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whataperfectwasteoftime · 10 months

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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hqbaby · 9 months

Text

two — still winning

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. fwb, swearing

He doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not your boyfriend or anything. You’re just two close friends who happen to fuck sometimes. You’re a grown woman. You’re allowed to go on dates with guys… who aren’t him.

“What is wrong with yer face,” Aran says. He reaches out to touch the corners of Suna’s lips. “Smile!”

The boy just scowls at him. “What are you doing?” he says, yanking his friend’s hands away from his face. “Don’t touch me.”

Aran bursts into laughter. “Yer so serious!”

“What’s goin’ on with ya?” Osamu prods, launching himself onto the couch between the other two boys. He pokes a finger to Suna’s cheek. “Ya break up with yer girlfriend or somethin’?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“If she’s not yer girlfriend, then why don’t ya tell us her name? Doesn’t matter if we know now, does it?”

Suna sinks deeper into the cushions and groans. “Will you guys just be quiet for once?”

“Such a grump.” Osamu sighs, slumping against the couch’s arm. “Anyway, what’re we doin’ over the break?”

“Kita and I are headin’ home before trainin’ starts,” Aran says. “I miss my bed.”

The gray-haired twin hums. “I’d go home too but I got that internship comin’ up.”

A pillow lands on his face.

“Quit braggin’ ‘bout yer internship.”

“I’m not!”

As the two of them bicker, Suna takes his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up your chat and reads your last message to him.

y/n the love of my life: nah i have a date

His eyes linger on your contact name. You set it up, obviously. The two of you (read: just you) were baking a cake in his kitchen (and failing miserably because his only contribution to the effort was distracting you with memes). You had asked him to send you a video he found of a bird freaking out when its owner “disappeared” behind a blanket because you wanted to show it to Oikawa and tell him that’s what he sounded like when Iwaizumi left him alone.

“Y/N L/N?” you gasped, reading the name he had you saved as. “Is that all I am to you?”

He burst out laughing when he saw how offended you looked. “Are you seriously upset?”

“Duh!” you said. “You’ve literally been inside me. And I’m just ‘Y/N L/N’ to you?”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

You glared at him. “I’m not letting you have any of the cake.”

“Good. I’m pretty sure I’d get food poisoning anyway.”

“Rin!”

He laughed again, holding his phone out for you to take. “Fine,” he said. “Change it to whatever you want.”

A devilish smile appeared on your face as you took the phone away and started typing. He tried to see what you were doing, but you just pulled the screen closer to you so he couldn’t look. “It’s a surprise,” you told him. “Can’t ruin it.”

“You type really slow.”

“Your dick is microscopic.”

“Hey!”

With one last look at your handiwork, you gave him back the phone. “There,” you said. “Now, it’s accurate.”

He glanced at his screen and smirked. “Gee, you got a big ego.”

“Yeah. Bigger than your dick.”

“Stop talking about my dick!”

He tries rationalizing your “date” in his head. It’s not like you’ve mentioned liking anyone, he doubts it’s anything serious. He figures that you just decided to make plans because he was supposed to have plans. That’s probably all there is to it. You’ve done this before. It’s not any different from the other times. It’s not like he cares anyway, he has no reason to.

“Where’s Atsumu?” Aran asks, pushing Osamu’s feet away as the boy tries to stick them in his face. “Thought he’d be here after his test.”

“He came home earlier to get dressed, said he was goin’ out tonight,” Osamu says, trying to get his feet in Suna’s face this time. “Dunno where he thinks he’s goin’ without us.”

“Probably has a girl.”

“Doubt it.”

“Ya never know. Some girls like an airhead.” Aran pretends to swoon, forcing himself on top of Osamu. “‘Oh, ‘Tsumu! Yer so dreamy! Have my babies!’”

The twin’s hand lands in his face, pushing him away. “Gross,” he says. “Well, if Suna can get a girlfriend, I guess ‘Tsumu can too.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend then.”

Osamu is rewarded with a firm kick to the groin.

“I’m tellin’ ya! It tastes great!” Atsumu insists. “Ya just haven’t tried it yet.”

Your face is a mix of both disbelief and amusement. “Uh-uh,” you say slowly, laughter threatening to spill from your lips. “I guess I’ll have to find out the next time I crave cereal with orange juice.”

“I’m serious! Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it!”

You laugh. “But why would I want to try it?”

He shakes his head and makes a faux serious face. “It’s in the pulp,” he explains, gesturing wildly as he tries to convince you that no, this is not a crazy person thing he’s saying right now. “Ya mix it in with the fiber and it just makes the flavor pop, y’know?”

The two of you burst into laughter.

The date’s been going well so far. You’d be lying if you said Atsumu’s the perfect gentleman because he isn’t. He talks while he eats and bulldozes through his meal without an effort to look proper in any way. He didn’t bring you to any of the nicer places on campus where the guys usually take girls that they want to impress, but the restaurant has its own charm. It’s cozy and warm and Atsumu talks to the owner of the place like she’s his own grandmother. He’s clearly a regular. And the food’s great too.

He’s fun to be around, you think. He’s, well, a regular boy with the usual quirks, but there’s a sweetness to him. Like you know he means well. What you see is what you get, and you don’t mind what you see at all.

“You’re on the volleyball team, right?” you ask when the conversation lulls as the two of you eat.

“Yup,” he tells you eagerly. “I plan on going to the Olympics.”

“Wow. That’s big.”

“It is. But it’s also what I’ve always wanted to do.”

You nod in understanding. “I have friends on the team. Your schedules get crazy sometimes, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do, but we love it,” he says with a smile. “Who’re yer friends? I probably know ‘em.”

“Oikawa and Suna—I mean, I’m not really friends with Suna,” you correct yourself. “We’ve spoken a few times.”

“No kiddin’!” he exclaims. “They’re both great—just don’t tell ‘em I said that. Suna’s actually one of my best friends, went to highschool together and everythin’.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? What a coincidence.”

He chuckles. “Can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

You nod and smile, but you can believe it. You and Suna live in separate worlds most of the time. The only way you’re technically supposed to “know” each other is through Oikawa and you barely get involved with that part of your friend’s life anyway. It makes you wonder, though. What kind of person is Suna with his friends? Is he any different from the Suna that you know? Maybe you wouldn’t even recognize him.

The rest of the dinner goes on without a hitch and Atsumu drives you back to the dorms after.

“I had fun,” you tell him, digging into your purse for your key. “You shouldn’t have paid though. I’m the one who owes you.”

He waves it off. “Ya can always pay next time.”

The corners of your lips curl upward at the bold remark. “Next time?”

“Well, if that’s… y’know, somethin' ya wanna do,” he says sheepishly. “Would ya? Wanna do this again, I mean. Soon maybe.”

He looks at you like a little boy with hopeful eyes, an image that doesn't entirely match his rather large physique. It’s endearing. It’s sweet. And you decide that you might actually grow to like this boyish side of him a little.

“I have practice tomorrow,” you tell him. “And we have a team dinner after.”

His face falls slightly, trying to hide his disappointment. “Oh, sure. No, I get it.”

“How does coffee sound to you then?”

He lights up at that, face bursting with joy. “Sounds great,” he says. “Meet ya at the quad?”

You nod. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

“Cool,” he says, still beaming. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” you say, reaching up to plant a kiss on his jaw. “Night, ‘Tsumu.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You unlock your door and step inside, waving at him one last time before closing the door behind you. You lean against the wall, a kaleidoscope of tiny butterflies already gathering in your stomach as you sink to the floor. It’s a new feeling. Interesting, but nice.

Buzz. Buzz.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to find a text from Suna.

rin: how was the date?

you: pretty good actually

you: i’m seeing him again tmrw

rin: nice

Suna feels the urge to chuck his phone across the room. “Nice.” That was his great response. He groans, feeling like a bumbling fourteen-year-old again. He didn’t like being fourteen at all. -3/10, not an experience he’d ever recommend.

He looks down and reads your message again. You’re seeing the guy tomorrow. That’s soon. You just had your first date and you’re seeing him again. It must’ve been something special, Suna thinks, and it makes him feel sick.

His phone pings. Another text from you.

y/n the love of my life: can i come over?

He stares at your words for a while. For a moment, he’s convinced that his mind is playing tricks on him, that he’s just seeing what he wants to see. Then, he smirks, knowing that of course it’s real.

Somehow, he’s decided that, though the guy might be special, it means something that you’re going to end up in Suna’s bed anyway. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, but it means something. It means: Mystery Guy 0, Suna 1. He still comes first, he wins this time. And that’s all that matters.

It makes him feel better than it probably should, but he tries not to think about that. Not now at least.

notes. i'm gonna let u know rn that all the characters in this series are dumb college kids w big feelings and no idea what to do w any them. today is suna's day to be oblivious to his emotions but everyone's gonna get their turn eventually 😩 (also the spice starts next chapter hihihi)

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

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narcissarina · 1 month

Text

𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

જ⁀➴Previous chapter

Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader

Word count: 2,661

Summary: You tried to run off to escape him, but failed. Now you two created such scene in school grounds.

𝙸𝙸.

The most dangerous agent, now your bodyguard—stood before you. He’s prettier than you thought, pretty boy? Pretty boy. You just didn’t want to admit that he’s so much better in person, much more better than those pictures and in news.

He could be a role model of he wanted to, with that heartthrob of a face—you just took a guess that this man can pull any woman he wants, but little did you know that he’s actually awkward towards women.

“Hi..?” you began, tone indifferent with a cock brow, “pleasure to meet you, your father says that I’ll be your bodyguard from now on.” His voice deep and husky, you would be lying if it didn’t made your legs clench together, right?

You cleared your throat and mind, shaking off those kinds of thoughts, “I appreciate it, but I don’t need one.” You grit your teeth while uttering those words, you turn to your father and frown at him—trying to get your pretty, begging eyes to have your father throw him out. Eyes screaming, “but, daddy! I don’t want him, I can take care of myself.” Type of eyes.

Your father could only smile and turn to Leon, “I am so sorry about that.” Then grip your hand, it hurts but you could only frown and storm out of the scene.

Leon’s gaze followed your figure till you disappear from his sight, he turns and talk more with your father—getting his objectives and that when the others need him, he can’t be with you for a while.

You surround yourself with all your squishy, grumbling under the sheets and doing your assignments there. Yet, another topic that your stupid ass professor did not teach, you called Sarina—her phone is off. You whine and threw your feet, some of your plush got off the bed and you sat up, still under the blanket and stare at it.

You hiss at the light as your blanket got pulled off, “what are you doing?” It was Leon, your blanket in his hand and put it in the edge of your bed. “What are you doing in my room?” you hiss and got off of bed and walk towards, you heard him scoff and pick up the squishy and plush that fell off the bed, “didn’t knew father also hired a personal cleaner.”

You gave him a side-eye and cock a brow, he smiled at your remark, amused as he place them in bed. “Aren’t I the first one who asked you a question, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

You shudder at the name, either you cringe or just felt your stomach flutter. No one called you sweetheart before, not even your father. Either they call you dear or by your name, plus with a monotone or demanding tone of voice. But Leon’s? It was low and seducing. As if he’s luring you into a trap.

You didn’t answer, back turn to him as you resume your focus to your work. Pen tapping the desk, as Leon just watch you from the distance.

It only took a few minutes until Leon walked up to your desk and lean down to see what you’re up to, your breath hitches and turn your head to him—quickly moving your head away as you inhale some of his cologne.

“What are you up to?” he asked, “none of your business.” You replied, rolling your eyes as his hands were holding on to the edge of your desk, completely trapping you in between. “oh, this is easy.” He points then read the question aloud in my textbook, “Examine the role of women in World War II and the, both on the home front and in combat roles.”

He turns to you, leaning a little close, “so?” you stay quiet, not knowing what to answer since it isn’t even taught by your prof, or rather it was just a boring video that you didn’t payed attention in class. You mutter lowly, “dunno.”

He sigh and took out a chair and sat beside you, you grumble, “I didn’t think father also hired a tutor.” Your remark. “Well since you’re a woman, I think you should know this question. Isn’t women empowerment a thing?” he asked, you glared at him and punch him to his side, he didn’t budge and took your punch. He even thinks you punch cute.

“are you insulting me?” you said, “I didn’t say that.” He chuckle in amusement and took the back of your chair to scoot you close, he cleared his throat and took your pen. He points to the text and began, “women played a crucial role in world war two, what are those roles?” he asked, giving a pause and letting you answer but words didn’t come out of your mouth and just shrunk in your sit.

