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placewhereikeepposts · 2 years

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INTIMACY & RELATIONSHIP PREFERENCES GUIDE

the cut is for sexual content. you cannot @ me when/if you open it and there is sexual content, because im telling you right now that’s why it’s there.

for multiple choice sections: bold for always, italicize for sometimes, bold & italicize for added emphasis, strikethrough for never, no emphasis for neutral or n/a. remember: “top” means the one penetrating, “bottom” means the one being penetrated. positions will be specified as such.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Hetroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual - While I generally think that sexual and romantic orientation tend to overlap, Teague is an exception. He finds men attractive and will engage sexually with them but would likely never have a longterm romantic relationship. While it’s not impossible, I just don’t see it happening. Sexuality tended to be a bit more flued in pirate society.

SEXUAL ROLES: Dominant. Submissive. Versatile. Tends to lean for/into a submissive-adjacent role. Nevertheless expect pushback — i.e. he’s a brat, and semi-feral to boot. Fairly regularly reaches for a dominant role, too. It is, roughly, a 60/40 division.

PENETRATIVE PREFERENCES: Fully partner and dynamic dependent. And. Actually mood dependent so I think that’s technically reflective of there not being a particular preference? ... Anyways moving on.

DOES YOUR MUSE USE A STRAP ON?: No.

POSITIONS AS A TOP: being ridden. missionary. lotus. doggy. flatiron. legs on shoulders. standing up. standing while partner sits on surface. spooning. side by side. POSITIONS AS A BOTTOM: riding. missionary. lotus. doggy. flatiron. legs on shoulders. standing up. sitting on surface. spooning. side by side. Listen there is....not really a lot that isn’t at least a let’s try this option. There are favorites, but it’s....curious. He’s curious. An experimental.

SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS: monogamous. polyamorous. open. swinging. hook-ups. platonic. Remember that part where I was like “he doesn’t really do labels” ? Mhm, welcome to the terminology-dismissing funhouse. It’s actually incredibly annoying, really. He does, generally, prefer rapport and connection (it’s just more fun that way) but he’s comfortable with casual hookups as well (especially when not dedicated to what’s commonly thought of as a ‘relationship’, or formal/closed dating situation.)

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS: monogamous. polyamorous. open. casual. committed. I can’t really tell you what he’s “looking for” because he doesn’t know what he’s looking for- if he is even ‘looking’. That said, his penchant for being open (wild) should never, ever be mistaken for flippancy, or dismissal, or a lack of commitment. He is committed to the people he loves, whatever shape that love takes. That is the truest, most solid, and unyielding thing you can say about him, really. ‘Casual’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘uninvested’ to him, just... not necessarily planning a life that revolves around just one other person--- oh he’s super polyamorous isn’t he holy shit. Ok, well. sfjgj;slkdjfg;lkjdg Noted.

ALL OF THAT SAID+STANDING; his interests are not the only interests in play, and Henry Turner is many things but a man who uses people for his own gain is not one of them. He has never been in a formal, “traditional” relationship with a serious lifetime-together style intention, but that doesn’t exclude the possibility, it’s just not his.... default setting? He’s not a planner. His ideal life is “my people safe, cared for, and content” and there’s no blueprint for that, or single image that that fits. Being monogamous wouldn’t be a deal-breaker, or be something that led to feeling unfulfilled in a relationship (..I don’t think), it’s just not something that he’s got held in his mind as the way to go about a relationship. If he were to begin a relationship with someone and they expressed the desire/need for exclusivity in that relationship, meeting that need wouldn’t be a restraint, it would be a fulfilling engagement with that meaningful relationship. If that. Makes sense the way I’ve written it. Listen I’m trying. He’s not anti-monogamy that’s just..one of several options, and not necessarily the one at the forefront of his concept of loving someone.

RELATIONSHIP ROLES: dominant. submissive. equal. nurturing. being nurtured. monetary provider. monetarily dependent. shared monetary burden. independent monetary responsibility. manages household. shares household management. prefers independent living spaces. likes having household managed by partner. Outside of a sexual setting, relationships are about standing together dynamically, not one person over the other at all times. He’s not interested in controlling or being controlled extensively. That said, he also hates rote tasks and feeling tied down, so household management isn’t necessarily of particular interest, and I imagine he’d be happy to shed some (if not most) of it. Rather than a exchange of power though it’s like... division of tasks. Take the ones you prefer, share responsibility of the ones nobody likes to do.

THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE: I don’t know that marriage has any particularly powerful meaning to him. If anything, given the way it is often strategized or weaponized in Georgian society, it has implications as a loss of freedom and individuality. Or, in a worst-case scenario, that those who marry for love are doomed to one ill-fate or another— involuntary separation and/or eventual embitterment toward each other. There’s a lot of love in Henry’s life, but very few encouraging examples of marriage.

DOES YOUR MUSE GET JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE?: .....See but these are two different questions. Jealous is hard to imagine? Possessive in a protective sense is a decided yes. Any perception of someone he cares for being ‘taken’ would be in a hostile sense, that they were being threatened, and that will evoke a ‘mine’ style response, but them being flirted with (or flirting themselves) isn’t a threat to him or his relationship with them. He cannot be supplanted or replaced by another person also being close to someone he cares for, that’s not how caring about someone works. We’re back in ‘casual doesn’t mean uncommitted’ territory.

DOES YOUR MUSE LIKE POSSESSIVE PARTNERS?: Mmmm he likes to tease them about being annoyed. Really, though, he is ... not the person to engage in a relationship with if you can’t handle the fact that he has eyes and the world is full of nice things to look at (and that he is one of those nice things.) Looking is not a crime and he wouldn’t appreciate it being treated as one in earnest. Flirting he does a lot and often not completely intentionally and someone unaware of this likely doesn’t know him very well at all so it begs the question why they would be in a relationship with him. ....God he’s really polyamorous isn’t he? I feel like I contradicted this somewhere before but like........ (gestures at these answers)

DO THEY LIKE DOM/SUB ROLES IN ALL ASPECTS OF RELATIONSHIPS? (i.e. dom’s responsibility both sexually and in life is to take care of the sub and look after them. sometimes utilizing sexual and nonsexual rewards/punishments to incentivize them to carry out self care or other responsibilities): mmmmmm No but like... a soft no? There is.... He’s not a planner, and a formal, extensive, written-into-contract style whole-nine-yards here wouldn’t be for him but there’s... maybe a little something in this sort of slight power give and take. Like everything else that’s fluid about him, though, it would be something that went back and forth— sometimes being the one looked after, sometimes doing the looking-after. This would almost certainly be most relevant in the aforementioned monogamous relationship that isn’t necessarily at the forefront of his mind, but other types of relationships could get away with it here and there.

WHAT DOES AFTERCARE LOOK LIKE TO THEM?: We’ve been over the touching, yes? Touching is important. At all stages. This is why he generally prefers some level of rapport- parting quickly isn’t his ideal. One of precious few ways to get him very still and very lazy, this. A bit of praise or a handful of compliments wouldn’t be... necessary per se, but they’d go over very well. In terms of giving, oh boy this boy and kisses. Genuinely and with emphasis wants to be laid/leaned on.

WHAT ARE WAYS THEY PREFER TO BUILD EMOTIONAL INTIMACY?: Fun, and humor. What someone thinks is funny says a lot about them; how they choose to express that, too. Sharing and support- support. Different from assurance. Letting him in, letting him help. Being someone who will push back, and fight him when he’s being stubborn about something, will draw his notice and also rapidly build a sense of closeness; people who back off from his... brashness(?) aren’t lesser, but they do things different in a way that will make getting closer take longer, and be more roundabout. He enjoys being challenged. He’s all about those acts of service, and this includes talking about and help to sort out thoughts and feelings about ...everything. Complain to him so he can offer a solution (even if the solution is simply to agree, yeah that sucks.)

tagged: @detectiveconnor technically asked but also i probably would have stolen it anyway but just maybe wouldn’t have posted it publicly tagging: not today, take if interested !

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miekasa · 3 years

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Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it.

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby.

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad.

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on.

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying.

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside.

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place.

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone).

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way.

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for.

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch.

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés.

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this.

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it.

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well.

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program.

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do.

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk.

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes.

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to.

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye).

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester.

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other.

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand.

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right.

#anonymous #when.... when.... WHEN IS IT MY TURN #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot imagines #no because he's the love of my whole life #jean fluff #jean smut #eren x reader

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Wedding Night [Javier Peña x f!Reader] SMUT

Summary: You and Javier Peña are newlyweds, and a lot has changed since you first met the agent. You never believed he was the type to settle down and get married, but even on your wedding night you find yourself learning new things about his wants and desires.

Requested by: @kiwi-the-first who wanted Javi + wedding night, and the nonnie who asked for Javi with a breeding kink! I hope this is okay. Xx

Warnings: unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), foreplay, teasing, breeding kink, praise kink, degradation if you squint, soft Javi (can you believe?), pregnancy mention, brief mention of food and alcohol.

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3000>

Masterlist ** reblogs appreciated! Link to Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support my writing!

“Never in a million years did I think you out of all people would finally settle down,” you joked as you limped into your hotel room, holding your wedding dress up so you wouldn’t trip, the silk material bunched up in your hands. “Let alone with me!”

Javier chuckled lightly and tugged on his bow tie, letting it fall loose against his shirt. You slumped down on the king sized bed which had been generously dosed in red rose petals, as well as a bottle of the finest, fizziest champagne and a box of chocolate truffles were leaning by the pillow.

You struggled to lean over to untie your heels, the skirt of your dress doing it’s best to get in your way, and you groaned in frustration. You had learned over the years to be fine in heels, having to wear them for work every day at the embassy, but you didn’t think you’d ever be able to get used to dancing all night in three inch heels and having them not hurt.

“You need help, sweet girl?” Javier asked, quirking an eyebrow. You pouted innocently and fluttered your doe-like eyes in response. Javier got down on one knee, which was ironic for your wedding night, and helped take off your shoes.

Your husband stood up, shuffled out of his tuxedo jacket and threw it haphazardly over the chair in typical ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ Javier Peña fashion. You couldn’t help roll your eyes, but admire him nonetheless. “I didn’t think I could marry either… not after-” Javier paused hesitantly.

“It’s okay.” you reassured, urging him to continue.

“-Not after Lorraine.” he sighed at the memory of leaving his ex-fiancée at the altar. Even though she was now happily married with two kids, it was still strange seeing her at the ceremony. Javier managed to brush it off as nerves, because the second he saw you walk down the aisle in your stunning wedding dress, the diamonds in your ears sparkling like starlight and the way your hair had been perfectly styled, he knew he had no reason to worry anymore. For once, everything felt right. Javier had finally found love.

You tilted your head and offered him a smile, extending your arms and making grabby fists, urging him to come over. He squatted down slightly and you placed your hands on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks and tracing his skin delicately with your thumb. Javier found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch, and he closed his eyes.

“I love you Javi Peña.” you grinned sheepishly, pressing a chaste kiss on his nose. Javier’s eyes shot open and he tilted his head curiously.

“I love you too,” he confessed. “But is that any way to kiss your husband?” His lips curved into an all too familiar smug smirk that you had seen plenty of times before.

You giggled as he rose to his feet and his large, calloused hands dropped down to your waist. He pushed you into the bed, enveloping you in the pristine white sheets and maneuvered his body on top of yours. Or at least he made an attempt. “Javi!” you giggled as he tried to push himself on top of you, but struggled with your dress getting in the way. He huffed in annoyance, trying to change position just so he could give you a real kiss, but it was no use.

“Baby… this dress.” he raised his eyebrows as he raked in the length of your body. “I love it but…”

“Help me out of it already!” you swatted his bicep playfully and he grinned excitedly.

Javier took your hand and with one strong, swift motion, he pulled you up so you were standing. Completely man-handling you, he turned you around so you were facing the mirror and he was behind you. When he found the zipper to your dress, he pressed a soft kiss into the crook of your neck. You whimpered wantonly but couldn’t rid yourself of the smile that was plastered across your face. Javier’s dark, lust blown eyes looked at your reflection in the mirror.

“Look how beautiful you are, mi amor,” Javi mumbled before pressing another kiss into your neck. And then one against your jaw. His gaze, however, didn’t leave your reflection once, and you felt yourself become putty in his grip. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

He carefully pulled the zipper down until it stopped at the dip in your back, and pulled the sleeves and bodice down. He took his time though, making sure to relish every inch of your skin the second it was revealed to him. His gentle touches made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you slowly but surely began to feel your panties dampen with arousal.

You took over eventually, the desperation to kiss him fuelling you even more. You pulled down your dress completely so it was pooling at your ankles and stepped out of it. Javier’s jaw hung open at the sight of you in your white lace lingerie. The balcony bra left little to the imagination (despite it being nothing he had never seen before), but the silk ribbons and little net details were enough to make his hardening cock twitch in his tailored suit pants.

“Shit baby,” he whispered, unable to keep his hands to himself and immediately placing them on your breasts. He pulled one of your breasts out of the cup and gave it a few experimental squeezes.Your heart began to pick up pace as his rough fingers massaged the soft flesh, his thumb occasionally grazing the bud of your nipple. “You’re amazing.”

You brought your hands to your back and unclasped your bra, pulling it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground alongside your shoes and dress. Now, you were standing before Javier in just your panties, while he was still fully clothed. “Kiss me Javi.” you pleaded breathlessly, and within seconds, Javier leaned in and broke any distance between you.

His breath warm fanned over your mouth and you couldn’t help but shudder. “All mine.” he announced, his voice having dropped an octave.

“Yours,” you affirmed before his lips suddenly clashed against yours. The kiss was fiery and it burned a deep desire within your core. It was hungry, heated, and Javier’s movements were just as skillful as always although this time he was being more passionate than you’d ever accounted for. As he pulled away for breath you gasped, and he nudged the curve of his nose against yours and kissed you again. He was sensual and as his tongue swept along your lower lip grabbed onto his collar and pulled him on to the bed. “Strip.” you demanded, shuffling backwards against the headboard and spreading your legs.

Javier’s cock jumped at the sight of you, all open for him. You played with your breasts as you waited for him to undress, but his eyes were too busy fixated on the dark wet patch that had made an appearance on your panties. He grumbled something incoherent and you furrowed your eyebrows together. “Javiiii.” you cried out longingly and he quickly nodded, cursing himself for getting so distracted by your beauty.

He started with his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his pants, and then unbuttoned his white shirt. As he pulled it off, you revelled at the sight of his tan chest and broad shoulders. You pursed your lips, pressing them together into a fine line as you saw the way his biceps flexed with every movement. You gasped as he pulled down his pants and his erection sprung free.

“Javier,” you tsked playfully, shaking your head. “No underwear on your wedding day?”

“I never wear underwear.” he muttered, his tone serious as his fingers curled around his strained manhood. He began pumping up and down his length, sweeping his precum away from the tip that had leaked out when you’d opened yourself up for him.

“Well I know that,” you laughed, changing position and getting onto your knees. You crawled back to the edge of the bed and gently removed his hands from his cock. “Let me help you with that baby. You have a wife now. Let me help you.”

With one hand, you cradled his balls and with the other, you made a fist around his cock. Javier’s eyes fluttered shut immediately and you leaned into him, giving him a small and teasing kitten lick on the tip of his cock. “Ah- fuck.” he whimpered, thrusting his hips into your mouth. You parted your lips realising he wanted more and took the sensitive head in your mouth, sucking on it longingly. He moaned your name and you relished the way it rolled off his tongue so perfectly. You pulled off him for breath and spat the mixture of precum and saliva back onto his cock and rubbed it into his length. Before he could say anything else, or make a snarky comment, you reattached your lips and pushed him further down your throat, taking him as far as you could possibly go. The second you were gagging on him, and he saw tears prick your pretty eyes, he knew he was only moments away from reaching his climax. You felt his balls tighten in your hands and you smiled around him.

“G-gonna cum baby.” he choked, tossing his head back. You hummed knowingly around his length and pulled off him with a loud pop. He was a heaving panting mess when you pulled off him, and he craved a release. His slight disappointment for not letting him finish was completely diminished when he remembered what would come next.

He kissed your lips softly, signifying his gratitude, before pushing you back down into the bed. His large hands glided down your stomach and to the apex of your thighs before he spread you open. His finger gently traced your cunt which was hidden between the thin, soaked material of your silk panties.

“You're already so wet for me.” he beamed proudly, knowing that he could get you aroused like this from just the barest of touches. He tugged on the hem of your panties and you lifted your ass up for him, so he could pull them down your legs and off you. Rather than throwing them to one side, he kept them on the bed, and delved in.

He started off slow, teasing you just like you had to him. He licked a delicate stripe between your folds, getting lost in the taste that he had always savoured so much. You looked down at his head which was placed in between your legs and moaned in delight. His dark eyelashes flamed his closed eyes perfectly and obscene wet noises filled the room. Usually you'd feel a little embarrassed by the noises coming from his mouth and your lips— but this time you were far too lost in the moment.

“Oh Javi.” you whimpered wantonly as he increased the speed of his tongue. He was faster now, and it was less sloppy and more precise. Once he was satisfied that you were wet enough, he drew one of his thick fingers to your entrance and pushed it in. You gasped at the welcome intrusion and felt your walls clench around him immediately. “Oh please, Javi. Javi. Javi.” you said his name like it was the most sacred prayer.

Even though he was now fingering you, his lips hadn't left your dripping wet cunt once. He was completely and utterly drunk in love.

