#i have seen almost every fandom i’ve ever even heard of tagged here. good for y’all ig

[goldensunset]

a real blorbo is someone you can both write a lengthy and serious/sad analysis on yet also constantly and i mean constantly make stupid jokes about

#peach rambles #hall of fame i guess #this post was about volo pokémon. among others #i have seen almost every fandom i’ve ever even heard of tagged here. good for y’all ig

[mimzy-writing-online]

You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

#blindness #whumptober #fanfiction #whump #whumptober 2021 #blind character #disability #ableism #anon

[akaashisupremacy]

A Little in Love

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with him, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo begin as friends again, he wonders if he ever fell out of love for you. Has he?

Notes: Gojo Satoru is good-looking, all powerful and beyond good at his job. I’ve always wanted to explore something he struggles with

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol (wc: 1.3k) tw: mention of blood, infedelity-ish

“Are you sure you’re not in love with them?”

That question wipes the smile off Gojo Satorou’s face.

Tonight’s dinner was unexpected. You ran into Shoko Ieri, Jujutsu Kaisen’s resident doctor and Gojo Satoru just as your work day ended. One thing led to another and the three of you ended up in a soba place not too far from Jujutsu Tech. When you excused yourself to use the washroom Ieri-san grabs the chance to ask the burning question on her mind.

“So what’s the answer? You’re awfully quiet.”

“We’re not engaged anymore. That ship has sailed.” he waves his hand dismissively.

Ieri rolls her eyes. All throughout dinner, Gojo was teasing you, offering you food, playing light pranks at you just like he was when you were teenagers. The way he looked at you was enough to tick any off about how he feels.

She retorts, “You can try again now that you’re adults. You’re allowed to make a go at a love match.”

Gojo’s relationship with you is…complicated. You two were arranged to be married when you were children, but had broken up as teenagers.

Gojo looks contemplative, his hands clasped together.

“I’ve thought about it.” he sighs, “And I think about it every time we meet, but—I don’t think I’m the type to commit and they need a commitment type. It’s not a match.” Ieri scowls on your behalf. 

During your time at Jujutsu Tech, he simultaneously wanted to give your relationship a shot but hated the restrictions set on him. In the end, it was all too much. Both of you begged your families to break off the engagement.

Your teenage years with him were confusing. Were you really in love or those feelings fabricated by the arranged marriage? If the marriage wasn’t a love match anyway, why did it hurt to see Gojo flirt with someone else?

Gojo remembered one of your early confrontations when you were 16 and he was 17. 

“It’s difficult to be engaged to you.” you expressed, exasperated. 

When you started school at Jujutsu Tech however, something changed. Gojo didn’t want to be seen around you. He was always flirting with others behind your back. You can’t even have a proper conversation with him alone. 

During your second year, you finally stood up to him. 

“No, it’s not.” he rolled his eyes, “You don’t even have to pretend that you like me.”

It worried you that he definitely couldn’t be faithful and it hurt you that he couldn’t even spare time to properly talk with you. 

You sighed and looked left and right. It’s had been ten minutes. You were still standing outside his dorm room and he has not intention of letting you in. 

“It’s not about that!” you exclaimed, annoyed, “I know you don’t like being engaged to me, which is fine—“

“It doesn’t sound fine,” he snorts, crossing his arms. He tries to drown the sound of your voice from the surrounding cicadas. 

“—if you weren’t such an asshole,” you continued, “But can you at least treat me with more respect. Everybody knows we’re engaged. Neither of us want to be in arranged marriage so all I’m begging you to do is to —“ 

He shrugs, “No promises.” 

He could see anger light beneath your eyes. Out of the darkness of the night, a silver flicker brushes by his side. You were seething, despite being barely illuminated by the light of the corridor bulbs. 

You had drawn out a dagger at him. You! His kind, patient fiancee. It happened so fast he almost didn’t dodge. 

“I missed on purpose. Don’t you get complacent.” you muttered, turning away. 

Gojo was surprised to see tears running down your face. You’ve never looked so upset. It catches him off guard. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he had to utter. He wasn’t even sure you heard him because you had already begun walking away. You had drawn the blade, but in reality it was you that was hurting and he the trespasser. 

He shakes his head at Ieri and continues, “I don’t want to hurt them again. It was bad enough when our engagement fell apart.”

He didn’t mean to hurt you then of course. It was harsh to expect commitment out of a teenager who wasn’t ready, but you were still in pain.

Ieri sizes him up in the dim lighting of the diner. Gojo likes to be in control. He likes to be the one to set traps. It’s interesting to see him be the captive for once.

“You haven’t answered my question.” she presses.

Gojo’s fingers tense up.he gives in just a bit, “I’ll always be a little in love with them. Maybe because I was obligated to for so long.”

“And that’s not enough though, because they deserve more” he quickly adds.

“Can’t you change? Sounds like you’re afraid to try.” she sighs.

Gojo is quiet once again.

“Don’t wait for them to be in love with someone else before you realize that you want to be with them. I’d hate for you to be too late.” she warns, glancing towards you as you walk back to the table.

He looks away from Ieri. You sit back down in front of him.

He feels his heart swell and hurt at the same time. You’ve always represented a jumble of contradictions for him: someone to love and someone who represents traditions he hates.

“Did I miss something?” you ask, sensing the tension.

“No, nothing.” he denies, his voice purposely lightening to cover his mood.

“Well, why does everyone look so serious?” you perkily ask.

Gojo briefly glances at you. His shoulders relax and he sits back into his seat. After all these years, it’s still so easy to be swayed by your bright eyes.

“I was just about to call for another drink.” Ieri clears her throat.

“Me, too.” he adds.

You look at him carefully, a tinge of worry in your eyes. You don’t say anything though. Not now. This is between you and him. It’s a matter outside of your friendship with Ieri.  

“You can have my drink.” you offer to him, eyes locked onto his. 

Sensing your stare, he turns back at you, glad that his bandages cover his vulnerability. He’s not sure he can take it if you saw how deeply conflicted he was about his feelings. As he continues to look, recognition dawns on him.

In another universe, you could be married right now. You’d be having dinner, just the two of you, sitting across each other like this. In another world, maybe you wouldn’t have known each other at all. This moment feels like purgatory. He’s somewhat in love, just a little and you’re not his in a way that feels real.

You push your drink into his hands. Ieri looks away to give you a semblance of privacy. Gojo finally takes the drink. 

It feels strange for the man who has everything, to know he only has a little bit of you.

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

General taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan@kaizumi@holaaaf@glxar@francxsca

Series Taglist: @kageyamakock​ @gucci-froggy @cherryonigiri

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check it here. This is 2/4 so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of the releases! 😊

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines

[scuttling]

Present

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 4,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Voyeurism, Masturbation in shower, Sexting, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Protected Sex, Established Aaron/Sophie Summary: Sophie sends Aaron a sexy video while he’s away on a case, Spencer watches it, and smut ensues. Collection: Part 1 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr because I was thinking about it today. 🤤 Link to A03 or read below! “I sprained my ankle. I’m not injured, not really. I can even walk on it,” Sophie assures as she pours them each a cup of coffee in the break room. She sets the carafe down, takes a step, wobbles, and Aaron catches her around the waist with a raised eyebrow of judgement. “Okay, so I can’t walk that well, but I can certainly sit in a conference room bouncing ideas around and drinking coffee. That’s all Rossi does, anyway.” He chuckles softly, knows she’s still… warming up, to Rossi and his idiosyncrasies.

“You know the rules.”

“Yeah, because we’re so good at following the rules,” she teases with a smirk, running her hands down his stomach, stopping at his belt. He looks over at the bullpen out of the corner of his eye, shoots her a warning look that makes her sigh and pull away.

“Think of it as choosing our battles,” he suggests, hoping that might get her back on track. “If you want to continue making out in my office, you have to stay here this one time.” She smiles, crooked, nods her head.

“Okay, when you put it that way, I’ll take the make outs.”

“I thought you might. Plus, you get to spend all day with Garcia. I figured that would be like a dream come true.”

“It is, definitely. It’s more the long, cold, nights that I’m worried about.” He sighs, because she’s being so dramatic, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of making him smile again. He can’t be looking as smitten and infatuated with her as he is all of the time. “I’m going to be so lonely.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage without sex for a few nights,” he teases, and she looks scandalized, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was getting at.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about intimacy, comfort, sharing my bed with a big heavy man who scares away the bad dreams.” She grins lecherously and he prepares to roll his eyes. “And who has a dick that won't quit.”

“Like I said,” he enunciates, taking his travel mug of coffee for the road, “you’ll be fine for a few nights. If you do decide to touch yourself, though, make sure you send me a present,” he reminds her, because they aren’t separated often, but when they are, a couple of racy pictures or videos almost always exchange hands. He bends for a quick kiss on the lips, brushes her cheek. “I love you. Behave.”

“I love you,” she murmurs, all tenderness and no heat, now. “Be safe.” Two days after taking the case, the team is on the jet for a night flight home. Spencer is tired, but he can’t sleep; JJ is stretched out on the couch, Morgan and Emily are slumped over in their seats up front with pillows and headphones, and Rossi has been snoring softly since they took off, so it’s just him and Hotch awake. They are in seats next to each other, Spencer by the window, because he knew he would be a little restless, and that Hotch wouldn’t sleep, so it seemed like the safest bet if he didn't want to disturb anyone’s rest.

He also enjoys the comforting presence of the older man, always, but especially in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the flight home.

He tries to listen to music, a podcast, but he eventually pauses it and just rests his eyes, his head, listens to Hotch as he flips pages or taps away at his phone. He’s probably texting Sophie, who’s home with a sprained ankle and who hasn’t stopped grumbling about it since. He smiles at the thought, likes when she’s comfortable enough to complain to him. Likes being someone she turns to.

He sighs. Feelings are complicated. Sometimes he hates being part of such a tight-knit team because it makes the things he feels all the more confusing, especially when the two objects of his (totally manageable) affection are in a relationship together; he feels like the odd man out, as always, can’t deny that it hurts sometimes.

He’s drifting in and out of the not quite asleep stage when he hears sound coming from Hotch’s phone, shuffling, ambiguous noises. He lifts his eyelids just slightly to see a video up on the screen, a wall that looks vaguely familiar, like a bathroom, maybe. There’s nothing particularly intriguing about that, but then he sees a pair of smooth, bare legs standing inside a bathtub and his interest is… piqued.

There’s another sound, unmistakably a shower being turned on, and then the woman—it is Sophie, no doubt; even if he can’t see her face, the tattoo on her forearm is easily identifiable—squats down, and she is so gloriously naked that he just… freezes. His body and his mind are suspended in a conflicting state of this is wrong, I shouldn’t be seeing this, and this is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and why is Hotch watching this right now, with me right next to him, and hnnng.

She pulls the shower head into view, lets it pour over her hair from what he can see of it, then down her breasts, her stomach, arms and legs; after that, she adjusts it to a stream that is harder and more controlled than one would typically use in the shower. He wonders why, thinks it could be uncomfortable, until she moves it to hover over her pussy, moaning softly, and then he really, really gets it.

His heart is racing as she runs her hand over her body, thumbing at her nipples, sighing at her own touch. She rocks back and forth a little so the stream of water hits her clit, then lower, between her lips, against her opening, and Spencer swallows hard.

“Mmm,” she sighs, and the sound goes straight through him; he feels himself getting hard as she murmurs, pressing her hand against the rim of the tub for leverage. “Mmm, yeah.” He can see that Hotch is breathing heavily next to him, eyes fixed on the screen. It’s too dark in the cabin to see his lap, but he knows he must be aching in his pants, too, wonders what it would be like if he reached out and touched him there.

Sophie is incredibly gorgeous as she works to reach her climax, bouncing lightly on her heels as the pressure builds, her moans longer and louder, but it’s when she stops moving and presses the shower head closer, directly over her clit, that he knows she’s almost ready to come.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” she whines, pinching a nipple, arching her back, and her voice is high and breathy and addictive. He would give anything to be in the same room as those sounds, to pull her wet body close and help her get off. “Fuck, mmm,” she purrs, bringing the stream even closer, and she comes, short, loud moans that sound like they’re being ripped from her throat as her thighs shake, her chest heaves.

She drags a slow hand down her body, like she’s soothing herself, and then shudders, pulls the shower head away like maybe the pressure is too much where she’s sensitive. With a sigh, she reaches for the phone, tilts it so her face is in view, cheeks flushed and wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She turns up her lips in a coy smile. “See you soon.” The video ends.

It takes Hotch a moment to lock his phone, and he looks a little dazed when Spencer risks a glance up at his face—with good reason. If he was on the receiving end of videos like that, he would never be able to focus on anything.

The rest of the trip is quiet, certainly uneventful in comparison. Spencer makes a show of opening his eyes fully, stretching, thinks it would be too awkward now to admit he saw and heard every incredible second; Hotch looks over at him with an expression he can’t read, and then flips open a new case file.

When they land, he and Hotch are the last two to grab their bags, and Hotch brushes up against him in a way that feels purposeful, but is probably wishful thinking. “Do you have anything going on for the rest of the night?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head.

“Nope, nothing.” Maybe masturbating—definitely masturbating—but he doesn’t need to know that. Hotch nods, thoughtful.

“You should come home with me.” Spencer looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We both know that you saw the video,” he says in a low, no nonsense tone that makes him gulp. “I told Sophie, and she seemed… interested in the prospect. So you should come home with me. If you want to.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Hotch raises a hand, halting his train of thought.

“I may have had a suspicion that you were awake when I chose to play the video, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” Spencer looks at his face, trying to determine if he’s saying what he thinks he’s saying. He did that on purpose? He knew that Spencer was watching? “No pressure, if you don’t want to come over. I would never want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do want to… do… whatever it is we’re doing,” he rambles awkwardly, and Hotch chuckles.

“What we're doing is having sex. And I won’t touch you, or anything, if you don’t want that. It can be me and Sophie and you and Sophie.” Spencer swallows hard again, so turned on and breathless that it makes him feel bold.

“What if I do want you to touch me?” he asks, and Hotch leans in slowly, hot breath at his ear.

“Then I’m going to touch you.” When he pulls away, his fingers brush over Spencer’s jaw. “Do you want to come home with me?”

His answer is an emphatic yes. Aaron is due home any minute, and Sophie is vibrating with nervous energy, puttering around the apartment in her robe, couldn’t sit still if she tried. She waits for him on nights he has to work late and can’t bring it home, sure, but it’s almost never like this, where they are apart for days on end. It’s seriously affecting not only her sex drive, but also her mental state, which she hadn’t expected; she feels clingy, needy already, wants to smell him and touch him and taste him and be caged in by him, and it’s frankly getting a little out of hand.

It doesn’t help, she guesses, that she sent that video, but she was horny and wanted his attention… and boy, did she get it, had several texts come through a couple of minutes after she sent it, all very sweet and dirty and good.

Then she saw one about Reid, wanted to be mortified, but she just… wasn’t.

A: So, Reid saw me watching your present.

S: Oh, really? Did he like it?

A: Yeah, he liked it.

A: I bet he’d come pretty quick if he got to see the real thing.

A: Touch you… taste you.

God, how can this calm, controlled man make her such a whimpering mess with just a couple of texts? It’s unfair, is what it is.

S: Maybe we should invite him over sometime.

S: I’ve seen him looking at you, too.

S: Imagine how pretty he would look between us.

That was about an hour ago, and the only thing she received in reply was a brief message letting her know they’d landed and that he was on the way home. She hopes she didn’t upset him, knows that he’s mentioned being interested in men but that he’s never slept with one, hopes she didn’t hit a sore spot. She promises herself they will talk about it when he gets home.

But when he gets home, he kisses her so deeply she feels faint. Her body is lit up in an instant, suddenly desperate for more of him.

“I brought you a present,” he says, so low and sexy, and she grins, breathless, wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ooh, you know I love presents. What is it?”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Spencer says, then, from the open doorway, and she glances between them, bites at her bottom lip. He steps inside and closes the door.

Fuck.

“Hey, Spencer,” she greets, but she can hear the tremble in her voice when she does. He looks to Aaron, and Aaron reaches back, wraps a hand around his wrist, guides him closer.

“I told him what you said, about how pretty he would look between us. He happened to agree, so I figured, why wait?” He looks her over intently, like he’s making sure she’s okay with this.

She is so okay with this.

She wants to speak but she’s so out of breath, her heart beating so fast, that she just pulls him down for a kiss, messy and graceless, and then she reaches for Spencer’s shirt and pulls him close as well, doing the same. She takes turns kissing them, ten kisses each, probably, until Aaron pushes her back gently with a soft laugh.

“Easy, baby. He’s going to stay the night; we have time to go slow.” Her chest is heaving, and he walks around so he’s standing behind her, unties the sash of her robe, pulls it off to reveal the lacy black bra and panties she thought would be a sexy surprise.

He kind of outdid her in the surprise department, but she’ll forgive him this once.

He runs his hands over her panties, her stomach, her boobs, and she bends her neck back, arching up for his lips, moaning against them. Spencer approaches, a bit hesitant, puts his hands on her hips and kisses her exposed throat, her chest. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven, two pairs of hands on her, two mouths, her body pressed between them tightly. She thinks offhand that she’s glad her ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, because she could stand between them all night long, if they keep this up, would be content to never move again.

Then one of Spencer’s beautiful, incredible hands slips down the front of her panties, and they stop kissing her to kiss each other, and she whimpers, and her knees give out anyway.

“So dramatic,” Aaron whispers teasingly in her ear as he holds her up, big hands on her body, and she shakes her head, wets her lips.

“Not being dramatic. This is so fucking sexy.” Spencer—apparently not worried about the fact that she almost collapsed on them because Aaron wasn’t—slides two fingers over the slippery wet lips of her pussy, and she groans. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take all the attention,” she murmurs, moving her hips against his hand. “Kiss some more, please.” Spencer huffs a laugh and leans in, catches Aaron’s lips with his. From her point of view she can see the slide of their tongues, lips pressing together, and she groans again.

“If it’s okay with you,” Spencer says to her when they separate, “I would really like to eat your pussy now.” He kisses her softly on the cheek, and she exhales, shaky.

“Yeah, please—please do that.”

“I’ll hold you,” Aaron whispers, lips at her ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.” She hums, leans back against him, and Spencer drops to his knees, guides her panties down. She’s so wet there’s slick on the insides of her thighs, and when he lifts one leg to hook her knee around his shoulder, he licks it away. She shudders.

She feels like she should have known how hot and skillful his mouth would be, because he talks so fast sometimes that his brain—his incredibly high-functioning brain—can’t even keep up, and she usually finds his mouth cute, but right now she finds it sexy, will probably never be able to look at it without thinking of the way he feels with his tongue in her pussy.

He is very enthusiastic, licking her quick and deep, with one hand on her waist and the other rubbing her clit like he’s got a PhD in bringing girls to orgasm, and she knows she’s moaning like a slut, gets even louder when Aaron bites at her earlobe, kisses her neck, squeezes her breasts. “Fuck, oh fuck, yeah,” she pants, reaches a hand down to wrap it in Spencer’s hair, making him groan; she rocks against his delicious mouth, which he encourages, moving his hand to her ass and guiding her closer.

“Come for him, baby,” Aaron urges, hand inside the cup of her bra to pinch her nipple. “Isn’t he pretty, down on his knees for you?” She drops her head back against him, brings a hand to his hair, too.

“So pretty.” He stoops down to kiss her as best as he can, and Spencer’s looking up at them, gorgeous, and she comes tugging on both of them, panting into Aaron’s mouth.

When Spencer stands up and kisses her, mouth soft and wet after working her through her orgasm, and then Aaron leans in to taste both of them on her lips? It’s a wonder she doesn’t get weak in the knees again. Sophie is soft and pliant after she comes, clinging onto them, and Aaron lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bedroom, Spencer following closely behind. He sets her on the bed, unhooks her bra and pulls it off; Spencer watches closely as he does, kneels down to kiss her, brush his hands over her bare breasts, and she sighs at the treatment.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asks them, getting down on his knees as well, and he kisses them, thrills at the similarities in their soft lips, soft skin.