“eyes here, princess.” He took your jaw and gently force you to look at the textbook, “I’m not done explaining.” He added and continue, “women serves in various capacities, such as factory workers, nurses, and members or armed forces.” You listen attentively, never know that his voice sounded so nice when explaining things. Even kind enough to provide you answers.

“Countries like the Soviet Union, women served in combat roles as pilots, snipers, and partisans.”

“They held guns?”

“yes, they held guns.”

“I wanna hold a gun too.” You mutter and let your face fall to your textbook and turn your head, “continue.”

Leon nodded and stared at your face, then eyes on the textbook again. “Their contributions not only supported the war efforts but also challenged traditional gender roles and paved the way—” you cut him off.

“for greater gender equality in the post-war period.” You mutter lowly, Leon nodded and lean back to his chair, “and here I thought you didn’t know.” He gave you a faint smirk as he folds his arms. “that’s the only thing I heard when class ended.”

“you said your prof didn’t taught you this?” he raised a brow, “or did you simply didn’t listen to your lessons?”

You let out a ‘hmp’ and scoot your chair to your desk and statt working on your assignment, you were guilty but you didn’t want to admit that—you think it’ll make him a know-it-all. And your pride wouldn’t let you.

“You on your own? Or you still need me to break down history for you?”.

“You’re annoying.”

“that’s not the answer I’m looking for, princess.”

You ignored him, but he stayed incase you didn’t understand some parts and need him to explain to you. And he was right, you’d tap your pen again and it’s his cue to come and help you, you’re almost teary and at meltdown at your assignment.

Leon finds this amusing and stayed longer than intended.

You start yet another day, doing your usual routine but the twist is Leon will be and always will be following you around. As long as you don’t disappear from his sight, he won’t interfere.

Good news, you finish your assignment last night! Congratulations, you wouldn’t finish it then interrupt Sarina from her book without Leon’s help. Not only is he hot, but also smart—you felt a bit embarrassed that for someone you just met for the first time would be tutoring you.

But, hey. At least he is much better than those boys who tutor you in the past then ended up getting tutored by Sarina.

You made your bed, showered, pick an outfit to go to school to slay yet again. Leon could only watch you move and do your thing in the distance, you come downstairs get your breakfast as you finally got to the car that’ll drive you to school.

Plot twist: Leon must be there with you.

You hate that idea, since you felt awkward from last night—you go from hating him then needing him when there’s a topic that you know nothing about, Leon must be thinking you’re just crazy and having a terrible mood swing.

The whole car ride was a bit eerie, even the driver that drove you yesterday felt uneasy. You steal a glance and you turn away quickly because you realized that his eyes were always locked into you. His icy and cold gaze always following your every move, sounds creepy. Isn’t that the type of book trope that Sarina reads?

You can feel him tug a small smile from his lips then turning away, his expression quickly changing to a cold, unexpressive expression. Like this man doesn’t smile at his whole life.

Your bag on your lap, your attention out the window as you and Leon sat at the same seat quietly—keeping a good distance between the two of you until you finally arrived at your destination.

You gave the driver another tip and now, he felt like he can’t stop you from tipping him. You got out the car, and so does Leon’s. You can tell people at your back stop their tracks and take out their phones as if they have seen a real life celebrity—scratch that, he is a celebrity. This motherfucker saved the presidents daughter.

You don’t like the whispers, since Leon is with you—they’ll ask you questions if you two were a thing, why is Leon with you. How come the most dangerous agent is with a person like you.

You like gossips, really—you love the juicy drama and tea, but you don’t like getting involve into drama. They’ll spread it like wildfire, asking questions if they could have Leon’s phone number or that if you two did the deed and if so, is he good? Is he endowed? Fuck them.

Turning your back at him, he follows, “you can stop following me!” you hiss, “can’t do that, sweetheart.” Leon remark, his front touching your back—towering you from behind, you look up to meet his blues.

In others eyes, they could see two people flirting in school grounds, one an agent that dates a college student. Scandalous, isn’t it?

“you can’t always follow me, Leon!” you said and start to walk off, but Leon caught your wrist and turn you around to meet his eyes, “your father instruct me to protect you, I can’t go against your father’s will, now can I?”

You could hear giggles from other students, their phones out and recording—word could spread and come to the principal. “I can’t always have you here, Leon.”

“I won’t interrupt you, I just need to watch over you and ensure your safety, princess.” You snatch your wrist away, you groan and walked away whilst Leon follows. People think that they just witness a fucking conflict of a love story.

You went to the cafeteria to buy some drink, Leon’s outside the cafeteria—it was bustling with people and every people that pass by, they see the blonde agent and asked to take photos with him, which you don’t know if he declines of not.

You took your drink, striking a right time to lose your bodyguard—but there’s only one in and out of the cafeteria and Leon seems to be busy making small talks with the students, so—the first thing that came out from your mind is to run. It’s quite dumb, really. Leon could catch you for 10 seconds max and held you in place so you wouldn’t be a naughty girl.

But you still made a run for it, good thing you still hasn’t pluck the straw in and that your bag isn’t with you right now.

“hey, hey!” Leon yelled, his voice changing to a higher pitch tone, “get back here.” He said and rushes over you, adrenaline kicks in—Leon’s chasing you, not knowing you’re making a scene and people recording. They’ll think that two people are having a chase of their life romantically, but it isn’t. Leon is pissed, your pace began to slow down and before you knew it—you were swept off your feet as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” you whine and hit his back a few couple of times, you feel him pat and slap your ass and taking a few deep breaths, “naughty girl.” He said and picked up the drink you dropped.

He picked up your bag where he left it since you asked him to watch it for you. “Now, where to?” he asked, sliding the strap over his shoulder, “Leon, stop! People are watching.” You whine and move your legs to get off.

“No worries, you’re getting the attention you deserve.”

“Stop!” your ear and cheeks burning hot red, you could only cover your face with your hands and just accepts defeat. “where to?” he asked again, “Library…”

You cover your face from the entire walk where Leon still has you in his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Sarina was waiting for you in the library and Leon came in with you in his shoulder—peoples eyes dart to you and him when he entered, “girl, I have been waiting fo—” Sarina cut herself mid-sentence.

Leon puts you down, you’re facing him and your back at Sarina—you don’t wanna face your best friend now and be dumped with a bunch of questions. You lose balance and your covered face made contact with Leon’s chest, you don’t fucking care anymore. You’re too embarrassed to exist now.

Leon looked down and grab you to your shoulder and try to turn you around, you don’t want to and whine at him. Hiding yourself to him and hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t be a brat now, princess.” Leon whispered, “or else, you’ll draw more attention—which you don’t want, right?” he added and that made you sit down with your friend and ignore Leon’s existence.

Sarina’s kept wandering back and forth to Leon, scooting over to you and giggling as she whispers unnecessary things like how luck you were and that if you two were a thing.

“He’s my bodyguard, the end. Period. End of story. No more question.” You said with gritted teeth, Saeina backs out and chuckle, “ok girl.” She rolled her eyes while Leon only watch.

“by the way, who’s that guy?” you point at the distance, male group with a few females across the room—one particular guy catches your attention, but hey—didn’t you say that you hate guys?

“Why do you asked? I mean, you have Leo—” you hit Sarina with her book closed and she let out a hiss of pain, “god fucking damn—” she curses and glared at you.

“I’m just asking, that doesn’t mean I’m interested.” Or are you? Leon cock a brow and turn his attention to the group with males and female student whispering among themselves and as if they were being held back at being loud.

A brunette guy snatches your attention, curly hair and his smile is something that made you drift you away from reality—as if time froze and it’s just you and him. But Leon isn’t having it, he has this feeling but he shouldn’t voice it out. He’s here for work, he shouldn’t give a shit about you having a little crush over a guy.

But the feeling is that the guy will be a playboy, that’s the vibe Leon is getting since there’s two girls surrounding him.

But who is he to judge?

Leon snapped your attention away, “if you have laser eyes, you could’ve burn through that guys face, you know that?” you hit him and sulk.

Sarina rolled her eyes, “girl, if you want him. Try to have him, I’m just saying that your bodyguard is so much better.” You try to hit her one more time but she dodges and ran out of the library.

But little did you know that the brunette turn his eyes and laid on you, you never knew but instead his gaze met Leon’s cold icy blues. You want to question Leon why he has his hand on your waist as he drags you out of the library.

You’re really in for a ride, aren’t you?

Next Chapter>>>

#Golden Cage Blue Bonds series #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #re4 leon #re4r leon #bodyguard!Leon #keeping my eyes open as I write this #😭😭😭 send help #when he's smart and you're dumb/j

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stayandot8 · 7 months

Text

Birthday Gifts

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: Happy birthday Light of My Life 🥰 You have changed me and my life for the better and for that I will never be able to thank you. Tis short but sweet.

WC: 1.07k

masterlist

“Why is there a photocard of Seungmin in your phone?” I froze, stopping the packing process. My eyes went wide.

“Because he’s my…”

“Bias?” His tone was light, not upset at all. Chan rarely got truly upset. “Baby, why am I not your bias?” He was pouting, I could tell.

“I was told that your boyfriend can't be your bias!” I picked up one of his favorite sweatshirts to fold and drop it in his suitcase.

“Who told you that?” He started towards me, his toiletries bag forgotten in the bathroom and his hand outstretched so I could see what I already knew. I pretended I was busy picking out the rest of his clothes from his drawers to hear him. “Hey! Who told you your boyfriend couldn’t be your bias?!” He followed me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ll tickle it out of you if I have to!”

“Nooo nononono! Okay, fine! Minho! It was Minho!” He didn’t let go. Instead he only tightened his grip on me as he hauled me over to his bed and threw me down.

“His bunny teeth are gonna get it when we get on the plane.”

“Don’t hurt him.” I swatted at him still behind me, laying with my back to his chest. The rumble of laughter was just the glue needed to put my soul back together again. I would need all the healing I could get since he wasn’t spending his birthday with me.

“You have no control over that.” He squeezed his arms around my middle and kissed the back of my head, burying his nose in my hair. “Did you change your shampoo? I like it.”

“Stop changing the subject. I mean it, don’t do anything to him. Now let me up so I can finish packing so you can have clothes to wear when you leave. I don’t think Seungmin can take you being naked all the time.”

“Caring so much about what Seungmin thinks now, are we?” He released me and I stood up and walked back over to his dresser, straightening my pajama shorts and top that he messed up.

“Lord, I won’t live this down, will I.” Shaking my head, I picked up a t-shirt and folded it the same as I did with his sweatshirt. He strode back to his bathroom and continued his own packing. “Hey, what movie should we watch tonight?”

“I dunno, whatever you want to watch is fine with me.”

“Libra man can’t decide, what a shocker. No sir, you’re choosing this movie, it’s your birthday tomorrow. You pick.”

“Ugghh fine. Something from Marvel then. Maybe the first Avengers movie?” He called from the bathroom, pausing and listening for my honest reaction. Lucky for him, I would’ve said yes to just about anything but this choice was actually a good one in my opinion.

“I’m down. Hurry up in there so I can brush my teeth and bury myself in your covers. Your suitcase is all packed.” He zipped up the small black bag and placed it on the outside pocket of the huge black suitcase.

“I’m done, I’m done.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he returned the favor, chuckling as I walked by.

“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?” I asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Eight AM.” I spit it out and rinsed. “I don’t have a lot to do on this trip though so I should be back soon.” I turned out the light and stood in the doorway, just watching him turn on his TV and flip through the choices until he found the one he wanted.

I thought this year would be the year that I convinced him not to work on his birthday. I had gotten close, but his drive had won out in the end. At least he was going with friends he didn’t get to see very often, even if it was the other kids. They wouldn’t let him work on his birthday. If I had to fly out there myself and throw his laptop out of the plane, he wouldn’t work on his birthday. I had half a mind to hide it in my closet at my house when he started asking for it, looking frazzled. I begrudgingly handed it over.

Next year, I thought. Next year, I’ll spend all day with him, no matter what. Nothing would stop me.

“Baby? Am I watching this movie by myself or are you coming to cuddle with me?” I rolled my eyes, my answer obvious. I practically leaped into his bed and shuffled over next to him as he pressed play. I made sure to check the clock on my phone before turning it over to the side, smirking to myself.

“Chris?” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I had something made. Let me go get it, hold on.” I scrambled back out of the safety of his blanket to my bag, pulling a small box out. He furrowed his eyes and pouted.

“I told you I didn’t want anything this year.”

“And if you thought I was going to listen, you really don’t know me.” He took the box from me as I climbed back in with him.

