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itsohh · 4 months ago

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QWERTY Part 4

A/N: Female reader.

Summary: On your flight to Russia you meet Vladimir Makarov himself and he takes an interest in you.

Word count: 887

Warnings: None

AO3 Masterlist Part 3 Part 5

RUSSIA 2017

“It really is beautiful.” You looked out of the plane window with a mumble.

“Should have seen it when I was a boy.” A voice caught your attention and you turned to your side. Being in business class allowed you a decent amount of room so that you didn't have to interact with your fellow passengers very much. If at all. Yet the voice next to you seemed adamant about breaking that.

“Oh?” You paused the audio that was on your phone and pulled the headphones from your neck onto your lap. Perhaps if it had been anyone else you would have just shrugged them off. His accent alone made you think twice. To give the man your full attention, you turned your entire body to look at him. “Are you from Russia?” You asked, curiosity written on your face.

“I am.” He looked past you through the window. “It is my home.” He looked back at you and his eyes met yours.

“Can you tell me about it then? About how it used to be?”

“When I was young Russia was a lot colder. Stronger but colder. People's bonds kept us together and we did what we had to do. There was never any hesitation.”

Your head leaned against your chair as you continued to listen.

“It wasn't perfect, of course, but we were close to it. Now these days it's warmer and our bonds have melted away. We rely on other countries for what we could do ourselves.”

“You want them to off Russia?” You asked and his lips curled upwards.

“No, there is use in working with others. But bending over backwards for political relations when we have the power to lead?” His eyes sized you up for a moment. His eyes debated to speak more. Perhaps it was the genuine interest on your face that made him continue.

“Corruption, greed and an inability to account for one's mistakes were the reasons we have fallen so far. That and poor planning.” That fire in his eyes simmered down and his voice lightened. “But let's not tarnish your trip with mistakes of the past no? Tell me, why'd you come to visit?”

You pressed your lips together. “A friend of mine suggested it. I had uh… trouble at my last job. She said a change of pace might be good.”

“You're planning to stay a while?”

Your brows raised slightly and you blinked at his question. “I might, I haven't decided yet. How did you..?”

“We've been next to each other for a few hours now I've noticed what you're listening to. An intermediate-level Russian audiobook and I've heard your mumbles under your breath. I doubt you would bother learning a language unless you planned to commit.”

“Wow, you're really perceptive. Yeah, I haven't booked a return flight yet.”

“You're looking for something in Russia? Yourself I presume?”

“Oh no, I'm not-” You let out a small laugh before you continued. “I'm not travelling to find myself or some shit. I…” You glanced away and cut yourself off. “You're very easy to talk to, you know that? I feel like I could tell you my entire life story and I don't even know your name.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I have that effect on people if I'm honest I feel the same way. It's not very often I have such a beautiful woman listen to my thoughts about my home.”

You glanced down and then you felt a small contact that made you freeze. His finger lightly pressed on your lower chin and directed it upwards.

“My apologies, I just had to look into those eyes of yours.”

Your breath hitched and you swallowed before you whispered out your first name.

“Vladimir, it's a pleasure to meet you.” He offered you his hand to shake but when you accepted it he didn't shake it but brought it up to his lips to plant a kiss.

“Perhaps when we land I could show you around. Maybe help find what you're looking for.”

“Oh, I couldn't possibly- you must be a very busy man. I couldn't possibly waste your time like that.”

“You know, time is a very precious thing- every second counts. You are quite right about wasting time, it's always important not to. I assure you, it would be my pleasure to help you explore my country and perhaps ah help improve your Russian.” He smiled but didn't let go of your hand. His thumb gently stroked the top of your hand.

“...I would like that.”

The flight descended and soon you found yourself behind Vladimir as you exited the plane through the back. “Wow…” You breathed as you took in the sight. Even at the airport, you could appreciate the country.

“Quite different from Australia?” Vladimir slowed his pace so he walked next to you.

“How did you..?”

“Your accent of course. You might have lost it a little but it's still rather strong.”

“Ah. I see.” You glanced away and you could feel his eyes bore into yours.

“You don't sound pleased about that.”

“You're a very passionate man about your country, I wish I could say the same about my own.”

“You don't like Australia?”

“It's not home to me.”

“What is?” He asked but you didn't reply.

#vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #mw3 x reader #modern warfare 3 x reader #modern warfare 3

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6-atlas-6 · 1 year ago

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A work of art

Vincent x (gn) Lovely

Word count: 763

"Are you going to help me or just sit there and watch the love of your life suffer?" Lovely was sitting on the floor, screwdriver in hand, trying to open a paint can. They were this close to risking the inevitable cuts they'd get by just ripping the damn thing open.

"if I remember correctly you were the one who unceremoniously ripped the screwdriver from my hands and told me, and I quote, you could do it yourself." Vincent was sitting behind Lovely with his hands wrapped around their waist. His head was placed in its usual spot on their shoulder, showering their neck in kisses. He had just finished taping the room.

The paint can lid suddenly popped open causing lovely to jump. They lean down and place their head in their hands, laughing at themself for getting jump scared by a paint can. Vincent takes Lovely's cheek in his hand, guiding their face so that their lips meet his. He was giggling at their reaction.

"Don't laugh at me you ass." Lovely playfully hits his shoulder. They pick up the paint can to pour paint into the tray. They hand Vincent a brush before dipping their own in paint.

"So what am I supposed to do? Are we painting the whole room?" Vincent question, twirling the paint brush between his fingers.

"Vince we talked about this earlier today. We were gonna paint the whole thing remember?" Lovely crouched down starting to paint near the bottom of the wall, a very concentrated look on their face.

"The only thing I can remember is how captivating your eyes were~" Vincent winks at Lovely causing them to roll their eyes. He takes in the concentrated look on their face, making a mental note of how cute they looked in this moment. He grabbed a stool and stepped onto it, starting at the top of the wall.

Lovely paused in their painting to grab their phone. They connected it to the speaker in the room. There was no way they were getting through this entire room without some sort of background noise. They doubted Vincent would want to listen to their audiobook, so they opted for music.

Lovely had already gotten the outline of the entire wall done. They grabbed a roller so they could fill in the wall, dipping it in paint. They looked over to Vincent who was barely halfway done.

"You're a vampire with enhanced speed and you still paint slower than anyone I've ever met." Lovely starts filling in the wall they were working on.

Vincent was going terribly slow. It may have been due to how many times he looked back to stare at Lovely while they painted.

"Can you blame me? This wall is so terribly boring and your face is so gorgeous. My eyes needed a break from the blandness and you were right there." Vincent smiles as he walks towards the paint tray to dip his brush in again.

Lovely smiles before bending over. They dip the tips of their fingers in paint and flick it towards Vincent, small paint splatters now littering his t-shirt. Vincent looks up at them like he had just suffered the biggest betrayal of his life. He dips his paint brush in the tray before flinging paint off of it at Lovely.

"How dare you.” Lovely laughs. Vincent loved when they looked like that. He loved when they smiled. He never knew something could feel so wonderful. Every time they were happy it was like it was contagious. The light from their smile projecting onto him and making him smile in return.

They went back and forth flicking small amounts of paint at each other like children in a splash fight. Eventually Vincent grabbed their waist, his paint soaked fingers inevitably staining their pants. He took their face in his hands and kissed them like they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. When they pulled away from eachother, Vincent brushed a strand of lovely's hair behind their ear and kissed the tip of their nose.

They were both covered in splotches of paint, obviously having long forgotten their earlier task of painting the room. Vincent stared at Lovely as the light from the window seeped into the room, illuminating their face like they were an angel. In Vincent's eyes, they were.

They were covered in paint and in clothes they both didn't care about or didn't fit them like people usually are when they paint. They both looked a mess, but in each other's eyes, they were a work of art.

#they're such idiots I love them #Idk what possessed me to write this but here we are #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted vincent solaire #redacted vincent #redacted solaire clan #redacted lovely #redacted vampires #redacted fanfic #redacted

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jingerhead · 2 years ago

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Hiii, for the wip game. Dialed up to eleven!

Hi lovely anon! Thank you so much for asking about it! Play the WIP game with me here!

This WIP is smutty, you are all forewarned. I remember seeing someone posting this prompt on twitter and I asked their permission to write it, and now it's been a while since then but I still fully intend to do that hehe.

Andreil are voice actors for an audiobook, but not just any audiobook. A very, very smutty audiobook. Andrew is dying inside because Neil is WAY too good at this and he SHOULD be treating this like his job, but all he can think about is the fact that his hot coworker is about to whisper sweet nothings into his headphones. This fic is about 70% tension before getting to the actual smut between andreil and I'm looking forward to experimenting with that. I feel like smut has never been my strongest point, along with attempting to build the tension beforehand. Here's a snidbit for you to read if you'd like!

~*~

Point is, Andrew had prepared himself as much as he could. He could pull off a believable sex scene if it meant getting paid, and it wasn’t like this was a long one, either. One of the many that would come later, but that was besides the point. He wasn’t immature, or disgusted or irritated by the situation.

For fucks sake, you’ve fucked men before, Andrew thought to himself, shuffling the script papers propped up in front of him.

He could do this no problem. Even if Neil was standing right across from him, eyes dark and body relaxed, as though he was already locked into character. Neil’s acting skills were sometimes terrifyingly good.

“Alright, chapter seven scene two,” said the director, voice loud in Andrew’s headphones. “Recording. Start when you’re ready.”

This was nothing new. Neil stared at Andrew, not yet moving to say his line to start the scene. Andrew straightened up, looking back and taking in a breath as quietly as he could, then nodded once. Neil didn’t do anything to acknowledge the go ahead, only glanced down at his script once as though he had to remember what his line was. When he was done, he looked back up, immediately locking on to Andrew’s eyes again.

“I hope you’ve been a good boy for me, baby,” Neil began, voice deep and echoing through Andrew’s ears.

Listen, Andrew had read the script beforehand. He knew what the scene entailed, and knew how it read to be more of a turn off than anything else, but the moment Neil said that line…the cringy line that only a rich CEO in a bad romance book could deliver, Andrew felt weak at the knees. It was unfair because this was a job. Andrew shouldn’t be getting turned on from hearing his coworker talk sensually into the headphones he was wearing.

It took him a second to recover enough to say his own line. Thank god any pauses could be edited out later. “I’m not your baby,” Andrew said firmly, trying to turn his arousal into anger. “And you’re only getting this for a night, Turner.”

“Hm,” Neil hummed, shifting his weight to one leg. “But you’ve been good?”

The huff Andrew let out was a bit too shaky. “I didn’t look through your shit like you asked. Happy?”

“Very.”

The script called for a pause. Andrew knew why, because in the book Dante Turner had walked around Yael Hunter to take off his suit jacket and tie, like he was going to change without a worry for privacy. “I know you won a night with me,” Andrew read, “but don’t think that means you can do whatever you want. I didn’t go through your things because that’s none of my business, but I’ll leave if I have to.”

“Then leave,” Neil replied, heaving a loud sigh. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, Yael.”

Another pause. “That’s…”

“Were you expecting otherwise?” Neil leaned in closer to the microphone, until his voice was so overpowering in Andrew’s mind that he couldn’t hear or think about anything else. “Do you want me to list what I’d do to you if you let me?”

#jinger answers #jinger's works #aftg #aftg wip #andreil #andreil wip

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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Taking Chances Ch. 22: Petrichor and Bibliosmia (Library/books)

AO3

Marinette frowned at the rain outside of her window. She had wanted to go to the botanical gardens with Harley and Ivy today. But with the rain, both women decided it would be better to just reschedule. They didn’t want her to get sick. Which, to be fair, was sweet. But still upsetting because she really wanted to go to the gardens. She’d planned on using the plants as inspiration to make something for Ivy.

“Tikki, I’m bored.” She says, looking at her smallest friend. Tikki just looks at her.

“You’ve been stuck inside because of the weather before, Marinette. Why don’t you design?” Tikki suggests. Marinette huffs, flopping back down onto the cushioned window seat.

“But there’s nothing inspiring in my room, Tikki.” She mumbles, before shooting back up. “Do you think any of the boys are here?” She asks.

“Only one way to find out!” Tikki says with a smile, obviously relieved to have avoided any more whining from Marinette. She jumps up, throwing one of Dick’s old hoodies on over her t-shirt. She’d always gotten cold easily, and becoming the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t help. That, and the manor was cold on a good day- it would probably be freezing with how bad the weather was. She slides down the banister, knowing her Dad was at work and couldn’t yell at her.

“Miss Marinette, if you insist on behaving like your brothers, I will have to resort to treating you like your brothers.” Alfred says with raised eyebrows. But she can sense the smile wanting to break through. She just grins apologetically.

“Sorry, Alfred.” She says. “Speaking of my brothers, are any of them here right now?” She asks. If they’re not, she could probably convince Alfred to bake something with her. As long as she promises not to slide down the banister again.

“I believe Master Jason is in the library. Masters Dick and Damian are in the gym and Master Tim is at Wayne Enterprises with your father.” He says and she hums, thinking. She could go do some training with Dick and Damian, or she could go sit and sketch in the library with Jason.

“Thanks Alfred!” She says, giving him a wide smile before turning and walking down one of the many halls. She glances in open doors as she walks. Despite having lived here for nearly a month, she still got lost going anywhere other than her room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the Batcave. They were kind of the places she’d gone the most. She could also easily find her dad’s study and the main sitting room, most of the time. But the library wasn’t really a place she’d spent a lot of time in. And while she loved Dick and Damian, she also knew that they hadn’t gotten time to hang out just the two of them in a while. She’d talked to Dick before, about how when their dad was missing, he was basically Damian’s father. She knew that bonds like that didn’t just go away, knew that neither boy wanted it to. So she figured she’d just annoy Jay instead of barging in on the others’ bonding time.

Finally finding the library, she grins. Pushing the cracked door open a little more, she moves into the room, jaw dropping. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were packed. There were huge overstuffed couches, and the large windows had window seats attached- perfect little reading nooks. Quickly making a mental note to come to the library more, she starts to search for Jay. She knew he had to be in here. Alfred is never wrong. She grins when she spots him, sitting in what looked like an insanely uncomfortable position, but one she knew from experience was the best.