“I wanna suck you both,” she says, and he touches her face gently.

“Are you sure you’re up for that? You look a little fuzzy.” He didn’t think that she would get submissive so quickly, since he hadn’t actually dominated her, but can see how feeling at the mercy of two men might make her go to that place; he just wants to make sure he does what’s best for her while she’s there.

“Might not be able to get you off, but I want them in my mouth. Can I?” She looks up at him, then at Spencer, who swallows visibly. Aaron gave him a little insight on the way there about how they normally interact with each other, how she likes to ask for permission and he likes to give it—or deny it, depending.

(Aaron Hotchner’s crash course on having a submissive girlfriend—he might have to find a way to monetize that, somehow.)

“You can, for a couple minutes. Then what do you want?” He looks to Spencer to see if he has anything in mind.

“I don’t—I’ve never done this,” he says quietly, and he and Sophie both touch him, and she nuzzles against his shoulder.

“Neither have we, it’s okay. You want to, though?” He looks at them with soft, open eyes, and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, I want to.” Aaron takes his face in his hands, kisses him deeply.

“Okay, good. Sophie,” he says softly, touches her face too, “do you think you would be alright being with both of us at the same time?” She licks her lips and frowns a little like she’s confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could lay you down, and one of us could be inside your pussy, and one of us could be inside your mouth. I’ll take your mouth,” he decides quickly, because she doesn’t like it too fast or rough and he knows her limits, doesn’t want to hurt or overwhelm her. “You’ll be full of us, baby. Do you think you want that?” She closes her eyes, nods, and Spencer touches her throat with long, gentle fingers.

“You’d give us that?” he asks like he’s in awe, and Aaron gets it, knows how much it means that she trusts them with something like this. “You’re incredible, Sophie,” he murmurs against her lips, and she sighs, pulls him closer.

Watching them make out is a very enjoyable thing, made all the more so when he decides to come up behind Spencer to unbutton his pants, untuck his shirt. The younger man moans at the feel of his hands helping him undress, and he presses back against Aaron’s chest, panting and eager. He guides him to stand, gets him naked, and wraps a hand around his long, hard cock, stroking it a couple times.

“You want her mouth on you while I get undressed?” he asks, and Spencer bucks up into his hand, nods quickly. Sophie reaches for him, pulling him closer, and she licks at the head, moans. “Gently,” he murmurs in Spencer’s ear, “let her be in control.” He nods seriously, presses a hand to Sophie’s cheek when she takes him in.

Between the two of them, their moans are so filthy, wanton, that he craves the heat of their mouths, so he captures Spencer’s in a kiss when he can, pulling off his clothes slowly so they can enjoy the time together. “Sophie,” Spencer murmurs, and she looks up at him, and Aaron’s arms around him, and whines. She pulls off of him, licks her lips looking hungry.

“I’m ready for you guys.” The simple sentence makes his dick throb, and he lays her back on the bed, kisses her soft and sweet and slow. Spencer curls around them, kisses them and rubs his hands over their bare skin.

“Spencer, can you get in that drawer and take out a condom?” he has presence of mind to ask, glad that the ones they have should fit him, and he stretches up, all long, lithe muscles, grabs one and tears the wrapper open, rolling it on. Neither Aaron nor Sophie can take their eyes off of him, and when he’s finished, Aaron moves out of his way so he can settle between her legs. She hitches up her knees, and he knows first hand how inviting that can be, understands completely when he shivers with pleasure.

Aaron kisses Sophie a few more times, whispers sweet, loving words into her ear, and then he crawls up by her head, the tip of his dick at the same level as her mouth.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, running his hands over her breasts, and she nods, puts her hands on Spencer’s hips and pulls him closer until he is fully sheathed inside her; he keeps still, panting, and Aaron leads forward to brush his hair back. “You’re so gorgeous, Spencer,” he coos, and then he presses into Sophie's mouth, sighs.

She takes him in hand, guiding him in and out at a pace she’s comfortable with, so he just lets her take the lead and runs his hands over her body, Spencer’s fingers where they press against her thighs. He is pumping into her deeply now, an easy rhythm Sophie matches with her hand, and the room is filled with a symphony of soft, wet sounds and moans and hums that Aaron doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

He is wholly unsurprised when he is the first to come, because watching Spencer’s hips move against her, his hands careful where he holds her down, and feeling her moan around his cock because she loves feeling full, it’s all too much for him. He spills with a groan, and Spencer watches his face like it’s art, which makes him feel warm in his chest. Something to explore at a later time.

Sophie lets go of him, panting, and he slides down to his belly so he can kiss her mouth, caress her. He looks up at Spencer, who appears to be trying so hard not to come, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he rubs Sophie’s clit to help get her close, so he’ll stop trying so hard and just let himself feel good.

“Oh, god,” Sophie whines, brings her hands up to squeeze hard at her breasts. “This is good, so good, mmm.” She starts bucking hard against him, her neck stretched long, and he knows the instant she comes, her mouth opening in a wordless moan before she all but howls her pleasure. Spencer groans, shifts his legs a little so he’s hovering over the both of them, and he thrusts for a few more seconds before finding his own orgasm. “Hmm, yes,” Sophie sighs, and he kisses her slowly, passionately; Aaron rubs both of their bodies as they shiver with aftershocks, and they all sink into the mattress, deeply spent.

They cuddle together for a few minutes, until Sophie complains she has to pee, and she and Spencer go into the bathroom together to take care of business. Aaron runs a hand through his hair and exhales long, because this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen, while also being one of the most unforgettable nights of his life; he knows they’ll look to him for guidance about what to do next, and he’s really not sure what to say when they do.

When they amble back into the room, they’re both smiling softly, and Aaron smiles because he can’t help it. They climb back onto the bed, Spencer in the middle, though Sophie reaches across him to rub at the hair on Aaron’s chest.

“So that’s a thing that happened,” Sophie says eventually, propped up on her elbow, looking over at their two blissed out faces with nothing short of affection. “Is it a thing that’s going to happen again, or a thing we swear up and down didn’t happen?—No pressure, only asking so I know how to compartmentalize my many, many thoughts.”

Aaron looks to Spencer and can’t help but feel like there’s something more worth exploring, there. He thinks Spencer feels the same when he pulls him in for a tender kiss.

“I think it should happen again,” Spencer murmurs, and Sophie leans down to kiss him too.

“Yeah, it should happen again.” Aaron sits up, smiles at his girl, guides her mouth to his.

“Okay, then.” They kiss again, easy, sweet, and he breathes a laugh. “We owe you for this, you know: you and your little shower performance.”

“Oscar worthy,” Spencer says with a grin, and Sophie shoves him playfully.

“Hey, a girl has needs.”

“And we’ll help you meet them,” Aaron promises, running a hand suggestively along her body, and she covers it with hers.

“No way. I’m tapped out, buddy. Unless I get sleep or pizza, no more sex from me tonight.” Aaron feigns hurt, pulls away, flops onto his back with an exaggerated sigh, and she crawls past Spencer to straddle his waist. “So dramatic,” she teases, leans down for a kiss, then climbs off the bed altogether. “I’m good with pizza—I don’t want to go to sleep just yet, not when I’ve got two pretty boys in my bed.”

“I second pizza,” Spencer murmurs, his face pressed against Aaron’s bicep. Sophie pauses in the doorway, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Do you think they’ll do a third veggie, and a third pepperoni, and a third Hawaiian? Or am I gonna have to order two pizzas?” She comes back over to the bed, kisses them both soft, affectionate, and smiles. “Always complicating things, Spencer Reid.”

#aaron hotchner x original female character #hotch x original female character #latina original female character #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid x original female character #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader

[cuddlesslut]

Memories

Part three to Home

Suna x fem reader

Atsumu x fem reader

Tags: still angst, light fluff, just a lot of Suna simping.

AN// let me know if you want me to continue the story.

Part Two: Silence

Part Four: Chance Encounters

You were the most beautiful girl Suna had ever seen. When he saw you that first day of school it was like the clouds in his normally dreary day parted and he could feel the sun. You weren’t in the same class much to his dismay. That didn’t stop the middle blocker from searching for your face in the crowds of the halls or the cafeteria. Though it was rare he stilled catch some glimpses. In those moments a war waged in his mind part of him wanted to go introduce himself, he wanted to know your name. To just be around you. But another side of his brain forbid that. Stating that he was fine were he was he would just interrupt your day. What would he even say to you. Hi I’m Suna I’ve been watching you since the first and even though I know next to nothing about you I can’t get you out of my head..... yeah no. He’d just sit back and wait for opportunity to knock. Suna curses himself for his laziness. He can’t describe how his heart stop the day his friend brought you to practice and introduce you as his girlfriend.

Though he kept his composure he felt as though the air was stolen from his lungs. This is the closesest he had ever to been to you and it was overwhelming to say the least. You stood there at Atsumu’s side smiling and greeting the team memebers and when your attention drew to Suna he realized his favorite thing about you was your eyes. You beautiful (e/c) eyes shown with so much light and happiness. When you smiled you smiled with your eyes, always getting this cute little crinkle. He shook his head at these feelings. You were taken and by one of his friends no less.

From that moment on you presence was always close by joining the boys for lunch or stopping by practice with little snacks you had made the team. Suna almost resents how easy he gets along with you. How simple it is to fall into a banter with you. He hates how calming it is when you’d sit next to him and laugh as you showed him some meme. He wanted to be annoyed with you ever time you’d put your foot down and insist he let you wrap his finger after a bad block. But he couldn’t you were just such a caring person. He’d try and give you some petty insults, maybe if he caused a rift between the two of you he’d feel better, maybe then if there was more space between you he’d feel less guilty for always being enraptured by you. But you’d always snap back with something just as clever or petty. You could go toe to toe in trading insults but both of you knew neither of you meant it. You’d always break out into that breathtaking smile after a few rounds of back and forth. He realized soon that he’d much rather keep you in his life as a friend even if he could never have you because at least he’d still see that smile. At least as your best friend he’d still see your eyes shine bright and he could take a small pleasure in knowing he brought some of that happiness.

“You need to calm down,” Suna turned to see Osamu taking the seat on the bench next to him.

Suna's hands run through his hair gripping the roots in frustration as he let out a yell.

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm, she could be hurt or missing, and that ass is just sitting there! Two weeks! Lord knows what could have happened by now.” Hes shaking part of him wants to go back up and give Atsumu a few more licks but he knows no good will come from it.

“YN is a grown woman and she’s smart and strong and you know damn well she’d bitch you out right now for thinking she couldn’t handle herself,” the former ace chuckled.

“I’d much rather her here bitching cause at least then she’d be here,” he groaned rubbing his hand down his legs trying to let out some of his nerves. “Did you know?” He asked the grey haired twin.

Samu gave his quick glare of offense. “Absolutely not believe me if I’d known I would have been the one to deck him , you just beat me to it.”

“The last i heard from her was her birthday, maybe if I’d had stopped by and brought the Onigiri myself I could have been there for her,” he sighs.

“We’ll find her don’t worry,” his friend pats his back, “and then you can finally confess,”he smiles.

“I’m that obvious huh,” he sighed.

Samu let a loud laugh “ OH PLEASE we all knew, well maybe not YN she can be kinda blind ya’know,”

Suna shook his head laughing. He has to see you.

They returned home today from nationals. The loss to Karasuno was really starting to sink in now that was Suna was home sitting in his room alone the house quiet. He laid there berating himself for balls he failed to block. If I had just done better maybe my team would still be playing. Maybe - he was disrupted from his thoughts by the chime of the door bell. His parents were out of town this weekend. They had assumed like many Inarizaki would still be out in Tokyo fighting for first place. It was fine though Suna was used to being alone. But that just confused him more as he made his way to the door. Who could possibly be here. All he can say is he’d never except to open the door and see you standing there. Like always you stole his breath away.

“What yer not gunna let me in,” you teased “and to think I brought you snacks!” He just realized now she was carrying a grocery bag that looked pretty heavy.

“Give me that ya Dummy,” he said taking away the snacks, he stepped to the side allowing her entry.

“I figured you were hungry, but try to save me some,” she giggled. Suna just rolled his eyes as she took a seat on his couch.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned taking his seat beside her making sure to leave a respectable distance. Though he wants nothing more than to hold you close. He dismisses the thought as he rummages threw the goodies waiting for your response. He smiles seeing the package of milk bread you bought. He took it out and tossed it to you knowing it was your favorite. You smile and give a slight nod as a thank you.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone after the game, I know your probably thinking a whole bunch of nonsense right now aren’t ya?” She looked at him with a solem but knowing look. He cursed how well you knew him. Seeing as he had been doing just that before your arrival. His heart squeezed at the thought of you wanting to comfort him. It almost gives him a slight hope. What about Atsumu, he lost that game too.

“Why aren’t you with you boyfriend, he’s probably taking it harder than me,” he asks knowing he might ruin this little fantasy he has here with you. He sees a sad look cross your face at the mention of the setter. It’s not a look Suna wants to keep seeing.

“You’re right about that, Tsmu’s having a tough go of it,” she gave a soft smile. “But he said he didn’t want my pity and asked I leave,” Suna could see your eyes get a little glassy thinking back to the conversation.

“He’s an Ass.” The middle blocker states plainly.

“He’s just got a lot of emotions right now and wants his space, it’s okay.” But Suna can see your hurt. He knows it wont do any good to keep talking about it.

“His loss, now I get all of the snacks,” pulling out a bag of chips. “Want to watch a movie?”

That’s how the evening went the both of you curled up on the couch Suna had brought down some pillows and blankets and he wouldn’t lie he loved seeing you wrapped in his comforter. You went on and on about this anime you started and you nearly died when he agreed to let you show it to him, pumping your fist in the air going off about your favorite character and how he’s totally going to love him. Suna looks over at you and your wearing the biggest smile eyes wide with joy. This is will always be his favorite moment he thinks.

He’s right that moment still sticks out in his mind. He has plenty of great memories but that one right there is his favorite. He’s been thinking back on a lot of his memories of you lately.

It’s been seven months since your birthday and no one in your former circle new anything about where you were. You hadn’t talked to anyone. Your number was no longer in service and all of you socials have gone silent.

After a couple of days of looking for you Suna was ready to go to the Police and report you missing, ready to call every hospital and pray you are safe. At this point that’s all that matters to him. He can’t bare to think about anything bad happening to you but it’s hard to keep his mind out of the dark place. Osamu was the one to stop him. Luckily they had gotten in touch with their former captain and while Kita was sorry to hear about the situation and very disappointed in his junior for his actions. Every one was upset with Atsumu for his actions. Kita was gladly willing to help in the search. Still being in their home town he was able to pay your parents a quick visit. And while he was happy he could inform them both that your parents had heard from you the other day so your fine. That was all your parents could tell him, stating that you had requested to keep your privacy not wanting to talk to anyone. So while they knew the biggest detail they still knew nothing.

It hurt Suna the most. How could you just cut him off like that. You were the most important person to him how could you not know that. He fretted. He knows your hurting but why did you have to cut all of them off most importantly him. Part of him was so incredibly angry how could you not even say goodbye to him. Did his friendship really mean that little to you. But another part of him understood that he couldn’t possibly know what you are going through. All he knew is how much he missed your smiling eyes. He would give everything to see you again.

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#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu suna #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu angst #atsumu x female reader #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintarou #atsumu miya #suna angst #atsumu is an ass #suna is a simp

[castthy-nightedcolour]

One- Shot: The Seaside Dream (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley

Warnings and Tags: depression, skipping meals, dynamic duo, here come the boysssss, soft crowley

Summary: you don’t show up for wine with crowley and aziraphale, and the two hurry to your apartment to see what’s going on

Word Count: 2281

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/83889112

‘Crowley, please hurry!’

The pained cry of the angel came from the top of the flight of stairs in your apartment block, echoing off the concrete walls. This mixed with the reverberant sigh of Crowley, and the ever- so- slow tread of his footsteps.

‘CROWLEY. This is important! Do you not care?’

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet at the bottom of the set of stairs that the out of breath Aziraphale stood at the top of.

Crowley was not at all happy with the angel’s question.

‘Do I not what? Care? Oh Angel, you’re asking to be pushed down these stairs,’ he responded, almost growling under his breath. In any other circumstance, this might have actually pleased Aziraphale, however this time, he was actually terrified.

-

The scenario had started with what Aziraphale called ‘a dreadfully funny feeling.’

Since Armageddon was narrowly avoided, the angel and the demon had found themselves at somewhat of a loose end on Earth, enjoying their free time together but still constantly striving for some higher purpose.

That’s where you came in. Little did you know that a walk into a lovely little bookshop called A.Z Fell & Co. one day to search for an overpriced illustrated copy of your favourite book would lead to drinking a couple of bottles of wine with the owner and his companion for seven hours straight, and that this would become a weekly tradition. You just clicked with the pair, you found them magnetising and, well, you were a fascinating human to the angel and the demon, so they quickly grew fond of you.

The two supernatural beings then decided that their purpose would be caring. Caring for you.

Not in a suffocating way though, at least that was never the intention. Between the two of them, Crowley and Aziraphale decided from the get go that they would just be there for you as a friend, with little extras added on top like going out and buying your shopping for you whenever there was a thunderstorm, or baking you enough cake to feed the 5000. But, the pair’s talents in observance and intuition slowly made them realise that something was always just slightly off with you.

To them, it seemed like there was always something hidden behind a wall in your head, like a pretence that you constantly held up. Granted, part of their realisation came when in one of your drinking sessions at the bookshop, you let slip that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal for two days and they both nearly hit the roof. They asked you why, and kept asking why (Aziraphale in particular was extremely persistent) but you brushed it off- you always brushed it off.

‘No no, it’s nothing to be worried about, I promise! I’ve just been so busy, y’know? It’s nothing, please Aziraphale, you can sit down. Don’t you worry about me.’

Now, Crowley could sense a lie from a mile off considering he was the lord of them, and Aziraphale could feel that your inner emotions were about as steady as a mongoose riding a pedal bike, and they therefore deduced that they should in fact worry about you.

And so the slightly incompetent suffocation began.

This was definitely mainly from Aziraphale, as his senses for detecting emotional suffering and hurt were a lot stronger than Crowley’s- this was just down to how long he’d been pulling angelic manoeuvres. Crowley was a lot less practised however when he felt that something was off, he really did feel that something was off. This however meant that wherever in London you were, Aziraphale would realise that something was wrong, no matter how small the inconvenience.

Notable occasions included when the tubes on the Central Line were running one minute late and Aziraphale unsuccessfully attempted to miracle another train up, causing even more delay and destruction, when the bottom of your shoe fell off in a puddle and Aziraphale got so upset that he cried for an hour, (to be fair, he’d had a long day; someone had tried to buy a book from the shop which had displeased him greatly) and when a seagull crapped on your shoulder while you were sitting outside a bar at Canary Wharf and the angel managed to manifest a fluke bolt of lightning which struck the seagull down right into your food.

And all this from the comfort of his own home.

Crowley had tried to tell the angel that not every inconvenience could be sorted out, that the pair needed to pick their battles with the perils of the human life.

‘Yes yes, I understand. I’ll stop, I promise. We’ll stick to the original plan. Now have you seen my banana bread recipe? I think they could do with a pep up.’

This lasted for 22 hours.

You hadn’t shown up to the bookshop like you did every week.

‘Oh Angel do stop pacing, they have a life of their own you know,’ Crowley nagged, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand as he stood in the doorway between the main shop and the back room.

‘Something is wrong, Crowley. I have a dreadfully funny feeling,’ Aziraphale insisted, wringing his hands and pacing at twice the average speed of an angel.

‘Right, yes, okay but the problem is, you’ve said that every night for two weeks and it hasn’t been true once.’

‘You can’t sense it like I can.’ The angel stormed towards the coat stand, reaching for his coat.