He pulled back the bow of the wrapping and slowly opened it to reveal a tiny golden heart pin with my initials on it.

“You can pin it to the inside of your sweatshirts. So you’ll always have my heart on your sleeve.” I took my time to look back up at his face, scared of what his reaction may be. I don’t know why, because he looked like he was going to cry.

“I-” He spoke softly. “Baby, I love it.”

“You do?” He nodded and pulled me in for a soft kiss.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever received. And I’ll make sure-” He pulled me in by my cheeks so he could look straight into my eyes. “To take the best care of it.” He kissed me again and placed the box next to his phone. “So I don’t forget to put it on first thing tomorrow.” When he turned back over, his hands found themselves anywhere but by his side. He squashed me into him until I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe, which had us in giggles as the movie started.

“Happy birthday, Chris.”

“Thank you, baby.” He kissed the top of my head once more. “Even if I’m not your bias, you’re still my favorite.” I clung tighter to him and he whispered in my ear. “And I’m so trading out Seungmin’s photocard for mine before I leave.”

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hannahssimblr · 2 months

Text

“Jude,” minutes before the bell rings for the end of lunch, Evan calls me over to him as I pass him, lurking by his locker as he so often is.

“Yeah?”

“You know Alison Littler, right?”

I saunter over to him, intrigued, and lean against the locker next to his, “Yeah? Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No. Is there a reason I should know?”

“Are you not, like, fucking each other or something?”

I laugh awkwardly, because he doesn’t have to say it like that, and so loudly that at least three passers by heard him. “I dunno, I haven’t seen her since this morning, but we have maths together in an hour. Why?”

“She was supposed to meet me here, that's all, I’ve been waiting for the whole break for her.”

I find this amusing, “How do you know Alison Littler, Evan?”

“Oh, well, you know… everyone knows her.”

“Yeah but I didn’t realise you were on hanging out terms with her. Since when?”

“We’re not,” he says, “and if we were, so what? Would you be jealous?”

“No, I’m just a bit curious about what’s happening here.”

“Is Alison’s business your business?”

I grin, “No, but I’m nosy.”

He gives in reluctantly, “I have something for her. I said I’d give it to her, and she hasn’t turned up. That’s all.”

I shrug, “Okay well, I don’t know what happened, sorry. Can I pass on a message?”

He chews on his lip, “I’d text her again but maybe her phone is dead. If you see her later will you tell her you saw me? Let her know I’ll be here after school until about a quarter past four.”

“Yeah, sure,” I pull back to lightly punch his arm but it makes him flinch and then I feel like I should apologise for frightening him. He’s a bit skittish, and these typical, aggressive boy things I’ve become accustomed to doing likely won't to go over well. “Uh, sorry about-” I say, and my words are clipped short by the abrupt wail of the bell through the narrow hallway. I turn to head toward German class, “Um, so Alison, yeah, I’ll tell her. Quarter past four.”

“Thanks,” He says, and slings his bag over his shoulder as he walks the other way.

Later, Alison is missing from maths, and now I am distracted by her absence. My eyes keep drifting toward her empty desk, where she is usually perched right in front me, hair draped over the back of her chair and wafting vanilla scented shampoo my way. From where she sits she is right within range for my flirtatious torment, for me to kick the legs of her chair while she tries to draw straight lines with her ruler or poke her with a pen when she’s trying to ask a question, but not today. She’s gone, and I have this strange, niggling feeling that something isn’t quite right.

I smuggle my phone out of my pocket and text her under the desk.

You go home sick today?

“Jude, phone please,” The teacher says, because she’s the type that watches me all class long for even a hint of wrongdoing. She barely lets me away with anything, so usually I have to act out when her back is turned or when she’s gone to the toilet or something. She stands in front of me now and snaps her fingers at me like I’m some kind of unruly feral dog, so I hand my phone over without protest and let her store it in her drawer until we’ve completed our calculus lesson.

I spend the rest of the class wondering if Alison has texted back.

“Hey,” before the last class of the day I block Tara Neary’s access to her locker with my body and note the look of utter delight on her face. It is because I am giving her attention, and I’m not blind to the effect I seem to have on these girls. It’s because I’m tall, I think, but so often they shrink back timidly like Tara and gaze up at me through lashes, trembling nervously at their own imaginings of the things they want me to do to them. Her expression quickly turns to crushing disappointment the moment I start quizzing her about Alison.

“She’s in some of your classes, right?”

“Um, yeah but I don’t know her that well or anything.”

“Really? I thought you hung out.”

“Sometimes,” Tara says reluctantly as she nudges me out of the way to swap the books in her bag with those in her locker, “But I don’t know where she is. She was in chemistry this morning, and she wasn’t in Irish this afternoon,” A shrug, “sorry, I don’t know anything else. She probably had her period and went home or something.” Tara glances at me with some measure of optimism, as though this revelation that Alison does in fact, get a period may have frightened and disgusted me enough to put me off her, but she can try that one with lesser boys. I’ve been so inundated by girls and women my whole life, platonically, familially and romantically that periods of all things do not shock me. There are far scarier things about women.

“Okay, thanks, well, if you see her tell her I was asking for her.”

“I will.”

She won’t.

Evan is standing forlornly by his locker at the end of the day, and as I pass him I give him the nod. “No sign?”

“No, I suppose she went home sick.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. See you tomorrow, Evan.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Out by the gates in the hazy light that girl I used to know is there again. She sees me and waves, and this time I cannot pretend that I haven’t seen her back, so I wave too, and there is nowhere to go but past her, so I approach her.

“What are you doing here?” I say, and I had hoped that my words would come out sounding a bit less accusatory but it’s difficult.

Leah smiles and wraps her arms around herself to shield from the cold. She’s wearing a coat, but it isn’t thick enough to protect her from this cold snap. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

“A sibling?”

“No.”

I peer at her, wishing I didn’t feel so guarded and suspicious, but my body reacts to her long before I do. Always. “Do you ever think it’s weird that you’re nineteen and you’re still hanging around your old secondary school?”

She scoffs, and I shrug, “Just wondering, like.”

She fixes her face so that it is soft despite my offensive remarks, nostalgic, affectionate, even, the one she always makes when she looks at me and it annoys me. “Just an acquaintance is all, I said I’d be here at the gates.”

“Right.”

“How’s your friend Jen?”

“She’s doing fine.”

“Oh, that’s good. She was such a nice girl.”

“Yeah, she is,” I almost turn to go before I spin back to her “She’s actually doing really well. She’s sorting everything out and she’s happy.” I’m not sure where this sudden burst of childish venom came from, or whether it’s really true that Jen is sorting things out or if she’s expressly happy, but I say it anyway in defence so that I can prove that she hasn’t turned out the way that many people expected her to.

“Did you hear Pete was put in a psych unit?”

I falter, “Pete Lee?”

She nods, “He went crazy, apparently, and his dad had to wrestle a knife out of his hand.”

I remember Pete Lee. He was a quiet, but nice guy. A little weird, sure, but relatively harmless. He liked dance music and always wore these really bright, neon coloured runners. I used to talk to him about games we both played on the playstation and he taught me how to huff deodorant fumes until I felt like I was floating through time and space above the little dingy park where we used to hang out. We were thirteen. Now we are seventeen and Pete Lee is in a psychiatric facility, which makes him the second boy from that small group of peers to have a psychotic break.

I want to say that Pete didn’t deserve this, that if we’d all been more careful back then with the things we used and the things we developed a taste for then all this wouldn’t have had to happen. But we were barely teenagers, we didn’t really know what we were getting into, someone else should have known better, like Leah, maybe. She was there. She should have warned us that solvent abuse turns to substance abuse so easily that you don’t really see it happening, but I know that it is too much to expect from her, so I don’t say this.

Or anything else aside from, “Oh, that’s really sad.”

She sighs unhappily, “Yeah, that’s how it goes sometimes.”

“I suppose,” I reply, and begin walking away from her.

“Will you tell Jen I was asking about her?” She calls after me, and I don’t turn around.

“Yeah,” I say, though she probably already knows I'm lying.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #the reveal #it's leah #but where is Alison?#this storyline is stressing me out #but necessary i guess #tw: mental health #tw: violence mention #tw: drugs #tw: solvent abuse

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multi-fandom-of-madness · 7 months

Text

Like You Love Me

Kinktober Day 5: Face fucking

Pairings: Aether X Rain - implied Poly!Ghouls

Type: Smut

Summary: Rain is still fairly new, but he knows what he likes. He gets it from everyone except for Aether, and he’s determined to change that.

Warnings: Rain is a brat, dom!Aether, sub!Rain, rough oral, degradation, objectification,

Word Count: 1,719

Notes: Read here on ao3. Find my kinktober prompt list here. This isn't edited, so I'm sorry if there are typos.

Rain loved Aether dearly. He loved everything about the quintessence ghoul, but especially how sweet he was to him. If he wanted it rough, he had his options. He had Dewdrop who he could throw around and ruin, Swiss or Cirrus if he wanted to challenge who was in charge, or Mountain if he wanted to be fucked so hard that he melts into the matress.

But Aether was so gentle and caring. He never wanted to hurt Rain in any way. There was the occasional teasing, maybe a bite mark here and there, but it always was slow and sensual.

Aether didn’t feel like he knew the in’s and out’s of Rain well enough to bring him into something kinkier. He’d only been topside for a few months, and for the first month or so, Rain was too shy to make any advances. Although he’s seen the way Rain acts with the others, he doesn’t want to push it and break the bond that they’ve grown.

Don’t get the water ghoul wrong, he loves the special treatment, but hearing about how he collared Swiss and pulled him around as he pleased, watching Dewdrop shift in his seat to try and get comfortable with the bruises on his ass, or how Mountain always comes back with a goofy grin and a limp in his step…he gets a bit jealous.

They’re curled up in Aether’s bed, Aether reading a book and Rain scrolling through his phone, head on Aether’s chest and pressed stubbornly to his hip. The minute Aether slipped off his shirt and slipped on his reading glasses, Rain’s cock began to chub up. No one could resist Aether when he looked like that.

“Why don’t you treat me like the others?” He asks, not looking up from the video on his phone.

Aether blinks. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You just asked the vaguest question, and aren’t going to explain?”

Rain sighed and rolled over dramatically. “Why don’t you rail me into next week?”

“What the hell are you on?”

“Nothing yet,” Rain huffed. “Can’t you just…throw me around? Rough me up a bit?”

“I thought you liked me being gentle with you.”

“I do. But I would also like to be fucked into next week.”

“Where is this coming from?” Aether asked, pulling his glasses off. His cock was twitching with the implications of what Rain was implying.

“Just…I dunno…jealous?”

“Of what?”

“Oh don’t act like you don’t grin every time you see Dewdrop struggling to sit right for a week after one of your little escapades.” “So you want me to…punish you?” He inquired, a joking tone to his voice.

“Well I mean…have I done anything wrong?”

“You interrupted my reading for no good reason other than the fact that you’re thinking with your dick.”

“I feel like that shouldn’t count.”

“I feel like you’re acting like Dew,” Aether countered.

Oh. Rain grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Am I?”

“You’re starting to,” Aether sighed, putting his glasses back on and turning his attention back to his book. So he was going to ignore Rain? Well, that simply won’t do.

Rain laid back down, kicking up a purr to lure Aether into a false sense that Rain wasn’t going to try anything. After a few minutes of comfortable silence he lifted his head to be level with Aether’s plush stomach and…

“Did you just fucking bite me?” Aether asked, amused.

Rain pulled off and frowned, sitting up. “That doesn’t get a reaction out of you?”

“You didn’t even draw blood,” Aether pointed out.

“Come onnnnnn…I want you to make me get all slutty. Don’t you like it when I’m slutty?” Rain begged with a joking tone.

“Are you sure you aren’t in heat? Do I need to get Mountain in here?”

“You are no fun.” Rain crosses his arms and pouts, his tail thumping against the bed for extra dramatic effect.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” Aether said sympathetically, tilting his head.

“But I want you to hurt me.”

“You really do love to run your mouth,” Aether scowled. Rain grinned when he realized that he was finally getting somewhere.

“Maybe I do. I like the sound of my own voice,” he paused, giving himself enough time to straddle the quintessence ghoul, rolling his hips against him.

“Are you just going to be a brat to get what you want?” Aether asked, putting his hands on Rain’s hips, using his own strength to move the water ghoul.

“Is it gonna work?”

“In some ways.”

“Then yes.”

Rain grinned, leaning down to kiss Aether. Aether ran a hand up his back, grabbing at the back of his neck, causing Rain to moan. The moment Rain’s mouth opens, Aether slips his tongue inside.