“So sweet,” he cooed before inserting another finger. “Got to stretch you open baby. You know that. Gotta stretch your tight little pussy if you want my cock inside of you.” You moaned and arched your back as desire overtook your body. “What was that hermosa?” Javier asked. “You do want my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted as he scissored his fingers and kept lapping at your clit. “Please Javi. Please. I want your cock.”

“I know you do, because you’re a greedy little girl, aren’t you? My wife, desperate for my cock.” He chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling up and removing his fingers.

He brought them to your mouth and gave you an all too familiar look. You knew what he wanted from you, and you obliged, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking your arousal from them. Just seeing you with his fingers in his mouth was enough to make his cock begin to weep again. Once he was satisfied that you'd sucked his fingers clean, he began to look around. He looked over to the nightstand, and then the dresser, and then at the suitcases and bags in the corner of the hotel room. You quirked a curious eyebrow.

"I uh- I forgot condoms," Javier confessed sheepishly, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. "Did you pack any?"

"No," you bit your lip and raised your hands to his face. You ran your fingers through his chocolate coloured hair, tugging on the tips of it— just the way you knew he liked so much. "But it's okay Javi."

"You- you don't mind me fucking you without protection?" he asked. “We’ve never done it completely unprotected before-”

“Javi,” you smiled and nodded your head. “We're married now. But only if you want to of course.”

“Shit hermosa, listen. I’ve wanted to put a baby inside of you since I saw you holding my nephew at my aunt’s birthday. Remember? Back in Texas?” Javi revealed and you felt your eyes go comically wide.

“Really?” you said almost breathlessly. Javier knew how much you wanted a family and children of your own, but it was something he never mentioned or talked about, so you figured it just wasn’t on the cards.

“Yes. And when we’re at Steve and Con’s and I see you play with Olivia… please. It really gets me going.” Javier confessed, and your maternal instincts immediately kicked in.

“You really think we’re ready to have a baby?” you whispered, your eyes glazed. Javier wiped a happy tear away from you.

“Yes I do. We’ve already been through hell and back as a couple. You and I, together… we’re undefeatable. And now we’re married. I want this mi amor, do you?” he quizzed, kissing along your jaw and down your neck.

“I do,” you sighed longingly. Javier kissed your chest and then down the valley of your breasts until he got to your tummy. “I want a nice house with you in the suburbs... maybe even in Texas so we can be close to your dad. White picket fence… and a dog.” you giggled excitedly and Javier chuckled, loving how you'd already thought and considered all the details.

“Once upon a time, that would’ve scared me,” Javier revealed. “But now I can’t think of anything I want more.”

You smiled and tugged on his hair one final time before he crashed his lips back onto yours. You moaned into his mouth and Javier shimmied his body back into a suitable position in between your legs.

He pressed his cock against your folds and began to rub the tip along your entrance. “Javi please.” you murmured, holding him by his broad shoulders and digging your fingernails into his skin.

He wasn't able to tease you anymore, he just had to be inside of you. In one swift motion, Javier thrust his entire thick length into your hole and you scrunched your face up as pleasure overwhelmed you. You loved the way you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he gained a steady rhythm, pounding himself inside of you. He closed his eyes too as your tight walls squeezed his cock with every thrust. He swore that everytime he fucked you, you felt better and better.

He had you pinned down to the sheets and his usual rough nature took over. You wrapped your legs around him and arched your back. “Oh god Javi, oh god yes— right there.” you cried out as he hit that sweet stop inside of you.

He leaned in, his chest pressed against yours and his mustache tickled the side of your face as he whispered words of praise into your ear, proud of how well you were taking him.

“Good girl. Gonna- gonna cum. Gonna fuck a baby into you.” he said breathlessly.

He knew his dirty talk was the way to spur you over the edge. Your cunt clenched around him like a vice as he fucked you into your high. You were practically screaming his name and warm tears were spilling from your eyes as he finished up. His grunts and groans filled the hotel room as he eventually spilled his seed inside of you, just a few sloppy thrusts after you'd come.

“Oh Javi,” you moaned as he slipped out of you and rolled over. He grabbed a pillow from his side of the bed and pushed it under your ass. “What are you doing?” you laughed as he propped you up.

“Need to make sure none of it spills out.” he muttered as he adjusted the pillow. You couldn't escape the grin on your face. Your husband was so adorable and tentative with everything he did.

“This is a big deal.” you said after Javi cleaned you up. He crawled into bed next to you and pulled you into his chest, always loving to be the big spoon. There was a point, long ago, when Javi was completely against cuddling— but times had changed since then.

“You’re right. A new chapter. How do you feel?” he asked softly, kissing your shoulder blade before leaning over and looking into your eyes.

“A little nervous, but mostly excited.” you smiled and he squeezed your hand comfortingly.

“I love you so much princess, and I can’t wait to see what’s next for us.” he grinned sheepishly before pressing one final kiss into your plush lips.

“Goodnight Javi.” you yawned, curling up into his embrace.

“Goodnight my love.”

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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

kodachrome.

summary: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.

warnings: smut, 18+

word count: 5k

song inspo.: kodachrome - paul simon

It’s true that you may have had ulterior motives with Harry’s birthday gift.

His hands are delicate, fingertips running across the surface of the Polaroid camera as though he’d break it if his grip got any tighter. The packs of film you’d purchased with the camera rest on the coffee table, being thoroughly ignored while Harry examines his gift, and you duck your head just a bit to read his expression. Slightly confused, brows furrowed, a small grin tugging at his lips - it’s what you’d expected with a gift like this, because it isn’t as though either of you need a camera. Surely both of your phones are better quality than the photos you’ll be taking with the Polaroid but it’s for the aesthetic, you suppose.

“Do you like it?” you question, voice soft.

Harry rests the camera on his lap and glances up at you, large hand moving to rest over your knee through your jeans. “Well, I love it, ‘course.”

There’s a second part of his response that’s left unsaid - perhaps the question of why you’d gotten him it - so you lean in, chin resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder and your lips drifting dangerously close to his ear. Just enough that you know his jeans are growing tighter and he shifts in his seat on your living room couch as if to prove it to you. “Thought it might be fun to start taking pictures of each other.”

A beat passes with silence, and then he turns his head to look at you, nearly bemused by the concept, as though he doesn’t know exactly what you’re implying. “Wha’ kinda pictures?”

You hum softly, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up one of the film packages, already beginning to tear open the wrapper. “The kind that’ll make touring more fun for both of us.”

Harry pauses, eyes narrowing at your fingers ripping open the crinkly film packaging, and you can practically hear his rebuttal of the idea before he says it. “Thought we said no nudes - people could find ‘em, babe.”

“Physical copies are more secure than digital ones,” you tell him, picking up the camera from his lap to put the film in. “Are you telling me you don’t want to take pictures of me sucking you off to have with you on tour? ‘Cause that’s very out of character for you, Mr. Styles.”

He snorts and the familiar sound is like music to your ears, and then he reaches over to grab the film-loaded Polaroid from your hands, fingers tracing over the small rainbow printed on the front of the camera. “I do,” he confesses, voice dropping in a way you recognize all too well, and your stomach drops with it. “Yeah, I do.”

You lean sideways, resting against the arm of the couch as Harry shifts to face you, raising the camera up to his face with a grin gracing his lips that doesn’t at all match the mood of what you do next - mere seconds before Harry takes the picture, you grip onto the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your chest for the camera to capture as his mouth drops into a soft ‘o.’

The click of the photo being taken is nearly deafening against the sudden thick silence, flash blinding you for just a moment and you’re left blinking furiously to regain sight as Harry lowers the camera to his lap. The camera spits out the photo, still white and undeveloped, and he picks it up with delicate fingers to rest it on the couch cushion between you two.

Your shirt drops back over your chest as you shift closer to Harry, pretending like you don’t hear the way his breathing has picked up and how his eyes keep darting to examine your side profile as if trying to see if you’re as affected as the photo as he is - and you are, of course. It’s possibly one of the hottest things you could ever imagine doing with him, taking photos like that, and you can’t lie and say that the redness blooming in his cheeks isn’t adding to the moisture you’re feeling in your panties.

You drag your thumb over the image slowly developing on the Polaroid between you. You can see the beginnings of the outline of your body, though it’s too light to discern the details yet. “Starting to come to. What do you think?”

It’s a stupid question and you already know the answer but it’s more gratifying to hear the way Harry’s voice cracks as he begins, “S’hot.”

“Just hot?”

“Like, g’na cum in m’pants hot.”

You grin and Harry turns his head and it’s practically all you can do to lean in, press your lips to his and feel his hand, pressing to your thigh and sliding upwards. Even through your jeans, his fingers so close to the spot you’re yearning for him has your stomach turning, and you raise your palm to press delicately against his cheek, holding his face close to yours. His breath smells and tastes like the birthday cake you’d been eating in the kitchen with a tinge of expensive wine from dinner with all of your friends but above all he tastes like Harry, the man you love so much, the man who’s reaching down to the couch between you two and picking up the Polaroid with two careful fingers.

“Look,” Harry hums softly as he pulls away from you and you look down at the picture to examine it with him. It’s you, in full color, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt tight above your breasts, exposing the cherry-red bra you’re donning beneath. It’s Harry’s favorite bra of yours - meant to be a surprise for later tonight but you don’t think he’ll mind seeing it early. The photo cuts off halfway up your face but you can see your smirk, smug as you saw the shock on his face just as the photo took. “S’developed.”

Harry’s soft moans are like music to your ears - like a favorite song and you’d love nothing more than to listen to it on repeat, plug in your headphones and tilt your head back until it’s stuck in your head like an earworm.

For now, though, you’re more than content to enjoy them in the moment, and God, you’re enjoying it. He’s always vocal in bed but even more so when you ride him, when his fingers are digging bruises into your thighs to help your movements up and down and the only words that manage to fall off of his lips are breathy cries of your name like prayer, as though you’re a goddess and he’s merely a worshipper at your altar.

Your hips slow into a gentle roll against his, clit brushing up against his pelvic bone in a way that has a chill rolling up your spine, and your hand slides from its place on Harry’s chest to his throat. Wraps around his neck just so, squeezing experimentally to listen to the way his moans crackle in the thick, humid air of your London bedroom, and a rush of arousal gushes to your core at the sight and sound.

“Look at me,” you order Harry, and you think you understand why he’s always so reluctant to hand you the reins when you want them. There’s something special about being above him, knowing that you can control what he does with just an authoritative lilt in your voice - even if he has the strength to flip you over at any moment. Deep down, you reckon he likes being below you sometimes just as much as you adore being on top. When he doesn’t obey your commands, eyes still rolled to the back of his head, you pause your movements completely, and his eyes fly open as if you’d pried them open. “Look at me, Har.”

You tighten your hand around his throat again as his eyes bore into yours, pupils clouded with lust that you’re sure are reflected in your own. When you’re positive he won’t look away from you, his hips bucking up in just the slightest for any semblance of movement, you resume your motions. Roll your hips just once against his, moan catching in your throat, and you keep going. You lift your hips up, thighs trembling to hold yourself up before sinking back down, feeling him fill you again and again.

“Fuck -” Harry gasps, tone cracking and you grin down at him, slamming your hips into his hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers his voice - but it doesn’t, and you’re oh so glad that you could hear it. “Feels - feels so good, babe.”

As dominant as you’re trying to be, his praise nearly makes you break and it would be the perfect moment for him to grab your thighs and flip you over but you regain your composure just as fast as you’d lost it. Your voice is shaky as you loosen your grip ever so slightly on his neck, leaning backwards enough so your clit is on display for him, glistening wet with the mixture of your juices together. “R - rub my clit for me.”

And he complies, hand sliding down his sweaty abdomen until two fingers are pressed to your clit, rubbing soft circles into the overly sensitive nub but you don’t want soft, you want hard. So you push your body forward, pressing your clit further into his fingers and he’s not stupid - he catches the hint and presses down harder, circles tightening into hard rubs that has your head dropping back, sweaty hair sticking to your back.

“God,” you tell him, rocking your hips more against his as a reward, “feels so good, Har. Doin’ so good - keep doing that.”

And he does, of course. Keeps rubbing your clit like he was born for it and in return you ride him with the new form of vigor that he earns, eyes rolling back into your head. When you look back down at him, grip tightening like a noose around his throat, you’re nearly overwhelmed by how fucking spectacular he looks. All sweaty hair, mouth dropped open in a permanent ‘o’ and his eyes struggling to stay open.

You could decide to merely engrave it in your brain for all eternity, but you have a better idea to memorialize it.

You swallow thickly, hips slowing to a near halt as Harry’s eyes fly completely open, threatening to complain. “R - reach into the drawer, Har. The nightstand.”

You can read the confusion on his face clear as day but he follows your orders, reaching over to tug open the nightstand drawer. Sitting inside, clear as day, sits the white Polaroid camera, and Harry knows what to do before you tell him to. He picks it up with one shaky hand and you immediately reach to grab it from him, turning it over briefly in your hands before raising it up to your face.

Briefly your hips roll over his, gentle but enough for him to rest his head back into his pillow, lips turning upwards into a satisfied grin and you know that’s the best shot you’ll get - his face contorted with pleasure, hair spread out over the pillow, and the flash of the picture being taken only makes the scene look that much more angelic.

You grab the photo with two shaking fingers and lift it up to examine it, resting the camera on the bed beside you. It hasn’t developed and so you shake it just for a moment, feeling increasingly needy to fucking see it but you know it will take time - and you certainly have a lot of that.

“Open up,” you direct and he obeys, mouth dropping open and you insert the picture onto his mouth, watching his teeth and lips clamp onto it. “Now, keep it nice like that ‘till it develops. You can do that, can’t you? ‘Course you can.”

“Keep those eyes on me, babe.”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, eyes rolling nearly completely back in your head as you search to meet Harry’s. When your eyes find his it’s difficult to maintain, vision nearly completely upside down as you hang off the edge of the bed of your Malibu hotel room, fingers gripping so tight onto the duvet you’d be surprised if your nails hadn’t torn through the fabric. Gripping the coversis the only way to not reach out for Harry’s thighs and he’d forbid you from doing so with the threat of not being able to cum - a risk you’re rather unwilling to take.

His fingers brush your neck, surely searching for the bulge indicative of how far his cock is shoved down your throat, and you can tell he’s found it when he squeezes just hard enough to have your vision go fuzzy. Your tongue swirls around the swollen tip of his cock, feeling him slide out of your mouth just enough for you to press a gentle kiss to the tip, his hiss showing how much he appreciated the gesture before he’s pushing back in your mouth.

He’d been starting slow, fucking your throat gentle to make sure you’re alright with it. It’s not often that you do this - you prefer to be on your knees for him, with his hands in your hair to occasionally force you to go faster. But there is certainly something better about this, struggling to keep your eyes open and feeling blood rush to your head while trying to keep your sore jaw wide open for Harry to fuck.

Eventually, though, the slow pace had been abandoned and you can feel him picking up the pace, hips bucking into your face just fast enough to make you feel like you’re losing your damn mind but you wouldn’t have it any other way, even if you’re nearly gagging on him with every other thrust.

“God,” Harry moans, and through your blurred vision you can see his palms coming down to cup your face, using his leverage on your cheeks to increase his speed. “God, look so fuckin’ - fuckin’ pretty, baby. So pretty, takin’ my dick so well. Look at tha’ - moan f’me, babe.”

And you do, of course. You moan desperately and it’s muffled as his pelvis presses nearly flat to your face, holding himself there, and your cheeks hollow as you suck him, and you watch him toss his head back with sheer ecstasy and it encourages you to hold out for just another extra second before your hand flies towards his thigh, smacking twice, and he pulls out of you immediately until only the tip of his member rests on your tongue.

His thumbs massage your jawline as you flick your tongue over the tip of his cock, taking the second of pause to catch your breath and relish in his touch. It’s only a moment, though - you jerk your head just once up and he takes the gesture as it is, an invitation to keep going.

“There y’go,” Harry breathes, hands sliding downwards until he’s grasping your throat, heels of his hands massaging the lump in your throat as he had before. “Should take a picture of you - remember this forever.”

Do it, you want to shout at him. You love when he takes pictures and you’d love nothing more than to see yourself from his perspective but it seems that he didn’t need your suggestion - resting on the bed is his Polaroid camera from when you’d dumped your bags when you’d first gotten to the hotel and it’s become a traveling staple since you’d gotten it for him - you two never forget to bring it with you.

His fumbling hands raise the camera to his face, cock still thrusting in and out of your willing mouth and you make sure your eyes are open when the flash goes off, the click intensely loud in the hotel room. Your tongue swirls around his cock, grinning as Harry pulls the photo from the bottom of the camera and tosses it onto the bed, hand sliding down from your throat to your tits and his fingers pluck at your nipple just as the flash goes off again and the camera spurts out another image.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” your boyfriend murmurs, hips thrusting his cock further into your mouth and you gag around him before loosening your throat to take him, no way of encouraging him to continue but he doesn’t need it. “M’so fuckin’ close - and m’gonna cum on your face, and in your mouth, too. D’you want that?”

You nod.

“Knew you would.” His face is nearly adoring as he stares down at you and it’s an expression that doesn’t match the absolute filth of what’s in your mouth. “When I’ve painted your face like - like fuckin’ Michelangelo - m’gonna take another picture, and then m’gonna fuck you.”

It sounds just about perfect to you and you nod vehemently, Harry’s palm closing in around your breast and squeezing and in turn, you tighten your throat around his length and it gets the response you’d wanted - a sharp buck of his hips, and then he pulls out of your mouth.

