#why is the man in this story calm and collected while being horrible while the woman is hysterical and emotional and loud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paintmarker · 10 months

Text

Time Moves Slow

I made a companion story to this. Here.

And so Kimblee does, looming over Frank as one of his tattooed hands traces over Frank's scars all over his left side, Kimblee's right, going lower and lower until

Knock, knock, knock

Then Frank snaps back to reality.

Frank feels dirty, filthy, with a hand down his uniform pants while sitting in his desk that he stills works at in Central-- Knock, knock, knock, He quickly pulls away, cleaning his fingers on some napkins he always has on his desk what a messy little--

The wetness between his legs feels painfully uncomfortable as he yells out "Come in," the walls too thick for a simple phrase. Roy Mustang. This can't be good. Why couldn't anything be simple?

Over the coming months, Frank had been reassigned to work with Roy's unit, he hates it there. Sure, Riza is pretty, Havoc has his moments, but Frank can't stand not having privacy anymore. It feels horribly cramped and he often rushes to the bathroom to get some Goddamn privacy for once.

He feels dirty, sick even. He isn't supposed to be here he thinks, who did this, is this a cruel joke? And if so, by whom? Knock, knock, Frank?

"Frank?" Knock, knock, "You okay in there?" It's Falman, knocking on the bathroom stall. "It's nearly lunch, you gotta come out." Frank reluctantly does so. His face looks a little red, but not out of embarassment (it's as if he were crying.) "You alright?" Frank shakes his head but leaves quickly.

"Frank?"

Roy calls out to him,

He doesn't respond.

He feels sick. Dirty. Dirty little girl-- DIRTY! HE'S A

Frank works alongside Roy's unit, he often glances at Riza, asking her odd questions, almost perversly so. "What's it like being a woman?" Riza is stunned by his question, but answers with the basics, it's uncomfortable, it's human, since after all, she is human. But it's the next question that bugs her. "Am I human?"

Frank looks serious about this and it feels as if time stops around them, still in the same room with Roy and Havoc and Fuery and Breda and-- "Am I?" Riza nods, and says yes.

No one quite understands what Frank means by this. Frank becomes a bit more unstable as the months go by. They all think it might be the lack of privacy or something else, but no one has ever reacted this way, in front of them at least. It's something more, he clearly isn't telling them something, and as his distress comes to--

"Frank?" Riza's voice is worried, she puts a hand on his shoulder, her hand is warm. "Yes ma'am?" His voice is soft, yet annunciated. "You're... bleeding."

He almost wants to ignore it, but he looks down and yeah, he's bleeding. It's only a little bit-- "Dude are you okay?" Havoc asks, but Frank just... shrugs it off. He walks out of the room without another word, to the bathroom, again.

Roy follows him though, taking initiative.

"What happened?" His voice is stern, he leans on the outside of the stall door where Frank cleans himself. "Nothing," He responds, voice eerily calm and collected as usual. "You're lying." You can hear Frank sigh. This day had to come eventually, didn't it?

"I'm not like you." Frank's answer comes hesitantly, strained. "What?" Roy sounds almost incredulous. "What does that mean?"

"I wasn't born a man." Then something clicks in Roy's brain, God, he can be really dense. "Oh, uh, I'm.. sorry." He speaks gently, not entirely knowing what to say. "Don't be."

Life goes on for Frank, albeit painfully. They know his secret now, he's dirty, a dirty little-- Frank chases away these thoughts, shaking his head sometimes. Riza asks him, often, if he is okay. He nods with a little smile, Yes, ma'am, I'm alright. Life goes on for Frank Archer, albeit painfully.

The words meld in his mind, the conversation he had with Roy in the mens room. "So you're..." He trailed off, not wanting to offend Archer in any way. "Yes,"

Frank responded.

"Will you be okay? You need me to get anything for you?" Frank says he'll be alright, I'll be fine, it's okay. Roy leaves back to their conjoined office. Frank feels dirty, sick,

This isn't right.

This is

This

This...

When Frank returns to the place he calls home he shuts the door, he stares at his kitchen for a moment. A moment becomes

hours.

He feels like he is slowly fading away into obscurity. His mind wanders elsewhere, pleasure and pain, sorrow and joy,

they become a host for what his body needs subconsciously.

"Who am I,"

"A parasite in human disguise?"

Frank wonders, and he still stands there

in the kitchen of his late parents' house.

He wishes

he could talk to them

one last time.

Frank contemplates suicide somewhere in the back of his mind, but doesn't act on it, not anywhere near it.

Frank shows up the next day to work, it's Tuesday, him and Breda are here much earlier than the rest somehow. He looks awfully disheveled. "Archer? Not to be mean or anything you look like *shit* dude." Frank chuckles softly at this, not taking his concern literally.

Breda catches on. "You should go to a doctor or something." Frank replies without missing a beat. "I don't like doctors." Breda looks almost shocked, but continues. "But what was that about though, yesterday, when you were uh... bleedin'..." Breda trails off, afraid to offend Frank, since it seems like nowadays he's a ticking time bomb. "I'm fine." Frank speaks with a stern tone, he wants Breda to leave it alone, this is private. No one needs to know.