“Whatchya reading?” She asks, walking over and getting comfortable on the couch next to him.

“<i>Pride and Prejudice<i>.” He says, continuing reading for a moment before putting a little scrap of paper in the book and shutting it. “What’s up, Pixie Pop?” He asks, looking at her with a grin. Marinette sighs dramatically and moves so that she’s upside down on the couch.

“It’s raining. And I was supposed to go to the gardens with Ivy and Harley but they canceled because of my ‘health’ and they were ‘concerned’.” She says with a pout.

“And you decided the library was the best place to curb your boredom? No offense kid, but you don’t seem like the type to read.” He says and she huffs.

“I like books! It’s just-” She pauses, remembering the way Lila had teased her for it back in Paris. Her classmates hadn’t joined in, not really. They’d just agreed that she was a little odd.

“You okay, Pix?” Jason asks, his earlier grin replaced with a slightly concerned look. Marinette winces and nods.

“Yeah it’s- I can read. I swear I can. But when I’m looking at a book, or an article or anything with a lot of text, it gets hard to pick out the pieces. Things just kind of swirl together and then I can’t decode it and I get frustrated and just stop reading. It sucks, ‘cause I do like books. I listen to audiobooks while doing commissions.” She rambles, stopping and turning red. Though that may be from hanging upside down on the couch. Sighing, she sits up and shrugs. “Sorry I’m so weird.” She says. Jason’s face morphs into a scowl.

“Just ‘cause you learn differently doesn’t mean you’re weird, kid. Just means you’ve got your own style. Don’t let any of those little shits you go to school with tell you differently.” He says, reaching out and ruffling her hair. She smiles at him, a genuine happy smile. She was so relieved that he didn’t think she was weird. Or stupid. Lila had thrown that word around. That one hurt. Marinette prided herself on her quick thinking and cleverness. And her grades. They were some of the best in the class! So for Lila to call her stupid…

“Pixie.” Jason says, drawing the nickname out in a sing-song voice. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “You were zoned out, kid. So, was there something ya wanna do?” He asks. Marinette glances down at the book in his hand and frowns.

“I don’t wanna keep you from reading. I can just sit in here with you. I’ll probably end up grabbing my sketchbook.” She says. Jason waves in a ‘no big deal’ motion.

“I’ve read this book a million times.” He reassures her. She glances at the cover again, realizing it’s not one she’s really heard much about before.

“What’s it about?” She asks. “I’ve never read it.” Jay’s face morphs into a huge grin.

“You said you like listening to books, right?” He asks. She nods. “Well, then settle in because I’m going to read to you.” He says proudly with a grin.

“Oh, you really don’t-” She tries to say. She didn’t want to make him read to her. That was not-

“Oh but I want to.” He says, effectively cutting off her mental ramble before she can complete her meltdown. “Listen Pix, this is one of my favorite books. If you go listen to some dumb audio book, you won’t get my commentary. Trust me, this is the best way for you to read the book.” He says and she snorts, shaking her head lightly.

“Okay, Jay, let’s read a book.”

---

Finally arriving home after being stuck at the office, Bruce sets off to find his daughter. Since his apology a few days ago, he’d attempted to make an effort to check in on her and see how she was doing. He tried to also do the same with the boys, but they had all given him odd looks, so he didn’t continue. He checks her room, the Batcave, the sitting room- nothing. He finally decides to check the kitchen. If he had to guess, she’d be there baking with Alfred. He walks in and sees Alfred, but no Marinette.

“Good evening, Alfred. Have you seen Marinette?” Bruce asks, silently hoping she hadn’t left the planet again.

“I believe she’s in the library with Master Jason.” Alfred says and Bruce blinks in surprise. He’d never seen her read a book before, while Jason always had a book on him. He supposed it could be a hobby of hers that he just hasn’t noticed. Or, she could have just followed Jason. Which seems more likely. The two of them were all but attached at the hip ever since the Gala. It was surprising, but at the same time welcoming. Thanking Alfred quickly, he walks towards the library. He’d just say hi and leave. No need to make them stop reading if they were having fun. Gently pushing open the library door he walks in and pauses at the sight. Marinette had wrapped herself in a blanket and was almost sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with an intense look of concentration on her face. Jason had his legs swung over the arm of the couch and was reading out loud. Immediately recognizing the book as Jason’s favorite, Bruce slowly leaves the library, careful not to let the door slam. He’d have the chance to talk to Marinette later, but for now, he’d let the two continue reading in peace.

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years ago

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Payback | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.2k

✦ request — I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester imagine that is like the reader is like young and has been with the boys since she was 18 and now she’s like around 21 or 22. She lives at the bunker with them and helps with research. So, basically she’s fallen in love with dean and has been in love with him for years. She never says anything because she watches him go after all these skinny girls and thinks she will never be good enough since she’s big and doesn’t think he’d ever like her. Then one day she basically just reaches a breaking point and it comes out to dean, and after some angst they get together. Then maybe some fluff or smut?

✦ warnings — angst, age gap (reader is in her twenties while Dean is in his forties), reader is kinda insecure at times, language, mentions of past sexual partners, mentions of a past ilegal relationship, a twinge of jealousy, suggestive stuff, some fluff.

════════════════════════

You heard laughs on the other side of the bar, right under the Bud Light neon sign. Unable to stop yourself, you looked that way.

A small friend group had erupted in laughter. There was a tall guy in the middle of two redheads — you couldn’t see very well, but you could tell he had caught you staring.

So you deviated your eyes to the right, where the bartender served one of your companions another beer. A couple of beers in fact. Dean was talking to a woman, undoubtedly charming her as he rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You couldn’t look any longer, you would be sick if you did. He should’ve been doing that to you.

Realistically, you were probably twice her size or more, but you still could dream.

That was the problem, truly — you only could dream. Dean would quit hunting before even considering seeing you as a potential conquest. By this point, you should have been used to it.

Your eyes went back to the friend group from earlier. The tall guy held your gaze for a moment — you couldn’t figure out his eye color, or what his eyes showed under the uneven light, but you damn well could see he was handsome.

Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, you turned to your side and picked up your jacket.

Maybe you should also start to pay attention to the men who were actually interested.

But they weren’t Dean Winchester.

Comparing every man you met to him was a reflex, just like comparing yourself to the women he picked up at bars.

The Bunker was eerie every hour of the day, but there was something especially uncanny about an empty Bunker in the middle of the night. Devastatingly so.

Turning on the lights as you made your way towards the library, you made a beeline towards the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood for drinking anymore or for food, but you knew you needed to drink water.

Taking refugee in the library, you looked around a few news sites to see if you found something. It wasn’t difficult to find something shady or weird going on, but filtering out conspiracy theories was a pain in the ass.

Eventually, you found just what you were hoping you would. Dean and Sam rarely took you with them for hunts, but perhaps you could convince them this time to at least let you watch from the car.

Sam came home a little later, tipsy enough to be in a good mood. You told him about the case you had found, he said he would check it out in the morning and wished you a goodnight.

Dean didn’t come home. Why would he when he could have literally anybody he wanted?

You didn’t get any sleep. You had hoped that listening to an audiobook would lull you, but like most things, it wasn’t enough to even entertain you.

You were sick of this, of being into somebody who would never be into you. And who the fuck loses sleep for somebody who doesn’t see them as anything more than a sibling? You, apparently.

You needed coffee and a hug, but coffee by itself would have to do.

To your luck, Dean was already in the kitchen when you entered. His hair was wet which meant he was, thankfully, fresh out of the shower.

Instead of greeting you, he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He took the car.”

You didn’t even know Sam had brought the car home the night before. “He must have found the case interesting.”

“There’s a case?”

“Kind of. It’s not too far away from here,” you explained, “but I wasn’t sure it was something up our alley. I guess Sam thought it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t here.” You could tell your answer offended him. Good.

“You should have called.”

“Babying you isn’t my job, Dean.”

“Funny you say that when babysitting you isn’t mine and yet...”

“Can you stop treating me like a fucking child for two seconds?”

“Stop acting like one and I might.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I can’t believe I’m in love with you!”

You didn’t know whose eyes were wider, if his or yours.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

He tried to be nonchalant, but Dean couldn’t even move. “Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay.”

You effusively shook your head. “It’s isn’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to fucking react.” You were yelling now. Why were you yelling over this?

“I— well, I don’t know what to say.” He stuttered. “I mean, you are a kid. I could be your dad who had a kid at a young age, okay? This is fucking crazy.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. It’s humiliating.”

“I’m not going to give you shit about it.”

“No, you are. And then you’re gonna go and fuck somebody who’s actually hot and interesting and you’re gonna make me feel worse.”

“Hey, you’re interesting.”

“I’m not. And even then, you don’t go for them because they’re interesting, do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You wanted him to say that you were attractive too, that he would go for you in a heartbeat.

“Nothing.”

Both of you remained silent then. He had many chances to make it right, to have enough pity for you to at least apologize for not realizing you were in love with him sooner.

“ I’m gonna go,” you announced, having decided that this wasn’t worth it. The humiliation hurt, but his reaction stung.

He reached over and stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What now?” Your voice broke and your lip trembled. Not now, you thought. But now it was.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

He hugged you to his chest. “I hate seeing you cry.”

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back.

“You’re making me feel even more stupid,” you admitted through tears.

Dean sighed heavily. His hand twitched against your clothed skin as he tried to keep himself from rubbing his face. “You know, maybe you need a break.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me already?”

He didn’t deny it. So you pushed him off you and stormed out. You couldn’t even get a fucking consolation hug.

════════════════════════

You liked to think you were doing a good job avoiding him. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home either way.

Expecting him to care had been too much, it seemed. You hadn’t wanted him to beg, or even fantasized about him chasing after you — you just wanted him to care, to at least told you he would forget about it or pretend you hadn’t said anything.

Sam entered the library, feigning interest in the stack of books you had piled on the table two nights ago.

He stalled, opening the one on top as though he hadn’t seen it before.

You shuffled in your seat. Waiting for whatever he would say.

He cleared his throat so you’d look up. You did.

“Dean and I are going out for a drink or two. Want to come?”

“No, I’m gonna watch something on my laptop and go to bed early.”

Sam gave you a worried look. “Well, if you need anything...”

“Have fun.”

Maybe Dean had been right, maybe you needed a break, and maybe —just maybe— this wasn’t the place you were meant to be at.

But you wanted to be there, and you wanted him. It fucking sucked that you would never get what you wanted just because you weren’t thin.

Story of your life.

You stayed in the library longer than you planned and eventually your tv marathon was held there. You had everything you needed and the chairs were comfortable enough.

Your laptop rested on the other side of the table as you leaned onto said table with your forearms and laid your head on your arm.

A knock on the thick door startled you. Looking up, you found green eyes.

“Did I scare you?”

You pressed the space bar to pause your show. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to come back early.”

“Sammy left with somebody so he’s not coming home tonight.”

You hummed, unsure as to what you were supposed to say. Should you say that you were happy for Sam? Should you ask why he hadn’t left with somebody too?

Dean spoke before you could come up with something. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Seeing you nod, Dean approached the table. He didn’t sit down, forcing you to crane your neck.

“I’ll find somewhere else to live,” you assured him.

He frowned, looking down as he searched for your now shifty eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” He rubbed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

You twisted your mouth. “It’s a little late for that.”

He hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to leave. You’re part of the family.”

“I think I deserve space to move on.”

A groan slipped past his throat and lips, rumbling in his chest. He was growing desperate. “Look... I’m trying to be the responsible adult here because God knows you won’t be.”

“So now I’m an adult?”

“It was never my intention to treat you like a child. I just wanted to put some distance between us.”

“You could have said so.” You didn’t think you would need to state the obvious to somebody as smart as Dean.

“I didn’t want things to be weird or to give the impression that I could take advantage of you if you were too close. I would never do that.”

Not proud enough to pretend you knew what he was talking about, you admitted, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“You’re pretty,” he blurted. “Really fucking pretty and interesting and so attractive that’s kinda unfair. And you’re also too young.”

“Dean.”

“Mmmh?”

“Kiss me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Just kiss me,” you insisted. “We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Dean took the chair beside yours out and pulled it to the side. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he leaned in, but they did when his nose brushed yours.

He softly placed his lips on top of yours. You saw his eyes screw shut before you closed yours. It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, you feared you would have to go back to hide the way you felt about him.

Grabbing you by the waist, Dean made you stand up. He wrapped an arm around you while you rested your hands on his sides as a reflex.

He kissed you again, hard. So hard he unintentionally pushed you against the table. His tongue tasted of whiskey and those bacon-flavored chips you had never had the heart to tell him weren’t that good.

You brought a hand up to the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Dean took advantage of the fact that he had you trapped between the table and his body to caress yours. He started with your back and dragged his hands down to your ass.

His hands traveled to your torso, where he could surely feel your belly up, fingers toying with the hem of your black t-shirt.

You stopped his fingers from lifting your top and pulled away from the kiss. “Wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” he breathlessly asked.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” you explained through ragged breathing. “At all.”

”Really?”

You nodded, ashamed. One thing was him knowing how big you were and other was him seeing it for himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...”

“That’s a great way to let me know you’re about to insult me.” Fuck. You were getting defensive again — what a way to kill the mood.

“I’m not!” he defended himself. “I was going to point out that you’ve been around for a relatively short amount of time to know what I’m used to.”

“I’ve never seen you with a fat person before.”

“And I’ve never seen you with somebody older than you before.”

Was he playing dumb? “Of course you have.”

“Huh? When?”

“That guy in Texas was well in his thirties. And I dated somebody in their twenties when I was 16, I’m not too proud of that one, but—“

He interrupted you. “Nevermind. Shut up.” Dean kissed you again, bringing you flush against him.

You smiled against his mouth. “Is somebody jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Serves you right.”

“You’re evil.” He bit down your bottom lip and pulled on it.

“It’s just payback, I promise.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, allowing him to dissipate the tension. You would let him do whatever he wanted, regardless of the outcome, but you were too scared to say it.

You didn’t have to.

