the edge of the massive building.

And that’s when it started to rain.

You hissed loudly then, immediately drawing a hand back when a fat droplet of brownish water hits your skin. Cursing as you swiped away the acidic liquid, you scowled at the welt it left behind.

And if the from the drop in temperature was any indication, it was about to pour.

“Deemi,” you screamed, “I’m gonna need you to speed it up!”

You were fast to stagger back from the doorway, moving to haul the bottom of your flight suit up -- the sleeves, tied neatly over your belt, are yanked onto your arms and over the black compression top. You zipped the collar up tight and moved to the storage built into the bunk atop the navi-console.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, digging around. You knew you saw a poncho somewhere and -- “Aha!”

It’s not much, but it at least covered your lekku. If anything it will keep the sensitive skin of the head-tails safe enough for a few minutes. You hauled the black, weatherproof poncho over your head and ignore the musty smell coming from it -- just in time, too, as Deemi had propelled the engines into a kick for the banking maneuver and the Bad Batch was in sight again.

The moment you and Deemi get in range, the skies opened up.

It starts raining so hard you could hardly see -- and the headlamps of the boys illuminated the muddied downpour a few feet ahead of them. Deemi bought the ship down low enough that the ramp connects with the tip of a dune, and you staggered a bit on the impact.

The ship’s lights cast bright cones of light into the acid rain storm, and Tech is the first one through the doors. You curse, ignoring the tingling sting of the rain splashing on your face, and call out to the others.

“GET ON!”

Wrecker is next, passing you and launching himself through the doors with a curse -- the droids have seemed to back off, leaving the squadron to book it as the acidity begins to gnaw at their armor. You can hear a commotion behind you, and assume it’s Tech snagging the gallon of filtered water stored under the refresher sink to dowse himself and the heavy artillery man.

Next is Crosshairs, who you reached out to as he planted a boot on the edge of the ramp -- without warning and rather suddenly, the ship gave a terrible moan. Then, unceremoniously, the dune the ramp had been perched upon tumbled downwards into a slip of mud.

The landscape was melting, and so was your poncho.

In a panic, you grabbed Crosshair’s vambrace and barely managed to snag the ramp’s guard rail; in a flash, Crosshair had Hunter’s hand secured in his own. Good thing, too, since the Sergeant’s boots now hung thirty feet in the air where the tip of the towering dune used to be.

And that’s where you find yourself now.

Cursing, you strain to readjust your grip on the railing as rain runs down your chin. It stings like a bitch -- but you can’t help but think the pull of your arm is a little worse.

You curse sharply in Ryl, and scream Wrecker’s name so harshly the trooper’s heart nearly stops. His helmeted head whips around.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE!”

Your knuckles, beneath the thick flight gloves have gone from a warm peach to a pale yellow -- the strain there is only relieved when Wrecker finally moves to the other side of the ramp and grabs Crosshair’s upper arm; together you both haul the two troopers up onto the ramp as Deemi’s banks backwards -- a few moments too late -- and sends a pile of acid rain soaked bodies tumbling back into the belly of the ship.

The droid closes the ramp as she banks away from the manufacturing plant.

You don’t even have time to celebrate the sheer survival of the stunt -- you’re instead stripping off the poncho that’s now got Republic credit sized holes eaten into it. You whip off your goggles, and curse again -- your flight suit is starting to sizzle and the acid on your face hurts and --

Suddenly, you take a whole bucket of water to the face and it all stops.

Tech, standing there clutching the now empty bucket, looks rather sheepish.

Your shoulders immediately sag in relief, and the troopers behind you are the next victims of Tech’s hose-down. Deemi, from the front of the ship, asks if she should drop into hyperspace and the entire cabin gives a dejected chorus of yes at the same time.

You wipe the neutral water, running over your nose and chin, from your face as you sit down in one of the chairs by the navicomputer.

Hunter drops his hands to his waist, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and opens his mouth to speak.

You, instead, cut him off with a single raised finger and a pointed look.

“You,” you snap, “Don’t get to say a word to me until my face is not swollen and Tech can confirm I don’t have acid rain poisoning. Understood?”

Hunter just snaps his mouth shut. You have welts down your cheeks from where your goggles met your skin. Your lekku, too, don the same blistered orange marks. Guilt suddenly washes over him, only for a second. He’d gotten off easy. The acid rain had only eaten through the first layer of his composite armor.

The whole cabin, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable, decides to go their separate ways. Hunter, though, doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you stand and inspect the now shredded flight suit that hangs off of you. You move across the cabin quickly, not bothering to avoid him.

You slam your shoulder into his and keep moving.

-- ↯ --

You don’t have acid rain poisoning.

Which is good, you guess.

But, the residuals still hurt -- bad.

You throw yourself into the far-too-small ship refresher for a rinse off -- Wrecker was nice enough to insist you get to go first (“For savin’ our skins an’ all, Zippy!”) and you can’t help but snort at Tech’s face when you emerge in a clean flight suit. He looks worried.

You’ve got welts all over your face.

“I think it’s a cute look,” you jab playfully, leaning to inspect your reflection in the polished chrome door, “Don’t you, Tech?”

“Looks painful.”

Crosshairs laughs.

The welts on your lekku are. You’d had to smother the startled yelps with your hand when the hot water made contact. You hope the boys hadn’t heard.

(Hunter certainly had, and he wasn’t even in the lower level of the ship. He was up top, ignoring the dull ache in his arm and pretending he didn’t need to rinse off. It had sparked a little worry in him, though, and he’d casually muscled his helmet on to do some digging on the holo-net about potential complications from injured lekku. The results were... not ideal.)

You massage the point on the back of your neck where your headwrap normally clasps together, keeping the animated little appendages under control and out of the way. You’ve forgone it now, and Crosshair watches as you sigh quietly as you rub the tension point.

You look different without it. A bit softer.

“It doesn’t feel great, but,” you shrug, shoulders a bit more relaxed than before, “I’ll be fine. Definitely the worst acid bath I’ve had in a while.”

“You’ve been caught in those storms before?” Tech asks, surprised. He’s placing his helmet down, stripping his armor as he speaks.

“I grew up in the South Tann Province,” you explain, “The jetstreams would carry polluted air through during the summer months, and sometimes the rain would be bad -- tarkona taka, my dad used to call it. But, that, back on Yanibar? That was worse than anything I’d ever experienced when I was a little girl.”

“Tarkona taka,” Tech sounds out, “What does it mean?”

“Brown weather -- or, storm, actually,” you grin, “Tak is brown, and tarkona is storm.”

“Yeah, well,” Wrecker supplies, muscling around through the barely stocked fridge in the far corners of the meager living quarters. Behind the microscopic kitchenette lay a hall of four bunks. Wrecker closes the door looking dejected, “I can’t wait to be back on Coruscant. No brown rain there.”

“On the lower levels there is!” you call out, spurring Wrecker’s shoulders to sag.

You move towards the ladder, planting a boot on the bottom rung when Crosshair’s calls out.

“Careful, Zip.”

“He still pissy?” you ask, loud enough that you know Hunter can hear, “Shame.”

The three members of the Bad Batch snort quietly as you move up the ladder anyway.

They like you.

And Hunter, still, doesn’t.

#bad batch imagine #tcw imagine #hunter x reader #clone trooper hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #star wars imagine #starjockey & co #hehehehehHHEHEHEHEHEH

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