Your lips close in around the tip of his cock, sucking on the swollen head and you can tell by the way his head drops back that he’s there - just a moment later, his hand pumping his cock, thick ribbons of cum spurt from the head and it’s warm as it lands on your face, and your tongue darts out to lick at the bit of it that had landed near your lips.

His breathing is heavy, desperately trying to catch his breath and it has a rush of pride coursing through your veins - only you do this to him, leave him needy and desperate and just as the smirk graces your lips, he’s muttering, “Say cheese,” and the flash illuminates your hotel room once more.

There’s something almost relaxing about having Harry’s face between your thighs.

It’s a sensation you’ll never tire of no matter how often it happens - and with his absolute adoration for the act, it happens often. Sometimes it’s hard and intense, fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises that won’t vanish for days, but other times - like now - it’s nearly offhanded. Lazy and gentle, his tongue swirling around your clit as your fingers lightly brush through your hair, your free hand clutching Harry’s Polaroid, waiting for the best moment to take the picture you’re yearning.

Your fingernails scratch at his scalp, digging deeper into his head as his teeth brush against your clit just enough to have your back arching upwards, hips bucking up into his mouth as a soft moan escapes your throat. You can practically feel Harry smirking as his tongue rests flat over your folds, juices gushing to the apex of your thighs at the motion.

His breath is hot against your cunt as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud and his palms smooth up and down your thighs, gently holding your lower body down before your hips can buck up to meet his mouth again. “Try not to move,” Harry mumbles against your pussy, voice sending vibrations rolling through your body and a chill slithers up your spine, head dropping back onto the arm of your living room couch. The movie playing on the television - Groundhog Day - has been long forgotten, abandoned from the moment he pushed you to lie on the couch and pushed off your sweatpants. “C’mon, baby - stay still f’me.”

You swallow thickly, raising the camera to your face and peering at Harry through the small screen. You can’t see his face - just the mess of curls on top of his head and your fingers combing through the locks - his palms, smoothing over your thighs gently - his eyelashes, on display while his eyes remain shut with pleasure. He tells you, again and again, that he loves eating you out more than you do and you’ve always rolled your eyes because there’s no way in hell he likes it more than you -

But sometimes you do believe him.

“Do that again, Har,” you murmur, voice dropping into a breathy cry as Harry repeats what you’d asked him to, his nose nudging at your clit while his tongue flicks at your folds. It’s at that moment that you take the first picture, flash illuminating the slick that coats your mound in a way you hadn’t noted before - at the sudden brightness Harry looks up and you can see your wetness surrounding his chin and mouth, pure proof of how hard he’s been working your cunt, and you take another picture.

The two images fall into your palms and you rest them on your stomach, tugging your shirt further up your torso so they lay flat on your skin. Harry’s eyes drift upwards for just a moment, scanning the faded outline of your legs wrapped around his shoulders and you can see the beginnings of a smirk working his lips before he turns back to the task at hand, tongue parting your cunt before it slips inside of you, thrusting in and out.

“Fuck,” you breathe, legs tightening around his shoulders and forcing his head further into your cunt, and he moans into your folds at the motion. “Fuck!”

“Y’like tha’?” Harry questions, voice rolling through your body again and you toss your head back with a moaning sob, pushing your hips further up to him. “Yeah, y’do.”

“Har -” you swallow thickly as his lips close around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. “Har - oh my god, I’m gonna - gonna cum -”

“Cum f’me,” and his voice is gruff and desperate, practically a plead for you to cum on his tongue, to bless him with your juices. “Cum on m’tongue.”

Whatever he’d been spouting before about keeping still is long forgotten, your hips bucking upwards to meet his mouth as your orgasm washes through you. It’s intense and near brutal, not any sort of match for the energy Harry had been maintaining but it doesn’t matter - it’s so relieving that you don’t try to fight it, just let your body relax and your head fall back with what’s nearly a scream.

His flexed tongue continues lazily thrusting in and out of your cunt, helping you through your orgasm like it hadn’t affected him one bit but you know that isn’t true. You can see his lips, turned into a grin and his eyes darkened when he glances up at you, hands on your thighs sliding across your skin until his thumbs lazily pull apart your lips, giving him easier access to the parts of you he craves.

He’s going for your second orgasm - you know that. And you also know it won’t be too long until you get there, especially when his thumb focuses on your clit, massaging the over-sensitive nub as your cunt clenches vehemently around his tongue.

Click. One final picture, of Harry’s hands and face pressed to your pussy, devoted to getting you off and not worried in the slightest about his own neediness. When you’ve rested it to your stomach, next to the other two fully-developed images, you let your arm fall off the side of the couch, letting the camera slip from your fingers and land silently on the carpet, more than intent to focus solely on your boyfriend between your thighs.

Within moments you’re at the edge again, Harry’s face deepening between your thighs to help you ride out your second. Your hips roll against his lips, his thumbs rubbing your clit until you’re sobbing out towards the ceiling, heels digging into his back and forcing his body towards yours. You’re so lost in the sensation, in fact - and on the developed Polaroids sitting on your tummy - you hardly register his mumble of, “Think y’got a third one f’me?” But when you do -

Fuck.

On Harry’s next birthday, you have a very different gift idea planned.

The plane tickets to Greece were the main course - a vacation you’d both dreamt of taking for as long as you’d known each other and you’d never gotten around to it, but you figure there’s no time like the present to knock it off your bucket list. And you could tell Harry was overjoyed, turning and wrapping you in a hug so large you nearly fell off of your seat in the middle of his favourite restaurant.

The side to the main course, though - the appetizer? - is what you’d been waiting for him to open, and not in the middle of the restaurant. It’s only when you two get home, your arms hooked together, giggling like teenagers as Harry fumbles with his keys, that you pull out the small envelope with his name scribbled on the front in red pen.

“Go ahead,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit on the marble countertops in your kitchen while Harry situates himself between your legs, turning the envelope over in his hands with the same lingering curiosity he’d held last year. “It’s not gonna bite you, Har. Just open it.”

He rolls his eyes at that, a grin tugging his lips upwards as his fingers dig into the paper, tearing the envelope delicately open and you can tell he’s trying not to rough up the wrapper too much, in case he’ll want to keep it for sentimentality but you’re positive that, once he finds what’s inside, he won’t care too much.

Then he dumps the contents of the envelope onto your lap, ten small Polaroid pictures falling onto your dress where it covers your thighs, some face up and some down and as soon as Harry’s eyes scan then, you can see the red blush creeping up his cheeks.

“You fuckin’ minx,” he breathes, and you grin, leaning forward to drop your forehead against his shoulder just as Harry picks up the first Polaroid. Turning it over in his hands you glance down to look at which one he’s examining - it’s a close up he’d taken, his palm wrapped around your neck tight enough that his fingers turned white and you can remember the exact moment. How you’d whined and begged him to go harder, to God, fuck me like a whore, Har, and he’d responded by grabbing your throat so tight you saw stars before he released you.

“I like that one,” you confess, nail dragging over the edge of your jawline where it’s cut off by the camera before you reach down to your lap, overturning every image so you can see them all before grabbing one. “This one - it’s my favorite, though.”

You hold the picture up for Harry to see, watching his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes it. It’s a picture of his back, taken when he’d been bent over putting on pants the morning after Valentine’s Day - you’d intended to be inconspicuous, memorializing the array of deep red scratches you’d left on his skin the night before and you were beyond grateful when you saw the developed image. He’d complained when he heard the click of the camera, telling you that if anyone gets their hands on this, they’ll think I’m being abused - but you knew he liked it, because you caught him peeking at it on your dresser during the next few weeks.

It’s a nice thing to do to include it in his gift, though you’d love nothing more than to frame it on your wall to have there forever.

Harry hums gently, grabbing the picture from your fingers and dropping it back to your lap. You can feel his fingertips, drumming along your thighs as he sorts through the photos. “I remember this one,” he tells you, picking up the end of one of the pictures so you can both see it. Your cheeks flush when you see it - you’d picked it to commemorate the very first (and certainly not the last) time the two of you had tried anal. “God, came so fuckin’ hard tha’ day. Look at tha’ - how red your ass is, fuckin’ beginn’ be to spank you -”

“Alright,” you interrupt, feeling heat creep up your neck to your cheeks as you smack the photo out of his hands. It’s a shaky picture, taken while he was balls deep in your ass, his palm spreading your cheeks apart to get the best angle of his cock inside of you - you remember how good it felt, watching the flash illuminate the room and hearing Harry moan as the photo developed where he’d placed it on your back. The Polaroid lands back on your lap and you reach down, sorting through the array of images until you find the one you’re searching for. “Here - thought you’d like this one the most.”

And - God - when he sees it, grabbing it out of your hands to examine up close, you swear you can hear him whine with need as he brings it up to his eyes. It’s a photo of the two of you in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror that had been at one of your hotel rooms and neither of you could pass up the chance to watch yourselves during the moment. Your dress, pulled down over your chest, his hand covering your breasts with his head buried in your neck, and you remember feeling him pressed inside of you, both so desperate and needy that you needed to capture it.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You prod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s throat as his head drops to the side. It was, perhaps, the best sex you two had ever had - you couldn’t walk for a week without thinking of him. “You love it.”

“I do love it,” he confirms, hand snaking around your side to begin tugging your dress up your sides. “Reckon it’s not too early to start working on another year’s worth of pictures?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #i hate this so much i didnt even reread it to edit it #also writing 1k words EXACTLY for each section was not a smart decision in hindsight #but whatever.#too late now!

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: The Battle

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others fly to Cairo to confront Apocalypse and his soldiers in an attempt to rescue Xavier.

Warnings: Apocalypse being a leg breaking, hero strangling jerk. Characters fighting for their lives, but bookended with fluff from Peter x Reader pairing.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp, @wintwrsoldiwr, @tommy-braccoli, @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

———————————

You’d at least gotten to clean up somewhat. Earlier as Hank and the new woman you’d just met, Moira, had worked on readying the jet, you’d found some bit of helpful supplies. Clean rags to wipe off the blood, and bandages that’d you’d hurriedly applied to your shallow claw wounds.

All the remnants of your restraints were gone, and your old, torn clothes you’d just tossed in favor of the thin jumpsuit and lightly armored black flight suit over the top of it. You all wore these suits, commandeered with this experimental jet now rumbling beneath you as you shot off to Cairo together.

There was silence for a good while, after some initial nervous chatter and joking from the others. It would have been too easy to fill this quiet with any of the myriad of questions still rushing through your brain, but you really had just listened and little more when they’d filled you in earlier with the gist of what they’d learned.

All that really mattered was that the Professor was being held captive by a seemingly omnipotent mutant. One that had now declared war on all and recruited his own powerful soldiers. This was a rescue mission, with likely all your lives at stake.

You leaned your head back, wondering if anyone else would really even know or care what had happened to you if you never came back from this.

The escape from Stryker’s lab had been life threatening as well of course, but it was so different when it’d just been one thing after another. Events unfolding too quickly to really develop any sense of dread, it’d been all adrenaline and luck really.

But even in a jet like this, flying all the way to Egypt was more than just a skip and a jump. It was well enough time to dwell on your own inexperience and shortcomings, to wonder if this was the last time you’d ever do anything at all.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice was quiet, just to you, as you glanced over, having been mired only in your own thoughts until that moment.

He was sitting beside you, both of you strapped in these jump seats that ran along both sides of the jet. Vaguely you realized the others had started talking once more as well then. Maybe that was why he felt more comfortable speaking to you again now.

He hadn’t addressed you directly since you’d reunited with the others. Though you wouldn’t blame him if he was just as nervous as you were deep down. But from his self deprecating jokes in front of your friends earlier, about still living at home with his mother, he would at least seem better at hiding fear if he did have any.

“Hey,” You answered back reflexively, looking at him fully again.

“So uh....” He was chewing a piece of gum, as if some part of him still had to stay in motion in order to remain comfortable. “That car, that was pretty sweet. That yours or what?”

Honestly it took you a very long, awkward pause before you could piece together any idea of what he was referring to. But being that you’d only known him since literally just earlier today, there wasn’t anything else he could possibly mean. “The yellow convertible?” You questioned anyway, not really surprised by much of anything now.

“Yeah, I mean, I take the road if there is one. I saw you guys on the way to the house,” He answered, still offering a little explanation regardless. “Looked like you knew what you were doing though.” There was a more sheepish grin emerging. “I was going to stop and say hey I guess. But then I saw the, you know, fireball coming out the house and all, had to go see what that was about. Save everybody or whatever...” He trailed off after a bit, maybe realizing that you were just letting him ramble.

It reminded you of how you’d acted with him during the whole lab fiasco. He seemed the more confident one down there, while you got easily flustered. You really wondered if having your friends here now was making the difference. As if he was more unsure of himself when there was a potential audience to hear what you might say back to him.

It was interesting, getting to put more of those pieces together, or at least starting to be able to when it came to him. For putting on the display of an extrovert, and if you could finally admit it, even him being an outright flirt, you felt more and more sure that that was only skin deep really. That was just the outer layer he protected himself with.

“It was one of the Professor’s cars,” You smiled genuinely, probably the first one since they’d told you where you were going in this jet and why. “We were on our way back from the mall.”

That warmth from you seemed to ease him back into his normal tone, maybe a slight relief in him that you didn’t find it off putting that he’d already taken notice of you before you even knew he was anywhere around.

“Oh, mallrat, huh?” He quipped, “I can picture that.”

He was teasing, but you gave it right back. “There is no way you can tell me that you don’t end up in music stores wherever you live, like a lot.” You hadn’t forgotten his band t-shirt after all. You thought you’d seen him putting away headphones at some point too. “And that leather jacket and pants you had? Come on, that didn’t come from some bargain clothes rack.”

You might have had him for just a moment there. Just a flicker of surprise in his eyes to know you really had paid him that much attention, before he retorted, “Hey, what’s the point of a fast car if it has no style, right?”

“Says the guy who most people can’t even see until he slows down.” But you were purposeful to make clear in your tone that that wasn’t an insult at all, just continuing a little more bravely afterward, “Though their loss I guess.”

There was no mistake then, he really did pause. You could feel the slightest bit of heat in your face again, but you were not about to take that back. Not when you didn’t even know what was really awaiting you all at the end of this flight.

And you were still the next one to speak, that resolve remaining. “If we make it out of this, maybe you can come with me back over there to our mall. Help me pick out some new stuff.” You tried not to make it sound funny, but on some cosmic level it still was. “Seeing as how my room and everything I owned was incinerated and all.”

“Deal.” He said immediately. Only a little afterward seeming to realize that maybe he sounded a bit too eager. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I’m pretty good at Ms. Pac Man too. They have an arcade, right?”

“Yes.” You answered, trying not to look too amused, and going along with him to help him feel more comfortable. “I can’t say I’m actually any good, but they do have a Flash Gordon pinball machine I always play. And a couple of air hockey tables. That’s my go-to.” No question with his speed that he would likely annihilate you on both. But the idea of being in a much simpler, safer place like that with him some day was a pleasant one right now.

“Oh yeah. I can show you a thing or two.” He was clearly back in his element then, looking smug once more.

“I’m sure you will.” You could only wonder if the god complex mutant and his lackeys you were now off to go challenge would have any idea that in the back of your mind you’d now be dreaming of a simple date in an arcade as extra motivation to get back home in one piece.

———————————

It wasn’t long before things had started spiraling in quick succession again. You’d all arrived in Cairo to find it essentially destroyed, save for what this fake god had already erected in monument to himself. A huge pyramid in the style of the ancient Egyptians, one he’d taken Xavier hostage inside.

It hadn’t been clear though how much of the destruction was done by this mutant, and how much had actually been at Magneto’s hands as it was with more shock that you’d found him in the middle of this as well. Now serving this apocalyptic mutant.

You knew enough about Magneto to both fear and respect him. Even though his history with the Professor went back so many years, Erik Lehnsherr as he was actually named was always more on the side of peace through violence. While Xavier preached ideals of tolerance and education for regular humans to one day accept mutant kind, Magneto thought them incapable of such, and had no qualms on preemptive strikes against non mutants as well as eye for an eye type vengeance.

But even for Magneto this seemed surprising. He would really just give Xavier up this way? As you’d gotten closer, Jean had sensed that Apocalypse (what you were now calling the new enemy in your own mind) intended to take over the Professor’s body, possessing him permanently to gain access to his mind control powers and become basically omniscient. He’d be unstoppable with everyone as his puppets then. Free will would cease to exist.

“You guys help Nightcrawler get into the pyramid!” Raven called back to all of you as the jet was landing. “Get Charles and I’ll take care of Erik.”

You’d snapped back to attention at the orders, and you saw that Peter was suddenly at her side.

He looked so focused all at once, “I can get you in there,” He told her, referring to the debris field of broken buildings and all else now churning, stuck in a huge magnetic orb with Magneto at its center. When she didn’t look sure, he continued quickly. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

Raven nodded to Peter then in agreement, knowing there was no time for more back and forth. “The rest of you, get Charles on this plane and get him out of here!”

You too knew what was at stake, there was no reason to argue, even if there still must have been concern on your face. You didn’t understand Peter’s change and sudden fixation on Magneto.

But it was only Kurt that spoke up immediately, yelling back to Raven and Peter, “We’re not leaving without you!”

Peter looked back at that, “Don’t worry.” In fact, you realized he was looking directly to you for one moment. “We’ll catch up.”

———————————

While Peter had sped Raven out of sight to try and reason with Magneto, Moira had stayed with the jet and Hank had come with you, Scott, Jean, and Kurt.

But as you all ran along the rubble, trying to make your way to the pyramid, it hadn’t been but moments until you encountered Apocalypse’s other soldiers, mutants set on stopping you all from interfering by any means necessary.