‘Oh no no no, we agreed, no suffocation. Put that down, you’re not going anywhere,’ the demon asserted.

‘Oh yes we are. Put that wine in the back, you’re driving.’

Crowley had rarely heard Aziraphale’s voice like this before, low and extremely demanding. There wasn’t any way he was getting out of this, the angel was on a mission.

-

And so, Crowley drove the angel to your apartment block and the two of them ended up in the stairwell facing off with each other. Too highly strung for their own good.

‘What if this is the one time that I’m right? You’re here getting all… demonic on the stairs and-‘

‘I will get demonic, Aziraphale. I am in fact a demon, plus if this is the one time that you’re right then you’re holding both us back by squabbling. Move out of the way.’

Crowley marched up the stairs stony faced, swooping straight past Aziraphale to your front door.

He did care. He really did. He just didn’t like to show it around Aziraphale because he always felt inferior in they way that he cared compared to the angel. He didn’t have those massively intuitive senses, his baking skills weren’t up to scratch, he felt held back by control. But something in the demonic form burned when he thought of the idea that you were hurting- and that burning was made more painful by Aziraphale’s suggestion that he didn’t care.

He snapped his fingers at your door, and it violently swung open, hitting against the wall of the hallway as it did. He stormed inside, barely letting Aziraphale follow behind before he snapped his fingers again to close it. Darkness and silence fell over the hallway as the angel and the demon stood completely still, their anxious breathing slowly filling the space.

They could both easily sense one important thing- you were present in the apartment, you were safe within the four walls. There was a collective sigh of relief.

‘Told you,’ Crowley sneered under his breath, trying to hide his still present anxiety. As much as he could feel your presence, he was struggling with any of the finer details, your emotional state or your exact whereabouts.

‘Don’t be like that. I was only trying to help,’ Aziraphale whimpered, taking a small step forwards. Unlike Crowley, he could just about tell that you were somewhere in the general direction of your bedroom. The angel clicked his fingers and uttered a small ‘let there be light’, allowing the hallway to be illuminated by a faint white glow. There was no other light coming from anywhere due to a distinct lack of windows in the architecture of this building, the only three were in your living room, your bedroom and your kitchen and even then, you’d shut all of the curtains and all of the doors in the place.

The angel padded further down the hallway, leaving Crowley to look at the prints on your walls like an awkward cousin at a party. By the time Aziraphale had reached your bedroom door, Crowley had moved onto examining the items on the coffee table that was slightly further down the hall. There wasn’t a lot to examine, a couple of books, your keys, an Alexa that you’d turned the microphone off on. The one thing that caught Crowley’s eye was a small painting of a seaside town just laying down on the table. It wasn’t anywhere near being finished and much to Crowley’s dismay, it was crumpled up. He assumed two scenarios from this, either someone had given you an unfinished painting and you felt so strongly about it that you took to crumpling it up, or this was in fact your handy work that had been partially destroyed.

‘Crowley, what now?’ Aziraphale whispered from the end of the corridor, bringing Crowley’s gaze up from the table and back to reality.

‘Uhhh, don’t scare them. Don’t just burst in,’ the demon responded, moving down to meet Aziraphale by the bedroom.

‘I wasn’t planning on doing that! I just mean, do I knock? Just go in? Announce our arrival?’

Crowley rested his hand lightly on your bedroom door, looking quizzically at Aziraphale who was jumping through every possible scenario in his head. The demon sighed.

‘Just, shush. Okay, let’s just be quiet. Follow me, angel.’

Crowley very slowly pushed your bedroom door open, being greeted with yet more darkness from inside as he did so. Aziraphale hung over his shoulder to try and look inside, with Crowley grunting slightly at this. Through the darkness, Crowley made out a shape in the bed.

You, curled into a ball and fast asleep. Your breathing was heavy, but not laboured, and the bedsheets rose and fell accordingly. You were as close to comatose as could possibly be, dead to the world but luckily, very much alive.

‘Aaah. Oh, look,’ whispered Aziraphale. Crowley glared slightly at the angel, but inside, his sentiments were very similar. The pair stared at your form resting in the darkness for a few seconds, relieved with every breath that you took. With anyone else? It would have been creepy.

But not with these two. It was a deep devotion and concern.

Aziraphale went to take a step forwards but Crowley stopped him in his tracks, stopping the angel from getting anywhere near you.

‘Don’t even think about waking them, look. They’re deep in dreamland,’ the demon hissed, meeting Aziraphale’s puppy eyes.

‘Oh please, I just wanted to check that they’re okay.’

‘Aziraphale, they’re very clearly shattered. I think that we’ve discovered that they’re definitely not okay, but interrupting their sleep won’t help anyone. Let’s just, y’know, help where we can.’

‘But their soul-‘

‘I know. We’ll help with that tomorrow. For today, they sleep.’

Aziraphale eventually backed off slightly, looking down while nodding in defeat. While his deep concern could only ever have come from a place of love, he realised that stepping back for a second could be beneficial to everyone. He started to head towards the kitchen to see if there was anything that he could help with in there, turning back round for a second to ask Crowley what he should do. Crowley however was no longer stood in your doorway, and was instead sat on the edge of your bed, resting his hand on your leg.

The angel went to protest in some jealousy for a moment, but the warm glow that filled up his heart because of the sight stopped him. He just smiled, and turned back.

—

Between the pair of them, you were treated to a clean kitchen, a full fridge, a massive fuzzy blanket for the bed and soft, warm light for each room.

But there was one final detail bugging Crowley.

As the pair crept down your hallway back to the front door, Crowley let out a soft whistle to his friend as he stopped beside the coffee table. The angel turned his head, looking at the objects scattered about the surface.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, strangely intrigued by the small speaker- like object.

‘It’s an Alexa, it’s like a - y’know what, doesn’t matter. That’s not what I need you for. Look at this.’ Crowley picked up the ruined painting that he’d spotted earlier, showing it to Aziraphale. The angel scanned over it.

‘Ooh, its Whitby, the place with Dracula!’ He half gasped half squealed, failing to see what his friend was seeing.

‘It’s fucked is what it is, angel. I think they’ve crumpled it up in frustration or something, which I’m not exactly thrilled with. I’m out of niceness for today, can you do something?’ Crowley sighed, thrusting the painting towards his friend slightly.

‘Oh, easily. Your wish is my command, dear.’

Aziraphale swiped his hand across the paper and watched as the creases disappeared and the smudges eased. The colours got just a little brighter, and the beauty of your half- finished painting was restored.

‘We’ll help them finish it tomorrow, yes Crowley?’ The angel continued. Crowley gave a small smile with all the good energy that he had left in his body.

‘Yes angel. That would be nice.’

#good omens #good omens one shot #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

[bunnimew]

5 Times Pitch Used Terrible Pick Up Lines and the 1 Time It Kinda Worked

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Pairing: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Tags: Fluff, Crack, Pick Up Lines, Post-Movie, 5+1, rating for themes, Pitch Black is a ridiculous man, Jack Frost you little shit Rating: T Words: 1884 Summary: Does what it says on the tin.

For RotG Bingo 2021: Terrible Pick-Up Lines On AO3 Here.

1

Jack hadn’t seen Pitch since the nightmares dragged him away.

The image was never far from his mind. The panic, the despair. And the children were so carefree now that Jack began to wonder if the Boogeyman would ever return.

Which is what made it such a shock when he finally heard that voice again, that silky smooth tone Jack thought locked away in his past, out of the literal darkness.

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

Jack gripped his staff on instinct and spun to face his opponent before he realized that wasn’t an insult at all.

That was a pick-up line.

Pitch Black had just laid a pick-up line on Jack. Frost. One of the Guardians.

What.

The shock was so complete that all the fight melted out of Jack and left him reeling in confusion. Pitch’s lines were meant to sting, right? They weren’t supposed to be–

“Did you just call me fine?” Jack had to ask. Just to make sure.

Pitch’s expression remained smooth and suave, but his body, what little of it was solid, began to waiver and… was the Nightmare King fidgeting?

“Of course, Jack,” he said. “Surely you know how appealing you are?”

Jack nodded. He did. He definitely did. “Surely you know how weird it is that you said it?”

Pitch tilted his chin up, straightening his spine and assuming a very carefully composed stance. He looked uncomfortable as fuck. “It’s not that strange, Jack. If you’ll recall, it’s not the first… offer I’ve made you.”

That was a fair point, and Jack almost gave it to him. “Taking over the world and taking me to bed aren’t exactly the same thing, Pitch.”

His eyes widened in feigned surprise. Pitch leaned forward just enough to make Jack feel his height, and then he said, “Aren’t they, though?”

He vanished into the dark before Jack could come up with a good reply.

2

“Kiss me if I'm wrong. But dinosaurs still exist, right?”

This time, Jack was less surprised. Surprised, yes, but Jack didn’t jump into a defensive stance or anything, which was good for his sense of pride.

Instead, he thought about what Pitch actually said. Dinosaurs did not exist, and that was one of the saddest facts Jack knew. “These are supposed to be Pick-Ups, not Put-Downs. What are you doing?”

Pitch didn’t miss a beat. He turned his head coyly to the side and made himself look very unassuming. “You know, I’m actually terrible at flirting. How about you try to pick me up instead?”

That was… a pretty good line, if Jack were honest. Unfortunately, fraternizing with the enemy was frowned upon in most establishments, and also Jack was not going to reward the Boogeyman for bad behavior. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Are you sure?” Pitch looked up, all innocence. “Maybe you should check again.”

Jack snorted a laugh. He knew Pitch was witty and all, but somehow the Guardian had thought it limited to nasty insults and setting traps. Speaking of…

He looked right into Pitch’s eyes when he said. “You’re wrong, but I’m not kissing you.”

Pitch’s lips twisted, but it looked more playful than aggrieved. “Well you’re no fun.”

3

Jack skated to the edge of the lake, the one he liked to think of as home, and tipped joyously over into the soft snowbank to rest. Figure eights were a lot of fun, but figure skating was a lot of work.

“We’re not socks, but I think we’d make a great pair.”

Jack almost jumped right back out into the lake and through the ice. Instead, he used his unwillfully gained momentum to turn and smack Pitch’s shoulder for scaring him. That was no way to woo a man.

“Antarctica hit you hard, didn’t it?” he accused.

Pitch did look off-put by that, but he didn’t leave so Jack figured he was over it enough. It was only fair, too, considering the whole Antarctica thing was largely Pitch’s doing.

Jack brushed off the snowflakes he’d thrown all over himself in his panic and settled down into the bank the way he’d meant to before Pitch so rudely interrupted. “You know, you’d get further if you stopped sneaking up on people.”

Pitch looked even more offended by that. “I am the Boogeyman!”

“Yeah, so?”

Pitch tossed his head. Dramatically. Jack hid his grin. “Sneaking up on people is what I do.”

“Sneaking up on targets is what you do,” Jack corrected mildly. He stuffed one arm under his head and made sure to have a good angle on Pitch’s face for what he said next. “Sneaking up on a pull is how you go to bed lonely.”

Pitch drew back in shock, and Jack loved to see it. His eyes were wide and everything.

Jack raised his eyebrows and said, “That is what you’re trying to do, isn’t it?”

Pitch sputtered. It was hilarious. He recovered quickly, and that was fun, too. “And who are you to give me dating advice?”

Jack shrugged. “Just the guy you’re trying to date.”

Pitch walked right into that one, and he clearly knew it by the way he kept his mouth shut and looked at everything that wasn’t Jack. Finally, he licked his lips and said, “Yes, well…”

“Well?” Jack prompted. He would have sworn Pitch’s high cheekbones were looking darker than usual.

“Have a nice night,” Pitch said in a rush of breath and vanished into the shadows from whence he came.

Jack grinned. He didn’t care if Pitch was actually still there and could see. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

4

If Jack was the kind of person to compliment his arch nemesis, he would give him props for materializing slowly this time. Was Pitch trying to learn?

All the same, the Nightmare King stopped Jack in his tracks by blocking his way with a long gray arm and a beautiful purple rose.

“I just wanted to show this rose how beautiful you are.”

Gorgeous as the rose was, that line was transparent as hell. Jack dropped his shoulders and stared at Pitch, hoping his expression was as lame as that line.

To his credit, Pitch held his ground. His face was the picture of innocent interest, maybe even with a dash of hope.

As they watched each other, waiting to see who blinked first, Pitch’s arms slowly lifted to place the rose, de-thorned thankfully, over Jack’s ear.

...Well played.

Jack tried to maintain his stare, but it was hard to stay mad when he felt pretty. That didn’t mean Pitch’s line was working; it just meant Jack liked roses. Who didn’t like roses?

Jack gathered his wits and tried to look casual when he asked, “If that’s all you wanted, then I guess your job’s done here, isn’t it?”

Pitch didn’t look upset the way Jack thought he would. His eyes were roaming over Jack’s face and the flower tucked against it in distant admiration and Jack, for the first time, really started to think Pitch might mean something by these lines he was using.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said as if waking from a dream. This time, when Pitch melted into the dark, he sank slowly into the shadows and it didn’t feel anything like the running away it had every time previously.

He could have taken three times as long to leave and Jack still wouldn’t have found his tongue in time to reply.

5

This time, when Pitch appeared, Jack was reclining lazily up in a tree. Which Jack would have considered his home turf, except the way Pitch dripped out from the shadow of the branch above him to hang upside down, comfortable as any bat, made him feel at a distinct disadvantage.

It was creepy, but Jack could admit it was cool, too. Pitch had style.

Jack waited patiently for the line he knew was coming.

“I'd like to take you to the movies, but they don't let you bring in your own snacks.”

Jack snorted a laugh. He couldn’t help it. And yet, after all of this, Jack could admit to feeling flattered by it, too. A snack, huh?

“Why can’t you just tell me you like me and get it over with?”

Jack hadn’t realized any part of Pitch was moving until all of it, extended shadows and everything, came to a screeching halt. “Wha–” He stuttered, and it was music to Jack’s ears. “No, That’s–I don–”

The Boogeyman didn’t know how to handle it when he wasn’t in control, but rather than lash out the way Jack feared, the way he was used to, he flailed in embarrassment and conceded all ground to Jack. That, more than anything else, told Jack what he needed to know.

“Goodbye, Frost.” Pitch said with what little dignity he could muster, and dropped right into the ground.

+1

Pitch wasn’t even a surprise this time.

Jack was in the middle of a long brick walkway, icing up the ornate lamps and decorating the bare trees on either side with snow. There were plenty of shadows to pick from, but Pitch walked over from some distance away giving Jack more than enough warning to know he was there.

Jack was tempted to interrupt him. To see if he could wrongfoot him again, get Pitch to trip over his own words and obvious desires and flee.

It would be easy. Jack could think up dozens of ways to call Pitch out before he even spoke a word.

But then Jack wouldn’t get to hear him speak a word.

And he was curious what words Pitch might speak.

“Your eyes are bluer than the Atlantic ocean,” Pitch spoke softly, poetically. He must have practised to deliver the line this well. “And I don’t mind being lost at sea”

It was worth it, Jack thought: the practice and letting Pitch say it. That smooth tongue was meant for promises on the wind and romance in every word.

Jack stared for too long and only realized when Pitch’s eyes gleamed and he took another breath.

“I wish I were a tear,” he whispered as he moved closer. His cool fingers brushed gently along the side of Jack’s face and Jack felt no fear. Pitch was telling him just what he wanted, and Jack held all the power here. “...So I could start in your eyes,” Pitch said, “live on your face…” His fingers drifted down along Jack’s jaw. He knew what Pitch was going to say before he said it, “...and die on your lips.”

But it was so much better out loud, in Pitch’s voice, than in Jack’s head.

It was Antarctica all over again, but this time Pitch was offering something whose price wasn’t Jack’s soul. It was Antarctica all over again, and Pitch was brave to come back a second time, a third time, a sixth time to risk rejection and hurt and wounds reopened that maybe only just healed.

Jack watched Pitch glow in the moonlight. Watched him take a deep breath and open his lips to speak—

“You can stop now,” Jack said, and grabbed the back of Pitch’s neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Pitch’s lips tasted just as sweet as his lines.

#TheBunni #Rise of the Guardians #rotg #blackicerotg #blackice rotg #blackice #Jack Frost #Pitch Black #Pick-up lines #Rotg Bingo #rotgbingo

[prolestariwrites]

Ashes [Chapter 1] by lickitysplit

Fandom: Resident Evil Characters: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira Rating: M (Mature)

Summary: A year after the destruction of Raccoon City, Jill is ready to put the past in the past and get back to her life. When she and Chris are recruited to go after Wesker, it seems like the perfect opportunity... until she's partnered with the last person she ever wanted to see again.

Read below or on AO3 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Jill jumps when a hand presses to her arm, and she swings her gaze from the window. She relaxes immediately when she registers it was just Chris, slumping a bit in the back of the taxi as she catches her breath.

“You okay?” he asks, half-concerned and half-laughing.

“Yeah. Wool gathering.” She shakes herself and blinks at him. “What is it?”

“Just wanted to check,” he says. “You seem nervous.”

Jill chuckles a bit to hide her nerves that are very much on edge. “Nah,” she scoffs, shifting in her seat to adjust her seatbelt.

“I get it if you are. I mean it’s not every day we meet with the feds.”

“Maybe for you,” she laughs, “but I saw plenty the past eight months or so. No big deal.”

Chris’ lips press together in that look he gets when she makes light of Raccoon City. But he nods and turns to look straight ahead as the taxi weaves through the traffic. “Still…”

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Jill says, keeping her tone light. “You’ve been meeting every official who’s crawled out of the woodwork. This should be a cakewalk for you.”

“County, yeah. State sometimes. But the DOJ?” Chris shakes his head. “This is gonna be big. I can feel it.”

Jill folds her arms and turns to look out the window again. He’s probably right; Chris usually is.

The taxi pulls up outside of a slick-looking office complex, and Chris pays the fare as Jill climbs out. She holds her hand up for shade against the late morning sun that is reflected brightly off the windowed stories. “Looks like something the feds would waste money on,” she comments after he joins her on the sidewalk.

Chris chuckles before giving her a nudge. “Let’s go.”

They pass through metal detectors that are set off by Chris’ weapon, which he surrenders at reception while they present their ID’s. Jill eyes the Glock almost longingly as it is tagged and set inside a locker, scowling a bit as Chris is handed a ticket to retrieve it later. It’s not fair that he’s been allowed to keep his weapons while she hasn’t, but that is an argument she’s been having with anyone who cares to listen for months. Not that it's gotten her anywhere.

She takes her license back from the receptionist before being pointed towards the elevators. They wait in silence until the doors open, and when they step inside Chris presses the button for the fifth floor. “Did you read the stuff I sent you on this guy?” he asks once the elevator begins to move.

“Yeah,” Jill replies. “Agent Donner, DOJ, blah blah. Probably wants to ask us about everything again, like we haven’t told them everything we know about Umbrella a thousand times.”

Jill can practically feel him give her a side-eye, which does little to help her already dampened mood. “Maybe not.”

“If it was just you, maybe not. But all I’m good for now is giving blood samples apparently. Can’t let the bioweapon have a badge.”

Her tone is harsh, and she hates taking it out on Chris. It’s not his fault that he’s been allowed to keep working, now reporting to the county since Raccoon City is gone. But it still stings that whatever powers-that-be that still exist won’t trust her to come on full time as an agent. Nobody knows Umbrella more than the former S.T.A.R.S. team, and as one of the surviving members, it’s beyond frustrating that she’s the only one not allowed to actually do anything.

The elevator dings and they step into another reception area. The secretary offers them something to drink before heading down a hallway, leaving them to wait. Jill examines the pictures on the wall, most of which are group photos of recruitment teams by year, alongside a handful of formal portraits of agents in dress attire. A pang presses sharp into her stomach, thinking of the similar memorial wall in the police station. Do all law enforcement groups have such traditions? Jill had never thought to wonder before.