“Hey.” He cupped your face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “We can take our time.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester

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jungkookiebus · 4 years ago

Text

Grain of Sand | jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x established relationship x slice of life Pairing: blind!jjk x reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: cunnilingus, (light) ass play, fingering, jungkook fucks you against the kitchen sink so i guess that can be a warning, creampie Summary: Blind since the age of 18 from a genetic disorder, Jungkook walked through life as if he never lost it, but on one fateful day seven years ago he literally almost runs into you. He fell in love nearly immediately. Fast forward to the present and it’s just another day in your quiet life with him by your side.

Bright, warm sunshine filled the hallway of your home from the windows that lined the wall. It was one of the reasons you picked this house. You imagined hanging pictures up on the wall for the morning sun to rise upon and, at night, you could still easily see them in the light of the moon. And that’s exactly what you did when you moved in two years ago. Jungkook walked ahead of you, fingers delicately skimming the wall right beneath the pictures. The wall there looked more worn than the rest, a little oily sheen to it from his fingertips. Walls all over your home had these trails. They were like highways for him, directing him to the living room, kitchen, and every room in between. Sometimes, like now, you’d run your fingers along his path lovingly, grazing your fingers underneath your wedding photo.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked, and you saw as he tilted his head a little, knowing you were following quietly behind him.

You hummed in thought. You never really were that hungry as soon as you woke up, but the smell of breakfast always made your stomach growl.

“What about…eggs and bacon?”

“Toast?”

“Oh, yes, Taehyung gave us some fresh strawberry jam he made.”

He hummed in a content agreement, turning the corner ahead of you, two fingers brushing the dull edge as he continued down the hallway. The light overhead was still off, and the early morning sun had yet to reach this part of the house, but Jungkook moved by memory and his worn wall path before moving into the kitchen. As he walked into the room, you reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“What would you like me to do?” you asked. You leaned against the counter as you watched his hands skim the cabinets, and you knew he was counting in his head, until he got to the one he wanted. He pulled out a pan as his other hand reached for the stove, hand finding the burner, before moving it to sit the pan down.

“Uh, if you want to grab the ingredients, that will help.”

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Jungkook laughed as he reached for the oil that sat by the stove.

“I should be calling you pet names.”

“You do all the time and you’re just too cute not to.”

Opening the refrigerator, you pulled out the necessary amount of eggs and bacon as not to cause confusion with a clutter of items.

Jungkook lost his sight at the ripe, but terrible age of 18. Retinitis pigmentosa was the cause of his progressive vision loss. Around 10, he started showing signs when he complained about not being able to see outside when he played later in the afternoon, even when the sun was still bright on the horizon. His parents’ worst fears were confirmed with his diagnosis and the heartache of explaining to their son that he would lose his vision completely was devastating. But Jungkook proved strong and focused on studying Braille and doing whatever he could to prepare himself. Over the years, his vision worsened, he didn’t get to get his driver’s license with his friends, and he missed out on many things, but that didn’t stop him from pursuing his passion in music. He felt a connection when he made music because without his vision, it made him that much more acute in his studies. You met Jungkook in college, both music majors, and the reason you had met was because he had accidentally thwacked you with his white cane.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he had said reaching in your direction.

You had laughed and at first his face was set into a confused expression until you spoke.

“Oh, that little thing couldn’t even leave a mark if you had done it intentionally.”

His face screwed up as he tried to hold in a laugh but was unable to do so at your incessant giggling. When you spoke again was when he thinks he fell in love with you, but there were too many moments to count for him.

You nudged the end of his completely white cane with your foot, no red or other markings. “Completely blind, huh?”

You hadn’t said it with any disdain or judgement; you had said it as if you were just having curious, casual conversation. Most of the time Jungkook felt as if his blindness made him invisible to people as if it were some curse to have and if they accidentally came close to him, they’d hurt him or themselves. Of course, he had his close friends and family that didn’t even remember he was blind half the time, but society always kind of sucked that way.

But you, you were the first girl he had ever met that so blatantly astonished him within the first few minutes and his heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t even need to see you to know that you were perfect, and he would end up with you one day. And, sure enough, five years later you were married and looking for a new home.

“How does this one sound?” you asked one night over your tub of chocolate ice cream.

You both sat at your small kitchen table in your small apartment. Jungkook had one headphone in listening to an audiobook, head resting in his hand as his other played absently on yours. You were scrolling through houses on your phone, trying to find the both of you the perfect one. Jungkook hit pause on his book and looked in your direction. Despite his blindness, nothing about his eyes had really changed; they were still a beautiful brown and they were your favorite to see in the evening light, sunset set his eyes aflame.

“Babe, as long as the layout is easy to memorize and it’s what you want, it’s perfect for me.”

“I love you,” you whispered. Tears filled your eyes at the content look on his face, a slight smile played on his lips. You were truly happy with him, sharing every moment together, and to the fullest, but parts of you did feel sad that he couldn’t see it.

“My god,” he whispered somewhat dramatically and suddenly your tears became a small laugh because you knew where this was going. “If your love were a grain of sand…”

“Mine would be a universe of beaches,” you whispered back.

Now, here you were, in your home with its innocuous fingertip paths lining your walls in an intimate artwork that was priceless to you.

With your back to the counter you leaned and watched as he moved. You only offered help occasionally and when he asked for it, but you were content to watch. His hands always moved lithely, so smooth, as he reached for objects. He cracked the eggs easily into the hot pan as he began to hum. He’d sometimes hum, sometimes sing, but he’d always choose a song about the same length each time and that was how he timed his cooking. The bacon popped loudly.

“Oops, fire’s too high.” He turned the knob to lower the flame before carefully putting his hand back on the handle of his pan. He picked his song up a few seconds after where he left off. The eggs were frying perfectly in the pan, not that you expected any less.

You pushed away from the counter to start grabbing plates as he neared the end of his song. Before long, he had both plates perfectly set with eggs and bacon as you carried the toast to the table. You buttered and spread the strawberry jam on two pieces, dropping one on his plate as you brought them over. He followed behind you, hand on your waist lightly before sitting down at the table.

“What are we gonna do today?” you asked as you bit into the toast. “Holy shit Taehyung knows what he’s doing with this stuff.”

His smile was bright as he cut into his eggs. “What do you feel like doing?”

The sun was now up over the horizon, spilling into the windows and across your kitchen. You had hung various glass artwork throughout the house and right now the stained glass flower you had hung above the kitchen sink cast an array of colors into the room. Jungkook looked like moving artwork across from you. The colors shifted and changed as he moved, leaning back in his chair then forward again, elbow on the table, moving for a napkin, and each time he did splashes of red, green, blue, and yellow painted his skin.

You hadn’t realized you had fallen silent until Jungkook cleared his throat. “Babe?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“The stained glass is casting a lot of pretty colors on you right now and I got distracted.”

“I bet it looks wonderful.”

He smiled softly as he reached for his glass of milk.

“Describe it to me?” He pushed his plate to the middle of the table as he finished. Placing his head in his hands, he looked in your direction, his eyes averted just down from your eyes and somewhere near the apples of your cheeks. Even if he rarely ever made eye contact, your soft voice always lulled him in and pointed him in the right direction.

“Remember when we’d get those cheap plastic kaleidoscopes as kids?” You pulled his plate towards you and stacked it on your own.

He laughed softly at the memory. “I used to think they were so cool, but the pieces inside were just as cheap as the outside.”

“Well think of that…just prettier.” His smile grew wider as his eyes closed and you knew he was thinking back on a memory. Probably a summer day down by the shore, the salty sea air, and the sun on his face. His mom is with him and everything is so bright. He sees the water and the way it stretches to the horizon, but in his peripheral it’s a little darker. For now, he’ll enjoy the waves.

You stood up and took the plates to the sink and began pulling the pots off the stove and putting them under the water with the rest. The sun still shone through the stained glass in front of you. You got lost in thought, hand still under the water waiting for it to heat up as you stared unblinking and the slightly swaying piece of glass. You jumped when a pair of hands softly caressed your hips.

“Shit,” you whispered. You were snapped out of your daydream and you shakily grabbed the sponge before pouring soap over it.

His lips came down on your neck. “Did I scare you?”

“Yea that was real dickish of you.”

He laughed against your neck as he snaked his arms fully around you and held you close. You began scrubbing at a pan as he hummed lightly, placing yet another kiss to your skin. He inhaled deeply and let his warm breath out slowly.

“You smell good,” he murmured.

“Well, I did take a shower last night….” You put the pan in the drying rack before reaching for another one.

His arms tightened around you and he brought himself a little more flush with your body. He hummed again as he moved his lips along the top of your exposed shoulder.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” you asked in a mock accent as your hands dove blindly into the water as you searched for more dishes.

“Kissing you,” he said between small pecks.

“Okay.” You pulled a spoon from the filthy depths of the dish water when Jungkook’s hands moved back to your hips and his fingers dug lightly into them.

“Don’t move,” he whispered before dropping to his knees behind you.

Folding his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, he slowly began to pull them past your hips.

“What are you-“ You tried to turn around but keep your hands over the sink at the same time and you could only swivel so far at the hip.

“Shhh.” He kissed the small of your back and then the swell of your ass as he began to palm your ass cheeks. Slowly, he spread them further and further as he placed kisses along your skin. Your body had gotten whiplash; one second you were washing dishes and the next Jungkook was on his knees behind you. You shook slightly and your internal temperature began to rise. Suddenly, having your hands in the warm water became overbearing. You pulled them out and then clung desperately to a dish towel, but there was no way you were drying your hands right now. You felt his lips again and they were on the underside of your ass this time. You clutched the edge of the sink as you stared into the intricate flower in the glass.

Behind you, Jungkook spread your ass and dipped his head, tongue finding your cunt immediately. He hummed into you and you clenched. He spread them further as he licked at your center before he moved to your ass.

“A-ah,” you stuttered as you leaned more into the counter. His face was buried in your ass eating you out until he almost had your thighs shaking before he moved back to your now embarrassingly wet cunt. His moan was deeper this time as you dripped deliciously onto his tongue. Your mind seemed to exit the room as he shook his head, deepening this lewd kiss. He pushed himself up more on his knees, wanting to get as deep into you as he could. Your cries rose in pitch as your thighs began to shake. Your palms dug into the edges of the counters but all you could think about was him. He moaned the more you clenched, getting closer and closer to the release he wanted to give you. You could barely breathe now, and you were nearly on your tiptoes. All the while, Jungkook had his hands firmly on your thighs now with his face anchoring him to your body. You rocked back into his face and his moans began to pitch now, hands almost kneading at your thighs as he wrapped his hands around the front of them, pulling you harder into his face. Your mind felt as if it were on the brink of shutting down as your whole body began to shake. Every muscle in your stomach tensed as you felt yourself tumbling forward.

Different variations of his name fell from your lips in rapid succession as you crested the hill of your release. You fell over it when a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your body shuddered and it felt as if all the blood inside rushed to your cunt. Jungkook was still eating you out as you came on his face, nearly crying into the kitchen sink. His grip on your thighs loosened first and then his tongue slowed. Your body shuddered every now and then from the aftershock. He kissed the underside of your ass again before standing. He pulled you into him again and held you close as you caught your breath. He kissed the side of your neck as his cheek rested against your skin.

“You taste good, too,” he mumbled.

You let out a shaky laugh. He had said it so nonchalantly as if he weren’t on his knees, face nowhere to be seen, just minutes before.

“Now, my kaleidoscope eyes,” he reached for the back of your knee and brought your leg upwards, “I need you to rest this here.”

He had your leg up on the counter comfortably and then he dipped his hand back between them. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he played with your painfully swollen clit. He circled the tips of his fingers on it softly. He kissed your skin delicately, reverently. The sun rose higher in the sky and from behind your eyelids you could see various colors of orange, blue, and red.

“You always describe the world so beautifully to me,” he whispered.

“I-I don’t want you t-to miss out.” You were a mess and he was making you an even bigger mess.

“Your vision of the world is far better than anything I could dream up.”

His fingers pressed a little harder and you wanted to clench around something only to be met with air. You whined a little as his breath picked up against your skin and he rutted into you. You felt his cock through his sweats and your mouth instantly watered. He hummed again as you began to drip on his fingers as he dipped them before pushing inside of you. He let out a shuddering breath as you swallowed his fingers fully, clenching hard around him. He pushed into you again, cock hard against your ass and he leaned into you as you pressed further into the counter.

“Tell me what you want,” he said gruffly as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

Your toes curled against the countertop, knee hitting a mug across the marble surface but neither of you bothered to acknowledge it. Jungkook was rutting into you now and breathing hotly into your ear. His other hand was on your breast kneading it roughly.

“God, Jungkook, just fuck me already.” You were doubled over with him hot on your back. His fingers pumped faster and faster and you were on your tiptoe again. You pushed your hips into him as he gave two more hard thrusts into you before pulling his fingers away.

His hands were only gone for what seemed like seconds before he had one on your hip and the other rubbing his cock between your folds. You moaned as you anticipated him. You didn’t have to wait long before he was sliding inside of you easily. His body was hot against yours and his skin against your ass was even hotter. His hand was at your breast again kneading as his heavy cock slid in and out of you slowly as if he were trying to make this moment last forever.

“What colors do you see now?” he whispered. His voice sounded strained like he was holding back. How were you supposed to concentrate?

You squinted when you were finally able to open your eyes; the sun was higher and brighter in the sky since you last looked. All you could think about was his cock softly nudging against the nerves inside of you, but he wasn’t going fast enough to really stimulate anything. You pushed your hips back into him again, but he didn’t take the bait as he pinched your nipple through your shirt. His other hand was anchoring your leg to the counter so you couldn’t move it from where he placed it. Plentiful soap suds were all over the sink and slowly popping but there was enough for the colors to be cast in a strange refracted way. The angle of the light caused more rainbows to shine from the hundreds of tiny bubbles. You reached out and braced yourself on the windowsill above the sink before you spoke.

“All of t-them. They’re shining on the soap now.” You were no stranger to describing things to Jungkook, but during sex was a new one.

He seemed satisfied as his pace quickened. His lips were on your neck, wet, and travelling upwards until he bit your earlobe between his teeth. Once again, you were pushing your hips into him as much as he’d let you. He was much too strong pushing you against the counter and his hand on your leg limited your movements.