A tall, blonde man with wings made out of metal, a ninja seeming woman with a pinkish purple energy she could wield from her hand like a blade even while also carrying a katana, and a girl nearer your own age with stark white hair and seemingly the most power out of the three as she’d flown right towards you throwing lightning bolts from her hands.

You’d had no choice but to split up. Which you were sure was what they’d wanted even as you’d chosen to try and take the white haired girl’s attention. You didn’t really want to find out what would happen if one of those bolts struck you directly, but you could guess you had the best chance of anyone to maybe absorb some of it in your energy form.

You’d immediately powered up, glowing white as she’d chased you around the sky, both of you darting and flying in some kind of bizarre dog fight.

Your heart had been racing though, no amount of training at the mansion could actually prepare you for dueling with someone who actually wished to harm you. Everything to this point had just been about learning to control your powers, maybe even firing an energy blast at a dummy or paper target or two. But you’d never tried to hurt anyone. Not on purpose.

“Why are you helping him!?” You yelled out to her, swerving again as she tried to get close enough to you to land a hit. You generated an orb of light energy from one hand, letting it destabilize before you threw it towards her. It collapsed into itself, exploding to make a shockwave through the air that pushed her back again.

“He’s going to make it so we never have to hide what we are again!” She growled back in frustration, steadying herself in the air before her eyes hazed over into solid white.

You doubted that could be good, and of course it wasn’t as she raised her arms, a tornado like blast of wind then trying to knock you from the sky. You were able to shield yourself somewhat with your force fields, but the barrage of debris and wreckage that came with the winds made it too difficult to keep track of her as she did nearly land a direct lightning strike then.

“You’re wrong!” You yelled back, even as you felt numb and disoriented briefly, like the electricity surge was messing with your own energy. “He’s just using all of you! He only wants slaves, nothing more! And you’re just going to hand us all to him!”

She didn’t answer back after that, but you knew it wasn’t as if you could change anyone’s mind for them. She’d have to live with her own choices, just as you’d have to live with yours.

After a good while of this tit for tat though, you were really trying to take her out of the sky at last, knowing you needed to find and help the others as this had already been going on for far too long. You started trying to get her in the chest with white energy beam after energy beam shooting from your hands. She was fast, but you were able to at least get her in one shoulder at last as she spun with the force, losing altitude quickly with the hit.

Even as she fell, you could see her already correcting course though, trying to take aim at you again as she glared upwards.

But you didn’t get to see what happened next. A three fingered hand grasped your left arm suddenly from thin air, and then you were collapsing onto the floor of the jet you’d come here in.

“Gotcha, time to go!” Kurt spoke quickly as you looked to him in surprise, that strange burning smell hanging in the air briefly that always accompanied his teleporting. It was as instant a feeling as moving with Peter, but thankfully without the subsequent vertigo as you stood quickly, powering down, even as you were already looking around for the speedster.

With relief you did see Jean cradling the Professor’s head as they sat on the floor, Xavier unconscious but still breathing. But you did not see Peter or Raven.

Moira and Hank were already firing up the jet engines and you grabbed hold to the wall as you felt the craft quickly rising. “What about Peter and Raven?” You called out over the noise of the turbines spooling up faster and faster.

“We’ll have to trust them to figure it out, we’ve got to get Charles out of here now!” Hank answered back, leaving no room for debate.

You felt an unease building in your stomach, but it was true that if Apocalypse got Xavier, that Peter, Raven, or anyone else would then no longer matter anyway. At least for now you could hope Peter would just take Raven and run somewhere far from here. Xavier and Jean could use their psychic abilities to find them later and you could reunite.

But a hard thud above you left you all looking upward as the jet rattled.

“What the hell was that!?” Moira called out.

As soon as you saw that pinkish energy blade emerging through the jet’s hull, you had already powered up again, glowing and ready to shield the others as best you could. Apocalypse’s soldiers were proving too difficult to shake.

Yet Jean had other plans, “Everyone, grab onto Kurt!” She yelled.

You didn’t know what altitude you were already at, but you knew it wasn’t a survivable one for the jet itself if it was ditched now. Yet a fight in this close of quarters with all your powers would likely end in the same result. So her choice wasn’t as irrational as it first seemed.

You reached one hand quickly back, firmly grabbing onto Kurt’s shoulder, even as you kept your other hand raised towards where the metal winged mutant and the blade wielding woman were now trying to force their way in through the breach they’d created in the hull.

“I’ve never done it with this many people!” Kurt warned as you all held to him.

“Get us out of here!” Jean commanded, her desperation bringing out a forcefulness you hadn’t yet seen from her.

But Kurt was still straining, the sound of his opening whatever portal he used clearly heard but not bringing you anywhere as he tried several times.

The man with the metal wings jumped down into the cockpit, now just feet away as you realized what you had to do.

“Go without me!” You screamed over the rush of wind now coming through the hull breach. You let go of Kurt, making direct eye contact with Jean.

You could get out on your own. At least you were going to try. It was the only way. Kurt wasn’t able to take you all.

You felt that Jean was listening, that she heard your thoughts and that as difficult as it was, she agreed just as quickly. It was the only way.

“Do it!” She urged Kurt even through the horrified look he gave you both.

“I’m taking it down.” You also heard her voice say in your head almost simultaneously. That briefest warning to ready yourself before she willed the controls to throw the plane into a nosedive and cause Apocalypse’s soldiers to lose their footing.

The last you saw of your other friends was still their shocked and frightened expressions as they disappeared from right in front of you. But this was your only chance as well, propelling yourself as fast you could, right through the fading cloud of gas they left behind and past the now tumbling winged mutant as all your focus went to that small square of sunlight that they’d cut into the hull.

It was your one window of survival. For just the briefest moment, you felt him try to grab hold of your leg as you flew past him. But you kicked him with the other leg as hard as you could manage, breaking free into the open air as the jet plummeted on without you.

Out the corner of your eye you saw the woman had remained on the outside of the jet, but jumped free from it as well. You lost sight of her as you both fell, focusing only on trying to slow your descent to a survivable speed. It was one thing to levitate yourself up from a neutral position, and wholly another to try and control your energy field around yourself enough to reverse the terminal velocity transferred to you from being within a crashing plane.

The ground still came too fast, too hard. You blacked out on impact, laying alone in the dirt as your light energy faded, receding back inside you.

————————————

An unknown time later, something jolted you awake. You could hear screaming as you opened your eyes. You were laying on your side. Everything hurt and you could taste blood in your mouth.

But you were already forcing yourself back up as you swallowed. Disoriented as you were, you still recognized that voice. It was Peter. He was hurt.

You were looking all around you, and it didn’t take long to see the source and reason for the screams.

Not far from you at all, Apocalypse stood in a clearing from all the rubble. Peter right beside him, half crumpled to the ground. One of Peter’s feet was encased in the earth, trapping him there like an animal in a snare. His other leg was clearly broken, twisted at a grossly unnatural angle.

You felt a foreign rage beginning to burn up inside you, but before you could even physically react you saw the woman with the katana again. Nowhere in your mind did you take any time to consider how she would look so clean and uninjured having just come from the same circumstances as you of barely escaping the crashing jet.

All you saw was her walking towards her master, sword at the ready to finish Peter.

“Stop, (Y/N)!”

Charles screaming inside your head was the only thing that kept you from revealing yourself at that moment.

“It’s Raven! I’m telling you, it’s Raven!” Even Charles was struggling to break through your flaring emotions, as he repeated himself desperately. “He’ll kill you, (Y/N)! Stay in place, I beg you!”

The Professor had never spoken to you in such a way before. You gripped onto the broken wall in front of you, still only just obscured from their view as you saw Apocalypse grab Peter by the hair, jerking the young man’s head back roughly to expose his throat to the woman.

“It’s Raven, please trust her!” Charles did not let go. You could feel him actually starting to control you even, something he had absolutely never done before, though your emotions were exploding like they also never had. He didn’t want you to make a life ending mistake.

“(Y/N), please.” He called again and you realized you were being held in place, unable to move out any further. You were forced to only watch as the woman raised her blade, Peter wincing in fear and pain beneath her as she swung it.

But it was only Apocalypse’s throat that ripped open. Yet even in your surprise, any sense of victory was still non existent. No blood poured from the wound, and it healed completely within moments as he only grabbed his supposed traitor by the neck, holding her up immediately.

Raven’s feet hung in the air while she choked, her blue skin and true appearance quickly returning as she could no longer control her disguise as Apocalypse strangled her.

And it was only then that you felt Xavier letting go of you, in his own shock as Apocalypse tried to bait him out.

“Charles! Come! Rescue your weaklings!” Apocalypse challenged aloud, still dangling the now helpless Raven while Peter stayed trapped at their feet. “Give your life for theirs!”

He was going to kill her right in front of you. You powered up, knowing there was no other choice. You had to-

“No. I’m still connected to him. Let me get in his head, (Y/N), then you can go to them.” The professor spoke quickly, yet with a touch of new resolve.

“Charles! Will you do nothing?” The false god continued to bellow.

This time you listened without being forced to. You did see Apocalypse pause as if Xavier was indeed making contact. It was still an agonizing wait, but when he finally let go of Raven, you allowed yourself some shred of hope. You’d never seen anyone be able to overpower the Professor mentally, once he was fully in.

But that hope was also short lived as just moments later Apocalypse raised his hand abruptly. At will he dissolved the outer wall of a nearby building. You could see Scott and Hank then exposed, themselves just as surprised and staring out. But you knew it could only mean that Apocalypse had used Xavier’s connection against him just that quickly to root out his hiding place.

This could be the end then. You resigned yourself that the only choice was to die fighting if that is what it had to be. But you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As Apocalypse had left Peter and Raven behind, now striding confidently to his prize, two massive steel beams suddenly shot into his path. They buried themselves into the ground, crossing into an X to block him.

You looked back into the sky, glad in this single moment that you had been right about at least one thing. Magneto wouldn’t give Xavier up in the end. Not without bloodshed anyway.

“You betray me?” Apocalypse asked, already turning to deal with Erik instead.

“No. I betrayed them.” Magneto unleashed hell then, every bit of metal he could pull shooting towards Apocalypse in an unending assault as the other raised a shield that incinerated each and every piece as it hit. But doing so clearly taxed him, allowing the perfect moment for the rest of you to join the battlefield.

You got to Peter almost simultaneously as Hank got to Raven. You and Beast were clearly in the same mindset of getting the injured out of the immediate firefight before you would join in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, the Professor froze me,” You spoke in quick apology to Peter, using a small energy blast to break up the earth that had been hardened around his trapped foot. Once cracked, you broke the rest of it free just with your fingers.

He was obviously surprised, grateful, and maybe even confused all at once as you gently lifted him with the help of your powers. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders, trying to mind his broken leg as you helped support him while gliding over to a safer spot some distance away.

“Stay here.” You spoke, sitting him down so his back was against a mostly still standing wall to shelter them.

Hank was sitting Raven down in the same manner beside him as Peter suddenly spoke up to you. “Wait.”

You were still crouched in front of him, you’d been about to stand back up when his hand went around the back of your neck and pulled you in closer.

Before you could register anything else, you felt his lips press against yours. It was a bit harsh, desperate even, and then it was over just as fast as you pulled back in surprise.

“In case we don’t ever get to make it to that arcade,” he responded to your shocked expression that was still evident even in your energy form like this.

You took a breath, now was not the time for verbalizing any of this. But you wanted to show you agreed with the sentiment. You leaned back in, kissing him yourself for one longer moment, one hand gently cupping the side of his face before you stood back up. He allowed the contact readily and you could only wonder what it felt like to him when you were enveloped in light like this.

Hank and Raven just gave you both the most confused of looks, but nothing was said as you and Beast had then rushed back off to throw yourselves into the fight.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver #x men #marvel #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #xmen #x men fanfiction #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x reader #xmen apocalypse #pietro maximoff x oc

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lost-inthedream · 3 years

Text

Sleepy eyes

Pairing: Rowoon x gn reader

Genre: sensual fluff? I'm tagging fluff because the sensuality is pretty subtle.

Warnings: This piece is a bit experimental, there is a quite long description of a kiss. I hope you enjoy it!!

Words count: 0,9k

Summary: Rowoon carries you home after a fun but tiring date (or Rowoon being the boyfriend of the year).

Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes that you might find.

Both you and Rowoon experienced that feeling of being exhausted but still excited. You cannot get back from an Arcade date without happy memories to keep talking about, bringing them back as though they could fade away if you did not. The night was especially energetic because you went there with your two friends, who were also in a relationship together.

Your boyfriend drove you home amid the sounds of laughter as you both recalled the funniest parts of the night and provoked each other about being bad players. “I am terrible, I assume. But you are even worse” he snapped at some point, having you try your best to sound offended.

You placed your hands flat on your own chest faking disappointment. “My own boyfriend is telling me such rude words! You were supposed to say I’m perfect at everything.”

“You shouldn’t have accepted going to an arcade with me then” he turned his face to you for a second and raised an eyebrow to a cockier expression.

Now you were comfortable laid back on the passenger seat, face slightly tilted while you looked affectionately at Seokwoo. You had his side profile to analyze every detail of, also his hands smoothly but precisely grabbing the wheel. He was a great driver and the car moved safely down the streets. You appreciated the several times he let you sleep on that seat being rocked by the stable movement of his car. No abrupt breaks, never. His car also smelled good but softly, like flowers. You then noticed how silent the night was, 11:00 P.M on a Sunday.

“Are you sleepy, honey?” he asked, his velvet voice inviting you out of your short trance. Had it been truly short? You did not really know, so you chuckle to yourself.

“I’m not.”

“Why you got so quiet then?”

“I love you so I gave myself some time to enjoy the view of you.”

He bit his lip, took by a wave of shyness. He could not help the excitement that being complimented by you used to give him. That always caused some part of his body to itch. This time it was his neck.

You watched him quickly scratch the region, still without moving on your seat. Your house was getting close and the mere thought of getting your body out of the car stirred laziness in you.

“Babe, I’m not getting out of here if you say you won’t stay for the night” you declared once Rowoon stopped right in front of your place.

…

You crossed the living room and let your body drop by the third step of the stairs, they lead to the second floor. Elbows on your thighs and chin resting on your palms as you showed him a pout.

"Love, I'm so tired, can you carry me upstairs? Like Bridal style.

"No. I'm tired too. Nobody ever carries me upstairs or anywhere bridal style" he gets closer and sat by your side.

His long leg pushes yours as you show him a grimace. He leaned to you so his lips could brush against your temple, then he decides that the soft caress should become a smooch. Your eyelids fell while the corners of your lips lifted. His hands found a place on your jaw to delicately motion you to look at him.

“I’m happy that you want me to stay.”

“You don’t need an invitation.” You winked and then grabbed the handrail to pull your body up from that step, ready to climb up the stairs. “Are you coming?”

Rowoon nodded and stood up as well, but he soon stopped you from going up.

You did not fight him, accepting his hand wrapped around your wrist and looking at him trying to understand what he meant. After holding you, he had not moved at all, his eyes locked with yours. Lazy eyes indeed, but also appealing. You opened your mouth to ask what he wanted, but he explained himself before your voice came out. Your boyfriend simply pulled you on his lap as he sat down again. Your lips automatically connected, your arms naturally enveloped each other. You enjoyed the way his hands could not stay still, they palmed your sides up and down so tenderly. His lips moved without any rush, just savoring yours and slowly sucking them every now and then.

You noticed the silence again. Once more you admired him, now with your eyes loosely closed. You admired him with your touch, with the low gasps you let out without intention every time his teeth tenderly sank in your lips. Your whole body relaxed in his embrace, your mind went into a peaceful place where the world reduced to going blind and giving in to the other senses. The only matter was following Rowoon’s lips rhythm. He pulled back and stared at you with a playful wink. You were completely lost though, your hands still holding both sides of his neck. When did you plant them there? Anyways his skin felt warm under your moving thumbs.

“I wanna sleep hugging you tonight” you confessed with a whisper.

“I knew you were sleepy” he replied pulling you closer, the side of your head found his shoulder covered with a delicate fabric. Your nose was so close to his neck and you felt perfectly nestled.

Rowoon lifted you and the last thing you remember to do is pecking the region right under his jawline.

A/N: Just in case it sounded familiar, this fanfic was slightly inspired by this scene from She Would Never Know. However, I did not watch the drama.

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #rowoon scenario #rowoon imagine #rowoon fluff #sf9 writings #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles, chapter 1; Hall of Science! @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

They were running. Silent feet pounding on stone and impressive forms guiding them over the gaps between rooftops fast enough to disappear between blinks. Like shadows, completely unseen, the brothers raced to the location of their next mission.

“Can I get another runthrough, Don?” Raphael called to his brother as they glided side by side, looking to each other mid-jump.

Donatello didn't need to pay attention to where he was going; his body was so used to the nightly activity that his feet guided him even as his mind was focused on other subjects. He tapped the band on his wrist to bring up a map of New York that immediately settled on his location and the path they would have to take to arrive at their destination; naturally, being the only one with such tech, and as second oldest, he took point with Raphael.

“There’s been a recent string of robberies in every major museum and science building in a hundred block radius. Just the normal stuff: jewels, gems, priceless artifacts, experimental technology—anything worth a pretty penny really.”

“And we’re sure this is our kinda thing?” Leonardo asked; for stamina, the turtle was not built, so already he was panting and coated in a heavy layer of sweat. Still, he was able to keep up quite easily with his brothers. “We do mutants and we do Foot Clan, we don’t do petty robbers.”