“Agent Redfield!” They both turn as a man enters from the hallway, walking over to shake Chris’ hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“And Miss Valentine,” he continues, turning to her with his hand outstretched. “A pleasure.”

“Agent Valentine,” she corrects as she returns the shake.

He clears his throat. “Of course. Henry Donner. Let me show you where we’ll be meeting.”

They exchange a glance before following Donner down a long hallway. At the end is a meeting room, and conversation stops as they are introduced to a handful of other agents. Two are also from the Justice department, one from FEMA, and the final one is an FBI agent. It annoys her how Chris seems impressed, taking a seat quickly once the introductions are done.

“Do you need anything? Coffee?” Donner offers.

Chris declines but Jill decides to get to the point. “Why are we here?” she asks.

Donner clears his throat. “As you can imagine, the United States government is interested in finding all responsible parties for the unfortunate incident in Raccoon City. The FBI and the Department of Justice have been working closely together to track down the former executives of Umbrella, as well as information on any and all scientists who were knowingly or even unknowingly working on bioweapons.

“The search is going well,” he continues. “We’ve taken dozens of people into custody, and thankfully many former employees of Umbrella have come forward to volunteer information.” Donner glances around the room. “However, the investigation is not moving as quickly as the department, or even the president, would like. That’s why we’ve asked you here.”

Jill sighs. This seems like another afternoon of questions going hours on end, and she tries to think of a way to shut it down quickly. “What do you want exactly?”

“Your help, Miss— Agent Valentine,” he replies with a little wink.

Jill narrows her eyes as Chris quickly interjects, “We’ve given dozens of interviews. They’ve been recorded and on tape, we’ve handed over everything we know from our investigations. What more can we give you?”

“Agent Shields?” Donner prompts.

The one from the FBI stands, walking around the table as he carries a folder. “We’re prepared to bring you both on in an official capacity. Not as members of the department, mind—that would be impossible giving the time constraints. Rather, you would be sworn in as ad hoc agents, to assist with finding one particular suspect.”

Shields lays the folder down in front of Chris, and he opens it as he moves it so Jill can also see. Her eyes go wide as they fall on the picture paperclipped to the front cover. “Wesker?” she asks in confusion, looking up.

“He’s dead,” Chris argues. “He was killed in the Arklay Mountains.”

“We have reason to suspect he is alive,” Shields replies.

There is a moment of silence as Jill absorbs the information. Wesker, alive? Images of the mansion and the last time she had seen him form a grotesque slideshow in her mind. “That bastard,” she mutters. “He started this. He’s behind all of this.”

“How do you know he’s alive?” Chris demands.

“There’s intelligence the federal government has received that he’s been spotted overseas,” Donner replies. “I can’t indulge too much, but his identity was confirmed via DNA. Only…” He clears his throat, glancing at the other agents. “There were markers in his DNA that indicate some kind of mutation. We’re working with FEMA and the CDC to identify exactly what and how he has mutated, and there is suspicion that it’s an ongoing condition. Which is why we must find him, and fast. There’s no telling what he has, and what he can spread.”

Donner glances at her, and Jill’s face heats. “If he was infected with something, you’d know it,” she says. “It’s not like the infected were hard to miss in Raccoon City.”

“We know it’s not the T-virus,” the FEMA agent interrupts.

“It’s a yet-unidentified strain,” Donner continues. “Further intelligence from other Raccoon City survivors confirm at least one other Umbrella strain exists, known as the G-virus. Whatever is in Wesker, it’s neither of those, as we have samples of both.” He nods at Jill before saying, “You have antibodies from the vaccine you were given, as does Sherry Birkin, another survivor who had been inflicted with the G-virus. But we can’t say for sure that Wesker has such a precaution. And until we know for sure, we need him in custody, or else the entire world is at risk.”

Jill’s heart pounds as she looks back down at the file. Finally, a chance to do something, get the hell out of the lab and her cramped apartment where she’s under near-constant surveillance. A smile curls on her lips as she thinks of finding Wesker and bringing him in, right after she puts her foot right up his ass.

“So you’re sending us to find Wesker?” Chris asks. “Why us?”

She resists the urge to poke him. “Do you want to do this or not?” she hisses.

“Of course I do. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on Wesker since that damn mansion.” He frowns at Donner. “You have every agent probably looking for him. So why us?”

“Chris.”

“It’s a fair question,” Donner says. “Truth is, we’ve been chasing him for well over a month. There’s just not enough information to get a lock on him. We can’t predict his movements, and with almost everything from Umbrella now destroyed, we’re fumbling in the dark trying to guess his associates, his contacts, find his safe houses.”

Shields leans against the table and taps on Wesker’s picture. “You two worked with him. You know him, his movements, how he thinks. We’re confident if we put you in the field, you’ll be able to identify the right movements for the department.”

Jill is nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to deputize us then?”

Donner nods, and Jill grins, giving Chris an elbow. “Come on, Redfield, don’t you want to partner with me again?”

He gives her a wry look, but Donner shakes his head. “You won’t be partnering together. That was the original plan, but things have changed.”

Jill’s brows go up as Chris looks unconvinced. “What changed?”

“New intelligence points to Wesker making contact with an arms dealer,” Shields explains. “Seems like he’s running out of cash and needs to sell a few secrets. Problem is, we don’t know which dealer.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to two,” Donner finishes. “You’ll both be sent on recon with an escort. Interpol is also interested in securing Wesker, and we’ve been given additional support from the UN to find him.”

Now even Jill is impressed. “Interpol? Really?” She decides she doesn’t care what Chris says; this is too good to pass up. “I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Me too,” Chris agrees, closing the file. “Finding Wesker is what’s important.”

“Great!” Donner rubs his hands together as he stands. “Let’s get started then. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork, get briefings, and we’ll take care of onboarding this afternoon. Follow me.”

They say their goodbyes and follow Donner out again, who takes them back towards the elevator. “Oh, wait here,” he says once they return to the reception area. “I need to get a few things. Then I’ll take you down for processing.”

As soon as they are alone, Jill turns to Chris with eyes wide with excitement. “Can you believe this?” she whispers. “The fucking FBI is sending us on a mission. We’re working with fucking Interpol. Can you believe this?”

“No,” Chris chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is the last thing I expected. I mean, can they do this?”

“It’s the government, they can do whatever the hell they want.” Jill sighs, her eyes closing briefly. “Finally, I’m going to get back to my life. I’ve been sitting around for months as they’ve poked and prodded and ran every test on me, and even with a clean bill of health they still won’t let me go back to police work.” Jill smirks to herself, folding her arms. “Bet that county sheriff is gonna eat his words now. Not cleared for duty my ass . Can’t wait for the prick to find out I’m an FBI agent now.”

Chris gives a snort as Jill enjoys her moment of smugness when Donner returns. “Perfect timing! Your partners just finished their own briefing, let me introduce you—Redfield, this is—”

But Jill doesn’t hear the rest, because as she turns, her smile melts into surprise when she sees Carlos Oliveira standing in front of her.

He looks exactly the same, without the blood and grime. Same curly hair that is way too long and falling into his eyes; same dark eyes that remind her of a puppy dog, eager and bright; same build, tall and broad and definitely a soldier. Her face heats as they stare at one another for a long moment until Carlos breaks into a grin. “Supercop! Are you kidding me? How are you?”

Before she can answer he sweeps her up into a hug, and Jill gives an oof as she is squeezed tightly against him. His arms are solid and his grip is strong as he presses his cheek to hers, but Jill is in too much shock to return the embrace. When he finally releases her, he keeps his hands pressed to her arms, smiling wide as he looks her up and down. “Thought they were messing with me. I can’t believe it’s really you! You look great!”

Jill stammers, “C-Carlos? What are you doing here?”

She looks around for an answer. Chris and the other guy are chatting, but Donner gives a nod. “I thought it would be a good idea partnering the two of you,” he says. “Oliveira’s been working with the UN in establishing protocol for viral outbreaks around the world.”

“I’m a liaison,” Carlos grins. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

“But you…”

She shakes her head to clear it, not even sure what to say. Thankfully, Carlos releases her arms, turning to Chris with his hand outstretched. “Redfield. Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, man.”

“Uh, same,” Chris answers awkwardly, glancing at Jill. “You’re the one that rescued Jill in Raccoon City, right?”

“I rescued him,” she mutters.

“Yeah, supercop here saved my ass more than a few times.” He pats the other man on the shoulder. “You teaming up with Nathan here? That’s awesome.”

“But what are you doing here?” Jill asks, louder this time.

All four men look at her. She can feel the color blooming on her neck, but she refuses to be the first to glance away. She had not gone through all the shit from the past year and a half, hell the past ten years : surviving the army, putting up with every comment and remark when training for Delta Force, fighting and clawing her way to prove that she was more than a girl with a gun, surviving a zombie apocalypse and a damned nuclear bomb to be ignored now.

“Well?” she demands.

“What do you mean?” Carlos laughs. “We’re partners again. Ain’t that great news?”

Partners. With Carlos Oliveira. The last man on Earth she had ever wanted to see again.

#resident evil #resident evil 3 #re3 #Carlos Oliveira #Jill Valentine #valeveira #carlos x jill #fan fiction #ashes

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 11: Coffee

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

A/N: This story will now update on Wednesdays from here on in! Hope that you're all doing well. It's wednesday, you made it halfway! You got this!

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You didn’t sleep much that night. You were afraid to sleep. Between the vision on the roof and your night with Liu Kang? Sleep just wasn’t part of the equation. You hated that you wanted to be held through the night, but you felt too guilty to imagine Kung Lao doing it. You tossed wildly between feeling horribly guilty that you’d slept with Liu Kang like a human wrecking ball and angry that he’d lied to you all those years ago. You would have given anything to get your brain to shut up for the night.

The next morning, you tagged along with the other champions to meet with Johnny Cage. Liu had told you that you could stay behind if you needed rest, but you wanted to be anywhere but alone with your thoughts. Besides, you were curious about Johnny. Raiden had sent all of you to talk to him. Either he was impressive, or Raiden had ulterior motives. You were guessing the latter.

From what you’d heard, Johnny was as stubborn as they came but you hoped that deep down, he had a somewhat decent moral compass. It was difficult to tell just from watching a movie and meeting him would help. You were usually a good judge of character.

You were to meet with him at a coffee shop in Hollywood and he was impossible to miss. White blazer, bright blue half-buttoned shirt beneath it, gold chain around his neck, and the top letters of a tattoo of his own name exposed on his chest.

“When I agreed to meet with you, I figured it’d be just you and me not your whole crew of misfits.” Johnny gestured behind Sonya who had her arms folded so tight under her chest, you could see her veins bulging. She looked like she wanted to immediately break his nose. He must have made quite the impression on her the day before. Johnny made a big deal out of buying coffee even though most of you declined. You ended up getting a tea since Johnny seemed a little bummed that no one was taking him up on his ‘generosity’.

“Can you believe this guy?” Sonya whispered to you. You sipped your tea and shrugged. They had gotten to talking about the dragon mark. Cole had shown his off since it was the easiest to get to. “I’ve never seen anyone love the sound of their own voice this much.”

“I think he’s a little funny.” You shrugged. You’d decided he was harmless. Yes, he had a huge ego and cocky attitude, but he was also… well, harmless. He played it tough and made a lot of jokes, but you had met plenty of terrible men in your life and Johnny didn’t seem like one of them. Sonya huffed next to you.

“So, you’re telling me that you all have the same mark as me?” Johnny led them outside the café and took a seat, kicking his feet onto one of the tables. He held his latte close and looked at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Yes. The mark means that you have been chosen.” Liu’s English was adorable. He had such a careful way of speaking and his accent made it even sweeter. You had to make a conscious effort not to smile. Liu explained Mortal Kombat, and it was nice to hear him sounding like himself for once. Maybe your night had done some good even if it had felt like a mess.

“Hold up, hold up. You all have the mark? I was just joking before.” Johnny kicked his feet off the table and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Yes. We are the chosen warriors.”

“…that’s messed up.” Johnny sipped his coffee and set it down on the table. Then he pointed to you. “How’s the tea? Good?”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Focus.” Sonya’s every word to Johnny was accompanied with a cringe or a sigh. You, again, had to actively try not to smile. He waved off your gratitude with a motion that said it was no big deal but looked pretty pleased with himself.

“Is this a joke? Are you guys pranking me? It’s… pretty creepy that you all have my mark.”

“It’s not your mark and it is not a joke, I assure you. Like we said, it means that you are chosen to fight.” You bowed your head politely.

“Wait, I think I’ve got it.”

You stepped behind the others to allow them to handle it. It was too hard for you not to laugh. Jax and Sonya exchanged annoyed glances in front of you. No laughing, you reminded yourself.

“Have you?” Cole seemed skeptical.

“This must be an elaborate pitch for a movie. Am I right?” Johnny’s grin was infectious. You could see how he had wound up semi-famous. Arrogant, good looking, funny. He was a little annoying, but you understood the appeal. The movie you’d watched the night before had been terrible but also fun to watch. Sometimes that was all a movie needed to be. Cole was trying not to laugh and had taken a step back so it wouldn��t be so obvious. Sonya and Liu continued to try and get the conversation back on the rails, but Johnny was excellent at derailing it.

Jax’s arms were literally made of metal and Johnny was still convinced that it was some Hollywood practical effects nonsense.

“What do you make of him?” Jax asked you quietly. He’d taken a step back with you, eyes still narrowed as he watched the conversation unfold.

“I think… that he’s harmless and we should just maybe… corner him in an alley, knock him unconscious, and drag him back to China.” You shrugged. If you couldn’t convince him with words, then you could show him the truth. Jax laughed and then his smile faded as he realized you weren’t joking.

“…are we allowed to do that?”

“I mean, legally no but… who’s going to stop us?”

Jax laughed again but you were serious. You could knock him out and bring him back to China. He seemed like a good guy with good intentions, but he wanted proof and you weren’t sure that he’d believe anything you did without making a wild excuse for it. Some people were so stuck in their head about what they thought reality was that they refused to believe the truth when it stared them in the face. Lord Raiden was the ultimate proof. Then again, Johnny Cage would probably be missed if you took off with him without a word. And you supposed that Jax and Sonya were military and might object to you breaking the law. Maybe you could talk to Liu and Cole about it later and figure something out.

Sonya was easily exasperated which was funny to watch. She’d dealt with Kano with far more grace. Something about Johnny seemed to get under her skin. You were just happy that it wasn’t you for once who was obviously frustrated. All things considered, today you were doing fine. “No offense, but I only agreed to this because I thought I could buy you a coffee and charm you into having dinner with me.” Johnny clearly had a thing for blonds. You continued to try not to laugh.

“We can prove it.” Cole interrupted. “Prove that it’s all true.” He was playing mediator on Sonya’s behalf. It was kind of sweet. You also kind of wanted to see Sonya break Johnny’s nose. That would also be fun. “A fight.”

“With you?” Johnny looked him over skeptically and Cole’s affronted expression was delightful.

“No. With him.” Cole nodded toward Liu who bowed his head.

“…really?” Johnny looked skeptical but then got to his feet. “I’m not sure what kind of movie you’re trying to pitch to me, but a challenge is way more up my alley than shoving a script in my face.” You had turn away to keep from laughing, not at Johnny, but at how hard Jax had rolled his eyes. “There’s a gym down the road and I’m sure they’ll let us fight.”

“Privately.” Cole added before Liu could agree to the terms. It wouldn’t exactly be good for Liu to set the world on fire in a public place.

“Weird request, but okay.” Johnny led them down the block and walked backwards, turning to face them as he adjusted his jacket with a grin. “But if I win then you leave me alone about all this and blondie lets me take her to dinner.”

“Not part of the deal. If we win, you listen to us and come with us to China.” Sonya went to continue on what you were certain to be a hilarious tangent, but you elbowed her and urged her to agree. “Ugh, fine. Deal.”

“I’ve gotta warn you little man, I am a force to be reckoned with. You’re about to step into the cage.”

“If Liu loses, I’m skipping town.” Sonya muttered to you.

“Liu won’t lose. Trust me.”

Sonya continued to grumble. You were confident in Liu’s skill. You had the utmost faith in him. Johnny led them along the longest and shortest walk to a gym in your life. He could talk. Again, he was harmless, but a little annoying.

Johnny brought you to the most pretentious gym you had ever seen. It was huge. He’d been able to talk his way into getting you access to an indoor tennis court so you could have some privacy. You pulled Liu aside and reminded him not to set the whole place on fire which he seemed to think was funny. You weren’t sure you could explain that away so easily. You’d tried so if the worst happened then it wasn’t you fault.

There were backless benches on the sidelines of the court, so you took a seat in the center to watch Liu and Johnny fight. You weren’t sure why all the champions had to be here for this. It seemed excessive. Maybe you would reach out to Raiden and explain that your talents were being wasted. It would be better to just show Johnny the truth than try to talk it to him because that boy could talk his way out of anything, it seemed.

Johnny was a talented fighter, but he also showboated a lot. You watched as Liu easily stepped out of the way of Johnny’s every strike. Johnny droned on and on while they fought. You wondered how long it would take before Liu put him in his place. It was almost embarrassing to watch the fight with Johnny not taking anything seriously.

You tuned out the noise of the fight and the others trying to convince Johnny from the sidelines. Instead, you chose to admire Liu doing one of the things that he did best. It was easy to forget how impressive he was when you spent most of your time arguing and being neck deep in your grief and drama. These were some of the things that had attracted you to him in the first place.

Maybe you should tell him how highly you thought of him. It had been a long time since you’d had anything nice to say to each other. Cole came to sit next to you, and you paid him no mind at first.

“This is silly.”

“Very.” You tore your eyes away from the fight for a second. Hm, interesting. Sonya had disappeared at some point. You couldn’t blame her. Johnny was making her uncomfortable. It was a shame though. You had been looking forward to seeing Sonya snap and put Johnny in his place. “How’s the family today?” You hated small talk, but it seemed appropriate.

“Good. Doing some more sightseeing. They liked you, by the way. I’m glad you got to spend time with them.”

“It was nice.” You wanted to say that it had been good to be out of your head, but you weren’t very close to Cole and were still cautious around him. You had a feeling that he understood what you meant. “So, what do you make of this guy?”

“I’m starting to feel like this is a waste of time. Every champion of Earthrealm is here catering to his ego rather than doing… honestly, anything other than this seems more important.”

“I agree. I’m not sure why Raiden sent all of us. You three could have handled it. Raiden has his reasons. He always does. He’s funny like that.” You took to watching the fight again. Johnny had finally started to take it seriously. Liu should have just set his fists on fire and ended it, but he seemed to be enjoying it. Silence followed momentarily. Cole nudged you with his shoulder, and you wobbled purposely as if it had been more than a nudge.

“Are you and Liu…?” He nodded toward Liu knowingly and you snapped your gaze away from the fight.

“No,” you said probably far too haughtily. This was feeling inappropriately personal again. Then again, you had just been kind of ogling Liu Kang. You thought you’d been discreet.

“Sorry to assume.” Cole laughed and leaned back on the bench. “Are you sure though?”

“I feel like if anyone’s sure then it’s me.”

“It’s just… I couldn’t sleep last night so I came down to the lobby to ask for more pillows. It was around closing time at the bar. I’d been thinking about getting a drink to put me to sleep and…” Ah, damn. “I spotted you and Liu in the bar. Tried to wave but you were pretty focused on each other.”

“Yeah.” There was a chance he hadn’t seen too much, and you weren’t going to admit to anything without needing to. “We’ve been arguing so we were trying to bury the hatchet and grieve.”

“That would do it.” Cole was bad at trying to hide his amusement. It was kind of charming. “It didn’t look like arguing. Or grieving.” Oh, good. Of course he’d seen them. Why wouldn’t he have? You sighed heavily. “Is there something we should know?”

“It’s personal. It doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else.”

“If we end up in trouble then it might not be so personal anymore. You’d be surprised what people do when things are complicated like that in a panicked situation.”