“Jungkook, please.” You were breathless now, travelling up to that peak again but you needed more than this. He didn’t need to ask to hear your underlying question. He pressed against you harder while at the same time quickening his pace. The hand on your breast splayed across your chest before he moved it slowly down your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as your stomach tightened. He was dipping his fingers between your legs again and pressed two fingers to your clit. Your chest came flush with the edge of the counter now and you felt Jungkook’s cheek on your shoulder blade. You reached for anything to brace yourself after your sweaty palm slid from the windowsill. You knocked soap and various other items down, sending some splashing into the water and others into the empty side of the steel sink. Jungkook ignored the clattering of items as he began to snap his hips harder. The pressure he had on your clit was barely there but enough to have you straining and willing your body to fall, but you just whimpered as you cried into the sink. He controlled your orgasm and all you could do was fall into the delectable pleasure he was giving you because you knew he always delivered. There was no way he was letting you physically walk away from this.

The room grew hotter the higher the sun climbed as it cast its menagerie of colors onto your face. The ends of your hair gathered the water droplets collected in the sink as your body shifted with each thrust. Without his sight, Jungkook was acutely more aware to other parts of your body. Like the way your cunt would flutter and tighten like a vice the closer you got your orgasm. He could practically feel the muscles in your back tense up as you focused all your attention to the burning in your abdomen. He pressed his fingers a little harder before moving them faster on your clit. The nerve endings inside were lit on fire, sending the hot flames licking in your core and up into your chest as every hair on your body stood on end as your skin flushed with goosebumps. You began to tremble, thighs cramping as you brought yourself fully up on your toes, other leg sweating against the marble counter. Jungkook’s large hand was still firm on the back of your thigh, keeping your leg up on the edge as he fucked into you faster and harder. You were crying loudly now, not holding anything back as he led you towards the end. Your orgasm hit with an explosion of colors behind your eyelids, aided by the stained glass. Jungkook’s fingers abandoned your clit in favor of bringing you more upright to turn your face enough for a searing kiss; his lips skated across your cheek before he found yours and you moaned into his mouth. He still thrust, ready to follow you down the other side and you clenched harder around him almost making it impossible for him to stay inside, but he had his hips hard against yours and into the counter in front of you. He braced himself against your thigh, his other hand on the counter now, and his lips still on yours as he spilled inside of you. Hot cum began to leak immediately around him and onto the floor. Usually you had your closed legs to keep it contained but now he was dripping all over the kitchen floor. Not that you minded. His moans dropped in pitch as he continued to thrust, overwhelmed by the feeling of you and his cum filling you up and then spilling out. With hips stuttering a few more times, he stilled. Without his movements you could now feel the slip of his cum as it came out of you. Slowly, he let go of your thigh and eased it to the floor. You winced as your cramped muscles begged for relief, but he was gentle in his movements, letting you adjust. He kissed your temple and the side of your face while you tried to regain your breath. Your legs felt as if they’d give out at any moment as they wobbled dangerously, but his steadfast grasp around your waist kept you upright.

The early morning sun still climbed in the sky, now out of view of the stained glass. The kitchen was yet again cast in the muted glow as it hid behind the trees, a display of leaves now covered the room in a strange dance. Jungkook was silent behind you, but still holding you close as he waited for your legs to regain their strength. The dishes sat scattered and forgotten in the sink and on the counter. The last of the soap bubbles were popping away and any hint of the colorful display was gone except for the stained glass now hanging somewhat plainly in the window.

He pulled you impossibly closer, face nuzzled into your neck as he hummed a nonsensical tune.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You were silent, knowing he had more to say. “Thank you for bringing color into my world.”

You squeezed his hand that was around your waist. You didn’t have to say much for him to understand, but what he didn’t know was how much he had brought into yours.

“If your love were a grain of sand…” you began.

“Mine,” he said with a whisper and a kiss to your exposed shoulder, “would be a universe of beaches.”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook #blind!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #established relationship #nonidol!au #slice of life

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wagner-fell · 3 years ago

Text

Mari kicked down the dressing room door with a bang so loud Kevin jumped and spilled his hot coffee cup all over himself. Hearing his yelps of pain, Astrid peaked her head out of the curtain, laughed at his expense then shut it again. Maria ignored that.

They strutted out to where the boys were sitting and struck a pose. “Can I rock cottage core or can I rock cottage core?”

Kit didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded instead. While the baby blue dress with short, ruffled sleeves looked a bit out of place paired with Mari’s bulging muscles, she looked absolutely stunning.

The Merry Hoes were located in the back room of the antique store Kevin’s family owned. The Chu’s just got a large donation of vintage clothing. Mari had just gotten their pay check from the downworlder gym she worked at. Kit and Astrid really didn’t want to do their maths homework. It was destiny.

Despite being downworlders both Blessica and Kevin still lived at home. Mari, though, lived with the rest of their pack in an old Edwardian mansion a few blocks away from school. However the five of them slept over at each other’s place of residence so often they blurred together in the young Herondale’s mind. He could really only tell them apart by their smells.

Mari’s reeked of dirty laundry as they were one of four folks on the feminine side of the gender scale out of the lycanthropy of London, Blessica excluded. Her house smelled like Ube, a type of yam her Filipino parents put in everything. Kit couldn’t complain. Ube flavoured ice cream was the best thing he’s ever eaten. Aside from Mari. Though he wasn’t usually the one… Nevermind.

Kevin’s house smelled of Longjing tea and red wine. A peculiar combination that oddly enough, worked quite well.

Astrid had two homes as her parents divorced at the age of six. Stepping into her mom’s house was like stepping into a cookie factory. Which made sense as her mom owned a bakery and lived above it. Kit didn’t know exactly what Astrid’s dad’s place smelled like, let alone looked like, but he could make an educated guess that it was similar to the Los Angeles Institute because it was in LA too.

After they separated, Miss Yang fled to Devon to dodge the possibility of seeing her ex-husband when they exchanged Astrid. Kit related to her on a deep, personal level.

Now Astrid spent her summers in America and Kit drained his battery on international phone calls.

Her three months in the USA each year helped him bond with her better when they had first been introduced. For example, her ringtone was the Perry the Platypus theme song. Blessica, Kevin and Maria had no clue what it was but when the music reached Kit’s ears, the two sang an epic duet that put Kiss Me More (the second most iconic duet in history) to shame.

“How much is this anyway,” asked Mari, turning in a circle to see if there was a price tag. In the process she sent the fabric fluttering as she went. It made them look more magical than ever.

“There is no price on fabulousness,” said Astrid. She had on loose, black dress pants, a white shirt, and black suspenders with gold blemishes.

“Yes there is,” replied Kevin. “54 euros.”

“54 euros,” exclaimed Mari.

“Well it would have been €34 but you made me spill my coffee and this shirt was 20 so..”

“Seriously, Kev. I will fuck your mom. You think I won’t?” A pause. “Wait, only twenty €20?”

“Oh, I know right! There is this incredible thrift store down on Fleet Street and-”

“Don’t care,” interrupted Mar. She took one last look in the mirror before turning back to him. “I’ll give you your parents' price, not your dramatic ass’s one.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Fine. But it’s an extra €10 for the shoes.”

Mari looked down at her tan sandals. They leaned against the door they just excited to take the footwear off. “Racist,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m literally Chinese.”

“Homophobic, then.”

“Pansexaul,” he sang.

Mari was silent for a moment before she banged on the door into the room Blessica was changing into her rose pink gown. “Blessie! Do I have permission to call Kev transphobic in your name?”

“Hey,” said Kevin, looking up from his task of rubbing a paper towel across his sheer, white shirt. “That’s cheating. Blessie, don’t listen to them!”

The nickname ‘Blessie’ was what her family exclusively called her. She turned red when they had first found out. Granted, it wasn’t hard to make Blessica blush. All she had to do was stand in Kevin’s general area.

“Blessica,” called Mari once again. When she still didn’t answer, Maria stood up and pressed their forehead against the changing room door. “You okay?”

“No,” Blessica croaked out finally. Her hoarse voice was laced with sorrow. Upon hearing her speak, Kevin abandoned any hope of saving his top and joined Mari at the door. Kit and Astrid were quick to follow.

“Hey,” said Astrid gently. “What’s wrong?”

Blessica began to sob. “The dress doesn’t fit right,” she whimpered.

“That’s okay,” soothed Kevin. “We have other sizes.”

“Kev, it doesn’t fit my body because it wasn’t made for my body. I just feel so ugly.” All the other Merry Hoes made various sounds of distress. Kit was instantly reminded of Dru,

He was suddenly fifteen again. In Ty’s bedroom as he told him of all the times she’d been told she wasn’t pretty by members of the Shadowhunter society. And all the times Emma or Julian or another member of her family had reassured her that she was. The thought occurred to Kit that maybe they weren’t Emma-y as Blessica needed them to be.

“It’s just like,” started Blessica, “I started taking Estrogen seven months ago, you know? And I still don’t have anything to show for it.”

His mind was racing a mile a minute. “Yes you do,” he said.

“I do?” she asked, sounding dubious.

“Your voice!”

“You do have a really nice voice,” agreed Astrid. “You could totally narrate audiobooks or something.”

“No it’s not,” grumbled Kevin.

“Kevin,” said Mari, glaring daggers at him. ‘Kevin’ in this case didn’t mean Kevin. It meant ‘Shut your mouth right or I will actually kill you’.

“No, not like that! It’s just…” he was blushing profusely now. “Her voice is like the rain. Most of the time it’s soft and warm and it wraps you in one big, wet hug. You can’t help but feel, well, blessed to get to feel it touching your skin.. But when it rains hard you feel every single drop land. But no matter what kind of rain it is, the impact is always enormous. Uh, yeah, her voice is like that.” There was a moment of prolonged silence, where Blessica had stopped crying but no one was brave enough to talk.

The door opened and Kit, Kevin and Astrid stumbled backwards. Mari didn’t. Stupid gorgous jock, Kit thought as she survayed her inferiourors.

Blessica stood in the open doorway. Her eyes were puffy and red. The dress looked perfect on her. Not that this style hadn’t looked perfect on Mari but their arms were so thick, they filled up the entire selve. Blessica was so petite you could see her bones clearly through the skin. It highlighted the flowness of the gown extremely well. “You guys like my voice?” Then, “why are you all staring at me, is it that bad?”

“Blessie,” said Mari. “You can’t just put on that in front of four people who like women and expect them not to stare.”

“Respectfully, of course,” added Kit.

“Just tell us if it makes you uncomfortable,” agreed Kevin.

“Step on me,” breathed Astrid.

“But then again,” said Mari, “you validate yourself too.”

“Run me over with a cement truck.”

“We can see your hot as fuck. But more importantly you have to believe you’re hot as fuck.”

“You could literally kill me and I’d get on my knees to thank you.”

Blessica was blushing as hard as Kevin now. They sheepishly smiled at each other before turning away. “Simp,” said Kit and he held out his hand. Astrid dutifully rewarded him with a high five.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am on the trans spectrum but I am not mtf. If you are and you feel misrepresented please feel free to private message me or just leave a comment tell me how I can fix it.

@the-wckd-powers @book-dragon-not-worm @thechangeling @the-blackdale @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @shelvesofgold @arangiajoan @maxboythedog @noah-herondale-lightwood @its-taff @cncnbr @sofiatheskeleton @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @adoravel-fenomeno

Let me know if I left anyone out. Also let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.

#The Merry Hoes #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #mari the werewolf #mari machado #astrid yang #blessica reyes #Kevin chu #dru blackthorn #drusilla blackthorn #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #tsc

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hurt-care · 4 years ago

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The Reunion - WW2 era fic

I've been listening to an audiobook about WWII in the UK and there's been multiple mentions of people writing in their diaries about suffering from lengthy colds as well as a discussion of the increase in casual sex during the war (especially during air raids, when it became a welcome distraction). So, let's just say I was inspired...!

Male, cold, OCs, contains 18+ content

The Reunion -

The club was positively bursting with young revellers and the sounds of a jazz band playing as couples moved across the dance floor in tight embraces, flitting in and out of shadow of the chandeliers sparkling overhead. Champagne flowed liberally, delivered by waiters in smart tuxedo jackets and white gloves. If a time-traveller had been magically transported inside, they would have no idea that outside the walls of the club there was a war on.

Making her way through the throngs of people was Katherine Marsh, or Kat to her close friends. Close at her heels was Mary Alderman, an old school chum who'd come up through London society with her. The girls wove through the dancers on route to a table up on the balcony that circled the dance floor, providing a spectacular view of the room below. Only the uppers of society generally occupied the tables here and the demand was such that often bribes had to be given to the head waiter to ensure a spot. Peter Halford, one of Kat's other longtime friends, had been in charge of the evening's transaction and now he waved cheerily from a spot in the corner as the girls approached.

“Hello, Peter!” Kat said joyfully as she sided into a chair along the wall, tucking the skirt of her silk gown around her. “Have you ordered a bottle yet or shall I do the honours?”

“It's just coming now,” Peter replied, nodding towards the approaching waiter who carried a magnum size bottle in a silver ice bucket while another waiter followed behind deftly balancing a tray of champagne coupes.

“Your timing is impeccable as ever,” Mary said with a laugh. “I'm parched.”

She flashed a smile at Peter, her eyes sparkling in the light of the crystal scones along the walls. Kat smirked knowingly at her friend. Mary had been pursuing Peter over the course of several of these evenings out on the town, but Peter remained seemingly oblivious to her advances.

Tonight, Mary was draped in layers of royal blue silk with a spectacular diamond bracelet glinting on her wrist. She looked radiant and Kat thought Peter had to be completely daft to not notice. Kat, on the other hand, had no particular beau in mind. She'd danced with dozens of men and dined at parties across the countryside around London, but no one gentleman had captured her heart. Besides, she was barely twenty and so many of the young men her age were away at service. For now, she was content with dancing and snogging sessions in dim alleyway with soldiers on leave and officers posted to city stations.

The waiter poured them all glasses of champagne and the trio toasted to health, happiness, and the victory of Britain. The chat was light and merry, with Peter filling them in on his new job at the Royal Airforce's London offices near Whitehall. At the hour neared eleven, someone took to the microphone to introduce the next band complete with a line of cabaret dancers dressed in feathers and sequins for entertainment. Mary squealed in delight as the drums kicked up the beat of a popular dance tune and she reached for Peter's hand.