“With their MO, I am 99.8 percent certain this is a new mutant.” Donatello reported.

“And what MO would that be?” Raphael questioned.

Donatello cleared his throat and closed his eyes, sticking a finger in the air to annunciate himself as he spoke. “They break in without any clear entry or exit points, door and windows locked and intact, and no security cams or security sensors can seem to pick up on when the attacks occurred. And, most incriminating, they leave behind nothing but a water trail.”

Michelangelo whistled. “Did Piebald go all dark side? Can’t she do all that?”

“I don’t know Michael.” Donatello admitted, “But we’re about to find out. I’ve figured out a pattern in the places they’re targeting and I have a pretty good idea of where we can catch them in the act.”

Raphael nodded and gave an approving grunt. “Then let’s put a hustle on it!”

The journey was an easy and short one. They came onto the roof of the museum and, while they split up at Raphael’s order to find a way into the building, Leonardo took the chance to read the sign.

“New York Hall of Science?” Leonardo scrunched up his beak.

Michelangelo hummed and put his hand on his hip; he had just found a way in through the vent shaft. “Are you sure this is a mission and not just a Donnie field trip?”

Donatello’s lips curled down and he put a hand to his chest. “I reel at the actuation! Gasp! I, the respectable and beloved green mutant lad I am, would never ever do anything like that, never in a million years!” Wild hand gestures enunciated his dramatics. “This is purely professional!”

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. “I found a way in!” He pointed to the vent shaft and was easily able to pry the cover, tossing it aside and going to climb in.

Raphael was there before Michelangelo could do much more than put a foot in, grabbing his baby brother by the shell to pull him out and plop him back down on the safety of the roof.

“Leader goes first!” Raphael declared proudly. Then he immediately melted into soft coos and kneeled beside Michelangelo, pinching the box turtle's cheeks and rubbing his head, “I can’t have my baby brother getting hurt can I?”

He stood up again and gave the seething Michelangelo a final pat on the shoulder before jumping into the vents without a care as to where they led. Michelangelo tried to follow after, but he was forced back by sharp nudges from Leonardo and Donatello as they side-checked him before ducking inside. Michelangelo was the last one in the vents and the last one out.

The brothers fell one by one from the vent shaft, landing with solid, yet muffled thumps as the stealth mode drilled into them took over. The building was completely dark, but that was expected given the fact it was long after hours and the security guards and workers had all gone home for the night.

“Nice.” Leonardo whistled, eyes going white as they scanned across the dark room. “Now this is more my style!”

The museum, despite its namesake, didn't much resemble a museum as it did an indoor playground. There were several exhibits quartered off with rope and chains; a rocket ride that resembled a better, cooler version of a coin-operated horse, a trampoline with a harness attached to a bungee cord, several displays showing off depictions of the solar system or sand dollars you could dig for in a sand pit or a small chemical set for little experiments. It was like something straight out of a child's imagination! Michelangelo had to rub his eyes several times just to be sure he was actually seeing it.

Donatello stepped in front of the awed group and gave a bow before motioning widely to the room. “Welcome, dear brothers, to the greatest place on earth if you happen to be a science child! Ohhh I’ve always wanted to come here!” Donatello practically melted, his eyes shimmering with the child-like wonder as he leaned his full weight on his bo staff. He sucked in a shaky gasp and one of his spider arms deployed to offer him a tissue. “It’s so beautiful.”

“I guess.” Raphael laughed, smiling at the sight of his brother happy as could be. “But I don’t really see how this fits our thief's MO…”

“Allow me to elaborate!” Donatello declared, spinning on his heels to face his brothers again as he threw purple sparkles into the air, “This museum of wonder and extravagance will be displaying the illusive and highly controversial trillion-sided die in their Math-mania exhibit this Saturday eve! School children from all over with come to marvel as this beautiful piece of scientific—“

“Woah woah woah, trillion-sided die?” Leonardo interrupted, fixing Donatello with his ‘I don’t believe you’ eyes, “That sounds totally made up!”

Donatello gasped as if Leonardo’s words were a personal affront. “I assure you the trillion-sided die is a hundred percent, genuine marvel of the world—“

“How could there be a trillion sides?” Leonardo asked, “Who counted all them sides!”

“T...they clearly had a highly advanced expert to prove—“

“Another question,” Leonardo raised his hand, “How big is the die? It’s gotta be pretty big to have a trillion sides.”

“I… It’s a… it’s just a regular sized die!”

“Then are the sides all like… really small or… or how did they do that?” Leonardo leaned against a wall and smirked.

Michelangelo was quickly growling bored with the argument and his eyes began to wander, searching for some movement or stimulation to keep his mind happy. What he found instead was a wet spot on the floor, and once he saw it, it was impossible to unsee it. It was like someone had been carrying a bucket full of water with the bottom full of holes, dripping it all the way through the walkway and then around a bend and out of sight.

“Guys—!” Michelangelo tried to get their attention. He was met with a finger pressed to his lips to silence him.

“Shush, Angelo. Big boys are talking!”

Michelangelo’s hands became fists and he growled. If he had been in a cartoon, steam would have poured out of his ears! But before he could try again to call their attention, Leonardo had jumped forward, leaning his entire weight on Michelangelo’s head to point.

“Hey look! A water trail!”

Raphael came over grinning. “Good job Leo! Great find!”

“Oh come on!” Michelangelo groaned loudly.

#toddler mutant ninja turtles!#little brother struggles #disaster twins

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

This work and others are also available on AO3!

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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How prog were Queen?

By Dave Everley

On 9 January, 1971, Kevin Ayers and Genesis played a show together at the Ewell Technical College near Epsom in Surrey. Ayers was 18 months out of Soft Machine, and making a name for himself as a psychedelically-inclined art-folk rake. Genesis had released their second album, Trespass, a few months earlier, and were carving out a place in the vanguard of the burgeoning progressive rock movement.

There was a third band propping up the bill that night, a bunch of transplanted Londoners calling themselves Queen. In contrast to the wilfully artful approach of the headliners, their music was more straightforward: a heavy, if ornate blend of Led Zeppelin’s earthiness and the flights of fancy of Yes.

Not everyone in the small crowd watching them was impressed, but they caught the attention of one person. After the show, Genesis frontman Peter Gabriel pulled Queen’s blond-bombshell drummer Roger Taylor to one side. Gabriel’s band were about to dismiss their own drummer, John Mayhew, and were looking for a replacement. Was Taylor interested in joining Genesis? The reply was instant: thanks but no thanks. Taylor was utterly dedicated to Queen – there were gigs to play, places to go, and many musical adventures to embark on.

Had Taylor accepted the offer, the course of music – and specifically prog – would have been very different. Genesis would have flourished with Gabriel upfront, though whether they would have survived and prospered as they did without a Phil Collins to step into the breach after their talismanic singer’s departure was another matter.

The knock-on effect on Queen would have been greater. Taylor was an essential part of their carefully balanced four-way chemistry; a chemistry that would go on to throw up some of the most ambitious and game-changing music ever recorded. While Queen weren’t a capital ‘P’ prog band, they were infused with the spirit of the movement, combining its forward-looking values with its absolute disregard for the existing rules. Taking their cues from the likes of Yes, Genesis, Van der Graaf Generator and even Pink Floyd, their flamboyantly cavalier approach would go on to inspire such modern masters as Dream Theater, Queensrÿche and Muse. And, in Bohemian Rhapsody, they ensured that one of the biggest-selling singles in history was, at heart, a prog song. Forget the luxuriant moustaches and sawn-off mike-stands that would come to define them: if the prog ethos meant avoiding the expected, then Queen were definitely a prog band.

“Diversity was probably their greatest asset,” says former Dream Theater drummer and confirmed Queen devotee Mike Portnoy. “From song to song, they could be so different. You could have something that was folk followed by something that was rockabilly followed by something that was metal. And that’s one of the biggest things about prog, having that open-mindedness.”

Queen’s schooling in prog came early on. Brian May’s very first band, 1984, played a 4am slot supporting Pink Floyd at the Christmas On Earth Continued all-nighter in 1967. A year later, his next outfit, Smile – also featuring Roger Taylor – played with Floyd again, this time at London’s Imperial College. By the time of their gig opening for Kevin Ayers, Smile had changed their name to Queen and recruited Freddie Mercury. Collectively, they admired Yes, Van der Graaf Generator and especially Genesis. “Foxtrot is a prog rock classic,” Roger Taylor later wrote in the sleevenotes to Genesis box set 1970-1975. “Arrangements were highly complex in these early days, setting a benchmark for the style of the times.”

When it came to finding someone to produce their debut album, Queen’s first choice was John Anthony, who had worked with both Genesis and Van der Graaf. With Anthony and co-producer Roy Thomas Baker behind the desk, the eponymous album trod heavily in Led Zeppelin’s footsteps. But there was another, altogether more visionary band straining to spread their wings: My Fairy King was a filigreed slice of flamboyant rock’n’roll, while Liar metamorphosised through several different time changes and timings.

Those wings were fully unfurled on the follow-up, 1974’s Queen II. The title was the most prosaic thing about the record: the music inside was as fevered and baroque as rock gets, informed equally by Zeppelin, Yes and crazed Victorian artist Richard Dadd, whose 1864 painting The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke inspired one of the album’s most prog-leaning tracks. It may have been rooted in the heavy rock of the times, but its cavalier approach and sheer sense of scale pegged Queen as a defiantly progressive proposition.

“Queen weren’t like Yes, who had a dualistic role of guitar and keyboards, where both shared the terrain,” says Yes guitarist Steve Howe, supported by Queen at Kingston Poly in early 1971. “Brian had the terrain to himself. The remarkable thing was that he was the front and the back man. It required him to come up with more than guitar solos… He had to come up with a semi-thematic approach to play the guitar. And what he did was keep colouring.”

Queen’s prog inclinations would be deeply woven into the fabric of their early albums, from the audacious multi-part theatrics of Queen II’s March Of The Black Queen to the schizophrenic attack of the two-part Lap Of The Gods from 1974’s Sheer Heart Attack. Even in their more commercial moments, they marched to the beat of their own drum. What other band would have dared serve up something so unusual as Killer Queen?

“It was their diversity,” says Mike Portnoy, who first heard Queen as an eight-year-old in the mid-70s and covered many Queen songs while in Dream Theater. “Their albums took the prototype that The Beatles laid down with the White Album, where you had four different artists bringing in very different styles. Every song was so diverse. You get to A Night At The Opera, and you had this giant multi-layered epic like Bohemian Rhapsody next to something like Seaside Rendezvous or Love Of My Life.”

A Night At The Opera was Queen’s grand artistic statement and their most unashamedly prog album. Pitched around the epic twin tentpoles of The Prophet’s Song and Bohemian Rhapsody, it married their far-reaching vision to a distinctly British barminess. Taken on its own, the eight-minute The Prophets Song, with its incredible ornate a cappella middle section, would be enough to grant Queen access to the Prog Hall Of Fame. But even that sits in the inescapable shadow of Bohemian Rhapsody. Time and success might have lessened its impact, but that song remains the most dazzlingly unique piece of music ever to sell five million copies.

“There are epic things that come along every so often,” says Steve Howe. “There’s Sgt Pepper, there’s Bridge Over Troubled Water. And there’s Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t know when I first heard it, but once it was there, it was such a formidable thing. You’re thinking: ‘How many tracks did they need to do those vocals? How did they write it? Who invented it? It really was astounding.”

Bohemian Rhapsody encapsulated one of the key things that gave Queen such a distinct identity. Like The Beatles and Beach Boys before them, they used the studio as an instrument – not least when it came to their vocals. And Bohemian Rhapsody raised the bar about as high as it could go.

“They sang each of those parts and triple-stacked them,” says Mike Portnoy. “You heard all three of their voices singing in all three vocal ranges. That’s what made the depth of their music so complex. It wasn’t the instrumentation, it was the vocals. That’s unusual for prog music. When I think of my favourite prog music, it’s always the musicianship that draws me. But with Queen, it was the vocals. It was so deep.”

For all its success, A Night At The Opera would be Queen’s grand kiss-off to their prog roots. Later albums streamlined their sound into a more conventional format. Much like Genesis, the 80s found them swapping experimentalism for chart rock.

It wasn’t until the end of their career as an active band that Queen would again sound so adventurous. During 1989 and 1990, the band began work on their penultimate album, Innuendo, in London and Montreux. In the summer of 1990, Yes guitarist Steve Howe paid a flying visit to the Swiss city, where a chance encounter with a former guitar tech found him being invited to Queen’s studio to hear the album as a work-in-progress.

“Inside, there’s Freddie, Brian and Roger all sitting together. They go: ‘Let’s play you the album,’” says Howe. “Of course, I’m hearing it for the first time: I Can’t Live Without You, I’m Going Slightly Mad. And they saved Innuendo itself until last. They played it and I was fucking blown away.”

If that was surprising, then what happened next was utterly out-of-the-blue. The members of Queen asked if Howe wanted to play on the title track. The Yes man politely suggested they’d lost their minds. It took the combined weight of Mercury, May and Taylor to persuade him.

“They all chimed in: ‘We want some crazy Spanish guitar flying around over the top. Improvise!’” recalls Howe. “I started noodling around on the guitar, and it was pretty tough. After a couple of hours, I thought: ‘I’ve bitten off more than I can chew here.’ I had to learn a bit of the structure, work out the chordal roots were, where you had to fall if you did a mad run in the distance; you have to know where you’re going. But it got towards evening, and we’d doodled and I’d noodled, and it turned out to be really good fun. We have this beautiful dinner, we go back to the studio and have a listen. And they go: ‘That’s great. That’s what we wanted.”

Released as a single in January 1991, Innuendo gave Queen their third Number One single. Like Bohemian Rhapsody 25 years before it, it was as unlikely as hit singles get: a six-and-a-half minute musical jigsaw, complete with flamenco runs, classically-inclined orchestral overloads and maverick 5/4 timing. Queensrÿche covered the song on 2007’s Take Cover album, while you can hear its echo in Radiohead’s Paranoid Android and Muse’s more elaborate sci-fi epics.

“In the world of rock, Queen stands out as a good example of the clash between guitar and piano in songwriting,” Muse’s Matt Bellamy has said. “I think that’s where you stumble across those more unusual arrangements and chord structures.”

Today, Queen have left a bi-polar legacy. They’re arguably best known for their pop hits – Radio Gaga, I Want To Break Free and of course, Bohemian Rhapsody, that ultimate prog Trojan Horse. But their spirit of adventure remains unmatched by all but the boldest of their peers.

“There was no rulebook for Queen,” says Mike Portnoy. “They broke most of the rules that existed, and then they wrote a new set.”

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon

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earthfluuke · 4 years

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summary: individual ohmfong moments i couldn’t get out of my head.

everyone has been writing yearning fics (and i adore them so much), but i wanted to get some fluff out there. i hope you enjoy!

it’s second nature for ohm to slide into any open seat at their group’s table. full plate in hand, he’s just about to dig in when he catches phuak’s questioning eye, and his fork freezes a breath from his food. the silent questioning raise of his eyebrow has phuak shaking his head and motioning a hand to the opposite side of the table.

“sit next to your boyfriend, dumb ass,” he says, followed by the mumble of, “no wonder none of your girlfriends stayed with you.”

eyes widening, he turns to fong who can only send him a forgiving smile. scrambling to move his things, he falls onto the bench beside him with a sigh. head hung, shoulder slumped, he works out quickly, “i’m sorry. it completely slipped my mind, and i–”

“it’s okay,” fong assures, understanding as ever. “it’s…different. but we’ll get there.” he slides a plastic cup across the table to him and knocks their shoulders together. “now stop sulking, and drink that.”

ohm rises a bit, reinflates. he’s only ever remembered fong coming to the table with a signature blue hawaii in hand. there is none in sight, only this. taking a sip, he can’t help but feel it tastes a bit sweeter than any other time he’s had it.

they’re not there yet; but they’re on their way.

ii.

“oh!” he hears ohm exclaim as they’re walking out of their classroom towards the football field. just as he turns to ask what’s wrong, he feels a hand grab onto his.

eyes shooting down to the space between them, fong takes notice of how ohm’s fingers fit between his and curl over more than half of his knuckles. he soaks in the warmth ohm’s palm presses into his own and the feel of his thumb stroking up to his nail and back down again. he’s never held someone’s hand before, save for his parents a long, much younger time ago, so he doesn’t have much to compare to. even so, he doesn’t think any other hand would feel as nice. this is the hand he wants to hold forever.

allowing his fingers to close and rest between the ridges of ohm’s knuckles, he tightens his hold when ohm gives their arms an experimental swing.

“we’re boyfriends now,” he explains. “that means we get to hold hands.”

it’s so innocent, so simple, but knowing that doesn’t help in slowing fong’s heart.

iii.

fong knows he has a very handsome boyfriend. it’s difficult to ignore when they’re meant to be studying in the library. ohm has a hand in his hair, head rested against his palm as a finger taps in concentration. his lips move with each word he reads, tongue sticking between his teeth when he gets to an exceptionally difficult section.

it’s too much sometimes, to just sit there and stare. actions have never been his strong suit; observations are more his style, but it’s not enough. leaning past the edge of his chair, he smooths a hand under ohm’s chin and up the cheek farthest from him. he pulls him the small distance he needs to in order to press a gentle kiss to the cheek facing him.

he hides the laugh that’s building in his throat when he moves back to find ohm wide eyed and stunned. the hand in his hair has slid down to where fong’s lips just grazed, and fong has to turn away from him to hide his pink cheeks and silly smile.