Rain squirms on top of him, trying to get some sort of friction on his cock. There’s a slight fight for dominance that Rain quickly loses. Just because he wants to be roughed up doesn’t mean he can’t pretend to pose a challenge.

“Aeth, ple-”

“Nuh uh, baby boy. I don’t want to hear my name come out of your mouth right now,” Aether cuts, his tone of voice dropping to something more demanding.

Rain swallows thickly, realizing he was finally getting his wish. He rolls his hips with a groan. “Sir,” he tries again. Aether doesn’t stop him, so he continues. “Please, sir…please fuck me,” he breaths, lowering his head to Aether’s neck. He nips at it, and Aether scruffs him, forcing him to go boneless.

Aether rolls the water ghoul off of him, then stands up, looking at Rain expectantly. “Well?”

Rain looks back confused. “What do you want me to do?”

Aether walks back towards the bed, taking Rain’s chin in his hand gently before firming his grip almost hard enough to bruise. Rain looks at him like he hung the stars. “Get on the floor. On your knees. If you want me to fuck you, then we’re going to do it my way,” he growls.

Rain is already loving this new side of Aether, but he’s determined to see more, so he doesn’t move.

“On your knees,” Aether growls again, baring his fangs slightly and shaking Rain’s head. When Rain doesn’t move again, Aether moves his hand into his hair, then pulls.

Rain groans and rolls his hips forward as his cock kicks from the sensation. “Please…” he groans, closing his eyes.

Aether uses his grip on his hair to throw Rain on the floor. He lets go of him long enough to pull his cock out from his sweatpants. “Open your mouth,” he commands.

Rain’s head is swimming in ecstasy. He doesn’t even hear Aether speak until there’s a hand on his jaw, prying it apart, and a cock pressed to his lips.

“Since you can’t keep that pretty mouth shut, I’m going to make sure you can’t use it. If you need to, tap my thigh twice for me to stop.”

Rain moans in acknowledgement, snaking his tongue out to lap at the pre beading at the tip of Aether’s dick. Aether groans as Rain pushes his lips down Aether’s cock, closing his eyes and humming from the taste.

Aether gives Rain a moment to work his magic, then grabs hold of Rain’s horns and thrusts into him. Rain chokes at the unexpected motion and looks up at Aether with teary eyes. He pulls Rain down until his nose is pressed against Aether’s pubes.

Aether holds him there for a second as Rain gags and sputters around Aether’s cock. Rain brings a hand to Aether’s thigh and taps twice.

“Are you alright?” Aether asks.

“Y-yeah,” Rain croaks out, trying to find his voice. He’s panting and tears are streaking down his cheeks. “Just need to breathe,” he laughs.

Aether hums in acknowledgement. “Take your time. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Rain nods and catches his breath. He takes a few minutes, then looks up at Aether. “I’m ready,” he says, opening his mouth.

Aether pets through Rain’s hair then grabs hold of one of Rain’s horns again. He starts off gently this time, small shallow thrusts that hardly graze the back of Rain’s throat. Rain moans and shuts his eyes, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through Aether’s body.

The sensation causes Aether to push his hips into Rain’s mouth, making Rain gag around him. “Shit,” Aether groans, “I should’ve fucked your mouth ages ago. So fucking good.”

Rain does his best to relax his throat and breathe through his nose. He feels nothing but Aether. The sight of him, taste of him, smell of him. Everything is Aether. He’s absolutely intoxicating, and it makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. He brings a hand down to the front of his sweats where they’ve darkened with the amount of precum and slick leaking out of Rain.

Aether finds leverage before using his foot to kick his hand away, pulling out so that only the tip of his cock rests on Rain’s tongue. “I never told you to touch yourself,” he growls. Rain gives an apologetic look and hums. Aether scoffs and harshly thrusts into Rain’s mouth, his balls slapping against Rain’s chin. “Hands behind your back.”

Rain can’t do anything but sit there and let his mouth be used as he crosses his arms behind his back. He blinks away the tears in his eyes and stares at Aether’s blissed out face. He can feel the spit leak out of his mouth, feels his shirt getting wet from the way it drips down.

“Lucifer, you look so pretty like this,” he says. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to rough you up? Throw you around like a little doll?”

Rain tried to nod, but found it impossible with Aether’s grip on his horns and cock down his throat. He hummed in response as Aether pulled him back down his cock again, cumming without warning.

He kept Rain pressed tight against him until he was sure Rain swallowed everything. Rain tapped his thigh twice, and Aether let him pull off, a string of saliva attached from the tip of Aether’s cock to his lips.

“Please-” he gasps, “wanna be your doll.”

“Good,” Aether smirks. “On the bed. I’m not done with you yet.”

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kurolumiis · 8 months

Text

MASTERLIST

summary — the most popular guy in school has his heart set on you. but why? was it some kind of joke? you’re determined to get to the bottom of this.

featuring — ajax tartaglia (childe), y/n y/l/n

warnings — childe x fem!reader, childe will be referred to as “childe”, angst, fluff, high school!au, featuring some genshin ships

taglist: @esthelily

“i don’t understand,” you said, shutting your locker. looking down at the love letter in your hands, you furrowed your brows together in confusion.

‘dearest y/n,

after many days of admiring you, i have come to the conclusion that i have fallen in love with you. please accept my feelings. i will be very grateful.

sincerely,

ajax’

huffing, you folded the paper up and shoved it in your backpack pocket. “does he mean it?” “do you accept his feelings?” your best friends, keqing and ganyu, asked.

you didn’t respond immediately. “i dunno.”

the girls looked at each other. “he’s like one of the most popular guys in school! how am i supposed to know if he’s telling the truth?” you exclaimed, pushing the door open to your classroom.

“hello girls,” miss yelan greeted you. “hi miss yelan,” you replied back, smiling sweetly. she returned the smile, allowing you to take your seats.

since there were a few minutes before class began, you went on your phone. you were somewhat startled when you felt a presence sit beside you. which was strange, considering keqing always sat beside ganyu.

out of curiosity, you looked up and glanced at the person. it was childe.

“hey,” he said, winking. your eyes widened in shock. you couldn’t reply because miss yelan started speaking.

“today we’ll be working on an assignment with partners, you may work with friends but if you get too loud, i’ll separate you,” she announced, clasping her hands together.

students began opening up their assignments on their school computers or headed over to their friends’ seats. you leaned towards keqing and ganyu, but your shirt was tugged by childe beside you.

“wanna work with me?” he asked, already having the assignment up. “…sure.” you eyed him suspiciously. it wasn’t like he was a bad person, so you had no reason to reject him.

“did you see my letter?” he asked, watching you attentively as you got the assignment up online. “i did.”

“do you have a response for me?” he almost sounded excited. “not right now,” you simply replied, making his smile drop.

he glanced at his friends and shook his head, which confused you. you paid no mind to it and began working on the assignment with him.

childe was actually really good at algebra. he helped you work through the equations with ease and got the assignment done pretty early.

“hey, come on.” when he saw you go on your phone, he tugged on your sleeve once more. “what?” “let me take you out on a date,” he declared.

“what?!” you stared at him with wide eyes. you’ve never been on a date before, nor have been asked out, unless as a cruel joke. so, who’s to say he was being serious?

“i wanna take you out,” he repeated, smiling brightly. you stared ahead of you, trying to collect your thoughts.

childe, the most popular guy in school, wants to take you out? it seemed out of the question.

“um…” “have you never been on a date before?” childe asked, chuckling slightly and tilting his head. “…no,” you admitted, quietly. “then let me be your first.”

“i’ll have to think about it,” you said, wanting your friends’ input. “let me give you my number. text me when you have an answer,” he told you, pulling his phone out.

handing his phone to you, you hesitantly typed your number in. you handed it back to him, along with your phone so he could put his number in.

once childe finished, he handed it back to you, letting his fingers glide across yours for a split second. you were startled by the sudden touch of his gloved fingers.

he only chuckled at your reaction. you slightly glared at him. it wasn’t like you’ve even held hands romantically before, so feeling an extremely attractive guy’s hands touch you was certainly a new experience.

with that, the bell rang. childe didn’t miss the chance to wink at you before you left the class.

as you and your friends exited the classroom, ganyu asked, “what was that about with childe?” “i don’t know, honestly. he just sat next to me and offered to be my partner for today’s assignment,” you explained, just as out of it as she was.

“ooh who was your partner?~” hu tao, your other friend, asked, teasingly. “stop, it’s not like that,” you groaned, shaking your head. “childe offered to be my partner for today’s assignment.”

“childe?!” the brunette exclaimed loudly. “shh!” you and the girls shushed, seeing heads turn around you. “then he asked me out,” you added.

“he what?!” the girls exclaimed, ignoring their shushes a few moments ago. “he asked me out.” “what did you say?” hu tao immediately asked. “i said i’ll think about it.”

she groaned loudly. “come onnnn, this is the first time someone’s been attracted to you. embrace it!” hu tao shook you. “stop, stop!” you brought her hands off your shoulders. “thanks for letting me know people aren’t attracted to me,” you joked.

“i’m sorry!” hu tao quickly covered her mouth. “it’s alright, i know,” you sighed.

“i wanted to know what you guys thought of it first before i said anything,” you admitted. “say yes!” they all exclaimed. well, part of you wasn’t expecting that answer.

sighing heavily, you finally replied, “alright, let me text him.”

childe replied within seconds, scheduling a date and time with you.

“it’s settled, i’m going in a date with childe.”

diorlumx productions, 2023

#—galactic.works #—series designed by dior #genshin impact #childe #tartagila #ajax tartaglia #childe genshin impact #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader

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zushiribbon · 1 year

Text

these burns i yield - hawks x reader

Summary: In your eyes, you know Keigo has already gone through so much. Even as a child, a fledgling barely out of the nest, was already so scarred and traumatized. Some may believe he can quickly brush those problems off his back, but perhaps this time he has finally let go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There he sat, atop a tall building, watching the clouds float above.

Knowing that he had cut all connections with his broken family, he still felt like he "yearned" for something.

He knew he was almost one step closer to freedom, but he couldn’t help but stay bothered over what had happened.

"I’m proud of you, Keigo."

He watched the skies quietly, pondering about the note his mother had left behind.

While being lost in thought, you followed him atop the building, calling, "Keigo." You called, causing him to turn around slightly and look up at you as he cleared his throat, put on his respiratory mask, and brought out his phone. "Hi, Y/n." He typed down a greeting for you.

He still sat on the ledge of the building, making sure he wouldn’t fall as he now knew how fragile he was, and asked, "You concerned about your good ol' bird man?" He smiled through the mask, but upon closer inspection, you could clearly tell he was nervous about something.

His amber eyes were warm and loving as they stared at yours, but you couldn’t help but notice the genuine worry in his eyes.

You sat beside him, tilting your head as you looked at him in a caring way and asked, "Are you okay?" This question made him stop momentarily, thinking to himself.

"Of course I am, just catchin’ some fresh air to cool off my mind." He responds ever so casually, hearing him sigh quietly and continuing to gaze upon the sky above, wondering if he’ll ever reach them again.

You nudged closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, and asked, "No, really, are you okay?" You repeated yourself again, eagerly listening to his response.

Keigo knew he wasn’t, in a way. After all, being the youngest hero on the chart may be an achievement, but to him, it was a hard, long process getting to where he is now.

You awaited his response as he stared quietly, trying to think of a way to brush you off without seeing how vulnerable he already was. "I’m fine, babybird; don’t you worry." He said, turning to you and looking straight into your eyes,

You sighed; you read him so well, and you could clearly tell by the simple actions he took that he was already stressed and tired. Hell, this man is already so burned and bruised.

He just doesn’t want to worry you.

Despite the horrible, traumatic events in his past that have left him scarred, he refuses to make you worry about him.

"Come on, Keigo, I know you’re stressed; just look at you; you're already so bruised and hurt like this." You pointed it out, looking at all his bandages.

He took off his mask and sighed, hearing how tired he already was from the huff of air that came out of his mouth. "You’ve always been good at figuring me out, haven’t you?" Keigo spoke weakly, taking another breath as his voice was all raspy and tired.

"What more can I expect from my most loyal fan?" He smiled, looking at you warmly yet so nervously. Keigo's heart skipped a beat when he saw you; how you were always showing him the affection he lacked and adoring the smallest details in you.

Knowing how he was treated, he was never given a drop of love or care, so it was like it was your job to provide him with the love and care he needs.