“Oh, will you dance?” she asked breathlessly. “I love this song.”

Peter downed the last of his champagne glass as he stood up.

“Of course. Kat, find yourself a man and let's go.”

The two disappeared into a sea of people moving towards stairs that led to the dance floor. Kat drained her own coupe and stood, surveying the crowded tables for familiar faces or handsome strangers.

A few girls were lingering at a table of Naval officers and as the men stood and paired off with them, one man remained seated alone with a cigarette in his hand. As the duos passed by, Kat realized with a heart-dropping thud that she recognized the lone officer that had stayed behind.

Oliver Hartnett had danced with her at her first debutant ball when she was seventeen and she'd been completely enraptured by him. Two pages of her diary were dedicated to extolling his virtues, from the gentle tambour of his voice to his green eyes, from to his broad shoulders to his chestnut hair. As quickly as he'd come into her life, he'd left it again. They'd shared two dances that night and some brief conversation at a dinner party a week later, and then she hadn't seen him since. Word in the upper circles said he'd gone to Scotland to work for an aging uncle's business and he disappeared from London's upper crust.

Kat dumped the dregs of the champagne bottle into her coupe and gulped it down, feeling the rush of bubbles to her head as she bolstered her courage. She reached into her small handbag for her compact, inspecting her face and reapplying a coat of her precious lipstick, as the bright red shade was now nearly impossible to find with the war rations and so she reserved it for nights out alone.

With a smile on her face that she hoped concealed her nerves, she glided as confidently as she could over to the table.

“Ollie Hartnett, is that you?” she said over the din of the music and the crowd. The man at the table seemed startled by the interruption and he looked up at her, his face vacant for a moment. Then, a grin spread across his face.

“Oh my goodness, Miss Marsh,” he said, standing suddenly and extending his hand.

She laughed.

“It's Kat, please,” she said, taking his broad hand in her and shaking it. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course, please do,” he said, fumbling to get around the vacant chairs nearby in order to pull out one for her. She folded herself gracefully into the seat, crossing her ankles as her mother had always instructed. For once, she was glad she'd listened to Mary's constant chatter about fashion and had worn the deep emerald green silk gown with the black trim that she'd purchased for the previous winter's New Year Eve celebration at Mary's family estate. It set off her figure nicely and contrasted with her auburn hair and milk-white complexion.

Oliver was shaking her head, still grinning.

“What a surprise,” he said, his gentle voice barely audible over the music. “You look well.”

She smiled back.

“I am! Well, as well as anyone is in London at war, I suppose. You've joined up, I see. On leave?”

“For a few more weeks,” he replied, taking a slow drag of his almost burnt-out cigarette. “I'm posted at Brighton, usually.”

“And you're not on the arms of a dozen girls dancing your night away?” she teased.

He snubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray and shook his head.

“Honestly, I wasn't keen on going out at all but the other gents insisted.”

“If I recall, you were quite popular on the dance floor,” she continued. “What's changed?”

“Just a bit under the weather, that's all,” he replied. “Haven't felt up to much dancing tonight, but I'll spare one for you, for old time's sake.”

She felt herself blush.

“Not yet,” she said. “I have to hear all about where you disappeared to that summer. You left a lot of us wondering why one of our dashing debs up and left London at the height of the season.”

“It's not a particularly exciting story, but if I'm going to tell it we ought to do it over a drink.”

He beckoned to a waiter who returned shortly with two cocktails on a black lacquered tray and a serving of peach melba for each of them.

Oliver detailed how the rumours were true; he'd left London for the banal task of running the business operations for his uncle's small factory in Glasgow. A year ago, as the ferocity of the war had begun to increase, he'd enlisted in Royal Navy and left the factory in the hands of the old foreman and his cousin, a savvy young woman named Rose.

More than once during the story he'd paused momentarily to clear his throat with a cough or take a sip of his cocktail to revive his waining voice. Kat felt a pang of sympathy now that she was close and could see clearly the weariness in his face. Though it was spring, the weather had been dreadful and frigid for weeks and many people she knew had been battling heavy colds.

She told him about her adventures in London with Mary and Peter, and about her volunteering posting with the Women's Auxiliary Service where she worked to find temporary housing for those displaced by air raids.

When they'd finished their peach melbas and cocktails, the band struck up a lively tune and Oliver appeared to summon some energy with a broad smile aimed at Kat.

“This is the one,” he said, extending a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

She nodded, trying not to let her rush of enthusiasm show too greatly.

He led her down to the dance floor and took her into his arms, leading the gentle sway as they danced among the other couples. His broad hand rested on the small of her back and Kat felt a rush of heat to her body as they touched, cheeks almost against one another. The gentle warmth of his breath tickled her neck and she was sure he was about to lean in to kiss her there.

His voice mumbled something deep and low into her ear but she couldn't discern it over the music.

“Mmm?” she replied.

“Oh Christ, sorry,” she heard him say and suddenly he was moving swiftly away from her, his one hand leaving her back and his other dropping its grip from hers.

Eh-TSGHT! He turned his face into the sleeve of his officer's uniform, sneezing inaudibly to her as the rest of the dance floor continued their rhythmic sway.

“So sorry,” he shouted, leaning back so she could hear him. He reached into his pants pocket for a handkerchief, which he dabbled briefly under his nose.

“Sorry,” he repeated as he took up his embrace once more.

“It's okay,” she said into his ear. “I hope you don't feel too poorly.”

“No,” he said into hers, his lips almost brushing against her. “Better now.”

She leaned herself closer against him and he pressed his lips to her neck. She sighed with delight, feeling all the rush of emotions that she'd had when they'd first danced. His body was more muscular and square now, without the lanky lines he'd had as an eighteen year old.

Tilting her head upwards, she met his lips and they kissed briefly.

He leaned over to speak into her ear again.

“I hope I'm not catching.”

“I don't care,” she said and captured his lips again. The kiss deepened and a couple nearby sided away to give them a moment of privacy.

The song ended and Katherine stayed in the embrace of Oliver's arms as the next began.

He looked down at her with a soft, tired expression.

“I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid all this noise and such is too much for me tonight.”

“Can you stay up a little longer?” she asked. “There's a nice restaurant not too far from here. We could go and have a drink there and talk. It's much quieter.”

It was past midnight now and while Oliver looked like he might consider declining in favour of being tucked up in bed, he nodded and smiled.

She grinned back at him and kissed his cheek.

“I'm so glad. I'll find my friends to tell them I'm off. Meet me by the doors? Would you be a dear and get my coat for me?”

She fished the small coatcheck tag from her handbag.

After she'd shouted her goodbyes to Mary and Peter (who looked very cozy together on the dance floor, she noted with pleasure), she found Oliver leaning against a wall by the exit with her coat over his arm and his own Navy-issued wool peacoat already on. He held up her coat to help her into it and offered his arm to her, walking at her side out into the cool spring night.

The air was clear and crisp, with a half-moon overhead. The streets were brutally dark thanks to the blackout and they made their way clumsily along the road, squinting to see landmarks in the dim moonlight.

“It's down to the left, one more block,” she said as they passed the entrance to another dance club where the only light came from several cigarettes that glowed as young people poured in and out from the doors and slipped behind blackout curtains into the well-lit hall.

“Can we pause a moment,” Oliver asked. “Sorry, just a moment.”

She stopped, turning to look at him.

“Sorry,” he repeated, reaching for his handkerchief. She could see him silhouetted in the dim moonlight as his shoulders trembled and he shook his head for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he pitched forward with a wrenching sneeze.

Hurhhh-TSGHXTT!

Unable to mask the sound, he gave a brief but noisy blow into the handkerchief afterwards before hastily tucking it into his coat pocket.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, taking her arm up again. She gave him a light squeeze, leaning against his side as she did so.

“Don't apologize,” she said. “I'm only sorry to hear you so poorly. Blasted cold seems to be going around everywhere.”

“The boys in my unit said that if I can't spend a night out with a head cold, there's no way I'd last through a month at sea battling the Germans,” said Oliver, his voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat with a cough. “I suppose that's true.”

“Well, we'll find you something warm to drink at the restaurant and that should revive you,” Kat said cheerfully.

They were just rounding the last corner onto the street where the restaurant was located when a sound split the air. The wail of the air raid sirens began their raised pitch, increasing to a loud din of pulsing noise.

They paused in the street, stunned. It shouldn't have been entirely a surprise; the sirens were a regular occurrence in the city but neither one of them had encountered the alert while out on the street.

In the darkness, a voice shouted authoritatively.

“To your shelters, please! Nearest public shelter is the Piccadilly Circus station. To your shelters please!”

The figure of an air raid warden with a metal helmet on passed by.

“Which way is Piccadilly?” Oliver asked.

Kat glanced up and down the dark street.

“My rooms are only two or so more blocks past here,” she said. “If we hurry, we should be fine. There's a cellar in the back.”

Gripping his arm tightly, she led the way down the road. Several times they nearly collided with others making their way to safety. As they neared the house where she rented lodgings, the sky began to shine with searchlights and in the distance, the sound of anti-aircraft guns began to crackle. The bliss of dancing and the haze of champagne cleared from Kat's head as she steered them down an alley between some homes and to a metal hatch that covered the entrance to the cellar. She tugged it open and hovered a foot over the void, finding the top step.

“Six steps down. Pull the door shut behind you,” she said to Oliver. Her hand trailed along the earthen edge of the wall until it met the edge of a candlestick and a pack of matches. She struck one alight as Oliver shut the hatch with a loud bang.

The tiny chamber glowed in the candlelight, illuminating the stone and soil room. Oliver was breathing heavily, almost wheezing. Katherine tipped the lit candle to light others, gradually brightening the room enough to see without too much strain.

“Sit,” she insisted, gesturing to a small crate topped with a cushion. “Catch your breath. I'll put some tea on.”

Hhh-TSGHHH!

The sound of the sneeze startled her and she looked over in time to see Oliver building up to a second. He tipped forward, nose nestling into the folds of his waiting handkerchief.

Ehhh—hhehhTSXHHT! “Bless you!” she said earnestly. “Are you warm enough? There's plenty of blankets. My landlady, Mrs. Beecher, is up north visiting her sister and the other girl who rents rooms is at her family home for the week. So it's just you and me here unless we get some surprise guests from next door.”

“No, I'm fine,” he said quietly, wiping his nose. “Sorry.”

“I don't mind a bit of sniffling,” she said teasingly. “You don't need to keep apologizing.”

“Have you had to spend many nights down here?” he asked, surveying the cellar. It was appointed with provisions for the three woman who lived above plus extras for any visitors who might end up sheltering there. Two wooden bunks were stacked against one wall, each with pillows and blankets and thin mattresses. Another mattress was rolled and stored in a nearby trunk with additional linens. A small table held a kettle on a fuel-powered heater and several teacups. There was a deck of cards, a basket of knitting, and a lidded chamberpot. Someone had cheekily hung a framed piece of embroidery that read “Home Sweet Home.”

“Oh, I've lost count,” Kat said as she set the kettle to boil once she'd filled it with water from one of the three large canteens by the steps that led outside. “This is only the second time I've ended up down here in an evening gown, though.”

Once the kettle was heating, she opened a chest and took out a wool jumper and a pair of socks.

“Good thing I'm prepared,” she added.

Oliver watched as she sat on a wooden chair and unstrapped her high heel shoes and slid her hand up under her gown to unclip her precious nylon stockings. Careful not to snag them, she rolled them down her legs and pulled on the socks.

He laughed as she put the jumper on over her evening gown, put her coat back on top of that, and donned a pair of Wellington rubber boots. She struck a pose for him.

“You'd be the toast of all the fashion magazines,” he declared.

His chuckle turned to a cough that sounded strained and painful. She frowned at him and shook her head.

“I'd say you should've followed your own ideas and stayed home instead of the advice of your mates,” she said. “But I have to admit I've awfully glad I ran into you.”

He recovered from the coughing spell and looked at her with affection.

“I'm glad too,” he said. She poured the hot water from the kettle into a teapot to steep and selected two teacups.

Outside, the din of the air raid sirens had ended. There was the sound of distant explosions, but for the time being they were far from the action.

“I'm afraid I've no milk to offer but we have a bit of honey.”

“That'd be lovely, thanks,” he said.

She poured them each a cup and sat opposite him, savouring the warm tea. He drank his own cup, clearly soothed by the hot liquid. He dabbed at his nose a few times with his handkerchief as it began to run from the warmth.

When the cups were empty, they sat in silence for a moment. A bomb exploded somewhere a few blocks away and the candles flickered as the shockwave trembled through the earth. The remaining teacups on the table rattled against each other. Kat closed her eyes for a moment, sighing.

“Are you frightened?” Oliver asked.

“No, I don't think so,” she said. “I suppose I always am, a little. But not terribly.”

She set her teacup down on the table and moved to sit on the bottom bunk bed, patting the mattress beside her. He stood and moved to her side. The next thing she knew, they were kissing, his hands were in her hair and she had a hand on his chest. She kicked off the boots and pulled up her dress so she could sit astride his lap. He kissed down her neck and tugged her coat off, his hand going under her jumper and stroking her breasts through the silk of her gown.

She exhaled with pleasure, starting to slowly grind against his hips. She reached for the waistband of his trousers and he helped her with his belt. He made a soft moaning noise as she fumbled with the buttons at his fly and found her way downwards. His lips brushed her shoulder, pressing kisses where the neck of her jumper was stretched to the side. A brief cough escaped him, puffing against her skin. He muttered an apology and she murmured a sweet assurance as she began to stroke him.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly. He pulled her arms upwards and guided the jumper off over her head. She pushed his coat off him and made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, tugging that off too. He urgently shed his shoes and trousers as she stood and slipped off the silk gown revealing a satin bra and knickers with mother-of-pearl buttons.

He watched her hungrily as she slid out of the knickers and climbed back onto the mattress, guiding his pants off his hips. They kissed tenderly and she settled down on top of him, hips rising to meet hips. He made that same low moaning noise and she felt her body jolt with pleasure, hands roaming through his chestnut curls.

He made love to her urgently as the sound of bombs echoed outside. They moved together, breath increasing to gasps. His nose was running freely and he briefly sniffled and pressed it against his own shoulder to rub it. She kissed his neck and felt the expanse of his chest press against hers as he took a sharp breath. His body shuddered under her as he sneezed a restrained outburst, clearly trying to keep the explosion minimal.