“i’m going to get some snacks. do you want anything?” ohm is too dazed to respond, so fong pushes back his chair and scurries off to the vending machines. it’ll give him the chance to calm down.

(and if he comes back with a few choice snacks he knows to be ohm’s favorites, then that’s just a bonus).

iv.

when fong is fast asleep, ohm can’t help but prop himself up on his arm and admire him. his bangs curl over his brow, and his cheek buries further into the pillow when there’s an especially cool breeze from the air conditioner. dark lashes fan over tan skin, full peach lips puffing out calm, even breaths. one hand clutches the blanket closer to him while the other lays on the sheets as though it’s looking for something.

he’s as gorgeous as he always is, but there’s something more special about a beauty that only ohm gets to see. there is a constant pull of wanting to grab onto that hand, remind him that what he’s reaching for is right beside him. but he cannot will himself to disturb him and instead resigns himself to only stare. he’s done enough to last him a lifetime, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it; not if he’s staring at fong.

“beautiful. sweetheart. babe. love!”

“um,” tine clears his throat, looking from ohm’s wide, hopeful grin to the top of fong’s head, the only part of him visible from behind the pages of the book he’s using to hide. “what are you doing?”

“trying to figure out which name i like the most,” fong mumbles from behind his book, clutching the binding a bit tighter when ohm throws an arm around his shoulders.

“the secret is that he likes all of them,” he says, continuing over fong’s protests, “i just need to find out which one he likes the best.”

it picks up again from there, in front of their friends no less. all fong can do is let him go on and on, each name more blush inducing than the last, and hope his novel does a good enough job masking how much he’s enjoying this.

vi.

“i’ll see you for dinner after my group meeting. okay, tilak?”

“yeah, sure – wait, what? hey! fong!”

vii.

fong is always a vision, but this. this. this is something completely different and so very far from even his wildest of dreams.

his sweater – a light beige with a v-neck that dips lower without the collar of the shirt he normally wears underneath it poking out – hangs loose around fong’s smaller frame. the shoulders pool upwards, the sleeves drape over his fingers, the hem hits far past the bottom of his torso. it doesn’t fit at all, and yet it does. there is something so right about coming out of the shower and finding fong lying on his bed, homework papers strewn out across the sheets and ohm’s sweater pooling up around his hips.

“i’m sorry,” fong is quick to say, fingers scrambling to tug it over his head. “it got cold, and it was the first thing i saw. i can give it back.”

“no.” he holds his hands out to steady fong more than himself. when the neck of the sweater stretches back down and he can see him, ohm sends him a smile. “it’s…it’s good. nice. it looks nice.”

“nice,” fong repeats. the very tips of his fingers, the only parts that peek out from beneath the sleeves, smooth over the fabric. his eyes soften, the tips of his mouth curving up. ohm can’t the tingling feeling that spreads through him.

viii.

that single strand of hair. it’s as lovely as it is distracting, for fong at the very least. he supposes ohm must have gotten used to it, takes notice of it the same way he does to the air around him. but it’s so out place and somehow so perfectly put that fong cannot help but admire it.

it’s a flame, stark black and contrast to his skin, that draws his hand towards it like a moth. ever so carefully, with just a graze of his fingers, he pushes it back into place. brushing over his ear, his hand buries beneath the hair parted against his scalp, dark locks blanketing over it.

only then does ohm look to him, realize that there had been something out of place he hadn’t seen. what he does see – feel, sense, know – is fong. and what a wonder that is, to be more noticeable, more important, more vital than the air. to be what ohm needs to breathe.

ix.

ever changing lights flicker across the concert venue. sarawat’s band is on stage, but they’re impossible to pay attention to when fong has all of his focus. he’s beautiful in every color he bathes in, but ohm can’t help but be partial to the mixture of yellow and orange.

fong has always been a bright light, a beacon, an ever-present warmth. the colors paint him as the sun he’s always been, the very center of ohm’s universe. head back, ears turned up to the music, his eyes reflect gold when he turns to ohm to tug him close and sway them along to the bass beneath their feet.

purple and blue remind him of late nights where they’d forgotten to close the blinds. green brings memories of lying in the grassy field in the back of their high school, when all ohm could rely on was stolen glances and accidental hand brushes he’d hold nearer and dearer to his heart than he should have. pink and red mix together, and all he can see is love coating over full cheeks and a fuller smile that he is lucky enough to have directed at him. and then it’s back to yellow, back to orange, back to warmth so hot ohm could burn.

it’s a heat like no other. all he can do to cool is curls a single arm around the small of fong’s back and pull him close enough for their foreheads to touch. his heart still roars with flames, engulfs him in a love hot enough to melt.

wrapping himself around him, fong comments, “you really like this song.”

and all ohm can do is hum, hold him tighter, and soak in his warmth. “i think it might be my favorite.”

“how did you know?” fong asks. the two of them are staring up at the ceiling, peeling paint their replacement for stars. “that it was me, i mean.”

by all intents and purposes, it should be an easy enough question to answer. but it becomes difficult when it hits him that…it’s always been fong. there isn’t a moment where anyone else has taken refuge in his heart and made it their home.

“i don’t remember when it started. but i remember when i realized it couldn’t be anyone else.” the memory flashes behind his eyes in vivid detail, kept clean and clear from how many times he’s brought it back to the forefront of his mind. “new years eve of second year. after tine and phuak ditched us to find pretty girls to kiss at midnight.”

mouth agape when he looks to him, fong says in startled disbelief, “in your backyard when i almost burned my hand on that sparkler? that wasn’t as special as i was expecting. more embarrassing.”

“it wasn’t. and that’s why i knew. there didn’t need to be some big sign. i just knew that even in those simple moments, i wanted it to be you there with me. and,” ohm catches his eye, looks at him so he knows how much he means what he says, “it was the first time i got to see you smile. it wasn’t because of something stupid phuak did or something sweet tine said to you. it was just… because you were happy. i hadn’t seen anything that beautiful before.”

fong says nothing, only reaches down to grab his hand. but when he smiles – that smile – he tells ohm all he needs to know. it’s another one of those not so special moments; the two of them lying flat against the sheets, their hands twisted together between them. but that in and of itself makes it special.

#2gether #2gether the series #still2gether #still2gether the series #ohmfong #ohm x fong #my writing #i love these two so much #it's only been a few days #but they have my heart #also i'm so sorry that gif is SO shitty

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veiledsilver · 3 years

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Top five moments you've felt like the universe was messing with you.

Oh boy everyone get ready this is a long list. In descending order, from mildly funny looking back on it to "oh god oh shit oh fuck":

5. Catfishing: College Edition

In 6th grade, I decided to apply to colleges early to see how they were like. I was scared that if they knew I was too young, they'd arrest me. So I created a gmail account as my persona, a white 12th grader named Emilie Alexander. Emilie was planning to go into nursing, dating a high school linebacker named Kyle Kenderson, and deathly allergic to bee stings. If she even came near a bee, she would die.

This part was of the utmost importance.

See, I was constantly paranoid that one day, the jig would be up- I might forget that my fake last name was Alexander. Or the college dean might come knocking at my door and tear up my home in his mad search for Emilie. If that happened I would fake her tragic death, presumably caused by one big fucking bee.

I secretly collected my information. What nearby states were the prettiest to visit. Which colleges were the safest and most affordable. How often they held courses that I liked. In my emails with colleges I tried to sound as mature and professional as possible.

Then, one day, a college member asked me what high school I was in, so they could check my records.

My blood froze.

It was time to bring out the bee.

In response to their question, I sent an email that was like this:

"Dear Mr. McLaughlin, I was a proud graduate of- ugh! Ah! Kyaaaa! Uwaa! W-w-what's this... huge goddamn bee doing here?! Eek, pardon my foul language! It's just that, as I told you earlier, being stung by a bee would kill me.... and now it's stung me thrice (three times)!!

What do I do?! I can't die... I've always wanted to attend your beautiful college...

But this is... the end...

Mr. McLaughlin...

*looks at you sadly*

Tell... my mother... I loved her...

*dies*"

He never responded, probably because he was rendered speechless, but I never touched that account again.

My private gmail for fun stuff like tumblr still has "Alexander" as a surname, though.

4. Wild and Authentic

Alright. Alright. So. My art teacher in middle school.

Right off the bat, they endeared themselves to the tumblr art kids- they proudly used they/them pronouns, dyed their hair vibrant colors, deeply encouraged OC creation, and was chill with any art style even if it was anime. Mx. Mason was very cool, except for one thing.

We had complete artistic freedom when it came to their assignments, EXCEPT FOR ONE THING.

Drumroll, please.

Take a deep breath if you must.

Ready?

...

Cats had to have extremely distinct whisker pores.

YES, they believed that modern depictions of cats were too streamlined. Too... idealized. As a cat owner themselves, they were convinced that society's vision of cats did not do their feral feline ancestors justice. In making their faces flawlessly smooth-furred, we were stripping the cat of its true nature.

I found this out the hard way, when I was drawing warrior cats fanart for class (it was of Firestar cuddled in the arms of an orange haired anime catgirl who was his reincarnation in my first ever comic series, Warriors Neko Desu! ♡ Heart Academy Dokidoki).

Mx. Mason came over to look at my magnum opus, and I expected them to have their socks knocked off at my artistic talent. They lifted up my drawing for all to see, and I smugly leaned back in my seat.

Only for them to launch into a passionate lecture about how, in neglecting to draw whisker pores on cats, I was DENYING THIS FICTIONAL CAT OF ITS WILD AUTHENTIC SELF.

My friends absolutely lost it when I told them this story, and there was a period of time when all our discord nicknames were wild and authentic too.

As for Firestar and his counterpart Hoshineko Orenji-chan, I never did give them wild authentic whisker holes, but that's to be expected of a kittypet, I guess.

3. Stan Jungkook Or Whatever

A couple years ago, my family and I flew to Seoul, South Korea, to visit our relatives and teach me more about my heritage. It was very nice! I got to visit shrines and festivals and palaces, and I was in awe that this was what my ancestors had once seen in their daily lives.

Then, when we went to the modern side of Korea, I realized just how much I didn't fit in.

It was clear that I didn't know how to act, or how to speak Korean, and I spent my days fumbling around and getting scammed multiple times by salesmen. But I clowned myself the most... during an interactive event with kpop stars.

They had this experimental event where holograms of the boys would sing onstage and dance in place of the actual idols. Before the show began, girls could stand in booths that scanned their appearances, and holograms of THEM could dance onstage with the hologram boys.

I didn't know this.

When Cousin Ae-cha told me to step inside one of the machines, I thought I'd be hilarious and stand backwards, so it would scan the back of me instead of my front. As I walked out, I saw other girls putting on their best makeup, cutest clothes, and most expensive accessories, and I slowly realized that I was in danger.

But the danger didn't come until halfway through the concert, where the boys looked eagerly off-stage and a holy staircase appeared and all the hologram girls descended from heaven. There were cherry blossoms. There were roses. There was me, among the crowd of beautiful airbrushed girls, walking backwards.

I felt the judgemental gazes of twenty girls and their mothers.

Each boy danced with a girl, who got a cute animated moment with special effects, and sang about how they found a dream girl to have a true love romance with. Finally, all the girls vanished except one, and it was me.

One of the boys didn't dance with any girls, and now he was all alone in the rain, feeling dejected that HE did not find his true love girl to have a dream romance with. Then the rain stopped, the sun came out, and I emerged. Still backwards.

He was thrilled and sang about how my face (that he didn't see) stole his heart, and now everyone in the audience was giggling, and he slowly brought me very close to kiss me... but because I was backwards, his nose was cutely nuzzling my hair.

The audience members- at least the adults- were now laughing their asses off. His lips met the back of my head, and together we vanished into the wind.

I'd say I couldn't show my face there ever again, but I never did show my face, so... hm...

2. Horrid Little Temptress

If I wasn't a minor, I'd need a drink before starting this story. Sadly, I cannot drown my sorrows- and neither should you after you hear this, because it's only fair.

Mrs. Appleby was my Spanish teacher in like, 9th grade. Even the wild and authentic art teacher thought she was insane. Appleby forced kids to brew tea for her and yelled at them when they didn't get it right, and I thought she had a chronic squint until I realised she just did that to mock me and my Asian eye-folds. She forced us to watch Dora the Explorer to "absorb knowledge." Everyone fucking hated Mrs. Appleby.

But the worst thing she ever did... was during the school festival.

See, whenever she's angry, she zooms right into kids' faces to scream at them. Her wrinkled flesh would blot out the goddamn sun and all you see are her bloodshot yellow eyeballs so victims just stayed rooted to the spot like cornered animals or something similar. This is important.

Because when she was sampling her own brownies (read: hoarding them so no one else could eat them), one parent foolishly decided to grab one and she thought it was a student and she grabbed his wrist so hard she could've nearly snapped it and... and... zoomed into his face.

Except she underestimated his height and kissed him by accident, but it was more like her mouth was sucking in his face like a vacuum.

His wife was shrieking like an ape. His kid, my classmate, saw his social life flash before his eyes.

In her defense, she did not mouth to mouth with him on purpose and afterwards she cried in the bathroom and when I foolishly followed her in to comfort her, because I am a teacher's pet through and through, she snatched the paper towels I got for her and wailed that she was a-

A-

HORRID LITTLE TEMPTRESS.

If I had decided to not be kind, I never would've heard that string of fucking words. But I did. And I paid for it dearly. The end.

1. Violence IS The Answer, Sometimes

Thomas, my dearly detested.

Back in sixth grade, I used to have a crush on him because he had the surfer boy look with nicely tanned skin and pale blond hair and the clearest aquamarine eyes I've ever seen. He also liked surfing and swimming. He seemed like the perfect little trophy waifu except for one absolute dealbreaker.

He and his parents were extremely conservative and so, when I told him I liked him, his response was basically "haha no you're a [slur] and would probably eat my dog."

I was horrified and ran away to cry. But then, by the next day, I decided I needed to punish him. Thomas walked in before class started and I was waiting for him with these hands. I kicked him so he doubled over, slammed his face into his chair's seat, and quickly clambered on top of him to SIT ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. He started shaking and twitching and trying to pry me off, but eventually he went limp and stopped moving.

I thought he fell asleep, but Mohammed, another classmate who was bullied by Thomas, told me that Thomas might never wake up again (not that he was very sad about this. I didn't know until later, but Thomas said slurs at him too).

While I was sitting on the guy, he'd straight up passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Screaming and crying, I told our homeroom teacher that Thomas suddenly fainted, and she was the type of Caucasian that thought all little Asian kids were sweet and innocent, so it didn't even cross her mind that? It might've been me? Who sat on his head when she walked in?

He was sent home early that day. I had to go to a different school next year because Thomas's mom threatened legal action. The only reason I didn't get punished further was because my rich cousins out-Karen'd her and donated a huge amount of money to the school to keep them quiet.

Anyway, I never did anything that insane ever again, because something like that is enough for a lifetime. My cousins made it clear they would never back me up again. I was sure this whole event would be put behind me, too.

But last fall, during my first day of online learning... who did I see in my zoom meeting... BUT THOMAS! I had my mic and camera off, but the moment he saw my name, his face went pale. His soul would've left his body, but then it would've gone to hell, so it wisely decided to stay inside.

Still, out of shame and embarrassment, I never turned my camera on for the rest of the school year.

#asks #there you have it #i feel like I'm confessing my sins to the pope

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fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Angels, Demons

Request: Yes / No can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 please?? Anon

Requests are open, but please read this! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6009

Warnings: Spencer getting shot, reader getting shot, criminal minds stuff, ya know the drill.

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your NickName

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“So, we get Henry to bed, and, you know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with Mommy and Daddy, and… you guys know the rest.” JJ said while rolling her eyes. Spencer walked up to us along with Alex and I smiled at him. Spencer and I have been dating for a few years now and he was the love of my life.

“Ah, trying to dust off the old cobwebs.” Morgan said with a smirk.

“Inappropriate!” Garcia whisper-yelled and smacked him in the arm.

“What?” He asked with a laugh.

“Seriously, though, how long has it been?” She asked.

“Too long.” JJ said with the most serious face I’ve seen.

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, changing the subject.

“Not yet.” I answered.

“Hotch just said to drop everything and get back here.” Rossi said.

“You need some private adult time.” Garcia said.

“Spencer and I can watch Henry for you guys if you want.” I offered, Spencer nodded in agreement.

“You two should go to Mexico. Or the Maldives, maybe.” Garcia said.

“Cruz?” JJ asked looking behind us.

“Yes! Exactly. A cruise would be perfect.” Garcia said.

“No, no, no. Matt Cruz.” She said motioning behind us. We all looked behind and saw Cruz and Hotch walking towards the round table room.

“Let’s get started.” Hotch said. We all got up and followed. We got int the room before them and sat down quickly.

“How are those ribs?” Cruz asked JJ.

“Still hurts when I laugh. You?” She asked.

“The scars impress the ladies.” He said.

“I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Garcia, but I took the liberty of having the much less talented version of you in my office load the case details.” He said taking the remote from Garcia.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, no problem.” She said and sat down.

“A good friend of mine, Sheriff Peter Coleman, down in Briscoe County, Texas, reached out to me about a possible case. He’s a former Texas ranger, he’s a good guy.” Cruz said.

“He read about our work on the Silencer case two years ago. He asked for a consult.” Hotch said.

“What do we have?” Alex asked.

“Abigail Jones. Prostitute. She was found in a dumpster last night.” He said.

“What’s that on her wrists?” I asked.

“It’s, uh… it’s…” Cruz said while having trouble with the remote.