"A lot. You’ll have to expect a whole lot more in the future." You replied to his comment, gazing up at the sky with him. "You wanna talk about it?" You asked, making sure you wouldn’t make him uncomfortable with this request.

He nods. "...Yeah." He was hesitant, though. It’s not like he has someone ask him about his past and then talk about it. But you did want to help him clear his mind.

Keigo’s eyes softened as he looked at his palms. "If I’m honest, I dunno how to feel now that I’ve got my broken parents off my back." He spoke weakly, gulping as he tried to maintain his calm composure.

"I’m a free man now, but..." He tried to make up the words in his mind, watching him talk like a nervous child for a recital. You listened patiently, waiting for every word that came out of his mouth while comfortingly rubbing his back.

"It’s all still frustrating, you know. Consider both of your parents to be insane, yet both of them abandon you.His voice trembled, and he took a deep, shaky breath to maintain his cool. "I mean, yeah, I’m happy I’m all free and all; I’ve accomplished not ending up on the same path as they did, but now that I think about it, I’ll be alone." Keigo’s voice was already shaking at this point. His heart ached as he talked more about his personal life.

You got closer to him, almost as if hugging him, as he felt his heart race quickly, clenching his fists as he trembled nervously. "I was always despised by both of them for my wings, but now, look at ‘em. They’re burnt, fried, and I’m all over you, showing you how weak I am." He laughs, cursing at himself for being vulnerable like this.

He knows it’s okay to be weak since he does trust you, but he’s still nervous.

You had always seen him as your idol, which is why you were so devoted to him, but at the same time it hurt him because here he was, the winged hero "Hawks," dumping all his problems out like water in a glass.

"Keigo..." Your heart ached too as you saw him like this; seeing him so sad just hurt you as well. "You know I’ll always be with you, right?" You ran your fingers through his ash blonde hair as he hugged you against him.

"I know you will, but I just can’t help but think—what if you leave me too?" He felt his heart sting as he said that, unable to stand the thought of you leaving him the same way his parents did. The thought struck you as well.

"You know I won't, Keigo," you said, shaking your head. Your voice was calm and soothing to his ears as you reassured him, like a lullaby to a baby’s ears. But even still, he couldn’t help but feel so hurt.

He sniffed as he hid his face in your chest even more, holding you tightly against him. "I ain’t looking forward to losing another innocent person." Keigo spoke sternly, feeling his eyes water as he got flashbacks to a certain person he had slain.

"You’re like my family, y/n. You’re always looking out for me, even if it isn’t necessary." He sniffed again, as tears began escaping his eyes, soaking your shirt. You watched him cry in your clothes, petting his head softly, "There, there..." You whispered comfortingly.

You buried your head in his unruly hair, inhaling the scent of flames and his own scent, and saying, "I know I sound desperate, but seriously, if you leave me, I might as well stop and retire from hero work or something..." He said it again, his voice cracking slightly, which hurt his throat, and he was crying even harder at the prospect of losing you.

At the moment, Keigo looked like a scared child in your eyes, as if you could almost see his young self cry and hold you closer to him. After all, as a child, he was never even given a drop of love or care.

You pulled him closer to you tightly, letting him sob in your arms. "Shhh, it’s okay, I won’t be leaving you. Not now, not ever." You whispered in his ear as he sobbed.

"Don’t you dare think about disappearing on me now, babybird," he sniffles, looking up at you with watery eyes, "okay?" He awaits your response, looking up at you eagerly.

You smiled warmly and leaned forward, kissing his forehead softly.

"I promise, Keigo."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

a/n- HEYA HEY!!! sorry for not updating in awhile, but i’m back so HEYAAAA i just watched the new ep of mha nad my heart just SHATTERED after watching it. LIKE???? yes vigilante deku is here BUT.... KEIGOS PAST????? throw me in a river of my own tears atp.

my poor baby </3

i hate his parents so much, but with all honesty i just wanna know where his mom went; like after being interrogated by dabis men she jus???? mf dipped istg

ANYWAYS i hope u guys liked this small kei x reader llololo

this could be romantic or platonic!! idc, it could be you being an older sibling to keigo and ure always looking out for him, BUT HTHATS UP TO UU!!!! idc how u take this HAHHW

I JUST MADE THID FIC OVER ME AND MY FRIEND’S CONVO YESTERDAY

i hc that he would,, like,, someday just lose it yk?? poor dude’s probably so pressured over everything going on rn, like- the war, the commission, his broken family, and his job LIKW???? ouch give him a rest oh my god

so basically ur like his mini therapist in this(as u should cause holy fuck poor gy)

daily reminder to always hate on keigo’s dad mwamwa

NOW LET US WAIT FOR UNDERCUT HAWKS BEING ANIMATED CAUSE AUasdkjak?!”#”>$!”>

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toad-bread · 1 year

Text

Weird Habits You Have

Paring- Enhypen ot7! x F! Reader

Summary- Habits that you have

Warnings- Angst to fluff, mentions of having long hair, f!reader being bullied a bit

Wc:1674

Heeseung- Literally cannot sit right.

You and Heeseung have been dating for a few weeks and it was your first time watching a movie with him at home. “Movie date?” Heeseung questioned. You looked up from your phone and nodded and walked to the living room where the movie was on the screen and snacks were on the table. Sitting down on the couch you waited for Heeseung to come back from the kitchen. “Hey, I’m back- BABE! Are you-okay?” Heeseung screamed while looking at your awkward, painful sitting position. You giggled at his face and patted the couch. “I’m used to my family yelling at me to sit straight. But the thing is, I can’t. Why don't you like it?” You laughed. Heeseung just shook his head and sat next to you while trying to fix your position. “You're fine, I just never realized that you sit in the weirdest positions. You have bones right?” “Yes.” “I still love you the same. It just makes you unique to me.” You raised your eyebrows and laughed again. “Unique? I don’t think it's unique, and you only noticed it now?” Heeseung pulled you closer and pecked your forehead. “To me you are the most unique partner I could ever ask for, and I didn’t notice your position because I was admiring your beauty.”

Jay- Always wears a thousands hair ties

Jay is that type of person who carries hair ties for you. But it seems like you wear thousands that cover half of both of your arms. “You are sure you won’t lose your hair ties in the water?” Jay sighed while looking at you plastering sunscreen around you. “Yes, I have names for every single one of them since I never take them off.” You smiled while walking up to him to slap his face with sunscreen. “Y/N! Stop, you're gonna put some in my eyes.” “Exactly.” Jay looked at you in horror and pouted. “Rude.” Laughing at his sudden pouting phase you kissed his nose and placed your hands away from his face. “Here let me tie your hair so you can match me.” Your hair was in a high bun with your favorite hair tie with sparkles on it. “You can have Berry.” “Berry?” “Berry is one of my other hair ties.” Standing on your tippy toes you grabbed his hair to place it in a quick ponytail that dangled back and forth when you were done. “Let’s go now!” You spoke. Grabbing his hand you dragged him to the water with smiles plastered on both of your covered sunscreen faces.

Jake- Has absolutely everything they need anytime

Running through campus, you swung the door open and ran to your next class. You stayed up late until 4 am and didn’t wake up until later. You woke up late, 30 minutes late and you have no time to process what class you have. Walking in your class you spotted Jake sitting with his glasses on, he looked at you with a smile graced on his face. Smiling at him, you walked towards him before you got stopped. “Y/n, we had an essay due today, do you have it?” Smiling at her you dug into your cramped back and pulled out the essay that you probably took from someone else but you don’t remember. Handing it to her you walked to sit next to Jake. “You did it? How? I didn’t even do it!” Jake shook your shoulders. You just shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno.” “You slept in late didn’t you.” You nodded your head while Jake rolled his eyes playfully.

“Crap, I don’t have my book for my next class.” Jake groaned while walking to his next class. Patting Jakes back you pulled your bag next to you and rummaged through your bag and pulled out a notebook probably around 1 year ago. “Here, I took this class last year. So these notes can help you.” You explained while pulling out another notebook. “This one is for the middle of the year. The teacher is gonna go fast so this notebook really helps with tests.” You placed the notebook in his hands and pecked his face. “I gotta go, see ya at lunch!” You waved him goodbye while Jake was wondering how you took this class in the first place or why you have these resources for so long.

At lunch Jake walked to you and asked what’s in your bag. You pulled your bag on top of the table and pulled out items that is so… random like, pillows, blankets, a toaster, books from middle school, food, drinks, first aid kit, rope, scissors, cups, you name it, you basically have the most random stuff that you collected over the years. “That’s why I love you.” Jake blurted out while laughing at the random stuff placed on the table. “What? I gotta be prepared.”

Sunghoon- Makes over-exaggerated faces when eating something they don’t like

Sunghoon placed ramen on the table and sat down while you were on the other side of the table. Thanking him, you dug into the ramen your boyfriend made. If only you liked it. You made the most disgusting face your boyfriend has ever seen. “The heck-I didn’t even do anything wrong with the ramen!” Sunghoon shouted. You shook your head and gulped down the liquids from the cup. “I’m sorry but this is salty-I can’t.” You suddenly start laughing at his reaction to your face. “I wished I could've recorded it. It was hilarious but it was a threat to my cooking for sure.” He pouted and ate his ramen, before spitting it out of his mouth before taking big gulps of water. This only made you laugh at him even more. “Y/n I thought you were joking! This tastes like beach water-” Wiping your tears from your eyes you smiled at him softly. “Take out?”

Sunoo- Always dressed for the occasion (At home? Lazy clothes. Raining? Rain coat. At a game? Jersey.)

You and Sunoo were meant to be, you both match outfits and have unique fashion. You both loved each other's fashion. So when you both got invited for a sleepover you took matters into your own hands.“When I mean a sleepover, I didn’t mean wearing every sleeping clothing/accessory you have!” Sunghoon pointed out while being surprised at you (mostly you) and Sunoo’s outfits. “Uh, in order to sleep well, I must wear the most comfortable clothes I have.” You shouted back at him while placing your stuff by the couch in the living room. “Yeah Sunghoon, take our fashion advice and learn from us, we obviously have fashion taste.” Sunoo announced. “Sunghoon, let the couple take a break. We get it, you're single as a pringle but that doesn’t mean you bash on other couples.” Heeseung swiftly replied while munching on popcorn. Sunghoon rolled his eyes and obviously denied it but his ears said otherwise.

“He’s jealous.” You suddenly said while facing Sunoo. “Sunghoon?” “Yep! Jealous of us as a couple and our fashion taste.” “I did not say that!” Sunghoon yelled.

Jungwon- Carries a pocket dictionary with them despite the internet

Jungwon and you are a weird couple, in a healthy way. Jungwon would give you random trinkets that reminded him of you like a bean or a pencil. While you were in love with books. You loved reading them ever since you were a kid and you still do! To the point where you almost never use your phone and use a small dictionary you carry around school. People thought you were weird having a literal dictionary with you when you can go on the internet that can give you answers in a matter of seconds. But you refer to the old fashion way. Besides, it is helpful when you can’t use your device at some places. “Aren’t you weird.” A random girl said while giving you a look. Looking up at her you furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you have a problem?” She scoffed and took your dictionary out of your hands. “Hey! Give it back, I need it for my work.” She ignored you and held the book. “Huh, no wonder why you aren’t friends with anyone-” “Hey! Give it back to her!” Jungwon yelled while walking towards her. The girl turned around to him and smiled at him nervously. “What do you mean-” She started to say until Jungwon took the dictionary away from her hands and placed it back in your hands. “Leave us alone, if I see you one more time I won’t hesitate to report you.” He threatened. She gulped and laughed nervously and spirited away from you both. “And she is not weird!” He yelled at her before she disappered from his sight. “I love you, don’t let them change what you love.”

Niki- What did I just say? I can’t remember.

Niki loves playing jokes on you, all the time, every single day. But sometimes it’s not fun with his bantering and jokes. But you forget about it after a couple of moments, and that is annoying to Niki. “Y/nnnn.” Niki whined while poking your side. You looked at him and hummed. “Your forehead is so big that I can see my reflection on it.” He smiled. You deadpanned at Niki and flicked his forehead. Niki cursed while rubbing his forehead. “OW, that hurt, how dare you-” “What? Did you say something before, I don’t remember.” “Wha- you literally flicked my forehead.” “Oh- want me to do it again?” You questioned. “Y/N! Stop! You are annoying me!” He yelled while sitting closer next to you and laid his head against your shoulder. “At least you forgot about me eating your last chocolate.” Whipping your head to him, you strangled him by his neck. “YOU.DID.WHAT!” You yelled while shaking him. “I’m so-sorry, please l-let me go your choking me-” Niki coughed. “How dare you! You have to pay me back right now!” “With cuddles?” Niki guessed. “...ugh, fine.”