Ngh-GHXT!

She moaned involuntarily as the spasm thrust him against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath. “Sorry.”

“Please,” she gasped. “Oliver!”

He sniffled thickly and then resumed with vigour until they both lay panting and shivering on the bed. He looked utterly exhausted but there was a smile on his lips. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“You sweet thing,” she whispered. “As if you weren't exhausted at the start of the evening.”

She slipped out of the bed with a blanket around her shoulders and found his shirt and socks and underthings on the ground.

“Best put at least your socks on before you drop off entirely,” she said tenderly, helping him dress before they both slipped under the quilts again.

She woke at some ungodly hour to the sound of nose-blowing and the roar of the 'all clear' siren. From feel, she could tell Ollie was sitting up in bed, straining to clear his nose with his sodden handkerchief. It was pitch black in the shelter and she had no idea how long they'd been asleep.

She managed to find the matches and lit a candle. Oliver sounded dreadfully congested and by the dim light of the single candle, she could see his nose was red and angry-looking at the edges.

“Oh, love,” she said, leaving the candle on the bedside table and climbing back under the quilts next to him. “How do you feel?”

He exhaled noisily.

“Rather poorly, I'm afraid,” he said hoarsely. “I hope for your sake it's not catching.”

She squinted at the wristwatch she kept wrapped on the bedpost. It was half-past four.

“It's still early but there's the all-clear. Do you want to get rugged up in my bed upstairs or stay here.”

He folded the handkerchief and tucked it at his side, snuggling back down beside her.

“That answers that,” she said, tucking his head against her breast. She stroked his hair and planted a kiss there. “Try to get some more rest, darling. I'll take good care of you.”

#dustyfic #snzfic

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mysterytickingegos · 4 years ago

Text

Roadtrip

Pairing: Wilford Warfstache x Reader

Genre: Fluff. Like so god damn fluffy. The fluffiest thing this angst-lover will ever write. TOOTH ROTTING- okay you get the point.

Word Count: 1,710

Summary: Your relationship with the strange TV personality naturally leads to some pretty fun adventures, but this one might just go down in history as your favorite.

Anonymous Request: If you have time, could you please do 10, 17, and 20 with either Wilford or Yancy (and they/them pronouns)? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 I love your writing btw ❤️

Authors Note: I think it’s safe to say I’m out of the ficlet mindset after this one. I got an idea and got waaay carried away but hopefully no one minds! Maybe a bit out of character? I’m not completely sure.

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A gif of Wilford Warfstache from the short “Warfstache Interviews Markipler” screwing with his hair. End Description.]

The sun wasn’t even up yet, that was your biggest concern. Not that there could be some kind of emergency but that someone had the audacity to knock on your door before the sun was even up. You swung the door open to see Wilford standing there, looking much more casual than usual and grinning the moment he saw you. “Good morning, sunshine! Ready to go?”

You sighed and let your defenses down. “To go?”

“Yes, to go! To go to the big thing in Chicago!”

“Yeah I remember that, I thought we were leaving at six thirty.”

“It is six thirty.” He said, glancing down at his watch to check.

You stared at him for a moment in sleepy confusion before it finally hit you. “You meant six in the morning??”

“Well of course I meant the morning, can you imagine the traffic that time of day?” He chuckled at the thought and let himself inside. “Besides, the network made it very clear I can’t miss this. Best not to take chances.”

“...You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grumbled, fighting back a yawn as you left to get dressed and grab the bag you packed the night before.

You’d been dating Wil for somewhere close to two years at this point, and you’d been friends for longer than that, and you still never had any idea what to expect from him. There was always a new adventure or shenanigans for him to pull you into, just waiting around the corner. This was one of those times.

When you came back downstairs he took your bag, and your hands in his once it was securely over his shoulder. “Come on, cheer up! I know you took the week off so I made sure this would be worthwhile, planned some stops, made sure we had plenty of time.”

You stopped to lock up your apartment before you two started walking downstairs. “What kind of stops?”

“Sweetheart, you are just gonna have to wait and see.” He told you with a wink.

MONDAY

If Wil hadn’t stopped at a gas station, you probably wouldn’t have been able to keep yourself awake at the start of the drive, but thankfully you took the opportunity to get yourself some caffeine and something for you both to eat. After that it was pretty fun, with music blasting and the windows cracked. Every half hour or so one of you would turn the music down and get into another conversation. You had both been so busy the past few months that you had plenty to talk about. Though, the entire time he made a point to keep a folded up piece of paper out of your reach.

The first detour was through the Las Vegas strip, the only stop being a cozy barbecue place off of an exit. But it was fun to see the grand casinos and attractions nonetheless.

“Okay, this is amazing,” You said, pointing to what was left of your sandwich. “What’s the story behind this place?”

“I’ve actually never been here before, just saw it had four and a half stars.” In the middle of his explanation, he swiped a fry off your plate. “I actually haven’t stayed in Vegas since before all the smart...google...haberdashery.”

You stopped halfway to taking a drink, biting back a smile. “Haberdashery?”

He smiled back, shaking his head at you. “Don’t start.”

“So you really planned this out then, huh?”

“Yeah! I have a whole list of places we’re stopping. Did you expect anything less from me?”

“I probably shouldn’t answer that.” You teased. He gasped in mock offense before both of you burst out laughing.

“Fair enough.”

Once you got back on the road it was an extremely long eight hours, at least in the second half after another gas station stop. Your legs were cramped up and the music was getting a bit tedious and had to be turned down. Wilford assured you it was the longest stretch in the whole trip, but even he was tired by the time you guys got to stop in a small Chinese restaurant on the border of Colorado. “I should’ve picked a closer hotel.” He mumbled through a yawn, waiting somewhat impatiently on the ‘meal for two’ special. “I really didn’t think it’d be this late.”

“How far is it?” You asked, spinning your straw in your glass.

“‘Nother two hours, I think.”

You nodded, deciding to step in. “You could barely keep your eyes open when we pulled in, you should let me drive.”

“You’re probably right...” He seemed hesitant, but neither one of you wanted this to end in a car crash. “But don’t look at the list.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Jeez”

The next two hours were nice, as it was dark now and there were hardly any cars. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Wilford to doze off in the passenger seat after he put in the next address and you played an audiobook at a low volume to keep yourself focused. Finally the GPS buzzed; “Your destination is on the left.”

You pulled into the lot of Riverwalk inn and nudged your partner’s shoulder until he finally started to stir. “Hey, c’mon we’re here.”

TUESDAY

You heard an alarm start going off on the other side of the bed and let out a groan, pulling a pillow over your head. “What time is it?”

“It’s eight, get up and get dressed and I’ll find someplace to eat.” And with that Wilford was up and out of bed, no problems.

You on the other hand... “We can’t even sleep in a little bit?”

“Not unless you want to start crossing places off the list, my dear.” He started going through his things to look for something new to wear. “We still have to make it there by Friday...for the thing.”

You grumbled some more, finally dragging yourself out of bed after hearing a couple promises of fresh coffee. “Wilford Warfstache, this ‘thing’ better be the best thing that’ll ever happen to you.”

“I already know it will be!” He said in a sing-song voice as you grabbed your bag and vanished into the bathroom.

“What’s the plan for today anyway?” You called out.

“Nothing much, a couple breaks here and there but it’ll take most of the day to get to-” You heard him cut himself off, “to...the next place. But things’ll get good tomorrow, I promise.”

And when you drove into Oklahoma city that night, you pondered all the possibilities.

WEDNESDAY

It was much easier to get up early, mostly out of excitement. After you two stopped at a random chain restaurant to get something for breakfast, you pushed for answers again. “Come on, you have to tell me now that we’re here.”

“Well, actually I couldn’t decide.”He tore his napkin in two and pull a pen out of what seemed to be thin air. You were about to ask if he even realized he did that, as he usually didn’t, but he held both his now-paper-filled hands out. “So, you pick. Left or right, whatever the paper says is what we’ll do.”

��Okay...left.”

He tossed the other paper over his shoulder and read what yours said. “Ooh good choice.” You tried to lean over the table to see it but he closed his hand quickly, leaning closer to you. “Now, Y/n, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you want to kiss me.”

“I’ll kiss you if you tell me where we’re going.”

He laughed at you and slipped out of the booth without hesitation. “Nope! Not ruining the surprise.”

He was very insistent that it didn’t happen, even convincing you to close your eyes once you were close. He guided you out of the car, and finally let you open your eyes. You looked up at the big green sign.

“OKC Zoo and Botanical Garden.”

“Oh my- are you serious?” You had to stop yourself from jumping up in excitement, and grabbed his hand to pull him inside.

You were still beaming hours after you two left, showing him how all the photos turned out over dinner in Kansas City.

THURSDAY

The audiobook had hit a lull, and you were too sick of pop music to switch it. Wilford was much more quiet than usual, so you kept to yourself for a while after lunch, eventually nodding off for a good half-hour.

“We made it!” Your boyfriend cheered, shutting off the car as you sat up straight. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

“Nah it’s fine. We’re here?”

“Yep! We are officially, finally in Chicago. Ready to stretch your legs?”

You bought some ice cream from a Dessert Dealer before driving down to the architecture center to walk around, even deciding to catch a movie before you checked into the hotel.

“This was the best. week. ever!” You exclaimed, flopping onto the bed.

Wil chuckled and laid down beside you. “It’s not over yet.”

“Well you said no detours planned on the way back, and you’ll be busy with the thing tomorrow, so...safe to say we can call it.” You shrugged, flipping onto your stomach and laying your head on your arms. “What is it anyway? A speech? Big grand opening?”

He didn’t answer you at first, contemplating the answer. “Truth be told...” He started. “The network has no idea I’m here. I just wanted to surprise you with all of this. Because...”

“Because?”

He put up a finger, staring down at his watch until-

FRIDAY

“Because, happy anniversary.” He said with a grin,

You had to pause, doing the math in your head, before sitting up straight. “That is...the sweetest thing anybody’s ever done for me. God, I love you.”

He pulled you into a hug before you started tearing up. “I love you too...In fact I didn’t think it was possible to love someone so much.”

“Me either,” You admitted, pulling back to wipe your face with your sleeve. “Happy anniversary, Wil.”

Little did you know that despite the list being complete, there was still one more surprise in store.

You know, considering the ‘top secret list’ you couldn’t look at was just to keep your attention away from the tiny black box in his suitcase?

#Wilford Warfstache x reader #Wilford Warfstache x you #markiplier egos x reader #I'd like to formally apologize for the ending I just couldn't help myself #no beta readers we die like men #Let's hope grammarly didn't let me down

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

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Time is Irrelevant (1/?): The Mystery of Psychology

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7k

Part Summary: Y/N is an undergraduate student double majoring in history and English. While she’s cramming away at her research paper she’s approached by a rather peculiar man.

Masterlist

“History, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness.”

- James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans

I’ve never imagined myself as one of the greats. They’ve lived before my time and their legacies will outlive me long after I’m gone. The greatest task I can accomplish is do them justice by telling their stories. I must immerse myself in their lives and hope to influence others with their work. I’m merely the surface that the puzzle of history rests upon. Over time, I’ve collected facts from as many historical periods as possible and have memorized them.

I’ve always found history easy to retain. I believe it to be a blessing. Once I’ve heard, read, or watched any kind of information about history I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. My gift made the subject easy for me in school. I also excelled in English. Words resonate with people for generations, they’re needed to retell history. A simple sentence or everyday speech may end up in every history book across the country. Words are equally as influential to our history as our actions. Hence why I’m a history and English double-major. With history comes life lessons, valuable lessons that can only be learned from past experiences. English, words, can impact an entire generation or many, thus influencing history. By telling the stories of the past, I hope to better the future.

___________________________________________________

As I review the archives on the Crusades in front of me, my fingers tap against the table to the beat of the music coming from my earbuds in the otherwise silent archives. Many of my friends have never understood how I’m able to read and listen to music at the same time. What can I say? I’m talented. Disregard the fact that I’ve read this book fifty times over so I could practically recite it from memory. I’m kinda mixing wars here by listening to Hamilton while reading about the French and Indian War. Oh well, there are no rules against the action.

Suddenly, there is a tap on my shoulder. I assume someone must be able to hear my music and is asking for me to turn it down. I close my book as I remove one of my earbuds and peer over my shoulder. I lift my eyes and meet the gaze of a rather handsome individual.

“I’m sorry is it too loud?” I apologize.

“Not at all,” he assures me with a gentle smile and I take note of his accent. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of information on the French Revolution?”

The gentleman is lucky, an average person wouldn’t know the archives by heart. I’ve spent nearly every day up here since the early days of freshman year.

“You’re on the right floor so good job.” I joke and point my finger towards the proper section in the middle of the room near me. “Most of the books on the French Revolution that I’ve been able to find are over there but there are more throughout the library upstairs. Nonetheless, those should be a good start.”

He grins, pausing for a moment as he stares me in the eye. “Thank you.” His focus travels to my book sitting on the table. “The Last of The Mohicans, good choice.”

He leaves, as quickly as he appeared, towards the section I suggested. That man is something else entirely. He’s likely a professor considering he’s down here and his considerably formal attire. Only a professor would wear a bow tie. Then again, he appears awfully young. A TA perhaps? That wouldn’t explain his accent though. He could be a visiting professor. Plus, oddly enough, he knows of my book, not many people I know do.

I pop my earbud back in and dive back into reading. The whole interaction was short but interesting nonetheless. I’m not sure what it was about him but he was different than most. It could be that he had this awkward charm and I’m not used to people being so polite. For a young man, he seemed old fashioned. His wording was more articulate, could be because he’s British. Normally a guy would say ‘uh hey so like, could you…. um… show me where the books are for the French Revolution or whatever it’s called? If they have an audiobook or DVD that’s cool too!’

Okay, that’s it, I can’t focus after that guy talked to me. I’ve read the same sentence five times over. It’s best just head home, it’s getting late anyway.