“Uh, would you mind?” He asked Garcia.

“Thank you, Jesus, Buddha, and Allah.” Garcia said quickly, taking the remote from him and standing up.

“I like to cover my bases. You have to squeeze it.” She said and the pictures zoomed in.

“Rope burns.” Rossi said.

“Which goes hand in hand with the lacerations on her back.” Cruz said.

“There’s also a gunshot wound to the back of her head, execution style.” JJ said.

“It’s a conflict in M.O. The cutting and restraints points to sexual sadism, but the gunshot wound ends the torture too quickly for a sadist.” Spencer said.

��Is she the only victim?” I asked.

“There;s Hannah Kelly, another prostitute, killed six months ago, dumped one jurisdiction over.” Cruz said.

“Forensic countermeasure. Smart enough to separate the victims so we won’t tie them together.” Alex said.

“And practical, too. The body was left in hooker row, where they pick up their johns, which brings us to our first victim, Lucas Wagner. Killed eleven months ago. Multiple arrests for soliciting a prostitute. He was found outside of a crack house where some of them lived.” Cruz said.

“He takes a paying customer and drops them where the girls live. That sends a message that nobody’s safe.” Morgan said.

“Tell Sheriff Coleman we’re on our way.” Hotch told Cruz and we started collecting our things. We all got our go-bags and hopped onto the jet. We all were looking through the case files.

“Ballistics matched one gun to all three shootings. So, the same unsub killed one John and two prostitutes.” JJ said.

“At least he keeps it in the family.” Rossi said.

“Maybe the John was a friend of the unsub, someone he picked up prostitutes with.” Alex said.

“Well, once he kills his friend, it makes it easier to kill the prostitutes.” Morgan said.

“That would explain why there’s no sexual assault on the victims. It’s not about rape for this unsub, it’s about toture.” Spencer said.

“I mean, that fits, kind of, but it just feels like we’re missing something.” I said with a sigh.

“What we’re missing is whether this guy’s a sadist or not. A gunshot to the back of the head throws everything off.” Rossi said.

“We’re presuming he’s using the gun to end things, but it could be part of the psychological toture.” Hotch said.

“I’m gonna cut you, and if you flinch, bang.” Spencer said.

“Okay, so let’s go with that for a second. There were five cuts on Lucas Wagner, nine on Hannah, twelve on Abigail. He’s escalating his torture. Sadists definitely do that.” I said.

“And they get deeper with each victim.” Alex added.

“That’s right. The first cuts were experimental in nature, and the latter ones were about maximum infliction of pain.” Spencer said.

“What if this is vigilantism? He’s punishing theses woman and their Johns to clean up the streets.” Rossi suggested.

“But then why take so long to do it? Three victims in eleven months? That’s a substantial cooling-off period.” I said.

“Y/N, Morgan, and Reid talk to anyone working the streets last night and see if they saw something useful. Dave and Blake, go to the coroner’s office, see what you can learn there, and JJ and I will go to the station with the Sheriff and start interviewing friends and family.” Hotch ordered. When we landed we settled in and immediately got out in the field. Morgan, Spencer, and I went to the station with the rest of the team first and we had an officer come with us.

“Not too many spots for working girls to go to, so this’ll be your best shot.” He said as we got out of the car.

“And you turn a blind eye to what goes on in here?” Spencer asked.

“Agent, we only got one bar around here. Monday night’s karaoke, Tuesday’s line dancing, and the girls are discreet. Can hardly tell the professionals from the locals who just want to get their drink on. Not to mention, we shut this place down, then what?” He answered.

“The devil you know kind of thing.” Morgan said.

“Exactly.” The officer said. We walked into the bar and just about all eyes were on us.

“Deputy.” The woman at the bar greeted.

“Dinah, these three are agents from the FBI. You mind answering some questions?” He asked her.

“Don’t know much, but sure.” She answered.

“We’re trying to find out more about a woman named Abigail Jones. Did you know her?” Spencer asked placing her photo on the bar.

“Why ya’ll askin’ about Abby?” A man at the bar asked.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Spencer asked.

“Last week. Same bat time, same bat station. She’s alright, ain’t she?” He asked.

“No, actually, she was killed a couple of nights ago…” I answered.

“Killed? God almighty.” He said.

“How well did you know her?” I asked.

“Used to flirt. You know. She always said I couldn’t handle her. She was right. So I’d buy her drinks. She liked when I buy her drinks.” He answered.

“Was she that kind of girl? Party girl, maybe?” Morgan asked.

“It was hard to tell when she was loaded or not. I mean, she was always off. Like she had her own song goin’ on in her head.” Dinah answered.

“Mack the knife.” The blonde girl on the other side of the bar said and we all looked at her.

“Let me ask you, did Abigail come in often? Was she a regular customer?” Spencer asked as I walked over to the girl.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Mack the knife.” She said with a sigh.

“Was that the song in her head?” I asked confused.

“No. it was the name of her last… date. You know what I mean?” She answered.

“I do. Have you ever met Mack the knife?” I asked.

“No. She told me about him, said he was a good tipper.” She said.

“Do you know where we might find him?” I asked. She started shaking and I looked over Dinah who was staring at us.

“Would you prefer if we chat privately?” I asked quietly.

“I can’t.” She said.

“Okay.” I said and sat down next to her.

“Why don’t we just talk then, you don’t have to look at me. Don’t move your head, just keep looking down.” I said quietly and took my card out.

“I’m just trying to flirt with a pretty girl. And if you don’t mind, could you lean over and take this card from me?” I asked. She leaned over and took it from me.

“See? I’m not so bad.” I said with a small laugh.

“Come on, we’re just talking, having some fun, right?” I asked with a smile.

“Why don’t you show me that pretty smile of yours. And smack me on my shoulder, like maybe I’m trying to get fresh or something, huh?” I said trying to instruct her what to do.

“No? Yeah? Yeah?” I said with a raise of my brow as she shoved me a little bit.

“Dirty girl, you wish.” She said with a flirty laugh.

“Alright, well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Especially when a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone.” I said and she gave a little giggle.

“It was nice to meet you.” I said with a smile and got up to return to the boys.

“One last question. Do either of these two people look familiar to you?” Morgan asked as Spencer placed the pictures.

“The boy looks familiar. Girl I’ve never seen.” Dinah said, shaking her head.

“Well, thank you for your time. Would you mind if we came back a little later?” Spencer asked, collecting the photos.

“Oh, anytime. Got nothin’ to hide.” She answered and we went to leave.

“Sorry I couldn’t help you none.” She added as we left. We called Hotch and JJ, telling them about what we found out.

The next day we got a call about another victim. All of us got our coffee and started the day. Spencer, Rossi ,and I went to where the body was. We pulled up and they were about to cut the body down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing!?” Spencer shouted, stopping them.

“Do not disturb the crime scene.” The Sheriff that came with us said.

“We took a bunch of pictures just like you ordered.” The other cop said.

“I ordered you not to touch a damn thing.” He said.

“We need to look at the crime scene undisturbed. Do you mind not standing there?” I said.

“He’s escalated his cuts. They’re not only bigger-”

“Cutting was done postmortem. It was the gunshot that killed her.” Spencer said, cutting Rossi off.

“How can you tell?” An officer asked.

“Uh, based on the lack of blood flow and scar tissue. If she were alive when this was done, there would be a lot more blood on her back.” Spencer answered.

“Which means this wasn’t S&M. This was symbolic.” I said.

“Symbolic of what?” The Sheriff asked.

“We’re not sure.” Rossi said.

“Can you guys smell that?” Spencer asked.

“Lavender.” Rossi said.

“That doesn’t grow in these parts.” The officer said.

“It’s mainly around her legs.” Spencer said.

“Why would he do that?” He asked.

“Reid, can you look into it? We can’t trust the coroner to follow through.” Rossi said.

“Yeah.” Spencer said getting up.

“I can help.” I said following behind him.

Spencer and I checked out the information, then joined the team to give the profile. Once we were set up we gathered everyone up and was ready to tell them what we’ve learned.

“We believe the unsub we’re looking for is a white male in his early 30’s. While his M.O. is that of a sadist, we think there’s an underlying pathology of what we call a wound collector.” Hotch said.

“What’s that?” One of the officers asked.

“A wound collector is someone who uses a lifetime of sleights, grievance, and wrongs as justification for violence.” Spencer said.

“Examples can be as large-scale as Hitler scapegoating the jews for the Holocaust, or as common as an abusive husband blaming his wife as an excuse to beat her.” I explained.

“This unsub is low key, almost submissive in public. He has to be to attract the prostitutes.” Rossi said.

“But his real nature will be revealed in the safety of isolation. This is the type of man who would anonymously express himself online by raging against how these women are filled with disease and filth, how they deserve what’s coming to them, probably to cover for the rejection of a woman or spouse who’s wronged him.” Spencer said.

“Which means the unsub probably has a working-class or part-time job. It gives him the time to plan and execute the murders.” JJ said.

“He’s strong and good with his hands and probably drives a work truck or large vehicle.” Rossi said.

“This allows him to move the bodies and carry the tools for posing his victims.” Alex said.

“Tabitha Ryerson tells us he’s losing control. He killed her in her home and then transported her body to the woods so he could mutilate her postmortem. The public nature of the display was a message.” Morgan said.

“To who?” An officer asked.

“To us. This is a small town and he knows the FBI is here investigating his crimes. He thinks that he’s showing us that he’s smarter than we are.” I answered.

“He’s also showing us his wounds. There’s part of him that wants us to stop and punish him for his crimes.” Hotch said as his phone rang.

“Thank you. Excuse me.” He said answering and walking off. The meeting was now dismissed and we all went off to do our own thing.

Currently Alex and Rossi were interviewing a man they called Mack the knife. However, it turned out it wasn’t our guy. Spencer and I were still looking into the lavender while all this was going on.

“I think we got it!” He said, turning to me.

“What is it?” I asked and he showed me a book.

“Let’s go tell the team.” I smiled and we walked over to the others. Hotch was talking to one of the victim's sisters when he looked over at us. He came over and Spencer was ready to rattle off the information we found.

“Guys, I think we know what the lavender on Tabitha Ryerson’s legs is about. Have you ever heard of spikenard?” He asked.

“Uh, no.” One of the officers answered.

“It’s perfume. It’s mentioned in the gospels.” Hotch answered.

“Yes! It’s derived from lavender. It’s what Mary Magdalene used to wash jesus’ feet, which tells us that this unsub’s message is obviously religious in nature.” I said.

“Preacher Mills, maybe. He came forward to volunteer information.” Morgan said.

“Well, yesterday he said he’d let us know if he had any more information, but apparently he’s changed his mind.” Hotch said.

“He fits the profile. He’s morally rigorous, submissive in public.” JJ said.

“So we’ll put an APB out for him.” One of the cops said with a nod.

Spencer and Morgan went to the church to see if he might be there. I was here with the rest of the team trying to figure out where he could be, if he wasn’t there.

“Well I don’t get it, if the preacher had something to do with it, then why was he so helpful?” An officer asked.

“Unsubs insert themselves into investigations all the time. They enjoy the power and the feeling that they’re smarter than us.” Alex answered.

“And to keep tabs on the case. He wanted to know how close we were to catching him.” Hotch added and I heard my phone ring.

“Hey Garcia, whatcha got?” I answered and put her on speaker.

“I got the backhoe going into the not-so-clean preacher. I haven’t found his present whereabouts yet, but I’m looking at his bank account and I can tell you he doesn’t adhere to the “give all your money to the poor” model.” She said.

“Any idea where the money’s coming from?” Hotch asked.

“Not yet. But it’s mostly cash, and we’re talking six figures big.” She answered.

“You know, maybe it’s sex trafficking. This unsub is able to get prostitutes to let their guard down. They’re somebody he knows.” Alex said.

“I thought you said our killer was a John.” An officer said.

“Prostitutes would rat out a JOhn or kill him themselves, but they’d never go against their own pimp.” I said.

“Garcia, take everything we know about Mills and run it up against pandering and procuring charges. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.” Hotch said.

“You got it.” She said. She hung up and called us back when she had more information.

“Did you know the charge of being a pimp, when gussied up, is “procuring and pandering”? And Hotch was right. Preacher Mills is familiar with this charge. Because before he was Justin Mills, he was Gordon Borell, and he was arrested for cutting one of the ladies he employed.” She said.

“Where did he cut her?” Rossi asked.

“On the back. When questioned, she said- oh, I’m gonna have to look at kitten videos after this- He was marking his property.” She said.

“You’re kidding.” The Sheriff said.

“That’s why he specifically asked me about the wounds on Lucas Wagner. He knew we’d find out about his past.” Hotch said.

“Hey, Garcia? Why didn’t we find this out until now?” I asked.

“Because he changed his name when he crossed the border. The Northern border to be exact. Mr. Mill, Nee borell, is from Tees, Alberta. I’ll tell you what those Canadians, They seem so sweet and innocent, but when they go back, they go Darth Vader bad.” She said and I shook my head. I decided it wasn’t the right time to tell her that Darth Vader turned to save his son’s life.

“So he came here to start over, took on the mantle of the collar as the perfect cover for the sex trade.” Rossi said.

“No one in this town would question a man of God. But now we got the smoking gun we need on this guy.” The Sheriff said.

“Garcia, was there an attempted murder charge?” Hotch asked.

“No. In fact, she said he wanted her to go back out and start working when he was done cutting her.” She answered.

“He’s not our unsub.” Hotch said.

We hung up with Garcia and went back to the rest of the team, now that Spencer and Morgan were back.

“This guy fits to a T. How can we rule him out?” The Sheriff asked.

“Criminally, pimps follow the same behavioral pattern as drug dealers.” I said with a shrug.

“Prostitutes are his revenue stream.” JJ said.

“He would only kill them as a last resort.” Spencer said.

“Which is why the cutting in Canada was a punishment, not a religious punishment, but a punishment for not doing their jobs.” Alex said.

“Then he comes here to start over, set up a new shop.” Morgan said.

“And that’s when somebody found out about his past, used it as a forensic countermeasure to throw us off track by framing him.” I said.

“That’s why the gir;s kept saying, “They’re” after us. There wasn’t a team of unsubs, but one sadist copying the behavior of another.” Hotch said.

“It would also explain the change with Tabitha, the escalation, the perfume on the feet.” Spencer said.

“But you said the unsub wanted us to catch him and punish him.” The Sheriff said.

“What he really wanted was for us to catch the preacher.” Rossi said.

“So whoever this guy is, he’s fooled all of us, and now we got nothin’ when it comes to the profile.” The Sheriff said.

“No, that’s not true. The unsub chose Mills for a reason, and Mills can still lead us to the unsub. We’ll have Agent Morgan and the deputies start at his house.” Hotch said and off they went. We were all trying to figure out where the preacher could be going. So far, nothing.

“Repeat, I’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner.” An officer over the radio said, which made my ears perk up.

“Copy, Deputy. We’re on our way.” The Sheriff said to her.

“We got him.” He said walking up to us.

“Alright, Blake, Reid, and Y/L/N go with the Sheriff. Dave and I will coordinate the response here.” Hotch ordered and we nodded. We followed behind the Sheriff and got on our way.

“The preacher’s not answering.” Spencer said as we were on our way.

“Keep trying, we need to tell him we know he didn’t do this.” Alex said and Spencer went back to calling. Still no answer.

“He’s been in there a good five minutes now. I haven’t seen any movement yet.” The officer that was at the scene already said as soon as we got out.

“What about patrons?” I asked.

“Uh, it’s closed.” She answered.

“How many entrances?” Alex asked.

“Uh, two it looks like.” She answered.

“The question is, is he alone?” Spencer asked.

“Guys, I’ve got movement. We should move in now, Sheriff.” Another officer said.

“Actually, we’re better off establishing the perimeter first. We need to open up and line of communication.” Spencer said.

“Alright, agreed. We need to get around to the-” The Sheriff started, but was cut off by a gunshot, he was down.

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” One of the officers shouted and we all got down. They started shooting at the window trying to hit the preacher. I saw the Sheriff still alive not far from us and I went to try and pull him to us. The preacher started shooting wherever he could and I was in his line of fire, but I couldn’t just leave the Sheriff there.

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted and ran out to try and pull me back.

“Reid!” I heard Morgan shout and I looked back to see Spencer on the ground. I dropped the Sheriff and quickly went to Spencer’s side.

“Spencer! Spencer!” I shouted, but he was out of it. Morgan ran up and pulled him back. I went with him while JJ and Alex went to try and help the Sheriff. Morgan rested Spencer against a car and I kneeled down next to him. He had been shot in the neck.

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here.” I whispered.

“Y/N! We’re going in, you stay with him!” Morgan called and I nodded.

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby, the ambulance is on their way.” I whispered. I saw his eyes open for a second and he looked at something, but I was too focused on him to drag my attention away. His eyes shut once again and I was beginning to panic.

“Hurry! Please!” I shouted. Alex came beside me and looked at him.

“Ethan! Ethan! You have to keep your eyes open.” She said. She was calling him the wrong name, but now wasn’t the time to correct her. The paramedics finally came and Spencer was being loaded into the ambulance. Alex was on the phone with Cruz as I stared at Spencer, worried and scared.

“Y/N you should go in the ambulance with him.” JJ said walking up to us, along with Morgan. I just nodded and quickly got in with him, Morgan was joining us since he was a little banged up too.

“The sound is like a tea kettle. Do you hear it?” Spencer asked with a slight slur.

“What? Reid.” Morgan asked.

“Pressure’s dropping.” One of the paramedics said and I swear my heart leaped out of my chest.