———————————————————————

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen female reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jay park #sunoo #enhypen niki #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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idontknowreallywhy · 4 months

Text

Estera - Ch 30 - Introduce

It’s been a while… nearly a fortnight, but they’re back ;)

What went before

I struggled with this one, dunno why, but most of the good ideas and one-liners are down to @sofasurf! So much so I’m tagging her in for the next one.

This chapter is 100% silly friends being silly and daft brothers being daft because everyone needs to let their hair down once in a while… And they need a break before anything else falls on anyone…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

…

The three “your contact is typing” dots bounced for a while then stopped. Then bounced again. Then stopped.

She put the phone down and continued to make breakfast but within moments picked it up again, intrigued. What was he taking so long to write?

…

How’s your day?

…

Did you know stress balls are not actually indestructible???

Um, yeah - I’m a primary school teacher. That’s basically day 1 of training.

Huh.

I sense there is a story behind this… sharing is caring you know?

THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE INDESTRUCTIBLE!

O….K…. Imagine me saying generic reassuring things and patting you on the shoulder.

My shoulder is covered in stress ball goop. But thank you, that weirdly helps.

🤭 oh dear… that stuff is a beast to wash out

Well there’s another Italian tailor I have to avoid for the rest of my life…

Not again!

I have glitter in my hair 😭

I’m sure it looks beautiful. I’ll ask one of your brothers to send me a photo.

I’m not getting out the shower until it’s gone.

You will literally starve to death.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

So today I had to confiscate an action figure which had Alan’s head, John’s torso and your limbs. Should I be concerned about these children?

That’s… horrifying. I’m never coming back to the UK. 😲

They all say hi by the way.

I’m too scared to say hi back to them now 😬

On the topic of the action figures…

Yes?

I have to know - what WAS wrong with Gordon’s novelty action figure of you? You never told me…

You don’t want to know.

Oh I really really do.

…

Oh go on, I’ll only be imagining worse.

…

The figure was making pancakes while wearing a frilly blue “Kiss The Chef” apron.

That doesn’t seem so bad?

Only the apron.

Oh my… 🤣

Speak of this to no-one.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Hey Estera, got any plans this evening?

Aside from vegging out with Bez and watching Celebrity Alligator Wrestling?

I mean I wouldn’t want to tear you away from that…

I could be persuaded… :)

Well, we happen to be in Europe right now (John had a thing) and Penny is visiting some Earl near Exeter and suggested we pop by and go out for a drink.

John’s not Earthside very often so she takes whatever chances she can get to catch up with him (they are old college friends, did I ever mention that?)

ANYWAY as it’s not far from you I wondered whether you might like to join us?

Oh wow thank you that’s very kind of you to think of me! It would be lovely to meet John and Lady Penelope if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?

Of course not!

Virgil is with us too and says you have to come because he’s already bored with mine and John’s company.

Ok, I must now tell you that he did not in fact use those exact words.

Or to say that.

Apparently I am maddening.

Hi Estera, it’s Virgil. Please ignore what my idiot brother is saying. It would be lovely to see you if you’d like to come but please don’t feel any pressure.

Girjebvaxbnnnnn&&&&&&&

It’s Scott again, I’ve retrieved my comm. Sorry about my annoying TINY LITTLE BABY sibling who snatches things that aren’t his.

😂 I think I’m sold. I can get to Exeter in an hour? Where and when should I meet you?

John says the place is near the Cathedral - send a message when you get there and I’ll come and find you?

Fab! Ok I shall do that.

Ha!

What?

F-A-B is kind of a thing for us.

Oh! Oh I should have known that!

Reuben and Alex refuse to use any other affirmative words.

Why though?

Long story, tell you later maybe.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Estera rounded the corner of the cathedral and yelped as a strong gust nearly ripped her arm off in its determination to steal her umbrella. She wrestled it back and ducked into the shelter of the huge doorway only to conclude she should have let the wind take it as it was no longer any use to anyone other than as an art piece. “Mangled: A study in nylon and flimsy aluminium” perhaps. She tucked it under her arm and pulled out her phone:

Hi! I’m on The Green :) Don’t worry about coming out in all this, just let me know where you are and I’ll find you.

On my way!

Scott! It’s chucking it down! Just give me directions or somewhere to aim for.

I like the rain!

You’re a nutter.

A what?

… err British for ‘totally normal and rational’.

OK I will take your word for that and begin using ‘nutter’ regularly in a professional context.

Um… sure. I see no issues arising there.

😝 alright then

I think I see you!

She looked up and laughed as she spotted a lanky figure silhouetted against a streetlamp waving enthusiastically from across the green. She raised her arm in greeting, pulled her hood tighter around her face and then jogged towards him. She started out dodging the huge puddles with strictly limited success then gave up in favour of a direct route, swerving off course just the once to dump the useless brolly in a waste bin.

As soggy as she felt she was by the time their paths met, she wasn’t a patch on the drowned-but-grinning rat bouncing gently on his toes before her, hair plastered to his forehead and shirt clinging to him in a way she was relieved Barbara the receptionist couldn’t see.

Wait, shirt?

“Scott! I KNOW you own a coat.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “It always takes so long to dry the thing out. Cotton is fast.”

“Aren’t you freezing?”

“Nope!” He grinned and produced an umbrella with a flourish, pressing a button to automatically extend and open it and then raising it over her head in one smooth motion. The little squeak he emitted as he did so was anything but smooth however.

“Did I just hear an excited giggle from Mr Commander Tracy?”

“Also nope. Definitely not. Unrelatedly aren’t these just-press-the-button-and-SWOOSH-it’s-an-umbrella umbrellas just the best kind of umbrellas?”

Estera raised an eyebrow and wondered with amusement how many drinks he’d managed to put away already. “Certainly beats mine which I just ditched back there…” she looked at him smiling down at her from very much outside the umbrella’s zone of protection, water streaming down his face “although, given you have such a swanky brolly why did you not actually use it?”

“I told you, I like the rain.”

Estera raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’d do well living here then, we get a lot of it.” Shuddering slightly she shook water out of her sleeve. “Shall we get where we’re going before we grow gills?”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“He’s going to get absolutely soaked isn’t he?”

Virgil watched his elder brother stroll casually towards the doorway and then launch himself out into the rain like an excited puppy. He couldn’t help smiling fondly.

“You know what he’s like about rain, John. Anyway the wet shirt look isn’t going to do him any harm is it…?”

“VIRGIL! Honestly you’re impossible.” John’s facepalm was a masterpiece.

“Well, before he brings this young lady back, somebody had best update me on what, exactly, we believe her status is.”

“Virgil is convinced they are an item. Scott denies it.”

“I didn’t say that. I just think she’s good for him. He is happy. I like that. So I’m inclined to like her. And if we’re about to meet our future sister-in-law that’s fine by me.”

Penelope chuckled, Virgil the hopeless romantic was certainly living up to expectation. John was frowning slightly however and that intrigued her.

“What do you think, John darling?”

“I’m interested in what has him so… interested. They seem to spend a lot of time talking, yet all I can see they have in common is shared trauma and an unhealthy approach to adrenaline.”

“That is more than many people have when beginning a friendship, John. That doesn’t mean it is all there will ever be. Look at you and I, all we had in common was the inability to escape the weight of our surnames and yet we’ve had some superb times.”

John smiled and raised his lemonade in a silent toast.

“Well, I’m excited” Virgil commented. “Let’s not scare her by being too… you know.” he gestured vaguely.

“Excellent social etiquette tip, there, thank you Virgil.” his brother muttered.

Penelope smiled into her cocktail. This was going to be an interesting evening.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“You ok?”

Estera had slowed almost imperceptibly as they approached the door to the boutique pub Penny had selected and Scott paused as they reached the shelter of the porch, his hand resting on the heavy oak door.

“Yes! Uh, a little nervous I guess? Last time I spoke to John I was… rather embarrassing.”

“Aww, no you weren’t. You were just worried about me and that’ll go in your favour I promise. It’s pretty much a family pastime from what I can make out…” he pulled an exaggerated grimace and got a little smile in response.

“I can imagine.” She appeared to be steeling herself.

“They don’t bite, I promise. But…” he touched her shoulder lightly and ducked down a little to look her in the eye “if you’d rather not… we could go somewhere else and I can catch up with them later?”

“Oh goodness no. I’m looking forward to it. Honestly, I am! Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Hey look, John, Estera found a drowned puppy!”

“Goodness, doesn’t it look tragic?”

Penelope leaned backwards away from Scott as he responded to his brothers’ banter by shaking himself like a dog and showering the table with droplets from his hair before wringing his sleeve out down the back of Virgil’s collar who himself yelped like Sherbet in a snowdrift.

“Right for that you’re buying the next round big brother.”

“And this is novel, how?”

His friend hung back a little, watching the interaction with a mixture of amusement and mild confusion. Penelope gestured to Estera to take a seat beside her and cut across the brotherly jibing:

“Might it be an appropriate moment to introduce us Scott?”

The supposedly eldest and most mature of the pack looked up from where he’d flung his arms around John’s neck in what was clearly a weaponised soggy hug and smiled impishly before moving over and crouching down next to Estera’s chair.

“Estera, this is Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward - she is as lovely as she is fabulous and I’m sure you’ll get along.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a moment. And please call me Penny!”

Estera smiled and offered a hand which Penny grasped with both of hers and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Scott cleared his throat importantly “Next, I am delighted to present for your approval Annoying-Little-Brother-One who also goes by don’t-call-me-Johnny”

“Ha. Ha. Scooter. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Estera, although why you are wasting your time in the company of this absolute fool I cannot fathom.”

“And last but very much not least, either in importance or sheer bulk, here is Annoying-Little-Brother-Two who we refer to as short-stuff, the-tank, care-bear or, occasionally, Virgil”

Virgil leaned across the table to shake her hand. “You do realise what an insufferable creature our eldest brother is don’t you?”

“Oh yes, spotted that one straight away.”

Scott clutched his chest and gasped “I am hurt! A plague o’ both houses! I am sped!” before collapsing on to his back with melodramatic flailing and a range of choking noises before lying still with his tongue lolling and eyes rolled back.

Penelope giggled delicately while Estera tutted and rolled her eyes.

“You still have a couple of paragraphs of monologue before you’re allowed to expire, Mercutio. C+ must try harder.”

Scott pouted while John held up his hand for a high five.

Penelope caught Virgil’s eye and he grinned.

“Death doesn’t get you out of your round big bro. Get your soggy butt off the floor and over to the bar while we fill Estera in on some key anecdotes.”

Scott’s expression of dread wasn’t melodrama at all.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #tb estera #estera #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #lady penelope #Scott Tracy needs a friend #umbrellas are cool #Shameless cross referencing to other fic

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

Over The Odds | Best Friend pt.2

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, fluff, S2L, love triangle, ceo!jungkook, sugardaddy!jungkook

Word count - 1.9k

Drabble 5 - Jungkook and Taehyung have a drink

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

FULL SERIES COLLECTION

“What are you doing here I thought you were supposed to be in Bora Bora?” Taehyung quirks a brow at Jungkook, who stands on his doorstep wearing all black oversized loungewear.

“Can I come in?” Jungkook looks agitated, earning his best friend to step to one side and grant him access to his living space.

Taehyung owns a townhouse in central London, just off the popular shopping destination amongst tourists – Oxford Street. Taehyung is a self-proclaimed shopaholic and so when the house was first put on the market he snatched it up before any other potential buyers even had the chance to view it. It’s perfect for him, decorated brightly, the polar opposite to Jungkook’s place – it’s light yet busy, expensive artwork adorns each and every wall along with eccentric ornaments that litter the entire property.

“What happened?” Tae closes the front door, following his best friend into his kitchen. Something’s definitely wrong.

“You got anything to drink?”

“What the fuck is going on man?” Taehyung looks visibly taken aback, it’s not even 7PM and Jungkook isn’t usually one to indulge in a night of drinking, wanting to remain in control of his body and subsequent actions at all times. He’s been an organised control freak his whole life.

“I need a drink if we’re gonna talk about this.” Jungkook sighs, slicking his hair back with both hands as he sits down.

Taehyung nods, entering the code into the hidden kitchen safe where he stores his alcohol – his younger siblings visit often, this safe was his insurance that they would remain sober throughout their stay, you can never be too careful where teenagers are concerned in his opinion. He grips an expensive bottle of bourbon from the highest shelf and quickly gets to work on pouring two glasses, sliding one across the breakfast bar where Jungkook eagerly catches it.