The sun is setting as I make my way back to the apartment. I take the more scenic route by the original brick buildings from the colonial era. Mainly because I like the brick path, especially now that it’s fall and the leaves coat the ground. I’m not surprised to see some boys playing football on the lawn in the center of campus. My first thought is how American they appear, with the crisp leaves scattering the ground, everyone in their duck boots, and playing football. I feel as if I’m in a Lands End catalog.

On the way home, I stop by the student union to fetch a late dinner to take home. I shuffle through the music on my phone, trying to find the perfect playlist for the walk back. I approach the door to the building and the person ahead of me holds it for me as I stare down at my phone.

“Thank you” I mumble absentmindedly.

“Oh well hello again!”

I look up and believe it or not it’s the same man from before. I take notice of his exquisite eyes, their long lashes, and his multicolored uniqueness. I’ve never seen anything like them before. They’re like marbles. A warm chestnut shade toward the cornea but then fades into a ring of emerald that transitions into a deep ocean blue. He has every possibility in one.

“Oh hey!” I respond politely, “did you find the book you were looking for?”

He shows me the hardcover book in his hand. “Yeah, thank you so much for your help earlier!” He holds out his hand for me to shake, “it’s nice to meet you...”

“Y/N,” I answer, accepting his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too!”

I’m not the kind for such formal introductions. In this day and age, there are rarely introductions just frequent run-ins until everyone becomes acquainted.

The gentleman stares at me for a second, visibly deep in thought. He continues to hold my hand, but I’m too awkward to remove it. Then, snaps himself out of it, parting from my hand. “Beautiful name,” he compliments, charmingly.

Normally, I would imagine girls swoon over a compliment from a man with his foreign accent. American girls love a pretty English accent. Yet, his attention makes me feel on display. I’ve never been fond of physical compliments. I never know how to respond to them.

“Are you meeting someone?” I ask.

He looks confused but realizes I’m referring to the building. “Oh! No, no I’m here to get something to eat.”

This was nice, but now I’m over being polite because I’m starving. Plus, I’ve been in the archives practically all day working on my research paper for Medieval History for I’m beyond tired.

“Oh okay…” I stumble over my words, “well, it was nice to you!” I nod, preparing to walk away.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks abruptly before I’m able to escape.

It’s ironic, I’m a mess and he’s wanting my company. The image of me schlepping around this ten-pound backpack wasn’t off-putting to him, really?

“Awesome!” He declares, not giving me the chance to decline his offer before he ushers me inside. “I’ll meet you over there after you get your food!” He adds, pointing over to a specific table.

I was really looking forward to eating in my bed at home, but I can’t decline anyone and risk hurting their feelings. Sticking to my word, I head over to where he instructed after I grab my usual sushi order. Sure enough, he’s already seated at the table. I notice the fact we’re in the far back corner separated from the workers or the other few eaters this time of night. I place my bag next to me on the floor as I get situated.

“You like sushi?” He inquires.

I sway my head from side to side, “Americanized sushi. The traditional raw fish I’ve never tried.”

He chuckles lightly, “one day you’ll have to try it. It’s surprisingly not as bad as one might assume.”He speaks so smoothly. Does it come naturally or does he have to work at it?

“One day,” I sigh with a smile. I would love to see the world and experience everything it has to offer. Yet, I’m a poor college student with responsibilities.

“What’s your major?” He asks, creating casual conversation.

“I’m a double major, English, and history,” I nod.

He raises his eyebrows, appearing amazed. “Impressive!”

“What about you? What do you do?” I’m purposefully vague enough with my questions because I still don’t know whether he’s a student or a professor. He could pass as a graduate student and that’s what has me stumped.

“Oh uh...” he stammers, rubbing his hands together in his lap. “I’m a doctor.”

He’s a professor then. I’m having a social dinner with a professor... is this allowed? “Oh okay,” I try to remain unfazed. “What is it that you teach?”

I’m assuming he must teach history considering the search for the French Revolution book. Then again, I don’t know of any English professors in the department. The topic isn’t really one for some light reading. He could be required to take a history course, though I doubt it.

“Psychology,” he rushes out an answer.

Do I ask or is that too bold? Then again, I’ve never really cared about superficial social standards.

I lean forward in my chair, resting my arms on the table as curiosity appears on my face. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you looking for books on the French Revolution earlier?”

He hesitates as if he’s evaluating my question. His features go blank then shift to sternness. Did I say something wrong? Was I not being polite when I asked that?

“I was picking it up for a friend,” he answers plainly, questionably.

I don’t believe him, not for a second. I’m no expert in psychology but his eyes glanced to his right while his voice went up a little at the end of his sentence. He’s lying. My heart quickens and I do everything in my power to remain calm. I’m going to play along and act oblivious. Perhaps, he has a good reason for lying.

“I was just wondering because you said you were in Psychology,” I say light-heartedly, waving my hand to dismiss the matter.

He sighs deeply, placing his napkin on the table. “They said you’d be hard to fool.” His eyes meet mine with a smirk as he leans back in his chair. “You don’t miss a thing do you?” He snickers.

His words are so ominous they make my breathing hitch as I drop my chopsticks.

“What?” I calmly question, reaching for my back slowly.

In a swift movement, he grabs my hand on the table and points a metal shiny thing at my face. I attempt to yank myself free, but he just squeezes tighter. I look into the light radiating from the buzzing object. Then, suddenly, my sight goes dark. This can’t be good.

_____________________________

Masterlist

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #matt smith #time travel #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x you #doctor x reader #doctor who imagine #imagine #fanfic #doctor who fanfic

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

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Love Languages

Pairing: Hinata X Reader

Words: 1K

Summary: How you and Hinata express the love languages of your relationship.

Notes: This is timeskip!Hinata, but it doesn’t really have any spoilers. More self-indulgence. This is different from my usual style, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to write. I tried to do all the love languages justice, but I feel like I had favoritism toward my own lmao

Masterlist

Physical Touch: There was a magnetic force that pulled you and Hinata together-a desire to constantly be connected even in the simplest of ways. Absentmindedly, when the two of you were close your bodies would find a way to reach each other: lazily intertwining fingers, brushing knuckles softly against lower backs, placing hands atop of thighs under tables, or lying forearms across the other’s lap to trace designs against sensitive skin. When Hinata brought you to ornate dinner parties his team was forced to attend you often doodled across his skin hidden by formal tablecloths while he humored stuffy partygoers in conversation-those that only spoke to him for his professional athlete status. You enjoyed how he’d smirk mid-conversation when you drew the kanji for love repeatedly on his wrist, admiring the goosebumps that appeared across his forearm at your featherlight touch. Your eyes would meet his amber stare, filled with adoration and love, and as your heart fluttered in your chest you could no longer imagine anyone else giving you this reaction.

Words of Affirmation: It was the early morning when confessions fell most frequently from your lips. As you leaned heavily against each other throughout your morning routine with sleep hanging desperately to your eyes. You would work together to create some semblance of a breakfast and words would come tumbling out as easy as a breath: when Hinata gifted you a steaming cup of coffee, when you handed him a spatula that was just a little out of reach, if you walked out of the bathroom with the scent of your favorite breakfast wafting through the air, when you rested your head against his broad shoulders, or even when Hinata’s brain defogged just enough for him to focus on your existence propped on the counter top watching him work. The timing was never consistent, but when the feelings came so did the words. Those filter-less moments, when it felt like only you two existed, were probably the best moments of your life.

Receiving Gifts: Sometimes you’ll be heading home from work and you’ll see something that is so blatantly Hinata you can’t help but buy it. For example, one night while walking home you spotted a random shop window and did a double take when staring back at you was an MSBY Hinata plushie. You nearly took out several people with your sudden sharp turn, but the way Hinata’s face lit up when you brought it home was well worth getting chewed out by a random old lady. In exchange, Hinata brings you gifts from every city his volleyball career takes him. He tries to make them as random as possible-last time presenting a pink elephant mug that said ‘#1 grand daughter’ while saying ‘I mean you are’. So, you hate when the bed has far too much empty space, but look forward to the ridiculousness that you can add to the shelves in your shared bedroom.

Quality Time: If there’s a volleyball game that Hinata wants to watch, whether for fun or to analyze a team he’d be playing soon, you almost always watch it. Often you curl up on the couch against his chest and relax to the rhythm of his heart as he explains the game in great detail to you-player’s movements, techniques, positions, and how that squares up to him and each player individually. You hum along, but rarely ask questions, knowing he was speaking for himself rather than actually desiring your response. You just enjoy hearing him speak so passionately about volleyball.

Likewise, when you sit cross-legged on the couch with dinner and rant excitedly to him about your latest obsession he listens to you with bright eyes. Sometimes he even surprises you the next day by casually bringing up he’d listened to whatever album, book-audiobook because Hinata and reading didn’t mix-or looked up the show you’d been talking about. He wants to learn what makes you happy and even if it’s not something he particularly enjoys he likes knowing what you’re talking about when you rant. You appreciate it more than he’ll ever know.

Acts of Service: There was an unspoken rule in your home that if someone had an obvious weight to their shoulders or their expression was near breaking, the other would pick up the household tasks. It didn’t matter the reason-annoying coworkers, family, or teammates; an abnormally heavy schedule; or Hinata’s game not going as planned-if you could make life a little easier for the other than that was the goal. It was the simple tasks like dishes, laundry, picking up groceries, and handling appointments that meant the world in those moments. You still remember the night that Hinata came home from a week long grueling tournament to see his favorite meal warm on the table. He paused before sluggishly dropping his bag on the ground and wrapping his arms around you for several long minutes. You stood there without speaking and let him feel whatever it was he needed until he kissed you on the top of the head in thanks. You both rarely spoke the thanks aloud in those moments of stress or irritation, but it showed in other ways-fingers intertwined under tables, touches far gentler than normal, or maybe one of you would find a sticky note or two hidden in your gym or lunch bag that held loving words. You both knew caring for each other was necessary for the other to be their best.

In the end, you never cared how your love was displayed as long as Hinata knew it existed, and that you had no plans of leaving any time soon.

#hinata x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shōyō #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo x y/n #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#hinata shoyo imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu

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reidsexualwriting · 4 years ago

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Be My Eyes

Requested by lemonypink via my ask box: I was wondering if I could make a request? Maybe it’s a Spencer Reid/Matthew Gray Gubler x reader (gender neutral) and the reader has a disability (mute/blind/deaf/whatever) and he’s assisting them through it.

I was inspired by a TikTok I saw about this app called Be My Eyes, which connects seeing people with blind individuals in order to help with daily tasks. I thought it'd be cute to write a little fic inspired by it. :) Also, for the sake of simplicity I won't be describing all of the intricacies of using a cell phone as a blind person (i.e. voice commands, text to speech, etc.). Just imagine it's there! As seen in the request, reader in gender neutral. Also trying writing in first person this time rather than second, so please bear with me. Phew, that was a lot. On to the fic!

Title: Be My Eyes Pairing: Reid x Reader Rating: K+ Words: 715 Warnings: Reader is blind in this fic. Nothing else I can think of.

My fingers ran over the edge of the stack of mail I had retrieved from the mailbox after work. There were eight envelopes if I was counting right. I sighed, picked up my phone and sent a text to Spencer.

Are you free? Need help with mail.

Realistically, the stack could wait. It wasn't likely any important mail was coming in today or even this week. Spencer was on a case, so I felt a little selfish asking him to help me with such a menial task. It had been a long couple of days without him in the apartment, so I brushed it aside. I'm sure he wanted an excuse to talk to me, too, but if he couldn't help I always understood.

I put on an audiobook and leaned back into the leather couch. I called for Dallas (my guide dog) and he immediately came running to lay at my feet. As the chapter I was listening to was ending, the narrator was interrupted by my ringtone for Spencer. I picked up immediately. "Hey you," I answered, holding my phone up in front of me. "How's the case going? Dallas and I miss you." I pointed my phone down towards my feet.

"It's done," he replied. "We arrested him earlier today, and we should be on the jet home here in a couple hours." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Emily is finishing up some paperwork with the local PD."

"That's great to hear." I smiled. "Now onto the really important stuff," I joked. "The mail." I set the stack on my lap. "You ready, Spence? Rapid fire coming your way."

"Y/N, I can read 20,000 words a second. I'm always ready for rapid fire mail-sorting." I let out a breathy laugh and held up the first envelope. "Bill for me," he said immediately. Next envelope. "Letter for me from Blake." The next envelope was much bigger and had a glossy finish. He hesitated for a moment, and I was confused. "Well, Y/N, it looks like you've won a free cruise in the Meditteranean. And all you have to do is provide your social security number."

"Oh, great," I huffed sarcastically. Spencer always tried to make these repetitive tasks fun when he could, and I loved him all the more for it.

The next envelopes were almost all bills, but the last envelope I held up got Spencer's attention It was a thicker envelope, and I could tell there was bubble wrap on the inside. "Oh, it's another package from Garcia. Do you want me to read it?"

"Sure," I responded, setting my phone down on the couch next to me to carefully tear open the package. Garcia always wrote letters or cards, and made sure to put several adornments on the paper to give me something to physically feel in addition to her words, hence the more protective package. The first thing I pulled out of the bag was a circular, knit piece. I held it up to the camera for Reid to identify.

"It's a potholder," he explained. "It's multicolor, like a rainbow." I pulled a card out of the envelope, and immediately felt the texture of glitter and craft pom-poms. "Oh god, the glitter," Spencer groaned. "I don't know what I was hoping for. I hope it doesn't get everywhere. Go ahead and open it up."

He began reading. "Y/N, I am sending this card in hopes that this case is wrapping up and you, Reid, and I will be able to get dinner sometime soon. I know you're reading this Spencer, so don't worry-- the glitter is mod-podged down so it will not go everywhere in your apartment." He paused to chuckle. "Although you know how glitter is; a few stray flecks may be stuck in Dallas' fur for eternity." I laughed at that one. "Sending my love in the form of this potholder. Call me soon. Love, Penelope G."

"That's so sweet of her," I gushed. "You know, maybe we could have that dinner at our place. We'd have a good reason to use that potholder."

"I love that idea," Spencer agreed. "I'm so excited to see you Y/N. Hopefully I'll be home sometime early in the morning."

"Can't wait." I smiled. "See you soon Spence!"