“No offense, Cole, but Liu and I are good at panicked situation. Also, it’s none of your business.” You were embarrassed and it was showing, and you hated it. Cole laughed. Sometimes you were just as bad as Liu was at hiding your frustration.

“I’m not judging you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing, Cole.” God, it was so not nothing, but you didn’t want to talk about it with Liu nonetheless with Cole or anyone else for that matter. It was awkward.

“I’m choosing not to believe you.”

“Fine. But it’s nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” Jax sat on the other side of Cole. Cole pointed to you, and you spoke with wide eyes.

“It’s really nothing. Where did Sonya go? I didn’t see her leave.” You couldn’t change the subject fast enough and Cole made no attempt to hide his laughter.

“Oh, she’s avoiding this creep but she’s still around.” Jax gestured to Johnny Cage who was dusting himself off after being knocked to the floor by Liu.

“Creep is a harsh word.” You chuckled then considered it. “I suppose he is hitting on her a lot, but… I think he’s kind of funny.” Cole and Jax didn’t seem to agree. “He’s harmless. Like… a poodle.” Cole stifled a laugh. “Has the ability to be tough but look at him.”

“He’s an entitled ass.”

“You’re right, Jax. He is.” Your intentions were sometimes lost in English. “I didn’t mean to suggest he wasn’t.” Cole and Jax continued the conversation, but you turned back to the fight. Just in time too, it seemed. You smacked Cole’s arm and diverted his attention back to the fight.

Liu took a step back and the fiery energy swelled around him. He clasped his hands together then drew them apart with controlled strength. He was finally going to do more than give Johnny a run for his money. Fire burst between his palms and he stretched it before him before turning and tossing the fireballs. Johnny rolled out of the way with a girlish shriek.

“Whoa! Whoa, hey!” Johnny crouched to look at the scorch marks that the fire had left behind on the court. “Was that real? That was real fire! How’d you do that?” With some excitement, Johnny approached Liu who summoned the fire again in his palms and then stepped back in a threatening stance that made Johnny stop short. “What kind of special effects thing is that? Special gloves? Looks like your real hands… what movie were you guys pitching again?”

“We are not pitching a film.” Liu wasn’t even short of breath. He hadn’t even broken a sweat and he allowed the fire to blaze in his palms. “Those of us with the marking are gifted arcana to help us fight to protect our home. This is mine.”

“Oh, come on, just tell me how you’re doing it without burning your hands.” Johnny smirked. Then he yelped as Liu threatened to throw the fire at him again. “I really won’t tell anyone! I’ll sign an NDA and everything. Just tell me how you do it.”

“This is absurd.” You shook out your hands and then cracked your knuckles. Enough was enough. You were going to help convince Johnny Cage. Cole perked up.

“I was hoping you would.”

You rubbed your hands together and then with a swift gesture of your wrist, you drew Johnny Cage so that he was standing before Liu who took a step back in surprise and threw you a glance. You were shocked by the effort it took. Keeping these drawings up was definitely one of your more complex skills but it didn’t usually make you feel the way it was making you feel now. You hadn’t been this exhausted by your arcana since you’d first learned how to use it. It was probably the lack of sleep. You were grateful that it hadn’t slowed you down, but you’d lost your posture. Cole offered you an arm and you took it.

Liu stepped back to allow your drawing to take his place, releasing his fire without so much as a puff of smoke. His hands and forearms were covered in soot. You mimicked the stance that you’d seen Johnny use in that terrible movie from the night before. The actor was taken so off guard that he was quiet and focused on the copy of him that you willed toward him.

He ducked and dodged and with surprising speed and accuracy, he knocked the ink back and it fell to pieces. You shuddered and hunched forward but Cole helped keep you upright. Jax sat on the other side of you to do the same. This was embarrassing. You could usually keep up a drawing while you fought. Today you could barely sit upright. You redrew the ink copy behind him, and it knocked him swiftly to the ground. You had to use moves you knew better than Johnny. A mixture of Kung Lao and you.

Johnny blocked and stepped back nervously and was trying to reason with the ink copy, but your ears were ringing, so you didn’t hear what he was saying. Judging by the joy on Cole’s face, it had to have been funny. You knocked him to the ground with a sweeping kick and when he rolled onto his back, you manipulated the ink into Sonya and allowed it to pin him to the ground and press a shadowy blade to his throat. Johnny threw up his hands on either side of him in surrender.

“Okay! Okay. Just…” He drifted off, at a loss for words. You shook off Cole and Jax then stood but both men stood with you. You had to have been pale or look unsteady, but you were okay. “What the fuck?” Johnny poked at the ink form of Sonya’s shoulder, and it stained his hand.

“I assure you that no special or practical effects could mimic my arcana in the moment.” You stepped closer and bowed your head politely with a smile. “Now, will you listen to us Mr. Cage? Or should I kick your ass with a copy of you again?”

“What is it?” Johnny tried to wipe the ink off with his other hand.

“The lady’s right. Are you ready to listen? Or are we going to have to pound you to the ground and drag you kicking and screaming?” Jax threatened. Cole stood next to you, hand behind you just in case you fell. You threw him a look and he shrugged. Johnny was looking like you’d stolen his cookies and then eaten them right in front of him.

“Or we can abandon you and wait for someone to kill you and take the mark.” Liu stood next to you.

“Wait, what? Take my mark?” Johnny lifted his shirt as if to search for his mark and then sighed with relief. You released the drawing and were grateful that Cole held you upright again. Jax offered Johnny a hand and began to explain, at length, how he’d gotten his mark. Johnny was looking far more apprehensive and doe-eyed now that he’d realized this could be real and not just a movie pitch.

“You good?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You smiled graciously at Cole then gestured to the benches. You patted his shoulder and then took a seat back on the bench. You’d done your part. Liu Kang took the seat next to you when it appeared he was no longer needed.

“Someone can just take it? Just like that?” Johnny was back on his feet and sounding horrified. You tuned him out while Jax continued to work.

“You’re gray again.” Liu didn’t usually speak to you in English. It was charming.

“Am I? It doesn’t usually drain me like that. I’m tired is all. That’s probably it.”

“I’m worried, Y/N. You should…”

“If you’re going to say that I need to take it easy then I’m going to smack you right on the mouth, Liu. I know my limits.”

Cole chuckled from ahead of you and then cleared his throat and muttered an apology. Liu turned his gaze from yours, but you could see the slightest smile on his lips. Charming again. Dammit.

“Fine!” Johnny Cage adjusted his jacket, shouting loud enough to get your attention. “I’m… I have to go. This has been very interesting but… I’ve got meetings and people to see and…”

“Don’t you make excuses, you little shit.” Jax threatened.

“No, really. I’m already way past my time with you guys. This was supposed to be coffee with a pretty lady. I have a meeting with my agent. I told Sonya that I was squeezing her in, and I meant it.”

“No way, you lost. We had a deal.” Cole argued.

“This is a lot to absorb. Give me a day to think about it!”

“Why should we trust you?”

“Give him a day.” Liu approached them with his hands folded together neatly behind his back. You couldn’t help but smile. He was much more himself today than he’d been in a long time. You could have cried. “Like he said. This is a great deal to understand. But I won. You will meet with us again tomorrow when you have had your day.”

“Technically? She won.” Johnny gestured to you and you offered a friendly wave.

“I did. So, please, do what Liu asks or I will haunt you with replicas of yourself.” You threatened with a smile. Cole was trying not to laugh again. Johnny approached you with his shoulders slumped and sighed. You offered him your phone. “Put in your number. You can tell us where to meet you tomorrow when you’re ready. If you put in a fake number, you will be sorry.”

“I bought you tea.” He pouted. You laughed. He really was harmless. Johnny beamed as if happy to have made you laugh. He fiddled with your phone and handed it back to you. You sent a message to the number, and he responded from his phone seconds later. “I’ll text you where to meet me tomorrow.”

“If you’re dicking us around, I swear…” Jax threatened.

“I have faith that he’s going to do as he said he would.” You decided to offer him patience. Besides, if he did blow them off then you were going with Plan B which was kidnapping.

“I will. Thank you. I’ve… got to run.” Johnny was talking on his phone before he’d even left the room. He was a movie star, after all.

“I guess we go then?” Cole looked like he had much more to say about what had happened but also like he was trying not to burst into laughter. You thought the situation was comical too.

“Where’s Sonya? I don’t want to abandon her here.” You stood and searched the room.

“Outside. I told her what’s up. She’ll meet us out there.” Jax patted you on the shoulder. “Give me that motherfucker’s number before we leave. Just in case.”

“Happy to.” You offered Jax your phone. You made your way out of the gym, and you watched the others walk outside. You stopped in the hall to catch your breath. Damn. That had left you winded. Why? You needed a nap, at the very least. Once outside you met up with Sonya then walked down the block out of sight of the gym.

“Why are we catering to this guy?” Sonya snapped in a haughty whisper once you’d filled her in on what had happened.

“I still think we should just knock him out and drag him to China. He needs proof and he’ll get it there whether he likes it or not.” You shrugged, stepping a bit away from the others so you could lean against the brick wall of the storefront behind you.

“That’s kidnapping.” Sonya dismissed your idea.

“…so was what you did to Kano.” Cole argued.

“This is different. He’s a celebrity. Kano was a murderer and a criminal.” Jax defended Sonya. Their friendship was adorable. They always backed each other up.

“I’m not worried about committing a crime.” You shrugged. Cole laughed again but then cleared his throat when no one else did.

“Sorry. She’s funny.”

“I have a feeling he’s going to come with us. He’s just stuck up his own ass.”

“And this really is a lot to comprehend.” Liu was trying to diffuse the situation rather than stoke the fire which was nice. “He’s frustrating, but we’ve dealt with much worse than him. Give him his day. If he doesn’t pull through, then we’ll figure it out from there. No crimes necessary.” He looked to you as if to warn you.

“You’re no fun.”

“I guess you’re right. Give him his day. I hate it but what else can we do?” Sonya looked to you disapprovingly and then smiled. “Besides kidnapping.”

“That’s still my backup plan.” You folded your arms under your chest. “This has given me a headache. Are we done?”

“Just about, I guess.” Jax adjusted his footing uncomfortably. Liu came to lean next to you against the wall. The others were making plans on where to meet up if Johnny contacted you. They were also talking about dinner which you were not thinking about yet.

“You’re still gray.” Liu was back to Chinese. He probably didn’t want to be overheard.

“I’m tired, that’s all. I promise.” You made a sound of disgust as he picked up your wrist to check your pulse. Cole was giving you a look, a look as if to throw your words of it being ‘nothing’ with Liu back in your face. You stuck your tongue out at him and he laughed. Then you swatted Liu’s hand away. “I’m fine. Stop.”

“Alright. That’s it then. Y/N, if you hear from him let me know. I put my number in your phone.” Jax pointed at you.

“Happy to.” You nodded down the street. “What do we do until then?”

“No matter what happens we meet up at nine in the lobby. If he hasn’t contacted us, we figure it out from there. I’ve got a few ideas.” Jax smirked.

“I guess for now we can just keep enjoying Hollywood.” Cole chuckled. It sounded like they wanted to go sightseeing again and you would pass. They could do whatever they wanted but you were going to get some rest.

Next Chapter >>

#liu kang x reader #self insert #reader insert #liu kang #mk liu kang #slow burn #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #ludi lin #liu kang/reader #liu kang x you #liu kang/you #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #romance #death #tension #grief #beauty through ash

[writing-in-april]

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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[snarkwrites]

ssw | juice ortiz ; when he can't go any deeper | m

Notes:

Okay so here's the thing.. This is a bit of a glimpse into the future / what if for a fic I'm about to start writing.. well, re-writing. Despite me knowing jack fuckall about strip clubs / exotic dancing / how to describe someone giving or getting a lapdance or pole work, I got the idea to have Hazel working two nights a week in a club, idk why.. Anyway.. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, loves.

Also.. I'm no longer just dipping my toes in the filth pool anymore. I went all in with this, oops rip. If anyone wants me to actually write the fic I have in mind for this... Pls.. I beg.. LMK.

Prompts:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

kiss me up against the wall // moan my name as you come // when he can't go any deeper. - those were all the inspiration / prompts for this.

Fandom / Character:

Sons Of Anarchy / Juice Ortiz x Teller Morrow!OFC, Hazel

Fics Hazel can be found in:

None..Yet.

** the one I've used her in is being discontinued to do a rewrite.**

Warnings:

No minors, full stop. There is NSFW / adult content ahead. If you're underage, this was not meant for you -nor should you be reading this. If you choose to stick around after my warnings, this is strictly a you thing and it's not my problem or fault.

If you choose to go on and read this, these are the things present you need to be aware of: stripper!ofc - I admit.. I really am not too sure on how strip clubs operate, so.. if I'm wrong, sorry. lap dancing. thigh riding. body fluids tw. unprotected sex. That's pretty much it.

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@sassymox

@twistnet

Other Stuff:

[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]

I swear I wanted to melt into the floor when I happened to glance out in the crowd and see Juice Ortiz sitting in the back with his eyes glued to the stage. I froze where I stood behind the curtain peering out and for a good five seconds, I heavily contemplated just bolting out the back door of the club.

But if I did that, I’d be out of the killer tips I’ve been told I could get dancing at this place. I wouldn’t have an outlet to express myself freely, either.

,, I had to know this would happen sooner or later. Charming is a small town and the guys from Samcro do come to this club. Even taking the audition and showing up tonight was me, taking a huge risk… So I had to know this would’ve happened at some point if I actually get the gig.” the thought came and I took three deep breaths. The hope was that I’d center myself.

Spoiler alert… it did not happen.

But I did catch sight of a brunette wig. And I convinced myself that between the wig and the dim lighting and the fact that Juice was so far away from the front of the club where I’d be dancing on the stage, he wouldn’t figure it out.

I’d just finished putting on the wig when the club owner cleared his throat and nodded to the curtains in front of me. “You’re up, kid. Do this right and Tuesdays and Thursdays are yours. Fuck it up and you can forget ever getting a chance to try again.”

I scoffed at him for a second or two but he stared me down, humorless.

My favorite Motley Crue song began to play and I stepped through the curtain. Out onto the stage and just as I did, I happened to see that prick AJ Weston and the guy who bought one of the shops downtown making their way to the table right in front of me.

My stomach dropped.

Those cold and emotionless eyes locked on me and he smirked. Nodding to me and leaning in to the shop owner. His best buddy or whatever. I don’t try and keep up with whose pissed off my father day by day, so I didn’t exactly know names.

All I did know was that for whatever reason, my mother’s scared to death of AJ Weston. She thinks she hides it, but she doesn’t. And my mother is not a woman who scares easily.

Suddenly, my biggest worry wasn’t Juice sitting in the back of the club anymore. It was the prick sitting right in front of the stage. I strutted out on the stage, not bothering to make eye contact with AJ Weston, no matter how hard I could feel him staring at me, willing me to do so. I tore off the cropped leather jacket I wore over my favorite red lace bra and after twirling it in the air a time or two, I tossed it onto the stage, hitting the floor. Writhing. Arching my back and crawling around, whipping my hair around to the song playing. I kept away from the center of the stage because I did not want to lock eyes with AJ Weston. I literally had zero desire.

The crowd was starting to get into it. I started to feel that rush like I used to feel when I danced in Las Vegas. I completely forgot about AJ Weston, thankfully. And what started off as a bumpy dance got smoother. Even more so when I found myself searching the crowd. Finding Juice in the back and locking eyes with him. That seemed to cut out a lot of my nervousness.

My hands drifted down my body, and I caught myself pretending they weren’t my hands but Juice’s. Just the thought of him feeling me up, his hands pinning my hands over my head. Pressing into me. The way he’d feel strained against those baggy jeans when he bucked against me in the heat of the moment. I used my dirty mind to fuel the dance. Letting my hands wander down to the waistband of my leather pants, working them down.

The crowd was really getting vocal now. They usually do when the clothing starts to actually come off. My stomach fluttered nervously when I locked eyes with Juice in the back of the club and I actually saw the way what I was doing on stage was affecting him.

He sat up a little straighter in his seat. Spread his legs a little. Squirming around. He nursed a glass of whiskey and his eyes wandered up and down my body slowly. When I hit the floor and started to writhe around, my back arching and my ass up in the air, he bit his lip. Watching intently. Rubbing his chin in thought.

Out towards the front of the club, right in front of me, I heard AJ swearing. Laughing out loud. I wanted to strangle the asshole, especially when he really got started with all his stupid filthy commentary as if he were mocking me, as if he were somehow better than this place even though he was willingly sitting here, of his own volition… But I went back to blocking him out. Focusing all my attention on Juice all over again instead.

Imagining what I’d do if I truly had half the nerve. What I’d let him do to me if I weren’t so damn afraid of falling in love with a Samcro man.

Because if I were going to love one, I’d choose him. Hands down. If I were ever to settle, I’d want to settle with Juice Ortiz.

My song was nearing an end. My dance was slowing down. I made my way up the pole again, grinding it as I inched up it. Slowly. Seductively as I could... Eyes locked on Juice the entire time as I flipped myself upside down and started to wind around the pole, spinning slowly with my arm outstretched as the other arm gripped the pole to hold myself. And just before the official end of my song, I dropped to the ground, crawling away from the pole. Towards the front of the stage, bolder. Getting closer in the hopes I could at least get a little better look at Juice’s face because I was dying to see the expression on it right now.

I smirked in his direction and gave a teasing wink as I pulled myself off the floor and slunk towards the red velvet curtain separating the back of the club from the front.

“Stormy Knight, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants the VIP experience, find Vinnie.” the announcer called out over the rowdy crowd. I was just about to reach for the doorknob on the door that lead into the dressing room when a throat cleared behind me.

“Not bad, kid. If you can bring that every single Tuesday and Thursday, gigs yours.” the club owner was standing there, smirking. He almost looked like he felt bad for doubting me in the first place. He added casually, “Had three guys come to me about VIP dances. I usually leave all that to my girls to work out. That’s extra dough in your pocket, makes no difference to me. I know half of ya have extra mouths to feed.”

I eyed him, my mouth falling open.

“Three guys? Like.. altogether?”

“No, no.. Two were together. One was by himself. Belonged to one of the MCs. Just do me a favor and at least attempt to obey club rules, kid. Don’t go gettin knocked up on the clock.” the man laughed and I took a deep breath.

At best, I figured that the biker in question was probably one of the Mayans I’d seen sitting towards the middle of the club.

I was pretty damn sure I knew exactly who the two men were and after mulling it over because it seemed as if my new boss was awaiting a decision from me, I decided I wanted no part of the risk of having to give AJ Weston and his slimy friend a private show.

“I’ll take the biker tonight, man. I’m not feelin up to a three way.”

The owner nodded and mused thoughtfully, “Good idea, kid.. That one guy out of the two of ‘em looked like his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor. I’ll go get your biker and bring him back. You got room 3. That was Gina’s old room.” before walking away, disappearing out into the front of the club again.

“Please god… at least let it be the J.D Pardo look alike if it’s one of the Mayans.” I muttered to myself, not daring to get my hopes up that it’d be Juice.

A throat cleared from behind me. I nearly shit myself when I heard Tig Trager mumble with a laugh, “Okay Ortiz. Go get your girl.” before walking away. I did not dare turn around until I knew Tig was long gone.

“Stormy, huh? That’s one hell of a name, baby girl.” he mused aloud.

I turned around slowly. Found myself body to body with him. He was staring down at me intently, licking his lips. Chuckling as he shook his head and leaned in a little closer to whisper, “Does daddy know you dance, Hazelynn? Because if he’d been here… Seen all that…” he fanned himself and gave me a teasing smirk.

My mouth dropped open.

“How? How’d you know?” I stammered out.