“It’s Y/N isn’t it?” Taehyung hums, taking a sip of the aged alcohol, leaning against the wooden countertop. He’s wearing purple gym clothes, he’s not usually one for working out but recently it’s helped him blow off a lot of steam.

“Yup.” Jungkook downs his drink in one, grimacing at the burning in his throat that follows. “That’s good, where’s that from?”

“Dunno.” Taehyung shrugs with a boxy grin, “Think you gifted it to me last Christmas.” He pours him another drink and slides it over.

“Ah, I have good taste.” Jungkook smiles for the first time since setting foot in the townhouse.

Tae raises his brows as he watches the other man guzzle yet another full glass of bourbon, “Speaking of your good taste, what happened with her?”

At this Jungkook’s jaw tightens, “Pour me another one of those please.”

“Fuck me, haven’t seen you drink this much since university.” His friend shakes his head but pours him another drink all the same, growing all the more concerned by this bizarre behaviour.

“Thanks.” Jungkook exhales, deciding to sip at this one rather than down the whole lot. There’s a song playing on the radio that reminds him of you and he closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for this conversation – he hates these types of talks with a burning passion, but he knows that Taehyung is the only person in the world that will put it to him exactly how it is.

“Go on, give it to me.” Tae gestures with his hands as he reads his mind, settling on the bar stool opposite.

“Don’t make me say it.” Jungkook whines with a small pout, his cheeks suddenly warm from the alcohol.

The other man laughs, taking another sip of his own drink, “She’s not here yknow, you can stop acting like a tough guy.”

“I am a tough guy.”

“Then why are you at my house? Drinking bourbon at,” He pulls his phone from his sweatpants to check it, “6:37PM.”

Taehyung’s curiosity is no surprise to Jungkook, he never does anything like this. But the expression on your face when you both landed back in London is what forced him here, the awkward aura you gave off when he kissed you goodbye. He fucked things up by mentioning the contract at all, anxiety took over his jetlag and that’s when he found himself here.

“I…” He gnaws his lower lip, his body’s final attempt to keep this to himself, “Do I really have to say it?”

“Why are you being so weird?” Tae laughs, exposing his perfectly straight white teeth, “Come on man it’s me, you can say it. I won’t tell a soul.”

Jungkook sighs, rather dramatically in Taehyung’s opinion, and looks at the floor.

“I like her, okay?” He groans, “I think one day I could even love her.”

“Mmm.” His friend nods slowly and understandingly, even though he’s never in his entire life heard Jungkook speak those words about anybody, not even his own parents, he folds his arms across his chest as he fights the urge to say ‘I told you so’ and settles for something less smug, “Have you told her?”

A sudden puff of air rips from Jungkook’s nostrils, he’s smiling at least, “I tried to, but…” He’s laughing now, almost in disbelief, “She fell asleep.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah I know.”

“You couldn’t tell her on the plane back? Private jet, no phone interruptions, above the clouds… It’s kind of romantic in a way.” Taehyung’s mind wanders somewhere unknown, zoning out of conversations is a bad habit of his that he swears he’ll get better with eventually.

“Um,” Jungkook laughs again, fiddling with his silver hoop earrings, “No we were kinda busy.”

Tae chuckles, “You animals.” He downs his drink and begins to pour another, “Well, I have a piece of information that you should know, since you’re finally admitting you pretty much love her.”

“If you’re gonna tell me I’m an idiot and that you knew that this was gonna happen all along then I’d rather not-“

“Her ex-boyfriend Namjoon,” Taehyung cuts him off with a raised digit, “Jimin and I bumped into him at Black Swan over the weekend-“

“You were hanging out with Jimin?”

His best friend sighs, choosing to ignore the surprise in his tone, “Do you want me to finish my story or not?” Taehyung’s brows are raised, eyes wide.

“Namjoon, the doctor,” Jungkook nods as he pictures your ex in his mind, sipping his drink, “Carry on.”

Clasping his hands together loudly Taehyung smiles triumphantly, “He was at Black Swan after his shift at the hospital, and he and Jimin got talking, so obviously I listened to every single word to prepare for this conversation because I knew something was sus from the get go.”

“Okay, and?”

“Just don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Tae.” Jungkook warns his friend, growing impatient.

“He still loves her, he’s down bad for her man… Wants her back.”

A cocktail of jealousy and rage courses through Jungkook’s veins, he fucking knew that Namjoon regretted leaving you, he could tell by the look on his face at the hospital. He wants you back? Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. Namjoon is a doctor, he’s probably a lot smarter than he is, especially since he went to medical school… For the first time in his life Jungkook feels threatened. He doesn’t like it, especially where you’re concerned.

“Gets better.” Taehyung clicks his tongue, “He knows Jennie, yknow the model you had a thing with? And she-”

“He can have Jennie I never cared about her anyway, he’s welcome to her.” Jungkook looks confused, wondering why this part of the story is even relevant.

“Let me finish Guk, it seems that Jennie has told him about the arrangement you had together, the whole sugar baby sugar daddy you explicitly used her for sex. Do you see where this is going?”

“Not really, no. We fucked less than ten times in two months, it’s hardly something to brag about. I’ve had sex with Y/N more times in the past three days alone.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, he knew you and Jungkook liked to fuck a lot but somehow he’s still surprised, “Namjoon knows you’re a sugar daddy. He suspects that’s what you’ve got going on with Y/N, and he doesn’t approve.” Taehyung strokes the stubble on his chin, watching the other mans reaction carefully.

Jungkook frowns, “What so I need her ex boyfriend’s approval now?” He scoffs again with dark features, though from Taehyung’s point of view he looks awfully green with envy, “Doesn’t that go against the NDA? Jennie telling him-”

“He’s a medical professional, she could’ve gone to him concerned about STI’s and confided in him about her sexual partners, wouldn’t uphold in court. It’s not like she’s told any news outlets or anyone else for that matter. It’d draw more attention to it if we tried to sue, trust me. You’re missing the point man, Namjoon loves Y/N and has reasonable grounds to assume your relationship with her is fake.”

“But it’s not.” Jungkook swallows, “I… I can’t believe I’m saying this but-, Tae… I want to love her.”

“You’d better hurry up and tell her that then, before Dr Kim swoops in and tries to steal your girl.”

Jungkook, the man who explicitly told you not to love him is finally ready to be loved, and Namjoon, the man you once loved, is desperate for a second chance. Jungkook groans, throwing his head in his hands, he doesn’t know if you still have feelings for Namjoon, but your awkwardness as soon as he mentioned the contract suggests that his feelings for you may not be reciprocated. He’s fucked.

“You know what I say to this?” Taehyung raises his glass, forcing Jungkook to do the same in a somewhat cheesy toast.

“What?” He sighs, he hates how dramatic his best friend can be at times.

“May the best man win.”

“Are you serious? This isn’t a fucking game man have you even been listening to me I-”

“Okay, okay fine you’re right that was too much. I’m sorry. It’s just weird hearing you say that you love someone.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, a playful smile tugging his lips as he attempts to redeem himself.

“To the girl who stole my best friend’s heart.”

“Just stop, you’re so cheesy,” Jungkook chuckles as he points to the other man with a serious face, “You’re done.”

“No wait I’ve got it! This one is perfect.”

Jungkook waits expectantly with a bright smile, he can always count on Taehyung to cheer him up and make things clearer. It’s moments like this that prove just how strong their friendship is. He showed up without any warning and Taehyung kindly took him with little questioning, didn’t even give him a hard time over the fact he’d been saying for weeks that he knew this would happen. Tae is the only person in the world he can truly let his guard down for, though he’ll never admit it he appreciates him so much.

“Go on, third times the charm.”

“Fuck Namjoon.” Taehyung clinks his glass against Jungkook’s with features contorted in some kind of comical pride.

“Yeah, fuck Namjoon.”

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helloblobbyblobfish · 1 year

Text

Hypnovember day 14: Slime/Goo

Sam Flynn was working late in his office when Dillinger Jr. entered the room.

“What is it, Ed?” He asked, annoyed. He was NOT dealing with the rivalry everyone was expecting them to have on top of all the paperwork needed for his so-called “coup”.

“Here. My dad wants you to have it.”

What? Dillinger refused to talk of his father even with his own allies, who were asking him to do the “magic” (aka stealing other people's works) his dad did in the early 80′s!

He looked with suspicion at the little thing Dillinger put on his desk. looked like an USB drive, or a little box of some kind. It was very... Shiny.

“When did he make that?” “Dunno. Didn’t manage to do anything with it either. Careful, I guess?” The programmer’s tone clearly indicated Sam could get hacked for all he cared, but hey. “Guess You’re more of a daddy’s boy than I thought or Alan hoped.”

As expected, that gets a rise out of the guy. The new CEO of ENCOM grabbed the thing, planning on having the best information security had to offer to study it as soon as possible, but as soon as his fingers touched it, the box turned into a liquid that slowly reached across his hand, covering his fingers.

“What the?” Sam shouted as he grabbed a tissue to move it away as it reached the sleeves of his suit, but the liquid ignored it entirely, and started to move under Sam’s clothes to cover all the skin.

As Sam had to put his hands on his desk, hit by nausea, he saw the horrified Ed looking over at what was happening, paralyzed.

“Oh God, Flynn. I’m sorry. Oh fuck! What did I do? What should I do?”

It was a sign of how serious signs were that Sam didn’t remark on the use of his family name, banned in all-but-formallity after too many comparisons to his father. “Try to find someone!” He shouted instead.

As Dillinger ran out of the room, typing a number on his phone, Sam decided that Quorra would know what to do. but it’s when he tried to reach for his phone that he realized his infected arm wasn’t obeying him at all.

Instead, it started to move and rub itself on his torso, where the liquid- the thing started to go through the layers of clothing to spread by multiple corners.

As Sam was struggling to reach for the correct pockets to reach the phone, the liquid had finished reaching his shoulder, and jumped into his ear.

“Hello, Son of Kevin_Flynn. I don’t think you know me, but I am thrilled to finally meet his son.”

The voice had the reverberating effect of most programs. But all the inhabitants of The Grid where in-

Nobody over there called his father by his full name, except Clu. But he was dead, and that only left. “The-The Master. Computer. Program?” He was left speechless.

“Smarter than his father. truly. You and Junior will do many great things together. Still, he is distracting me, calling his so-called “father”. Time to deal with him too. He is reacting much worse than I expected.”

Somewhere in the corridors, Dillinger screamed.

“My friends wi-will stop y-you!” Why wasn’t he trying to resist anymore? And why was he stuttering, like he was afraid of talking back to the M.C.P? His Father and tron defeated the thing, and a 1980′s AI had nothing on modern technologies.

“How Pitiful. You really think I survived until today without regular updates? And no one will know anything is wrong, so why would they do anything? I’ll admit Alan_Bradley is a bigger threat than you could ever wish to be. But I have a plan for that. And look! Ed was such a puppet, his reprogramming is already more advanced than yours!”

Ed entered the room, but his eyes were glassy, not looking at anything and that bacl liquid was dripping from his nose, eyes and ears. It was spreading, and soon, a full mask would cover him.

“Drones? You’re turning us into drones?” Sam wanted to say, but his mouth wasn’t his anymore. instead, it opened, and a black, thick saliva dripped down to his chin. His neck moved without his command, and he saw that his two hands were covered in something similar to gloves, rubbing his crotch and ass respectively.

He heard himself say: “Need Dillinger seed.”

Ed, now a faceless dark creature wearing a suit, opened his trouser and showed a dark but smooth ball. He somehow knew to grab a part of it and start to jack it. meanwhile, the liquid, probably nanobots, he realized, even if it was becoming so hard to think, must have reached his knees, as he fell to the floor, and still curbed his back so that his mouth could open on the stick that now came out of Ed’s bulge

The feeling of sucking was horrendous to Sam, and the fact he was basically raped and raping Dillinger at the same time was making it worse. As he felt the dark liquid spread through his veins and reaching muscles, covering bones he didn’t know he had, he had one last thought: “Save me, tron.”

“Such a childish wish.” His Master’s voice commented. “But you now know better. Don’t you?”

To better speak, he needed to have a mouth. As a creature of the M.C.P. It was easy to command the nanites to uncover his face. “Of course, my Lord.” he smiled sadistically.

“What is your wish? I promise to use all the resources at my disposal to help you reach your objectives, Master.” He realized he had a robotic edge to his voice, now. He would need to train to erase it, if he was to work undercover.

“Well, listen closely, insect.”