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #reid x reader #reid/reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #rsw writes

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mycomfortblanket · 4 years ago

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Written in Ink chap 4

Toph isn’t completely sure what makes her wake up so early, but she knows it’s going to be one of those mornings where she can’t go back to sleep no matter how hard she tries. She can feel Aang’s body pressed up behind her and judging from his deep and even breaths that she can feel on the back of her neck, he is still asleep.

Turning her face more into the pillow, she inhales his scent from the fabric, and hopes that she can maybe pass out from lack of oxygen by doing this so that she can go back to sleep.

Pushing her head further into the pillow is when she feels it. The hardness that is pressing just below the swell of her ass. When she had leaned forward to push her face more into the pillow, it had caused her hips to move back slightly and brush against him.

Her face stills in the pillow, she bites back a grin. Toph knew it is something that normally happens in the morning, but for some reason, it gave her a strange sort of satisfaction.

Moving back to her previous position- pressed against his chest- she brushes against him once more and a hand quickly reaches out and grips her hip, “God, quit doing that,” his voice sounding strained and still rough with sleep.

Toph lets out a snort, “Didn’t realize you were that into me,” she says with a slight wiggle of her hips. Another groan comes from his lips and his fingers dig into her skin.

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s morning. And you doing that isn’t making it any easier,” he says, rolling onto his back, away from her slightly.

Toph pouts slightly as he pulls away taking his body heat with him. She turns around to face and pulls the blankets up to her chin, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Funny that you think I’m making breakfast after what you just did.”

She laughs under her breath, “Well, when you take me home, can we stop somewhere and get something to eat? I would kill for some hashbrowns.”

An hour and a half later, they were sitting in a booth at their nearest Ihop looking through their menus. Well, Aang was looking through the menu. Apparently, Toph comes here so often she already knows what she wants.

He looks up at her and can’t help but blush more. They definitely look like they’re an awkward one night stand couple. Her hair is messy and unbrushed and she’s wearing one of his hoodies that is way too big for her.

Every time he glances at her, he can’t help but remember how he was taken out of his dream by the brushing of her ass against him, and then she had the audacity to do it again. He knows it’s wrong to say this, but he’s glad she is blind so that she can’t see the blush that hasn’t left his face since they got out of bed that morning.

“You know, I can feel you blushing from here,” she says with a smirk, reaching out for her drink.

“Urgh,” Aang drops his head to the table, “Why did you do that to me? I am a good man, and it was just cruel.”

Toph laughs and cuts into her pancakes, “Whatever, it was funny and you know it.” The sleeve of the hoodie slides back just slightly and he is able to catch the sight of his Name on her skin and he sucks in a breath.

“What?” she asks. How she heard that, he doesn’t know.

“Uh, nothing. Your Name is all.” It’s Toph’s turn to blush as she pulls the sleeve down and pulls it into a palm to hold it there.

It’s a moment before she raises her face to him and the blush starting to recede. “Where… Where is yours?”

Aang looks down at his plate, biting his lip before glancing back up at her. Her face is guarded and her eyes are casted downwards. He can feel her building up a wall between them for some reason. He doesn’t think this conversation is too personal, considering what she did this morning, but he can feel her distancing herself.

“It’s on my chest, just under my heart along my ribs,” he says in a low tone. All he gets is a nod in response. He stares at her for a moment, gathering some courage to ask his next question, “Why don’t you like the Names?”

Toph’s eyebrows fly up for a second before she drops into a neutral face, “What, are you wanting to do the soulmate thing now?”

“No, I’m not ready for that. I just want to know your perspective of it.” He can see her clench and unclench her teeth a few times, trying to figure out what words would be appropriate for this.

Aang thinks she is just about to tell him off right when her shoulders slump down and she lets out a deep breath. “All my life, things had been decided for me because I’m blind. What school I went to, who my friends are, what I wear, everything. I barely got to move out… actually I wouldn't have been able to move out if Zuko didn't kidnap me. The Names are just another thing that has been decided for me, and I can't stand it. I should be able to choose who I want to be with and when I want to be with them.”

Aang nods his head slowly and takes a bite of his eggs, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Toph jerks her head up a little, completely surprised by her answer. Most people tell her that it’s stupid, that she's missing out on the greatest feelings. But, instead, he seems to understand.

“What about yours?”

He snorts a little, “Eh, we’ll get to that another day.”

“Little too depressing for you?”

“Ha. Yeah. You could say that.

-----------------

Katara walks into the living room to see Toph lounging on one of the couches, her earbuds in, most likely listening to an audiobook.

Walking over to her, she nudges her leg to get her attention. Toph hits the pause button on her headphones and pulls one out.

“I noticed that you didn't come home the other night,” Katara asks in a teasing tone.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I slept over at Aang’s.”

Trying not to be too forward and scare her off, Katara walks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water before returning to the couch. “Well, what did you guys do all night?”

Toph doesn’t answer immediately which makes Katara automatically assume, “Oh my god, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“You slept with him! You totally slept with him! Tell me everything, was he any good?”

Toph sits up in shock, “Dude! What the hell? No, I didn’t sleep with him, it wasn’t like that.”

“Where did you sleep then?”

“Uh… in his bed? But we didn’t do anything, it was just platonically sleeping next to each other.”

Katara crosses her arms and sits back into the couch watching Toph, looking for any signs that she may be lying. “If you guys didn’t have sex, then what did you do?”

“Er… he- uh. He read to me.”

“He read to you?! You don’t even let me read to you! That’s totally not fair,”

“Yeah, well, you know. Heat of the moment and everything,” she says with a wave of her hand and moves to put her earbuds back in.

“You like him.”

“What?” she asks, stopping just before she is able to push play.

“I said, ‘You like him’”

Toph lets out a snort and settles back into the couch, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Plopping down on the couch, practically smooshing Toph’s legs into the cushions, Katara’s face is pure giddy, “Oh my god, you totally do! You didn’t even deny it!”

Pushing Katara off, Toph gets up and makes her way to the kitchen, hoping that the conversation won’t continue. But, knowing her roommate, that’s not likely, “Come on, T., just admit it!”

“There’s nothing to admit,” her voice low and solid.

“Yes, there is! Come on! It’s not the end of the world? What’s so wrong about liking him?”

Toph opens the fridge and grabs one of her smoothies and leans back against the fridge, thinking about the conversation. Even if she does like him, it’s not like she is about to admit that, especially out loud.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything, Princess. We’re just two people that hung out last night who just so happen to have each other’s Names on their bodies. It’s fine,” she says, pushing off from the fridge and walking towards her room.

“Whatever! I know you Toph, and you can’t lie to me!” Katara calls out just as she is shutting the door to her room.

Dropping onto her bed with her head hanging over the side, she chews on her lips considering what Katara had just said. She goes over her feelings for just a moment and as soon as she starts feeling that fluttering in her chest, she rolls over onto her stomach and grabs her phone.

“Siri, call Aang.”

-----------------

Sitting on the sofa with his laptop in his lap, Aang attempts to work through some homework problems, but the motivation is just not there . His phone starts ringing, and honestly, it sounds like it’s under his butt, lodged into between the cushions.

He shoves a hand underneath him and feels around for the phone but isn’t able to get to it in time for the phone call. Looking at the screen, he sees that it’s Toph who was calling. He raises his eyebrows in confusion but swipes to call her back.

“Hey. You going to bring me some chinese?” is her immediate answer to the phone.

“Uh, no. Was not planning on it. I’m doing homework.” She lets out a very exaggerated groan at this.

“Just bring me some chinese and your computer and you can do your homework here.”

“No, I can’t.”

“And why not?”

Aang smiles slightly, “Because, knowing you, you’re going to talk nonstop and distract me from homework and then I won’t get anything done.”

“Please, you barely know me.”

“Am I wrong though?” She doesn’t answer immediately but instead, grumbles something out unintelligible.

“Fine, whatever.”

“What are you doing, though?”

“Well, I was listening to a book before Katara interrupted me with probing questions about our sex life,” she says nonchalantly. Aang chokes on air for a second before he realizes she’s kidding.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, “I didn’t realize we had a sex life.”

“Oh, but we do. Very kinky. Surprised we didn’t break the headboard,” she says, still pretending to be serious.

“Oh, yes, you are right. Very kinky and very lavish, exactly what we are.” He can hear her laugh through her nose which makes him smile. He loves her sense of humor, the dark and sometimes explicit things she says always keeps him on his toes.

“You want to go do something later? I hear that there is a silent movie playing at the theatre,” he asks.

“Ha-ha. Funny.”

“No, but seriously, there’s a movie that just came out that I want to go see, do you want to go?” He knows this is dangerous territory; going to the movies is a typical first date kind of move. She is silent for a moment, and he swears, he can hear her thinking through the phone.

“Yeah, sure. But, you’re buying.” A breath of relief escapes him and a tiny smile plays on his lips.

----------------

“Now, I know that I missed some parts because of the whole not seeing thing, but that movie sucked.” They’re walking out of the theatre, the bag of popcorn is still clutched in Toph’s hand while her cane slides in front of her, occasionally tapping the concrete.

“Yeah, the trailer seemed so much better. Although, seeing Blake Lively in a bikini for most of the movie was pretty nice.”

Toph snorts and elbows him in the side, “Perv.” As they get settled into the car, her phone starts singing ‘ Holding Out For a Hero’ .

“Yell-o” she says in greeting, putting the call on speaker.

“I’m going to Zuko’s for the night, I left some dinner in the fridge for you,” Katara’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Ahhh, thanks, Mom. I’ll be sure to eat that."

“Where are you?”

“Aang and I went to a movie- which sucked by the way- but we’re on our way home now,” she says, shoving a handful of the popcorn in her mouth.

“Ohhh, you and Aang went on a date?” Katara says in a suggestive way.

“Hell no, I just didn’t want to go to the movie by myself,” Aang pipes up from the drivers side.

“Oh, shit. Am I on speaker phone? That’s my bad.”

Toph snorts a little and says through the popcorn, “Anyways, I’ll be home soon. I’ll make sure to lock the door so the big bad men don’t come and get me.”

“Alright, have a good night and make sure to use a condom!” Katara shouts before disconnecting the call.

Toph groans and drops the phone into her lap, “She’s so irritating.” Aang’s shoulders are shaking with laughter.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of funny. You make jokes about it all the time, but the moment Katara says something about it, you’re all ‘She’s so annoying, why does she joke about it, it’s not even funny’,” Aang says in a high pitched voice trying to mimic Toph.

She lands a punch on his arm, “Whatever, I do not sound like that,” she says with a huff and crosses her arms over her chest.

A few hours later, they’re laying on her bed listening to some music and jumping from topic to topic about everything and nothing. Aang sits up slightly and turns on his side, resting on his elbow, “What’s it like being blind?”

Toph lets out a snort at the question, “What the hell do you mean ‘ what’s it like to be blind’? How am I supposed to answer that? What’s it like being able to see?”

He shrugs a little at her answer, “Yeah, but like, how did you learn to do stuff?”

“The same way you learned to do stuff, dipshit.”

He laughs at her abrasive answers, “Never mind, you’re not getting what I’m trying to say.”

Toph turns her head towards him, “Well, try and explain what you’re wanting to know better and maybe I’ll answer differently,” she challenges.

Huffing, he drops back down to the bed on his back, their shoulders just barely touching. “Okay, fine. I guess, what I’m trying to say is, Do you feel like you’re missing out on things because you’re blind?”

A thoughtful look passes over her as if she hadn’t ever actually considered the question, “I mean, not really. Although, lately, there are some things that I wish I could see. I don’t feel left out, if that’s what you mean. Everyone includes me in everything and they never mention my blindness so it doesn’t feel like it’s really an impairment. It’s just… somethings, I guess, would be nice to see.”

“What do you want to see?” His brows coming together in confusion. He never considered her wanting to see certain things but not care about others.

She takes a deep breath and turns her head so that her eyes are trained towards the ceiling, “Nothing, it doesn’t really matter.”

“No, come on! Tell me,” he asks, his voice low and coaxing, as if trying not to scare her off.

Toph purses her lips in thought and closes her eyes, and for a moment, he doesn’t think she is going to answer. “I’d like to see you,” her voice is low, barely even a whisper. The breath in Aang’s lungs is immediately stolen.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” her voice stronger now, more sure, “I’d like to see what my soulmate looks like, if you’re really as attractive as everyone says you are.”

Aang laughs lightly at her answer, he really was not expecting this. He turns his head to face her and looks at the slope of her nose, the freckles that dust across her cheeks, the beauty mark just under her jaw, her ink black hair.

“Here, sit up, let’s try something,” Reluctantly and with a groan, she sits up and turns to face him. He takes her hands in his, and slowly brings them up to his face and rests them on his cheeks.

“You really want me to feel out your face?” her eyebrow quirking slightly.

“Yeah, you can’t tell me you haven’t done this with other things.”

“I- I mean, uh yeah, I have. It’s just, this is a little personal, feeling someone else.”

Aang shifts closer to her until their knees are touching, “Well, have at it.”

Toph takes a deep breath and swallows visibly before her fingers slowly skirt over his skin, fingertips just barely touching him. He stays as still as he can while she maps out his face. She traces over his cheekbones, his jawline, the hair on his head. While one hand is, once again, tracing his cheekbone, her other hand slowly goes down his nose until it drops off at his lips.

She stops there for a moment, almost as if asking permission to touch his lips. She swallows again and feels along the bow of his top lip and the plumpness of his bottom. He smiles slightly at her, and she feels the creases of his cheeks as he does so.

Her fingertips linger just a second longer on his lips before moving down to his jaw and skimming over his throat and neck to the expanse of his shoulders. She feels how broad they are and how his collar bones are hard beneath his skin.

The whole time she is mapping out his face, Aang keeps a close eye on her own face, watching the small expressions that flicker across her face as she goes over the dips and edges of his face. When she came to his jaw line, her mouth quirked up in a small smirk, and since then, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes from her lips.

He is fascinated with how they move. She would occasionally bite the inside of her cheek which would shift them just slightly and his eyes tracked their every movement.

Neither of them realized how close they had leaned into the other until Toph dropped her hands from his shoulders, “Hey, Aang?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I try something?”

He doesn’t even answer her, but instead leans forward to push his lips against hers.

#taang shit #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #taang #katara #toph x aang #aang x toph #zuko #fluff #love you guys

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