“I saw your car parked outside… Life pro tip, princess.. If you wanna keep this a secret, I’d suggest parking around back. Or catching a ride. Because your car? Kind of hard to forget.” Juice’s hand settled on my hip and he pulled me just a little closer. His eyes dipped down, settling on my lips, a quiet groan coming when his intent stare made me lick my lips and fidget a little.. Melting against him a little before I could stop myself from doing it. Giving a sheepish laugh as I glanced up at him.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Relax.” he chuckled. He must have felt how tense my body was as I pressed against him. I let out a shaky breath. Parts of me wanted to ask the logical question, if he came here a lot, but also, at the same time parts of me definitely didn’t want to know. Those parts of me knew that if I did ask and he said he did, I’d get just a little jealous. Because it already happened whenever I’d see him at the bar and he’d have Croweaters flocking to him.

“Guess I owe you a VIP.” I teased gently, nodding towards the door with the gold star and the black number 3 painted on it. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand, starting to lead him in the direction of the room.

“If you don’t wanna do this…” Juice frowned slightly and acted like he was going to walk away, but I stopped him. Made him look at me.

“It’s fine. It’s part of the job.” I gave him a reassuring smile as I opened the door to the room, stepping inside. Letting him step inside.

He closed the door behind him and we found ourselves body to body all over again. He muttered quietly, “Confession… I saw that Weston asshole and his idiot friend talking to the owner about a VIP dance with you so I went over and offered more money.”

Between the goofy little shit eating grin he gave me as he said it and the fact that he did that because he knows the guy creeps me right the fuck out, I was blown away. Before I could stop myself, I rose to tiptoe, gently pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. “You’re an actual angel come to Earth, sir. You have definitely earned that dance.” I muttered softly as I pulled back to look up at him.

He bit his lip and my eyes followed the movement helplessly.

If I thought I was making myself wet on stage with my own dirty imagination, it was nothing compared to how wet I got when I locked eyes with him and realized that he was fully aware that I’d been staring at his mouth like a proper idiot.

I stepped close to him again and placed my palm on the front of his cutte, gently shoving him so that he settled in the chair right behind him.

Right away, his hands went to my hips. I lowered my hands, pushing his hands back down as I shook my head. “No touching. Club rules, Juice.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” he gave an awkward laugh and I giggled softly. Sinking down into his lap slowly.

Maybe I was slightly exaggerating out in the hallway when I told him I could do this and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. The second I settled in his lap and started to grind against it, I could feel myself dripping just a little more. I rose up slightly and he sucked in a breath. His knuckles went white with the way he was gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were absolutely glued to me and I smirked. Teasing a little. Acting as if I’d take off the cropped leather jacket over my bra only to pull it back up.

The third time I did this, he growled quietly. Bucked himself against me. When I whimpered and grinded myself down harder against his lap, he muttered in a heated whisper, “You feel what you’re doing to me right now, baby girl?”

Oh. I felt it alright. The way he strained at his jeans, cock still twitching and growing harder and harder. The little friction I was allowing myself wasn’t enough. My cunt was throbbing and I was getting so wet that I was pretty sure when I finished giving him his lapdance the poor guy was going to have a wet spot on his jeans.

“Mhm.” I answered in a daze, leaning in so that my lips brushed against the shell of his ear and my tits rubbed right against him. He whimpered and bucked into me all over again and when I slipped out of his lap, he frowned. I hit my knees, parting his legs. Staring up at him from where I kneeled on the floor and he shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair tighter when I started to rise up. Swaying my hips side to side. Leaning in. Rubbing against him as much as I could get away with. Oh, I was definitely using this little VIP dance he paid for as an excuse to do as much touching and teasing as I thought I could get away with.

All those urges to touch him I normally kept at bay were finally being allowed free reign and it felt so good.

I settled on his lap again. He let out a long and shaky breath and we locked eyes. He was staring at me like he wanted to ask me something or he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.

“What’s up?” I asked quietly.

“Nothin, it’s nothin.” he said it quickly. Too quick. I gripped his cutte and pulled him in closer. My mouth inching dangerously close to his as I muttered against it, “Whatever you want to say, say it. Trust me. I can handle it.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” he muttered. After a second or two of staring at his lap, he looked up at me again and asked quietly, “Did you wanna dance for me?”

“I got the owner to come get you, didn’t I?” my heart was beating faster. I thought it’d jump right out of my chest. I did my best to play as cool and casual as I could but every single part of me wanted to tell him that dancing was not all I wanted to do for him.

“I know that… what I mean is.. Forget it.” he went quiet. Looked down again and I gripped his jaw, making him look up at my face. “Eyes up here, Ortiz.” I teased gently, my smile falling away when I saw the serious and somber look in his eyes. I scooted away a little, an attempt to give him some space. Settling myself over his thigh instead of fully positioned on his lap as I had been.

“Talk to me.” the words left my mouth in a whimper as I pressed myself right against his thigh, rocking my throbbing sex back and forth over it. Getting wetter and wetter with each second that passed. And the ache. Oh god, the ache. I was on the brink of frustrated tears. And I couldn’t break down, I couldn’t act anything less than totally professional, because this was my night job and I was on the clock but God.. did I ever want to.

He spread his legs wider and took a deep breath. Trying not to touch me, but I could tell with the way he kept raising his hands only to put them back down on the arm rests of the velvet covered chair he sat in that he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing.

And the thought of those hands on me had me flooded in a split second. If there was any doubt before that I’d leave a wet spot behind on his jeans at the end of this dance, there wasn’t going to be by the time it was over.

Anticipation and desire had my stomach coiled tightly. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to pick up with this back home… Behind closed doors. Just him and I.

But I knew that tonight was most likely just going to be an awkward little secret. Kept between two friends. And it bothered me, because I wanted so much more than that but I was afraid to cross lines and let myself have that… I doubted it was even an option anyway because I just didn’t think Juice even saw me like that.

Sure, we flirted now and then, but nothing ever came of it.

God, did I want it to.

This heavy tension seemed to settle in all around us and I picked up on it. Juice groaned quietly, and after he nearly broke the no touch rule again and very nearly reached out to grab hold of my ass and rock me against his thigh faster, I leaned in.. Pressed against him as I continued to grind against his leg and muttered against his ear, “Most guys put their arms behind their head… Til they’re used to not being allowed to touch.. They get verbal too…” my words hitching in my throat, rushing out over each other breathlessly.

He raised his hands, locking them behind his head. Sprawling back against the chair. It seemed to help ease the tension built in his body too, because I felt him sort of melting into the chair a little and I smiled.

“C’mon.. Tell me what you want me to do.” I coaxed, fixing my eyes on him and biting my lip when I immediately found myself getting sucked far too deep into his gaze.

“Touch yourself.” he muttered. Raising up a little. Leaning forward. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl… Like you were when you were dancin out front.”

I let my hands wander.

They were shaking slightly and I just hoped to God that it wasn’t noticed.

Juice took a few shaky breaths and bucked a little in the seat. “Come closer.. Get on my lap.”

I moved so that I was straddling his lap and the way his cock strained against his jeans and I tried to stop myself, but as I started to rock myself back and forth over it, I whimpered quietly. My breath caught in my throat a time or two and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to beat out of my chest.

“I normally don’t buy dances if I come here.” he muttered quietly, shattering through my own current internal struggle.

Knowing this relaxed me a little. It was obvious he didn’t just going off the way he acted, but.. I still wondered. Some guys like to pretend it’s their first lap dance because it gets them going.

I’m not here to judge anyone.

I mean.. I have a good paying day job as a legal assistant and here I am.. Dancing two nights a week whenever I can find a club to take me just so I have some form of release.. Just so I can feel intimacy that for whatever reason, I tend to deny myself in reality.

I almost asked him why, but I remembered what he told me out in the hallway about outbidding AJ because he knew the guy scared me. And I stopped myself, even though parts of me hoped there was more to it than that.

My hands moved over my chest and I rocked myself over him faster. My breath catching in my throat as I felt myself rushing straight into an orgasm I’d been trying like hell to hold back the whole time we’d been in the VIP room.

I could feel my body burning up under his gaze and he leaned in again. Muttered breathlessly against my ear, “If you’re nervous..”

“It’s fine.” I pretended to brush it off. I acted as chill about doing this for him as I possibly could.

“Turn away.. I wanna watch you movin from behind, baby girl.” he muttered. The request caught me by surprise a little, but I kind of realized that he was doing it more for me than for himself.

I did what he asked, turning in his lap so that I faced away. My eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of us. As I started to rock my ass over his bulge, he growled quietly. Bucking himself up into me. Biting his lip as he did it three more times. Muttered in a lust filled daze “Fuck yeah, baby girl.. Work that ass.”

Just the way he said it had me dripping all over again.

“Faster.” he panted, bucking himself up into me all over again. Harder.

I tried not to, but I found myself imagining that he was taking me from behind. A fist full of my hair and my tits pressed right against the mirrored wall in front of us. And I rocked myself back and forth over his cock, pressing down even harder. Moving even faster. Almost close to a blinding orgasm.

“Fuck.” I swore quietly.

Juice sat up in the chair. Pressing his chest into my back. Muttering against my ear, “ Did you wanna dance for me like this?”

“Juice, I told you already.” my head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and shut. I squeezed my tits and rolled my hips faster. My breath came in short pants because I was so close to an orgasm that I was throbbing. He was leaning in again to whisper. “What I mean is if this wasn’t your job.. And it was just me and you… Would you wanna..” he rocked himself against me all over again. Harder. With more urgency as he swore under his breath and muttered that if I kept it up, he was going to come all over himself.

“ Turn around facin me.” he panted, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a shiver rushing through me. I turned back around in his lap to face him. Raising up a little. Teasing him by putting my tits at level with his mouth. Squeezing them together before lowering my hand. Toying with the waistband of my leather pants. Teasing him like I’d take them off.

“ Tease.” he pouted up at me.

“ That’s kind of what you’re paying me for right now, Juice.” I gave a soft laugh as I tucked a finger beneath his chin. Pulling his mouth dangerously close to mine. He licked his lips in anticipation and when he did, his tongue brushed right against my mouth. I whimpered helplessly.

And I just barely kept myself from exploding.

“You’re tensin up on me, Haze… Somethin wrong?” Juice asked quietly.

Looking at me as if he were bracing himself for something bad to be said.

By this point, I was so caught up in the moment, in the way it felt to grind myself against his cock and get out all these long denied urges to touch him to my hearts content.. It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Honestly? I’m a breath away from coming and this never.. Ever… happens to me when I’m givin a private dance.” my words came in a breathless rush and as soon as I realized what I’d just said, I lost my groove for a second or two. Slowing down. Trying to pull myself together.

Hoping to God that I didn’t just make things awkward for him and I in the future because I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

His mouth opened and closed and his hands gripped the arm rests again. Tighter.

“Do you know how hard it is for me? Feelin you dancin on my cock like this? Knowin I.. Knowin that this is probably as close as I’m ever gonna get? Fuck… If I were ever lucky enough to have you all to myself, baby girl...”

His words caught me by surprise. My heart fluttered a little and I swallowed hard. Going still in his lap just to stare at him.

The lights getting brighter and the music in the room going quiet had both of us jumping apart. I realized that probably meant my time in the room was done and before I could give myself a chance to back out, I slipped off his lap and held out my hand to him.

“ C’mon.”

He eyed my hand and took hold of it, standing. I practically drug him out of the room and then down the hall. Out the door and into the back lot behind the club. Once the door was shut behind us, I started to pace in front of him. Just trying to put it all together.

Torn between continuing to fight what I felt for him and caving in.

When he stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my upper arms, staring down into my eyes intently, something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I had his back pressed against the door of the building. My hands caught his, holding them over his head as I rose up slightly and crashed my mouth against his mouth.

Devouring. Hungry.

At first, he didn’t really react. But when the shock cleared and he realized what I was doing, he came alive. I melted against him and he growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Teeth latching onto my bottom lip and tugging until I felt it starting to bruise. I let his hands go and they were all over me. Settling on my ass. Rocking me up against him and making me whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. I couldn’t melt into him any more if I tried. I was so exhausted from trying to hold back in more ways than one at this point that my filter was totally shot. I rocked myself against him clumsily, a begging and needy whine filling the space between our mouths as the kiss broke when I just couldn’t hold it back.

“Do you know why I almost got off giving you a lap dance? Do you know what you do to me, Juice? I.. I tried so hard not to fall for you and yet.. Here I am.”

He blinked in shock. For a few seconds we stared at each other, panting for our next breath. Neither of us saying a word.

Then he bent and scooped me up. Started to carry me towards the end of the alley where he’d parked his Dyna Glide.

I didn’t do or say anything to try to stop him. I didn’t want to.

I’m so tired of keeping him at arms length. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel.

He sat me on the back of his bike and I grabbed hold of the front of his vest, pulling him down. Pulling his mouth down against mine all over again because I just.. I was needy. I craved him on this level I couldn’t even begin to get my head around.

His bike came to a stop in front of his apartment building and he got off. Scooping me up all over again. Stopping just outside the doors leading into the building to grope and kiss me. Letting his lips stray down the side of my neck. Sucking a mark deep into my skin. I clung to him and begged breathlessly, “Juice, please..”

Neither of us was really stopping to think. I didn’t want to.

I wanted him.

More importantly, I wanted to be with him. And tonight just proved to me that I couldn’t fight it anymore.

The whole time he was trying to unlock his apartment door, he kept fumbling with the keys. Rutting right against me. Stopping to kiss or touch me. When he finally got it unlocked, he stepped through the door and stepped over to the couch. Tossing me down onto it gently. Following close behind. Pressing himself down into me and snapping his hips against mine, making me whimper. My whimper echoing off the walls of the quiet room. I reached down between us, tugging at the hem of his white t shirt and he rose up, pulling off his vest and tossing it at a chair nearby. Then pulling his shirt off and tossing it too. It settled on the floor in front of the chair. Then he was pulling me up. Tearing my bra away and tossing it out into the room. My hands lowered, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and he bit his lip. Gazing at me for a second or two with this look of lust and adoration in his eyes. Savoring the moment and what was about to happen.

Because it’s been building for a while, apparently. I just focused so damn hard on keeping myself from caving in and letting myself have what I wanted, with him, that somehow, I missed all the signs.

“Baby, c’mon.” I begged.

The term of endearment slipped out.

He gave me that little smirk. Rubbed his chin in thought as he let his eyes wander.

He worked his way down my body, using his body to part my legs. He worked my leather pants down my legs and I kicked them free at my ankles.

His fingers caught in the thin strap of my panties and they came away with a quiet tear. I tried to get him out of his pants again and he lowered my hands. Slipping off the sofa. I watched intently as he teased me, pouting about it. Begging.

I needed him buried inside me. Fucking me. Slow. Deep. All night long.

His pants fell to his ankles and he kicked off his boots and then kicked his pants free from his legs. When he dropped his boxers, I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on the way his cock stood at attention once it was free from fabric. He was pressing himself down into me all over again.

His mouth roaming over my tits. Tongue teasing my nipples as my back arched away from the sofa and I rocked myself against him. His free hand settled between us, circling his thick cock. Teasing it between my folds and making me shiver and cling to him. Try to rock myself against him urgently.

And then he buried his cock inside me. Shallow at first. Going still to let me adjust to him. I felt like I was being split in two and the feeling had me whining. Nipping at his chest, at any patch of skin I could get my mouth on just so I could muffle the way I wanted to scream his name at the top of my lungs.

I rocked into him clumsily and he growled quietly. His hands going down to my hips. Holding them still as he started to pound me harder. Deeper. So deep he couldn’t go any deeper. When he bottomed out, I dragged my nails down his back.

“Not yet, baby girl. C’mon, hold out just a little longer for me.” Juice coaxed breathlessly as his hips crashed against me with a bruising pace. I begged for release, on the verge of tears. The more I begged, the more he’d slow down. Stop to kiss me or leave marks on me. Torture.

Slow, steady and deep torture.

“You gonna moan my name when you cum?” he questioned, slamming his cock deep into my womb. Going still and capturing my mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. “ God. You’re so.” he panted, snapping his hips against mine, cock pistoning in and out of me with steady deep thrusts, “So fuckin wet I can barely stay in. Fuck. Shit. Shiiiit, baby girl. I wanna cum so bad.”

“Juice! Ah, -ah fuck. Right there.” my back arched away from the couch and my orgasm ripped through me, leaving me weak and dazed, clinging to him as I tried desperately to keep up with his pace, spent. Dripping. My walls vising his cock and clenched around it. Tears flooding my eyes because holy fuck, all I’ve wanted for the entire time was to finally be allowed to let go.

Juice stared down at me from above, a soft gaze. He caught a tear as it made a black trail down my cheek. Chuckling quietly. Going still to pepper kisses soft against my mouth and then trail them down the front of my throat. When he started to move again, he muttered against my lips softly, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you. I’m right here.” as he pistoned in and out, the wet sloshing sounds accompanying each thrust he made seeming to make him move just a little faster. His hands were all over me and all I could really do was lie there, pinned beneath him. Whimpering his name as I tried to come down from the high. Stare up at him softly as my mind spun, replaying every single thing that led us here, to this exact moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck baby girl. You want it?” his hips stammered, smashing against mine in a bruising pace and his words were swallowed by another hungry kiss and I nodded. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he did. Striking against my throbbing g-spot a time or two and growling, biting. Locking his lips against my neck and sucking yet another big,deep mark into soft flesh. The warmth of his release flooded me, making me whimper. Overfilling me, because I could feel the excess slowly leak down. Puddle beneath me on the sofa.. I bucked my hips against him greedily trying to take it all because I wanted it. I needed it. I craved him so badly I couldn’t have put it to words if I tried. He leaned into me heavily, panting for his next breath. Spent. A fine sheen of sweat gathered on our bodies. I grabbed hold of his face and pulled his mouth against mine. Our foreheads pressed together and he muttered quietly, “Mine?”

“Yours.” it shocked me when the word bubbled out. It shocked me because a, I was saying it and b, I meant it. With everything in me. As soon as I said it, he gave me a soft and lazy grin. Pressing his lips to my forehead. He collapsed onto the couch settling behind me. Pulling me on top of him.

Quiet little soft kisses. Caressing my face as he stared up at me and caught sight of one of the bigger marks he left on my throat, grimacing as he chuckled about it quietly.

“Fuck me. Baby, that was amazing...” I groaned out in a daze, making him laugh and gaze up at me. “Give me an hour, babe.” he teased…

“Careful. I might take you up on that.” I teased back, melting against his body. Letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz oneshot #juice ortiz imagines #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz one shot #juice ortiz sm*t #my writing ; juice ortiz #my fanfiction ; juice ortiz #my fanfics ; juice ortiz #// absolutely no one (0) under 18+ allowed. Minors DNI. #// ns*w content #// s*xual content #// body fluids tw #// unprotected s*x tw

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

— chapter ten ; stained glass window.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing + smoking

[ chapter index ]

A/N: I am sooooo sorry for the long hiatus! </3

This story is getting more views on Wattpad than here on Tumblr. I still love the show and Luca's my favourite villain, but as much as I want to discontinue this story, I want to get it out of the way because I have drafted a timeline of this story, including Teresa's and Luca's closure on their relationship. So I'm stuck in the middle on what to do???

BTW, I've come up with a headcanon for Luca's full name as Luca LaPaglia Changretta! His middle name is never revealed in the show, I just did this for the fic.

RIP Helen McCrory. You were one of my favourite stars of the show. Fly high <3. The Peaky fandom will miss you so much.

///

TERESA wasn't as religious as the next person, but she kept her respect as her heels echoed down the aisle, immediately spotting the tall man kneeling on one of the pues. His hands were folded in prayer, and he murmured what the Welsh could make out to be Italian tongue.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asks.

Luca pauses, his eyes still shut and hands still in folds. "No. I want you here."

Teresa slides over and sits next to her lover, staring at the giant crucifix behind the front podium. "How often do you pray, amore?"

Luca pauses his prayer again. "Almost every day. God and I keep in touch, y'know."

"What does he say to you?"

"He tells me to tell you to quit interrupting until I'm done talking to Him." Teresa chuckles, prompting her to let him finish. As it took another good minute for Luca to conclude his prayer, Teresa gazed at the stained glass windows on each side, casting a good light from the clouds that allowed a bit of sun for England, some of it casted its light onto Luca, like an angel on an opera stage.