“Pulse is thready. Starting large-bore I.V.” He said.

“Spencer!” I cried.

“Reid!” Morgan said worried.

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.” The woman working on Morgan said to him.

“You gotta help him, man.” Morgan said to the guy.

“Spencer, please, you’re stronger than this.” I said gently holding his hand.

“Stay with us, we’re right here.” Morgan said to him.

“Spencer, please, stay with us.” I begged.

We finally made it to the hospital and they took him in right away. I had done to the bathroom to wash my hands and when I came out JJ was there with Alex.

“Anything yet?” She asked and I shook my head. I took a seat near them and tried to hold back my tears.

“Spencer would have read like two books by now, maybe three.” JJ said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It should have been me…” I whispered.

“Or me, or any of us.” JJ said.

“No. He pushed me out of the way…” I said with tears in my eyes.

“If he doesn’t make it…” I started, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence. The tears finally falling.

“He’ll make it.” JJ said.

“He has to.” Alex said. Garcia walked in and saw us.

“Hey.” She said walking over and coming to give me a hug.

“You made it.” JJ said.

“Yeah, turns out we’re not the only ones connected, he knows somebody with a plane.” She said, trying to keep the mood light.

“How is he?” She asked.

“Still in surgery.” Alex answered with a sigh.

“You all can see Agent Morgan now.” A nurse said to us.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d really like to stay here…” I said looking down at my hands.

“The second you hear anything, call us.” JJ said and I nodded.

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” Garcia said and I nodded with a sad smile.

I’m not sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. All the negative thoughts were running through my head and I couldn’t stop them.

“Agent.” Someone said and I looked up to see a doctor.

“How is he?” I asked standing up.

“Incredibly lucky. Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we’ve stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He said and it felt like I could breathe again. I grabbed his things that they gave me and quickly called JJ.

“Hey, how is he?” She asked.

“He’s alive. I’m going to see him now.” I said.

“Great. Okay, thanks Y/N.” She said and hung up. Garcia had met up with me in his room and she was setting up little Doctor Who figures in front of him.

“It’ll be so great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees.” She said.

“Yeah… The Doctor always makes him smile.” I said with a sad smile.

“It’d be really weird if he wakes up and we’re all just oooh starting at him.” She said, which made me actually laugh a little bit.

“So, I’m gonna go stand over here.” She said and moved to the window. I gently grabbed his hand and sighed. Garcia had went to go get him some food for when he wakes up.

“Y/N?” He asked and I looked up to see him awake and I smiled.

“Spencer! You’re alright.” I said and he looked at the Doctor Who figures in front of him.

“Garcia.” I said before he could ask. He chuckled and I moved to sit at the edge of his bed.

“When this comes off, I’m gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” He said and I chuckled a bit.

“A little green makeup and it’ll be the best Halloween costume ever. And I could always go as the Bride of Frankenstein.” I said and he chuckled.

“You’d look very cute.” He said and closed his eyes.

“Hey, everyone is fine, don’t worry.” I said gently squeezing his hand.

“I’m not.” He said with a small smile.

“Then what is it?” I asked, but before he could answer Garcia walked in.

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said with a smile.

“Look who’s still awake. Can you tell her she can go now, please?” Garcia asked him and motioned her head at me.

“I’m okay, Y/N. Go help the team.” He said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to leave him…

“Are you sure?” I asked and he nodded with a smile.

“They need you, you have to be my fill in.” He joked.

“Fine.” I chuckled.

“I love you.” I said and leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you too, now go.” He said and I nodded.

“Call me if anything changes.” I said to Garcia and she nodded.

I made my way back to the station. I was kind of in the dark about what was going on.

“Hey, how’s Dr. Reid?” One of the officers asked as I walked in.

“He’s awake, he’s gonna be fine.” I answered and made my way to the team.

“That’s good to hear.” He said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Let’s take a car ride. I’ll fill you in.” Rossi said in a quiet voice.

“JJ, send us the info.” He added as he got up, along with Alex.

“Will do.” She whispered. The three of us left.

Apparently Dianh had a son that was being used against her. The cops were corrupt. Luckily we had a suspect so hopefully everything would work out. Rossi and Alex were in the front talking, but I couldn’t seem to pay attention. My mind kept drifting back to Spencer.

“What the hell?” I heard Rossi say, which snapped me back into reality. They were looking in the mirrors and I looked back to see two cop cars following us. They turned their sirens on and trapped us between them.

“I thought you said it doesn’t get any worse.” Alex said.

“Until it does.” Rossi said. The two officers got out with their hands on their guns and we just watched in shock.

“Are they really gonna shoot Federal Agents?” I asked.

“They’re cops who’d rather die than get locked up. They’re desperate.” Rossi said.

“She’s coming to you.” He said to Alex.

“Don’t they know they’re outnumbered?” I asked.

“I don’t think they care.” Alex said as we all pulled out our guns.

“Let’s roll.” Rossi said. We started shooting and just rolled through them. I was hit in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything too bad. I could deal with it for a few hours if needed. I moved to the front with Rossi while Alex sat in the back with Dianh’s kid and her Mother.

“You alright kid?” Rossi asked me.

“I’ll be fine for a few hours, let’s get them to the safe house, then we can deal with me after.” I said and they nodded., We got them to the safehouse and the rest met us there with Dianh.

“Let’s go, you two drop Y/N off at the hospital then meet us at the junkyard.” Hotch said and Rossi and Alex nodded.

“I’m fine Hotch.” I said and he shook his head.

“I’m not letting you go with a bullet wound.” He said and I sighed. Probably a good idea. They dropped me off at the hospital and I was getting treated. As soon as I was done they said I was free to go and I decided to just go see Spencer.

“Hey, you guys okay?” I asked.

“What happened to you?” Garcia asked.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” I said and smiled at Spencer sleeping.

Finally the case was over and we could all go home. When we got off the plane Alex offered to help us home. We knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were walking upstairs to our apartment and it felt so good to be home again.

“You sure you guys are okay?” She asked.

“I feel great.” Spencer answered and I nodded in agreement.

“Ah, that’s overselling it.” He said and I giggled.

“I, uh, I feel great considering I just got shot in the neck.” He said as we reached the top of the stairs.

“Sounds about right.” I said. Spencer opened the door and Alex followed us in.

“Where do you want this?” She asked referring to our bags that she refused to let us carry.

“Right there is fine.” I said pointing to the couch.

“Okay, so, you two should get some sleep.” She said.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked.

“Yesterday touched a nerve when I saw you like that.” She said.

“Who’s Ethan?” I asked.

“My son.” She answered and my eyes widened slightly.

“He was nine when he died. Doctors said it was neurological, but they didn’t have a name for it. Still don’t. That drove me crazy, no word to put to this thing that took away my greatest love.” She said and my heart hurt for her.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said.

“He kept growing despite his disease. The last time I laid beside him, he was almost as long as me. He was ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I begged him to open his eyes. And the cruelest part was that I could see who he would be at twenty, but I knew he’d never get there.” She said.

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” I whispered.

“Ethan’s a great name.” Spencer said which made her smile.

“Yeah. It means enduring.” She said.

“It’s fitting.” I said.

“You and James never let go of one another.” Spencer said and she smiled. She made her way to the door, but Spencer stopped her.

“Have you ever had that feeling that your future is somehow behind you?” He asked and I looked at him confused.

“All the time.” She answered with a nod.

“I did, too. But it isn’t.” He said and I smiled at him.

“Ethan would have been a lot like you.” She said and left.

“Bye Alex.” He said and I knew it was the final goodbye. She wasn’t going to be a part of us anymore. I pulled Spencer in for a hug and he held me tightly.

“I really thought my future was behind me, until I met you.” He said and kissed my head.

“I know.” I whispered and smiled up at him. He pulled away and walked over to his bag. He pulled out a small box and turned back to me. He got down on one knee and my eyes widened.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you with all my heart and you’ve helped me so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” He asked and a few tears fell down my cheek.

“Yes! A million times yes! I love you so much Spencer.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back with a laugh and placed the perfect ring on my finger. I looked at the ring and it was simple gold with small diamonds around the outside. The band itself was like a vine and it was perfect.

“This is amazing Spencer.” I whispered and he smiled.

“I thought you’d love it.” He said and I smiled up at him.

“We should probably get some sleep now.” I whispered and he nodded.

“Come on, let’s rest up.” He said, pulling me along with him. We got into bed and he held me close.

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and kissed my head.

“I love you so much too, Spencer.” I whispered back and smiled.

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#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds season 9 #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #fanfic #request

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seventeenytiny · 4 years

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MTL fav sex positions lol

This isn't exactly a MTL since there's so many positions but I hope this format satisfies you!! Also I would like to clarify to all my little virgin friends, lots of sex positions sound cool or look cool but they aren't practical. Its only used in porn because it looks good on camera, doesn't actually feel good. Also scroll down for some crappy definitions on positions. I'm out of requests so send some more in!

Scoups and Mingyu - Doggy Style - They'd enjoy this position because it gives them a nice view of your ass and is also quite pleasurable to you. They also like to be a bit rough while in this position, it allows easy access for hairpulling and they'd love to lean over and dirty talk in your ear while you take their cock.

Jeonghan and Woozi - Cowgirl - These two would love to see their partner take control so cowgirl is the position for them. They'd love to watch you move around on them, doing your best to find what's pleasurable. They'd love to watch how your tits bounce as you ride them and how your face scunches from pleasure.

Joshua and Hoshi - Missionary - Okay so I know this position is pretty basic but it so well used for a reason, its honestly great. It lets them feel a strong personal connection with you as they fuck you. They love how they can feel your skin on theirs and look into your eyes. They'd also nibble and kiss on your neck, which always makes you melt. This position is also great for both partners to feel maximum pleasure.

Jun and Dino - Lazy dog - Most of the time you'd start on your hands and knees and just slowly collapse onto the bed as they fuck you. These two would have endless energy during sex, they'll pound into you as fast as you can handle. They'd love seeing you in this position because it shows them how much of a mess you become for them.

Wonwoo and Seungkwan - Spooning - They'd love the skin on skin feeling you get from this position, it also allows them easy access to your clit. Imagine how good it feels to be getting fucked by them and then to feel their fingers over your clit, or even better they might get out a vibrator. This position is great for any couple that loves cuddling and I'm sure these two adore it.

DK and Minghao - Edge of bed - They'd love this position for several reason, it lets them see your tits, it lets them see your face, and it gives them a feeling of power. They'd love watching how your tits bounce with each thrust and how your face twists with pleasure. Another bonus of this position is it allows you or them to play with your clit as they fuck you, but don't be surprised if they occasionally tie up your hands to prevent you from feeling yourself.

Vernon - The Standing Dragon - This position is similar to doggy style but its different enough to change things up in the bedroom. Vernon would love the power this position gives him and the view of you ass is always a bonus. I think Vernon might be the one to be the most experimental with positions.

Doggy style - position that allows one partner to be penetrated while they are on their hands and knees

Cowgirl - position where the man lays on his back, woman rides him as she faces him

Missionary - woman lies on her back as man penetrates her from above as they both face each other

Lazy dog - quite similar to doggy style, the difference is the women is no longer on her hands for support and is now laying down on her stomach

Spooning - both partners lay on their side as the male penetrates from the back

Edge of the bed - the woman lies flat on her back at the edge of the bed as the man stands and penetrates her from there

The standing dragon - the women stands on all fours at the edge of the bed, your partner penetrates you from behind

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celestiababie · 4 years

Text

Hongjoong NSFW Alphabet A-Z

A= Aftercare (What they do/act like after sex)

Joong would be very thorough with his aftercare. Need a bath? He’s on it. Want some water? He’s already in the kitchen getting it for you. Need kisses and cuddles? Already smothering you. He’s really good at taking care of his members, so you wouldn’t be an exception.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He would like his eyes the most, he loves how he can give you one look, and you’ll be blushing from the other side of the room. He has quite expressive eyes and would adore how you can tell how he’s feeling just by looking into his eyes. On your body, he would love your hair. He loves playing with it as he falls asleep or tugging on it when he’s being particularly rough with you, he just wants to twirl it around in his fingers~

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum… I’m a disgusting person)

When Hongjoong cums...he cums a lot, and his favorite place to paint you in his cum would be your ass. He just loves seeing it cover your pretty ass after sex, he finds something sexy about it. He’d make sure that he cleans you up nicely before doing anything else.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He may or may not have stolen your underwear once or twice and acted confused when you were complaining about not being able to find a certain pair. It was an accident at first, he was packing his luggage, and you had left your underwear, and it got thrown into a pile with the rest of his clothes. He didn’t notice until he was looking for something... Long story short, he may have jerked off using your underwear and found a new fetish that day...

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He used to skip school to work, PASSIONATE BABYBOY RIGHT THERE, so I don’t think he had much interaction with many people to have tons and tons of experience. He knows where to put things, and he’s definitely not clueless, but the first few times you two tried to get intimate were kind of on the awkward side of things.

F= Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Since he loves cumming on your ass, he loves doggy style. He’s able to spank you all he wants and tug on your hair and at the end of it, he gets to cum on your ass. So, all in all, he can’t go wrong with his position.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Or are they more humorous?)

At first, he was goofier and laughed off the awkward moments with you, but as he got more experienced with you, he also got more serious and intimidating. There’s still a playful tone to the sex, but he’s just more mature about that type of thing.

H= Hair (How well-groomed are they?)

He does some pretty decent man-scaping. He’s not completely clean, but it’s not a complete mess down there, and he’d try to keep up with it as much as possible.

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He’s fairly intimate during sex, but his intimacy shines during aftercare. During sex, he can be a little on the rougher side, but he’d still whisper in your ear about how amazing you felt, and he’d still kiss your body up and down.

J= Jack off (Masturbation)

Because of the whole underwear situation, he jerks off quite a bit. He doesn’t find it better than you, but sometimes if he’s feeling stressed suddenly, and just needs to release some tension, he’ll please himself.

K= Kinks (One or more of their kinks)

He has a Sir kink, it came out when you had playfully called him sir, after he had told you something. There’s something about you saying it that makes him feel powerful. Hongjoong also has a slight thing for tying you up or handcuffing you. He had randomly asked you one day how you felt about bondage, and after giving it a try, he definitely liked it.

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Does he enjoy fucking you in his studio? You bet he does. His eyes always light up when you come and visit him...those visits usually get pretty intimate, pretty quick. He always jokes how it gives him the energy he needs to make a good song, maybe that’s why ateez doesn’t have a single bad song cough cough.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

You playing with his hair while he’s working could start to make him needy for you, he doesn’t know why. When you sit in his lap and play with his hair or him sitting in your lap, he can’t help it when he lets out a few soft moans.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything that will end up with you bleeding a lot. Sure, he doesn’t mind giving you pain for pleasure, but he’s against having you bleed.

O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving and receiving equally, receiving might have a slight edge since he loves seeing you on your knees for him. He would especially love when you’re needy while he’s busy, and to distract him...you’d get on your knees and start kissing over his crotch. When it comes to him giving you head, he loves hearing you beg him for me, and the lewd sounds you make. He’s a rapper so, he’s really good with his tongue.

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Both, but he tends to lean more on the fast and rough side. He enjoys seeing the aftermath of him fucking you hard and will often tease you the next day if he sees you struggling to sit down or walk properly. Every once in a while, he’ll go slow, giving you deep thrusts to make you feel every inch of him as he kisses your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex and how often?)

He’s neutral about them, he’s not in love with them, but he won’t pass them down if you offered or if the both of you were needy and busy.

R= Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Hongjoong is very experimental, he wants to find new things that you like, and that he likes. He’s willing to experience a few mess-ups if it means that both of you can try new things.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can go for a few rounds but prefers to keep it down to around 2. He makes sure to draw out your time together as much as he possibly can. He’ll use his fingers and his mouth, working you up before he gets to the main event.

T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

He thinks toys can be fun every now and then. Hongjoong loves pressing a vibrator against you when you’re tied up and can’t do anything except moan and thrash against the sheets. He’s not opposed to using toys on himself and is even considering asking you to peg him...one day.

U= Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

This boy loves to tease you whenever he gets the chance. He likes making you beg him for what you want him to do to you. Joong actually likes it when you tease him back, subby Joong is hot.

V= Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

It depends on what headspace he’s in. If he’s in a more dominant headspace, he’d let out groans and growls, but if he was in a more submissive headspace, he’s let out higher-pitched moans and groans.

W= Wild Card (Random headcanon)

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You said while biting your lip.

Hongjoong had invited you over to his studio stating that he needed help with something. You had assumed that he was just needy and wanted to fuck you...but he had a much different idea.

“Please, babe? No one will even know it’s you and I just really think it would help with the song.”

Hongjoong wanted your moans...on one of his tracks. He gave you a smirk and leaned over to whisper in your ear, softly kissing it as he spoke, “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”

X= X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He’s a smol boy and he has tiny hands but has big dick energy, so I’m in a dilemma. He’s probably average but knows how to work with what he’s got.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a high sex drive, he constantly craves your touch. He’d probably be overdramatic and say that he’s dying if you two go without something sexual for more than two days.

Z= ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

He doesn’t fall asleep that quickly, he makes sure that you’re okay and would much prefer watching a movie with you to fall asleep since he can’t automatically fall asleep afterward.

Hi! This is the second member I’ve done and if you liked this, please don’t be a silent reader. I don’t have a masterlist yet, but you can find Seonghwa’s on my profile pretty easily.

-Admin

#ateez #atz #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #atz smut #atz imagines #honjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong reactions #kim hongjoong smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines

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