Alan was surprised to hear Sam had given a secret project to Dillinger. Entering his adoptive son’s office, he was surprised to see him radiating confidence and typing fast, in leather gloves.

“Alan!” Sam exclaimed with joy, rising from his chair. “Am I glad to see you. Wanted to call you, but I was worried you were doing something important.” And he hugged him. That surprised Alan. And did Sam have a cold? Something felt cold about those hands.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something.” Sam smirked.

“Is this about Dillinger? Sit, sit. Got plenty of things to talk to you about. Believe me, it will be earth-shattering at first, but by the end, I guarantee you that you're gonna love it!!!”

@mathhypnostories. I ended up making this day the mind control Tron fic that was hauntiong me since months! it’s not even any of the FIVE plots I had for the concept. >_<. I also made it bigger than my usual captions, guess I REALLY wanted that one...

#hypnosis #brainwashing #my writing #captions #tron #tron: legacy #hypnovember #mind control

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yuzukahibiscus · 11 months

Photo

Minami Maito’s Research 100

This was taken from the Minami Maito photobook, as kindly scanned by a mutual. At this time, Maiti was still in Flower Troupe.

Note: This is the second of my Research-100 translation series and it couldn’t be made possible without the contributions of fellow mutuals. Find my first translation of Aizuki Hikari’s photobook here!)

PROFILE

Name: Minami Maito Troupe: Flower Troupe Birthday: June 28 Blood Type: O Nickname: Minami, Maitii Height: 170cm Vision: 2.0 Shoe size: 24.5 Finger size: I don’t know! Charm point: Nose Strenghts: I am passionate on anything Weaknesses: Shy Catchphrase: I want to be “All Maiti!!”...so I’ll do my best!! Birthplace: Osaka

FAVOURITE THINGS

1. Favourite season –> Autumn 2. Favourite event –> New year 3. Place that you want to go –> New York. Because I want to see Broadway musicals. 4. Favourite animal –> Dog 5. Favourite song –> Yuzu’s “Bridge of Glory” and Ozaki Yukata’s songs 6. Favourite movie –> “Les Misérables” 7. Favourite musical genre –> Musical 8. Favouite television genre –> Probably TV dramas. Recently I’m watching “Stepmom and Daughter Blues” (Japanese drama 義母と娘のブルース), “Your Turn to Kill” (Japanese drama あなたの番です), “TWO WEEKS”. (Korean dramas 투윅스）。 9. Favourite colours –> White and Black 10. Favourite book –> “A Letter from Father”（父からの手紙） 11. Favourite scent –> I like how the clothes smell after I finish washing them.

FOOD

12. Favourite thing to eat –> Noodles 13. Things I dislike eating –> This is probably quite problematic for me... (sweating) but there’s actually a lot. I hate all kinds of beans but I can eat Edamame! I also don’t like foods with too strong taste, but I also don’t like foods that’d be difficult for me to guess “What is this smell”? Oh and I also can’t eat bugs (laughs)/ 14. Good at cooking –> Fried vegetables maybe.

I LIKE...

15. Meat or fish –> Um... meat 16. Japanese or Western or Chinese food –> Japanese 17. Japanese sweets or Western sweets –> Japanese. 18. Coffee or red tea –> I’m conflicted! Usually, it would be coffee, but on rest days or when I want to spend the day slowly, it would be red tea!! 19. Salt or soy sauce or sauce –> Because I’m from Kansai, it might be more often to say “sauce”... (laughs) but it’s probably salt for me.

OFF (STAGE)-ME

20. Morning or night type –> Night 21. The first thing I do in the morning –> Wash my face 22. I shower with hot water or cold water –> Hot water 23. When you sleep do you like to turn on some lights or leave it dark –> Leave it dark 24. What is the longest time you’ve slept before –> More than 12 hours 25. What do you do for a change of moods –> Clean up the house, watch television 26. How much time do you use your phone –> Depending on time and circumstances, around 2-3 hours a day 27. Do you like to contact by mail or by phone –> Mail 28. Usually I’m the speaker or the listener –> The listener 29. The joker or the teaser –> Depending on the partner, but I think I’m mostly the teaser. 30. Only hot or only cold –> Either. I feel I can be more tolerant than others on the very hot or very cold side. 31. You like to go on group activity or individual activity –> Individual activity. 32. Qualifications you have –> Car license. And also, Kanji qualification, English qualification and mathematics qualification. But I forgot which level I was at (laughs). 33. Favourite kind of shoes –> Sneakers 34. Your taste in interior design –> I don’t want to have too sharp colours. So it’d probably be just all white. 35. Things that you can’t stop doing, or habits –> My go-to phrase is always saying “Well, I dunno but” (laughs). I’m from Kansai so I can’t stop saying with a Kansai-dialect. 36. Jinx (bad luck) –> Don’t particularly have one 37. Something you’re scared of –> Bugs 38. Treasure –> People I’ve met so far

REST DAYS...

39. Indoor or outdoor –> Outdoor 40. Karaoke must-sing choice –> Ozaki Yukata’s songs 41. The place you’d always go to shopping –> Umeda 42. You’re quick to decide or conflicted when you’re shopping –> Quick to decide 43. The thing you want to do the most in rest days –> Would it be going to have a massage or going to a cafe...But it’d probably be going for a massage. 44. You spend your rest days slowly or with a plan –> Slowly.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES...

45. The childhood nickname –> Minami 46. Favourite subject –> Sports 47. The subject you dislike –> Science. 48. The game you’d always play is –> Dodgeball 49. The club or interest you were engaged in –> Classical ballet 50. The dream job –> It has been being a Takarasienne since I was little. But if I could have another choice, would I be a cashier (laughs). Recently, there were more self-service cashier services and I thought it could be fun being a cashier.

RECENTLY, I...

51. Recently I’d always wear –> White 52. Last time I cried –> It was the shonichi performance of “Dream On!” where everyone wrote a message and autographed on their photos even though given a tight schedule. I was touched by the collaged decorated makeup desk I had. 53. Last time I laughed –> It was during a troupe dinner party where we were watching the DVDs of when Sayumi-san (Asumi) has become Top [Star]. Rather than feeling all nostalgic, everyone was happily singing and dancing together. From the tug of war to the relay videos in the sports day, even though we didn’t know about the results, we saw how everyone was supporting for their own troupes, and that excitement had been so long ago that I laughed and cried watching it. 54. Last time I was surprised –> I returned home and when I opened the curtains, some big moths flew in. I immediately took the bug spray and chased after them. 55. Something I could do –> I could come out of the shower and finish putting on makeup in 5 minutes. That’s only for the makeup spray part though (laughs). 56. Something I’m obsessed with –> Looking at the news in my smartphone.

IF 〇〇?!

57. If you have to describe yourself with a colour –> Marble. I have many emotions and they’re quite flexible. 58. If you have to describe yourself as an animal –> Since I’m shy it’s not easy for me to be close to others, but upperclassmen have described me that I was like a big dog. 59. If you lost your way, would you return to the original path or continue moving forward on an unknown path –> Even though I’m confused, I’d continue moving forward. Since I’m already at somewhere I don’t recognise, it would be difficult returning back. 60. If you’re a musumeyaku, what outfit would you wear? –> I want to wear a wide dress with a gradation that expands spreads out. 61. If you have to challenge to be a director or a choreographer, which would it be –> Director. I think it would be touching when you could portray your thoughts through the people, the lighting, the set through this dynamic stage. 62. If you could be born again would you be a boy or a girl –> Maybe a boy. I want to try walk on a different life. 63. If you have a time machine, would you go to the past or future –> I don’t want to go to both. 64. If you could use magic –> I want to wake up quickly in the morning and I want to have a charger for my body energy where I would never be tired no matter how much I dance. 65. If you could meet a historical figure –> Elisabeth. I love “ELISABETH” and I also want to try to be a role like Elisabeth, and when I was playing as Lucheni in the newcomers’ performance, I was always chasing on Elisabeth, so I was curious as to what she thought while she was living. I also want to hear how her real voice sounded like.

FAVOURITE 〇〇!! 66. Favourite tourist spot –> Saipan Islands. The shallow water below my knees continued all the way to the other islands that I could see, and the water was so beautiful that I thought I could walk there, so I recommend it. 67. Favourite stretching method –> Yamuna ball. It really helps the blood flow for the whole body. 68. Your favourite skincare routine –> Washing your face without using soap in the morning.

A-LA CARTE

69. Favourite picture style would be close up or full photo –> Close up 70. Do you like coloured or monochrome photos –> Coloured 71. Standby motion –> My dog, the toypoodle Pochi-kun.

72. Something you want to try –> Gymnastics. Because there were many cool actions such as backflip. 73. Someone that’s always influenced you –> Mother. Because she knows me the best, she’d be the first to realise if I had any changes, if I was doing something other people won’t be doing. Because that is really moving to me, I would often realise so much more about the stage performance and about being an otokoyaku from my mother’s words. 74. A thing I want the most –> Perfect head-body balance ratio (laughs). But if we’re talking it realistically, maybe I’d be wanting more time. To spend time slower, to relax at a home a little more, to think more about the stage performances. If only there was more time, then I could do so much more.

RELATED TO STAGE

75. When do you enter in the dressing room –> 2 hours and a half before the performance begins. 76. When do you leave the dressing room –> If I have to return to the dressing room it would take about an hour. 77. Which is your start of the warmup routine –> Stretching. I start from stretching. 78. A detail in stage makeup –> Eyes. Of course it’s important to do the foundation well, but it’s also about considering if it’s a cute role, a beautiful role, a fresh role, a warm-hearted role, the way I do my eye makeup would determine the role that I’m going to be playing. 79. The time to do makeup –> Around 45 minutes. I’m not sure but I could probably do 30 minutes the quickets but recently I’m trying to do it carefully and slowly (laughs). 80. Nervous level before entering for your scene –> Since it’s probably not a good thing to be nervous, I would say I am focused but not really nervous. But even on Shonichi (first day) performances, I am nervous as I could almost hear my heart beating. 81. Quickest time you could finish changing –> Within 1 minute 82. How far could you see into the audience –> Around until row 15 83. What would you do after a performance –> Sit on the chair 84. Are you good or bad at remembering choreography –> Good at it 85. Are you good or bad at adlibs –> Bad... Even if I could do, I probably wouldn’t (laughs). Because if you say this, then you would think of the next thing to say and it would be a hit or miss. 86. Do you like wearing military uniform or black tailcoat –> Tailcoat 87. Do you like acting in tragedy or comedy –> Tragedy 88. For love scenes, do you want to act in wordless embraces or say pretentious (shameless) lines –> Wordless embrace 89. Your detail in tailcoats –> Since black tailcoast are the royality scene of Takarazuka, when I’m wearing the tailcoat, I would have the feeling of “Otokoyaku Minami Maito!” And also depending on the difference of dancing, I’d focus on my bodyline and how the white shirt and the black jacket juxtapositions, and I’d also have to pay attention to how I do my hairstyle for the dance.

TILL NOW, MY FAVOURITE...

90. Song –> Nathan’s song when he was thinking about the difficulties with his father in “Stardom” 91. Dance –> “SANTE!!” where I paired up with Seto-san in the dance and when I danced as the character of Death in the bullfight scene choreographed by Yan-san in “Beautiful Garden -A Profusion of Flowers-”. 92. Costume –> That white and orange gradation jacket and that it was fluttering on the sides of the costume in the Finale of “DREAM ON!” 93. Scene –> In “For the People: Lincoln, the Man Who Sought Freedom”, when I saluted to Todoroki-san playing as Lincoln till Elmer died. (Mr) Lincoln was probably far away from where was, but he called out “Elmer!!” to [when Elmer died]. I really like how the flow of sentiments from Elmer was delivered to (Mr) Lincoln like that. 94. Still –> “CASANOVA” where I had a new image there. 95. Lines –> In “Messiah -The Legend of Shiroh Amakusa-” that final battle scene where [Matsudaira Nobutsuna] (her role) successfully advances and then he later said “You couldn’t come forward, could you” I thought how much emotion could I put into this line and it was so important so I was nervous eery day when I spoke that. 96. Role –> I can’t choose!!

CHALLENGE 〇〇!!

97. Handgrip –> Right 42kg, Left 38.5 kg 98. Wink (could you do left and right?) –> I could do left and right 99. Sit and reach –> 30.5cm 100. Ken-dama (you were given 10 chances) –> Done in one try successfully!

#takarazuka #takarazuka revue #minami maito #flower troupe #senka #photobook #hibiscus translates 100 questions

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