Luca makes a sign of the cross, sitting back on the pue and grunting a bit from kneeling for a while. "How was lunch with Mamma?"

Teresa nodded. "It was lovely."

"Just lovely?"

"Mhm." She holds his hand. "She says your middle name is LaPaglia."

Luca hums, kissing her hand that curled with his. "C'mon, I wanna take you out with me for wine."

"Hmm... Luca LaPaglia Changretta," She said out loud, admiring the beauty of his full name slipping from her lips. "And I had wine with your mother."

"I meant wine shopping. I'm doing most of the taste tests, it's my cousin's birthday soon."

"Then shouldn't he be the one shopping for wine?" she asks.

The Italian pulls the heavy door, escorting Teresa out of the church and into the chauffeur. "He counts on me, I'm better at choosing wine and gin these days."

"ARTHUR, quit pacing. You'll burn your legs out."

"Where the fuck is she?" Arthur grunts. "Eh? Tom, you're really in it for this one. The fuckin' Welsh is not gonna live up to a fuckin' promise."

"You stop that, she's on her way," Tommy takes a sip of his drink.

A split-second passes as the maid knocks on the heavy office door. "Mr. Shelby?" the feminine voice calls softly. "Miss Griffith is here to see you."

Tommy gives a smug look to Arthur and Polly. "Yes. Send her in," he says. They waited for the woman to walk in, kind of wishing for Tommy to immediately scold her once she stepped foot into his office, but Tommy wasn't up to waste that much energy.

Arthur was the one to step in and do so, otherwise. "What? Did you stroll around Manchester or something?"

"Sorry," Teresa frowns, her face reading she wasn't holding any joy from her day so far. "I was with Luca."

"We're all ears," Polly walked around Tommy's desk. "What's happened? Did he fuck you until you forgot how to tell time?"

"I'm assuming Finn told you?" she asks.

"That's Finn for you, Teresa," Arthur points out.

Teresa rolls her eyes. No point of getting back at him this time. Rat or not, he would never hold back a word from the family. She remembered seeing him appear at the gallery, and he wasn't going to keep a secret from Tommy.

"I invited him for a meeting at a bar...then he took me to the theatre..." Teresa trails off.

Tommy opens his cigarette pack. "Go on."

"That's all, Mr. Shelby."

"You slept with Luca Changretta, just say it."

Teresa folded her arms. "Actually, yes. But earlier events prove what I'm about to propose; I'm in."

The members of the Peaky Blinders all raised a brow, mostly Tommy's.

"You slept with Luca Changretta, I didn't expect you to actually follow up with that, I don't recall telling you to do so, either."

"I wanted to discuss his plans on taking the Penarth gallery. It's not for his dirty hands to touch."

"You wish to join because your heart was too broken to hold back?" Polly says. "Is that where we're getting at, Teresa?" The Welsh woman stared at her. This was probably the first time they had seen each other after all those years that followed from her resignation. Since the last time they spoke, Polly didn't have anything held against her, and here she is, quite disappointed that Teresa shared her heart with a man like Luca. She did quite enjoy her company and her contribution to the Peaky Blinders, even when she chose to depart from Tommy and their relationship, then came Grace Burgess. Polly just didn't want to deal with another afterwards unless it was Lizzie.

"You're doing this just to get even? Luca could care less about your feelings now."

"Teresa," Tommy sighs, nodding at his old friend. "Come back here tomorrow."

Teresa nodded and made her exit out the foot of her door.

"And come on time, please." Teresa wished she could slam the door on him, but Arthur shut it as soon as Teresa's foot took a centimeter away. She presses her ear against the wood to hear them muffling.

"Tom?" She hears Arthur speak. "We can't trust her."

Tommy clears his throat, setting down a scrap of an article he read on his desk. "She'll go back to Penarth, but we can't let her stay there. I know what's going to happen."

"What do you know?"

"Italian men will show up to the gallery."

"It's certain Teresa Griffith keeps a firearm in her drawers," Polly says.

"No," Tommy shook his head. "Not enough to take down at least five men. Luca keeps count of who he orders - who he sends. We're more careful of that, we know of that."

"We're not morons, Tommy. Now we hear from Finn that Luca and Teresa were together?"

"Teresa should give us what we need to know from Luca Changretta. She knows too much about him."

"And Luca knows too much about us," Polly slowly walks over to Tommy. "If Teresa forms an alliance, what will she do? She's already slept with him, but I doubt she got anything out of it. She's not here for the sake of helping. She wants in because she's a woman with a broken heart."

Teresa detaches herself from the door, having heard enough. One of the maids returns, noticing the guest hadn't left yet and was suspiciously eavesdropping their boss. Teresa was pulled back by the shoulder like a child, escorting her out of the foyer.

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER, Teresa woke from the blinding sun. The silky bed sheets that covered hers and Luca's nude bodies were unmade - ruffled around. If you left the curtains open, you're more alerted. Luca never intended on waking Teresa up that way. In fact, he wasn't even lying next to her in the bed.

Luca's white dress shirt casted more brightness but his trousers were half done. He stared outside, holding his China cup of tea in one hand before looking back down at the papers sprawled across his desk.

Teresa sat up to clip on her brassiere, her accent thinned to greet in basic Italian. "Buongiorno."

He didn't respond.

She slides out of bed and approaches the desk. "Do you need me to leave soon? Though, you don't look like you're in a rush for an important meeting."

Still nothing.

"What, Luca?" This wasn't new for Luca to strangely switch up his mood. He wasn't an easy man, it's hard to impress him or to even study his emotions at times. Teresa had the feeling that Luca didn't enjoy what they had done. "Was this a mistake?"

"This was unprofessional." Luca sets his cup and coaster on his desk. "If you think something will come from this, then think again. I never should have taken you to the theatre. You were trying to let my guard down, were you?"

"No," Teresa shook her head. "I wasn't surprised that this was going to happen."

"Such a mind you carry in that blonde head of yours."

"Seeing you again felt good, Luca. I seized the opportunity to share another moment with you. I was thinking you were going to plan on coming back to Penarth indefinitely."

"Miss Griffith, did it ever occur to you that I wasn't supposed to stay here?" Luca frowns. "I'm no citizen here. America is where my heart belongs, if not America; Sicily."

"You fled to America. That was your last ditch effort to get away from the police," Teresa murmured. She folds her arms. "I understand why you had to do it."

"Then why do you hold it against me?" he asks, exhausted.

"Because I never heard from you ever since."

"I was fairly active in New York, you know?"

"I didn't know."

Luca stared at her. "That's your own problem, Miss Griffith."

"Christ, Luca. Enough with the formalities!" Teresa snaps. "I'm standing at your desk, half nude. We fucked in that bed right there!"

"Which was something we shouldn't have done," Luca began rubbing his temples. "I didn't come back here for you, all right? Porca miseria-" he cuts himself off to heave in a deep sigh. "I have to ask. All this time... you're still hung up on me?"

"Yes," Teresa says, her face paling. "Because I missed you, you bloody bastard. I couldn't reach out to you or your mother, not even the American press, to see how you were doing, or if you were kissing another woman's lips."

Luca slid his hand over to pick up the dress and shawl he placed on the side of the desk. "You need to leave now."

There was no point of convincing him anymore. All was said. Teresa knew not to vex a mafioso unarmed. If she had her handgun with her, she would have tried to pull something in a spite of anger. Would that do her a favour? Probably not. The rest of whoever's left of the Changretta family would go after her without question.

There was Tommy, though, and he's still waiting for her response back in Small Heath.

Grabbing her clothes, Teresa marches back to the bed, gets dressed and leaves the hotel room without saying a word to her former lover. Not even a curse.

#pink+white #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta #luca changretta fanfiction #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders

[s1rcus]

Second Chance (NatDex/Blackhill)

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1555

Fandoms: Marvel, Stumptown

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Dex Parios, Original Female Character

Additional tags: Reincarnation, Post-Avengers: Endgame, Reincarnation AU, Stumptown Crossover

Summary:  After Vormir Natasha wakes up in a new world where she has a different name and works as a ballet dancer? She also finds a familiar face she has missed, when her best friend/co-worker, Katya, drags her into a bar on a Friday evening.

Authors note: So this a thing I've been working on pretty much since I watched Stumptown. There's also a little cameo for one of Emily VanCamp's characters because I've been watching the Resident and rewatching Revenge recently.

Story below the cut or in AO3 here

The last thing Natasha can remember was her falling. She rubs her eyes and sits up in a bed, the covers pooling on her lap. A bed? That can't be right. She very much remembers falling to her death to save Clint from doing that.

A phone goes off on the nightstand next to her. She grabs it and realizes it's an alarm she had put on. Dismissing it she gets up and heads towards the bathroom. She's not alarmed by the fact that she clearly knows where it is until the shower is running. Something is very wrong.

She gets out of the shower and dries her hair with a towel and wraps it around herself. She goes to check the mail to see who's apartment this is. Veronika Bobrova is the only name in the few letters that lie in front of the door. She's starting to think she's hit her head or something but then the phone starts to ring again and she goes to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Vera where are you? We're starting in fifteen minutes and there's so much I can do until someone notices you're not here."

And with that voice her life flashes back to her. She is Veronika Bobrova, a ballet dancer. They have rehearsals for shows during daytime and during evenings they teach children. Her class is on Tuesday and Thursday evenings so today was a free evening. She shakes her head to clear her head.

"I'm so sorry. I had put the alarm wrong. I'll be there as quickly as I can. Thank you Katya. I owe you some drinks or something."

"I'm gonna keep that in mind."

She ended the call, got dressed and grabbed a toast on her way out of the door.

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

And Katya did keep it in mind. When Friday evening came she was being dragged across town to a bar she had never even heard of. Bad Alibi was such a weird name for a bar anyway.

Katya sat down at a table and Natasha went to order them a couple shots of vodka. When she got back and was sitting across from Katya, she saw a face she knew she could never forget. It didn't matter what had happened, if she was Natasha or Veronika or whoever she was supposed to be, but that face she could never forget. It was Maria. Somehow she hadn't even thought about how her sacrificing herself to keep Clint with his family and to get everyone else back would affect her. Does that make her a bad girlfriend? It probably doesn't even matter anymore. She's dead. In that world at least.

She must've been staring for a while because Katya speaks up next to her.

"She's actually the reason we're here. She's a PI and I really need help with the Jack situation."

Before Natasha has time to really say anything, Katya has downed the rest of her drinks and is making her way towards the woman who looks like Maria. She comes back with her and sits next to Natasha while the other woman sits across from them.

Veronika had never been this happy she was single, while Natasha was happy that Veronika actually was single. Being single had never been a problem for Natasha, she actually kinda preferred it, but Maria had proven how wrong she was. While Veronika definitely hated being single. That probably shows the difference of how they grew up. Or so at least Natasha thought.

The woman says her name is Dex Parios and she asks Katya to explain her situation to her. Natasha hears none of Katya's explanation, barely registering Katya introducing her as her "emotional support". She just keeps staring at Maria/Dex, whoever she is.

This version is way more laid back as her Maria. She's more like the Maria Natasha got to know. The one who'd watch movies with her and eat popcorn. The one that'd cook her dinner after a long mission. The one who called her grandma every Sunday evening no matter where she was. The one Natasha fell in love with.

After a while it becomes too much and Natasha excuses herself, making her way outside. Without a thought she digs through her purse and pulls out a small carton. When she's holding a lighter on her other hand, she makes a face. Of course Veronika would have a bad habit Natasha couldn't stand. She puts the lighter back into her purse and throws the carton to a bin. Leaning against the wall she takes a deep breath. She needs to get a grip.

"What's going on with you? You've been weird these past few days."

Of course Katya would follow her. She needed a lie, a good one. Because telling her best friend that a couple days ago she woke up and suddenly she has all these memories of another life in her head. A whole new personality that had mostly taken over. Maybe just telling a partial truth would be for the best.

"I quit smoking."

"Oh. Well good for you! I was expecting something totally different. Maybe even something bad."

"What? That I joined a secret agency and killed a bunch of people?"

"Uh, no? That was weirdly specific?"

"Sorry, just a dream I had. How'd it go with the PI?"

"Good. She said she'll contact me when she has something."

Before Natasha even realizes she's speaking, she's said her thoughts out loud. "She's so beautiful."

"Oh?"

Shit. Does Veronika date women? Did Katya know if she does? Natasha tries to start thinking back on the memories she's still trying to figure out but it's still all mixed up with her own memories.

"She didn't really seem your type. Well, mainly she wasn't blonde or rich."

Okay, good. Yes to all of the questions. Wait, blonde and rich? Why is her memory showing her Carter in fancy clothes and why does it hurt? Not really important right now but she does need to figure out her mixed memories.

"Well, you saw those eyes yourself. You tell me they weren't the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen."

"Sure." Couple beats of silence until Katya lets out a breath and continues, "I'm heading home. You wanna share a cab?"

"Oh?" Looking back inside where she could see Maria/Dex. She's got a second chance in this and she has to take it. She shakes her head. "No. I'm good. I think I'm going to try to get her number."

"You know I have her number right or you could just get it online?"

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Natasha smirks.

"Fair enough. Don't have too much fun without me though."

"No promises. I'll see you on Monday."

"See ya."

Natasha watches Katya wave a cab and makes her way inside. She goes to the bar and orders a beer. Not really her choice in drinks but Maria had liked it and she had got used to the taste. Also maybe getting drunk while she's mixing memories isn't a good idea and beer isn't strong enough to get her drunk. She moves to a table with her bottle and sits down. Slowly sipping her drink she keeps her gaze at Maria/Dex. Dex, that's her name and she really should start calling her by that. She isn't Maria, just looks like her (and maybe sometimes acts like her).

It doesn't take too long before Dex catches her watching her. Natasha flashes her a quick smile and shifts her gaze to the table top. Dammit, she's way off her game. This isn't how Veronika did things and her body keeps betraying her by doing small things the way it used to. When she lifts her eyes back up, she sees Dex making her way towards her.

"I was wondering if you'd come back," is all Dex says as she sits on the empty chair across from Natasha.

Being this close to her makes Natasha feel at ease, Maria always had that effect on her, and having a gentle smile on her face feels almost effortless and natural.

"How so?" Natasha responds, tilting her head as she tries to read Dex. It's hard, because she clearly isn't Maria like her brain and heart are telling her. Was she interested in her? Part of her was saying yes, but the other part couldn't get a read on her.

"Someone like you doesn't stare at a person without a reason. Either you're hoping to get something or I have something on my face. And I checked myself in the mirror after your friend left, so I'm pretty sure it's the former."

"Someone like me?" It's a challenge and Natasha knows that Dex knows it too.

"Fuck. I didn't mean it like that. I-"

Natasha smirks at her, "I'm just messing with you. I know what you meant. Let me buy you a beer?"

Dex is smiling now and suddenly Natasha has butterflies in her stomach without a reason. She blames Veronika, but it might also just be her.

"I don't think you buying me a beer at a place where I get them always for free is fair. But how about I'll get you one?"

Maybe she really does have a second chance at this. Natasha smiles at her, "I'd like that.

#blackhill #dex x natasha #natasha romanoff #dex parios #black widow #marvel #mcu #stumptown #my fic

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Overprotective- Spencer Reid X Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Young!Reader

Request by @ghostofmags : can we get a spencer imagine where the reader is younger and he likes to think he has to protect her because she also is very smol :) thanks

Warnings: cursing, like lots of it, angst, relationship problems, specified female reader, fluff at the end

WC: 1.7k

Tag list

A/N: little note here, so when I read younger I thought ten or so years younger. So Spencer is let's say 38 or 39 (pretty much his actual age) and reader is about 28. Also, I might mention the fact that reader is shorter than Spencer, because that's what it says on the request, it's not a big deal, but I'm saying anyways in case someone doesn't like that. But honestly idrk if this is what you wanted? But, here it is, I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted

You hadn't exchanged a word since you landed. There was so much tension radiating between you and Spencer you could cut it slick with a knife. And it wasn't because you didn't have anything to say. God no. You had so much to say you felt like you were going to explode. But you were professional and you didn't want to make a scene in front of the team. So you waited until you were at the privacy of your shared apartment to make a scene. And the moment you heard Spencer shut the front door behind him, you started yelling.

"I can't fucking believe you, Spencer!" You yelled at the Doctor, your voice just echoing on the walls.

Needless to say, Spencer was not in the mood, nor had the energy to deal with you right now. The case the team had been working on was a particularly long and difficult one and he was exhausted. He let out a long and exasperated sigh, running a hand through his brown curls, mentally preparing himself to deal with you, "can we not do this right now? I'm exhausted, I really don't want to fight." He pretty much begged, sounding exhausted beyond relief. In a different situation, you would've been more reasonable, more understanding and you would've let it go. But this time, it just became too much, you were too angry and too frustrated with him to let it go.

"Oh no, we're doing this right now. You're gonna listen to everything I have to say." You said almost sternly, crossing your arms over your chest. You were just trying not to snap, you really were trying. But the response he gave you wasn't helping, at all.

He sighed again and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead before speaking, "look, you can yell at me all you want. Tomorrow. I'm really not in the mood to deal with this right now." He half rolled his eyes and sighed, starting to walk away. Probably not the wisest choice.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he started to walk away, your lips pursing together irritatingly, "Spencer, don't walk away or I swear to God." You pretty much growled, your words coming out harsher than you intended to and a hand came to grab his forearm, making him stop dead on his tracks. You could've sworn you heard him mutter under his breath as he took a few steps back until you let his arm go.

"What." Was his only response, his tone absolutely stripped of emotion and care, and he held an equally blank face expression. It took all of your will power not to strangle him right there and then.

"Don't fucking what me, Spencer. I'm fucking tired of you treating me like a goddamn child!" You shouted at him, hands coming up in the air as you shouted angry words at the tall brunette. Who's only response was an unamused expression and a roll of eyes. "See what I mean? You're always undermining me and you never take me seriously. You always talk for me, you refuse to let me talk to unsubs alone, I always have to be on the field with you. And that's if I even get to go out on the field in the first place, because you make sure to make me stay back every chance you get!" You continued to shout, letting out every frustration you've bottled up for the past two years you've been dating Spencer.

All the while, Spencer stood there silently, taking all your screams quietly. He was usually rather calm and collected during your part of a fight, and he'd listen, quietly. And that was just worse than screaming at you from the get go, because that meant you were going to get a mouthful when you were done. He was like the calm before the storm. And you definitely didn't want to be around when that storm finally came by.

"Spencer, you can't just keep me out of the field like that whenever you fucking please. I may be younger than you, but that doesn't mean I'm less capable of doing my job than you are. And I just wish you would stop treating me like a child, who needs to be under your protection twenty-four-seven because I don't." You finally finished your rant, your voice lowering down by the end of it. But you were still just as agitated and frustrated. You were basically all up in his face by the time you were done. Well, all up in his chest, because you barely made it to his chin. Meaning, you had to tilt your head up as much as you could to look at him, and even then, you stood short.

The entire time you spoke, Spencer kept his gaze forward, way past your head, not even bothering you to look down at you. Until he decided to speak. "You done?" He finally looked down at you, his lips pursed into an irritated expression. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged as a response. "Great. Now that you're done unnecessarily screaming at my face, we can talk like the adult you claim to be." He started, already pushing at your buttons even more. "You see, I would treat you like an adult, I really would, I would if you acted like one. Maybe if you weren't so short fused, or if you actually showed me you can handle things on your own I wouldn't feel the need to have to protect you all the time."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you listened to him continue to undermine you. Maybe having this conversation after a week long case and a five hour flight wasn't exactly ideal. Spencer can be more harsh and— with a lack of a better word— more of an ass during arguments when tired and annoyed. And you figured, you were getting nowhere screaming at him. He didn't respond well to that.

"I'm an adult, Spencer, I'm damn near thirty years old, I don't need your protection." You defended, puffing out a small breath through your nose, "and I get that I still may be younger than you but I'm not your daughter, I don't need you watching over my shoulder all the time, shielding me from the dangers of the world. And I just wish you stopped treating like some helpless child that needs your protection." You said, your tone changing from angry to tired and hurt. Because as much as you hated to admit it, every time Spencer treated you like you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, it made you feel just as such.

Spencer stayed silent for a good minute, his previously cold and hard expression of annoyance starting to slowly soften. He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand into his curls but still said nothing.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning around to walk away, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. Spencer took that as his cue to do something. "Hey, no, come here." He sighed, reaching to grab a hold of your arm like you did his earlier. And you stopped when you felt his grip of your arm, half turning your body to face him and simply let him slowly drag you back, not fighting but not welcoming him either. You looked up at him with a deep frown and pursed lips, your arms folded over your chest, letting him know you weren't letting your walls down so easily.

"I know you're not my daughter. I never said you were." He starts to say, carefully grabbing your face into his significantly larger hands and looked down at you with his usually soft amber eyes, "but you're my girlfriend, and I love you. And I don't know if I could ever live with the idea of losing the love of my life again. That's why I'm so protective of you all the time."

You let out a small breath, your demeanor starting to change into a more calm and relaxed one the moment he grabbed your face. You slowly relaxed your body, eventually dropping your arms to your sides and your expression half softened.

You always knew Spencer was scared of losing the people he loved, god knows he has, but something about hearing him say that broke your heart and it made you want to understand him, "Spencer, I know. And I get it, I really do. But you can't just keep me from doing my job just because you want to protect me. I'm not any less capable at taking care of myself than you are just because I'm younger and it really hurts that you think I can't take of myself."

"I know and I'm sorry. But can you blame? You're just so—" he lightly squeezed your face in his hands, finding amusement in how small you looked from his perspective, having to tilt his head down to look at him and even tower over you sometimes. "I could easily pin you down or throw you over my shoulder. I mean, look how small and cute you are, you really blame for trying to protect you all the time?" He laughed softly, going back to his cute and more playful demeanor you loved so much, wanting apologize for his previous words and behavior in a way he knew would work better on you than an apology.

Though you still laughed at his words, they still earned him a glare and a hard smack on the chest, "I may be small and short but I can still kick your ass faster than you can name kidnapping statistics so don't even test me." You said matter of factly, narrowing your eyes at him and playfully poked his chest.

Spencer chuckled, raising his arms up in defense and nodded, taking a step back playfully, "yeah, I've seen you train, and shoot. I'd rather not your aim." He laughed softly, stepping forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body to his, "but seriously, you're the strongest, bravest and most capable woman I've ever met, and I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you aren't. I just, I could never live with the fact that I let you get hurt or couldn't protect you if something ever happened to you. But I promise I'll work on my protectiveness."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

~~~~~~~~~

So this is my first Spencer Reid work. Honestly I'm not too happy with the end result of it. But we all start somewhere right? I'm trying to get back to writing so if you have any Reid request please send them my way. And if you'd like to be added to my Spencer Reid tag list also let me know. So yeah, thanks for reading this garbage and I'm out for now. Buh bye!

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #Matthew gray Gubler #mgg #x reader #x reader insert #self insert

[boltwrites]

I Vote Makeovers!

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (feminine) Rating: K Tags: Makeovers, Very Tender Makeup Application

fakelavish requested:  hello again! 🥰 i know you’ve got a long list but i’ve another SFW request for a female reader when you can manage! ik Bolin would be open to a makeover! the reader would be straddling him applying his makeup like in that ✨one meme✨ and he’d be really confused by all the different products and would probably be scared of the mascara wand poking out his eye 🥺 prob’s wouldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror feeling all empowered 😌 we love a man who’s comfortable w/ his masculinity ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: as a he/him that does makeup... you go, Bo, you go. also this took fucking forever and i struggled with it a LOT but i finally finished it and i don’t think it’s half bad! title is inspired by that one line Bolin says in “The Aftermath” when Korra and Asami are talking about bonding... you know that boy wanted to get in on the makeover action.

You leaned close to the mirror, holding the pencil steady as you meticulously filled in your eyebrows. You were just going to the store with Bolin, but you still liked to wear makeup. It was like a little piece of art you could wear every day, and you loved collecting new products and trying them out.

As you finished applying your mascara, you heard a knock on your door. That was probably him!

“Come in!” You yelled, and you heard the door open, the creak distinctive to your ears at this point. “I’m in the bedroom,” you called, in a softer voice, now that you knew he could hear you.

Bolin made his way to your bedroom, and when he peeked in, you could see his shocked expression reflected in the mirror. You weren’t surprised – there were a lot of different products currently played over your vanity at the moment. He probably thought you were being a bit excessive, since you two were just running errands.

“Oh, hi Bolin! Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” you promised him, capping your eyebrow pencil and grabbing a nude lipstick.

“Oh, it’s OK, I don’t mind,” Bolin assured you, taking a few steps into your room, his eyes never leaving your face as you applied your lipstick. You smiled at him, turning and lowering the product from your lips.

“What?” you chuckled, and Bolin blushed, scratching the back of his head. He had been staring at you pretty intently, and you thought it was so cute when he blushed.

“Nothing! I mean, not nothing – I’ve never seen you put on your makeup before. I – it sounds kinda stupid, but I never really thought about how you do everything… I thought it was just like, maybe some kind of big puff, and then lipstick,” he shrugged, gesturing to the collection of products scattered around you. You smiled at him, picking up your setting spray to finish your look.

“No, it’s a little bit more complicated than that,” you giggled, spritzing your face. Bolin watched you curiously, leaning against one of your bedposts as you fanned your face.

“What was that?” he asked. You smiled, setting the spray down.

“It’s setting spray,” you replied, not wanting to bore him with the details. You were used to people only asking about your makeup as a formality, to be polite. Your friends weren’t interested in the slightest, besides Asami, who only knew the basics and didn’t stray far outside her signature dark lip. Your previous boyfriends had ranged from complete apathy to downright dismissive of your hobby, so you didn’t want to bore Bolin with the details.

But he pressed.

“What’s it for?” he asked, drawing nearer, his eyes raking over the products scattered across the vanity. You watched him in the mirror, as he actually looked at your products with interest, his eyebrows scrunched quizzically as he tilted his head to the side, rubbing his chin with a thumb. Usually, you would just move on, to the next topic, not wanting to ramble, but Bolin actually looked interested.

“It helps your makeup stay on, here-“ you passed the bottle to him, and he took it, examining it closely. You grinned, thinking that he looked to cute. “It can also help it blend together. Sometimes when you put on your blush on top of your foundation, it won’t look quite right, and-“

“What are those?” he asked, then backtracked. “Well, I know blush, it’s the – the blushy one! For your cheeks!” he pinched his own cheek in demonstration, gesturing with the other that still held the setting spray, and you giggled at his exaggerated movements. “But what’s foundation?”

“It’s this one,” you handed him the container, and he examined it curiously. “It’s the foundation of your face, so it’s used to even out your skin tone. It also helps other products stick better to your face.”

“Oooh,” Bolin nodded, understanding. You leaned back in your chair, watching him as he looked over your products with enthusiasm you hadn’t really expected from him.

“I could do your makeup sometime, if you like,” you offered with a chuckle, thinking that your comment would be taken as a joke. You would like to do Bolin’s makeup – he had such long, pretty lashes, and you knew that with the right products your could bring out all his best features – his strong jawline, his cute button nose, his wide green eyes. But you also knew that the last time you put makeup on a man, he had immediately washed it off, as if it had been a chore to have you put it on him in the first place. That was back when you were training to be a makeup artist – you had since moved past that profession, partly because of that experience.

But Bolin, instead of laughing, looked at you with wide eyes, his reaction sincere. He looked… excited? Hopeful? But then he caught your eyes and blushed, looking down, setting the products back on your vanity.

“No, you don’t have to,” he chuckled, but it was awkward, and then your own eyes lit up. Would he let you? Did he want to?

“No, I want to! You would look so good, with some contour, and mascara-“ you were almost completely turned around in your chair, looking like an eager kid in a candy store as you watched Bolin. He blinked at you, shocked.

“Really? You – you wouldn’t think it was weird or anything?”

You shook your head, vigorously. “No – not at all! I mean, I’m surprised you don’t know more about it, actually. I would think that back when you were a mover star, that you would have worn some.”

“Really?” he asked, taken aback by the assumption. You nodded, getting up from your chair.

“Yeah! I mean, I know you were filming back when movers were brand new, but when I was thinking about working as a makeup artist-“

“You were going to be a makeup artist?” Bolin asked, his eyes wide, almost glittering as he stared at you in awe. You blushed, flustered that he would consider that something worthy of the awe it seemed to inspire in him.

“Well, yes, I considered it a while ago. A lot of the other artists I talked to worked mostly with mover stars – and all of them wear makeup on set. Of course, mover makeup is a lot different than what you would wear for a night out…”

“Then really, it’s weird that I’ve never done my makeup!” Bolin connected the dots. Or, he attempted to. You grinned at him.

“It’s weird that you’ve never had your makeup done. Actors don’t do their own makeup. They have people like me do it for them. Or, I would have…” you trailed off, looking down.

“Well, it makes perfect sense, right? I’m an ex-mover star, and you’re a not-quite-professional makeup artist, so it works out!”

You snorted, shaking your head as you took a step towards him, leaning up for a quick peck on his lips.

“Of course it does,” you agreed, because he was very sweet, and you really did want to do his makeup for him. “But first, before we do that – errands!”

“Oh, right!” Bolin stood up straight, as if he had only just remembered that he had come over to your apartment for a reason. You grinned wide as you both gathered your things and headed out for your errands.

You didn’t have too much to pick up – just some thing for dinner. You and Bolin were having a nice night in at your place. He was going to teach you how to cook some of his favorite food, and as you shopped, he remarked that since he was teaching you how to cook, it only made sense that you should teach him how to do his makeup. You had laughed, but you did think he was right, in a way. It did make the exchange more equal.

So, you gathered your food, and cooked your dinner. It was wonderful – and afterwards, you two sat around the fireplace in your apartment, sipping on an additional glass of wine each as you just enjoyed each other’s company. The food had been amazing, and the wine was surprisingly sweet. As you sipped yours, Bolin arm wrapped his arm around you as you both watched the flames dance.

“You know,” Bolin remarked, his cheeks already a little pink from the wine, even though he hadn’t had that much of it. “We should do my makeup tonight.”

“I was planning on it,” you giggled, snuggling in. “But now I’m too comfortable. It’s nice and warm by the fire, and it’s always so cold in my room this time of year.”

“Aw,” Bolin pouted, whining at you. “But what if we just did it out here!”

“Hm,” you considered it for a moment, setting your glass down. “That could actually work. You’ll have to promise to stay still for me, though.”

“I promise not to move an inch! Stock still!” Bolin sat bolt upright, his back straighter than you thought you had ever seen it. You snorted, ruffling his hair with your hand as you stood up.

“Thank you, sweetie,” you smiled, patting his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

You returned in only a few minutes, but your arms were laden with makeup when you did. It spilled out of your arms and onto the coffee table when you returned, and you had to make a frantic grab at a few lipsticks as they threatened to fall off the table and roll under the couch.

“Alright, we’ve got everything,” you said, reaching for the moisturizer first. Bolin looked so excited, his eyes bright as he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Turn so you’re facing me – yeah, that’s perfect,” You mumbled. You brushed your hand through his hair, trying to press his curls into place, but one stubborn piece of hair kept popping out, onto his forehead. You frowned, biting your lip.

“Actually, wait right here,” you added, zipping into the other room for a headband. You used it to push Bolin’s hair back, and it effectively held the curl in place. You smirked in triumph – and also, because Bolin looked absolutely adorable with a headband.

“Now, you gotta tell me what you’re doing when you’re putting all this stuff on me!” Bolin demanded, pouting a little at you. “I don’t want to sound stupid if I ever get my makeup done again and I don’t even know what’s going on!”

You shook your head, squeezing some moisturizer out of the bottle and rubbing it against his cheeks, working it over the rest of his face. “Of course. This is moisturizer, by the way,” you added, your voice low as you worked.

“And what does it do?” Bolin asked as you pressed it into his forehead. This was intimate in a way you hadn’t realized it would be. Unlike when you had worked on clients, Bolin’s knees were almost knocking into you, and you could use your hands to press the moisturizer into his skin, warm and soft under your fingers. Like this, you could spend as much time as you wanted looking at his face – his pretty green eyes, his button nose, his bushy eyebrows, his full lips – you wondered what they would look like with lip gloss on them.

“Uh,” you stuttered, distracted. “It puts moisture back into your skin. It’ll help the foundation go on smoother.”

“Oh, cool,” Bolin mumbled, his knees knocking into yours. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, you had to admit, you twisted so far to the side.

“Next is foundation,” you told him, as you placed a small dollop on the back of your hand. You had broken out some samples in different colors to match his skin tone. “I have to find the one that matches your skin tone the best so that it looks seamless and it blends in well.”

You swatched a few different shades against his cheek, cradling his jaw with your other hand to keep him from moving. Even though he had promised to stay still, you always felt like this made your work better, when you could hold his head in place as you worked. And the fact that you could feel his pulse under your fingers, brushing against the soft hairs at the base of his neck, just made it better.

“I think this one is the best,” you mumbled, brushing the other samples away with a towel. You gathered your foundation brush and dipped it into more of the same color, brushing it over Bolin’s face gently – but Bolin kept flinching, trying not to laugh.

“Y/n – it – why does it tickle?” he tried, between giggles, to stop moving against your hand. You frowned, trying to hold him still and failing.

“I don’t think it tickles!” you countered, pouting at him. Bolin shrugged sadly.

“But you’re doing it to yourself! Everybody knows you can’t tickle yourself!”

You bit your lip. You couldn’t work like this – not with Bolin giggling and twitching while you were trying to work – and not with your knees constantly knocking together, which was pretty annoying on its own.

“Alright, we’re gonna try something different,” you declared. Bolin stared at you, his face only half covered in foundation. “Lay down on the sofa, and I’ll climb on top of you.”

“I have a feeling they don’t do that when they’re applying your makeup on a mover set,” Bolin commented, just joking as you stood up so he could move. He was right – it was unconventional, for sure, but it wouldn’t matter how professional you were. You were only doing your boyfriend’s makeup for fun.

Once he laid down, you threw a leg over him, and his eyes went wide. You grinned as you sat on his lap.

“Ah, much better,” you sighed, making a show of how nice it was to sit on top of him, leaning down to pat more foundation onto his skin. It really was easier to control his head this way – there was no way for him to rear back, and he was so shocked that he hardly flinched at all while you patted on the rest of his foundation.

“Next is concealer,” you said, leaning over him to apply it. His body was warm and firm under you, and you could feel his breath as you applied the cream under his eyes. “It had a bunch of uses – for more prevalent skin imperfections, it can be blended into foundation to give you an even canvas. Like if you have a pimple, for instance, you use concealer to cover it,” you taught him, applying it under his eyes. “But for you, I’m just using it to conceal the dark circles under your eyes, and brighten them up a little. It helps give depth to the face.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Bolin breathed, and you could tell that instead of paying attention to your words, that he was transfixed by how close you were to him, how easy it would be for him to kiss you.

You applied the rest of his makeup – his blush, contour, and highlight, letting him know exactly how to make his face even more chiseled and lovely. After you were done, you leaned back.

“Now, Bo.”

“Hmm?” he asked. He blinked up at you, as his eyes had been closed as you powdered his face. He was so content there, you thought he might fall asleep.

“What kind of a look do you want? I can go more natural, and just do your eyebrows,” you offered, although you doubted that your eyebrow pomade would add much to your boyfriend’s already thick brows. “Or, we could go all out, and I could put on eyeshadow and mascara – “

“I wanna go all out,” Bolin replied, a little more alert now as he smiled up at you. “I wanna see what you come up with.”

You blushed, smiling at his encouragement. It made your heart flip, how much he seemed to enjoy this. Maybe you two could do this more often, and maybe if Bolin wanted, one day he could do your makeup too.

“Alright. I’ll do your eyebrows, and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff,” you giggled, and he returned your enthusiasm with a chuckle.

You smoothed his brows with some pomade, but didn’t move in with any plucking or trimming tools for him. Although a lot of your former colleagues would have scoffed at how bushy, and somewhat unruly Bolin’s brows were, you thought they were very handsome, and with a bit of tinted pomade, you were able to control them a little more.  

Then, you moved on to eyeshadow. You pressed even closer to Bolin for this part.

“Now, I’m going to do some eyeshadow on you. Traditionally, eyeshadow was used to make your eyes look more deep set, but eyeshadow can also be used to enhance your natural eye color. Now, close your eyes for me.”

Bolin did, and you pressed the pigment onto his lids, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“For example, you have green eyes. And the complimentary color to green is red. So, if I use red-toned eyeshadows on you, it’ll make your eye color look even more vibrant,” you spoke softly as you worked.

“That’s so cool,” Bolin mumbled, careful to keep his eyes closed. “It’s like you’re painting or something.”

“I think it’s a form of art, yeah,” you replied, blending the shadow up further, then picking a highlight color for his brow bone. You had chosen a palette of reds and browns for his eye look – something that would make his eye color pop, but would also add some depth.

“And that makes me your canvas,” Bolin replied, smiling a little. You couldn’t help yourself, and you leaned down to kiss him soft and gentle, cradling his jaw in your hand.

“The most handsome canvas I’ve ever seen,” you replied with a giggle, and Bolin opened his eyes to grin at you. He looked so stunning already, he would be drop dead gorgeous by the time you were done with him.

Mascara was… difficult. You had to cradle his head very gentle as you told him to blink, wiggling the wand up as he did so. Surprisingly, he took it like a champ, unlike many of the other individuals you had practiced on over the years. You applied a nude lip to him, and a healthy coat of gloss, and then, with a spritz of setting spray, he was done.

“You’re all set,” you said, not wanting to move from your spot on top of him. He was warm, and solid under you, and you just wanted to cuddle close to him – but also, you didn’t want to mess up his makeup.

Because now, as you looked at him, sitting up straight on his lap? He was beautiful. The mascara made his already long eyelashes pop even more than before, and the red eyeshadow practically made his eyes glow. His cheekbones and jawline were accentuated, and you had contoured his nose just right. The best part were his lips though – the gloss made them look slick, and somehow even fuller than usual.

“How do I look?” he asked, with a little shy smile. He sat up and flexed, as if that would do something to his makeup look. You chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You look… you look stunning,” you admitted. “Do you want to see?”

“Do I want to see – of course I want to see! My wonderful girlfriend spent too much time on it for me to not look!”

His praise made you blush, but you offered him the hand mirror you had brought out with you, leaning over the top of it so you could see his reaction.

As soon as he caught sight of himself, Bolin’s jaw dropped. He turned to the right, then the left, gasping at the look.

“That-that’s me?”

“That’s you,” you replied, with a broad smile. He looked at you in wonder.

“I look so different!”

“Do you like it?” you asked, a twinge of guilt tugging at you. What if he didn’t like it – what if he thought he looked dumb?

Instead, Bolin looked at you as if you had asked him the most obvious question in the world.

“I love it! No wonder you do this every day – I look so cool! My eyes are like… whoa!” He gestured wildly, almost knocking you off of his lap, and you laughed loud and happy, pressing yourself to the back of the sofa to keep upright and on top of him. You smiled so wide, so in love with him.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, and you meant it. You leaned down, and even though you knew it would mess up his lip gloss, you kissed him soft and gentle, cradling his jaw in your hands. He moaned against you, and when you pulled back, the flutter of his lashes made your breathe catch in your throat.

He really was beautiful – so pretty it made your heart ache. Maybe you would have to do his makeup more often – if only just so you could look at him all night.

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TAGLIST

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#bolin x reader #bolin x you #lok bolin #bolin #mine