No one else needs to know.

Frank Archer has maybe the worst period he's had in years. When he was thirteen, he was always in pain during these times, crying, doubling over in pain, and it seems that will be the case this time too.

Frank adjusts every which way he can, trying to disguise his pain as simple discomfort. This works until he is sweating and resting his head on the desk. Falman pats him on the back, hoping it'll soothe whatever he's going through at the moment, and rubbing circles into his back. Frank has never felt so comforted yet so-- so-- ill. He feels like he's about to vomit, but he holds it back as best he can.

Although soon enough, he is sent to the medical ward. Frank outright refuses to tell the doctors what's wrong, he squirms and kicks as he tries to get them away. "Don't touch me, don't touch me--" He fails anyway, they have to examine him, it's for his own good.

Whether or not they will discriminate him, he fears their touch even more than that.

Frank stays there for a lot longer than anticipated. He is tested, taken care of, and medicated properly, which is something that he's never had the pleasure of experiencing. Frank has a syndrome of some sort, but doesn't put much thought into what they say, he barely even listens to them, spacing out. But he takes his medication as prescribed.

Once a day, every time this occurs.

That isn't at all what they said, is it?

When he arrives back at the place he calls home, he feels gravely ill, he spends a lot more time in bed than he thought. He will eat, he will use the bathroom, but one thing he does not realize, it's been hours, not just hours, he hadn't slept since yesterday. He fails to realize this and sleeps at around one in the afternoon, missing work, missing any kind of phonecall he might've received.

(Even though he unplugged the phone last Thursday.)

Frank wakes up slowly, groaning, he shifts and turns, feeling himself gush blood somewhat. He feels disgusting, but he can't help but feel the remnant throb of his wet dream. It's so warm here, he doesn't want to leave his bed, ever. But he has to so he does.

"Frank?" Riza calls out to him, "Frank?"

He doesn't respond, he makes eye contact but doesn't say a thing. A kind smile. Work goes on, but she's still talking and he's already tuned out her voice.

"Frank, you're bleeding."

"What?" The realization dawns on him that he had only been working, not paying attention to his surroundings. Armstrong had visited earlier, but what did he say? Who else visited? What did they say? He can't remember.

He looks down at himself. "Oh." A dark red splotch on the front of his

He rushes to the bathroom, attempting to cover himself on the way but it is futile. Frank has no change of clothes, he feels sick, does everyone know, they have to have known, this is a sick joke. Who made him this way? Who assigned him to work with Roy in Central? Why couldn't he just work alone again!?

He's a disgusting, evil little girl, who forces others--

He's a disgusting evil little girl who forces others to--

He's a disgusting little girl who used to live in East city,

She's a disgusting little girl who used to live in East city with his grandparents,

She's a disgusting little girl who had to live with her parents after they had passed away,

She's a disgusting little girl who'd rather stay in bed all day selfishly spending her time in there,

locked away from the rest of the world.

Frank wakes up in the medical ward.

Was that a nightmare? What was that?

Someone is there by his side, he can't quite tell who, since he had just woken up, but they hold his hand, gently rubbing circles into it with their thumb.

He feels as if he had done something wrong, why is he here? Frank's only crime is that he had been born wrong, wrong in a way you could never see, even taste or feel.

Frank feels numb, vaguely remembering what his nightmare was about, he shudders. Hours pass, and he notices that the person that was once there with him is gone, where did they go?

They looked so familiar.

Havoc?

No, that can't be right, they're only co-workers, maybe they talk sometimes and even Frank will laugh at his jokes, but Havoc, Jean Havoc?

Maybe it was Breda? Roy? Hawkeye? Fuery? Falman? God forbid any of his past lovers.

He feels so tired, still.

Was that even real?

Frank returns the next day, he's been told off, don't come to work for about two weeks, or at least that's how he remembers it. He spends a little too much time in bed, eating, sleeping, masturbating, though the one thing that stays consistent in his mind is the noise, the faint ringing noise that follows him everywhere and his windows are always covered. There's a dresser in front of it.

When Archer finally returns to work he is greeted with worry and concern, even though he spent a little extra time to make himself look pretty and clean. (it's 7:23 in the morning.)

He waves them off dismissively, and he does feel much better, but always always always always tunes them out whenever they talk for too long, he doesn't bother listening anymore, unless it's particularly important, which Roy will then get his attention by snapping his fingers (without the stupid alchemical gloves thankfully).

Living does get hard even if he lives a privileged life, he can't stop what comes to his mind, he can barely even hold back vomiting because of those vile things. He's no longer a child, no longer a teenager, Frank Archer is thirty-seven years old and still resides alone in his bed, fearing the outside world as if it's his problem, as if he caused it. (Thing's that he cannot even percieve go on out there,) Frank is terrified by the thought of someone taking him, stealing him away from his parents as if they're still here.

He still sleeps in their bed, as if awaiting the sirens to stop blaring, for his mother to tell him, it's okay baby, I'm here.

He is, of course, no longer able to hear these words.

He shows up to work the next day, his hair grew a little longer, and he finally notices such, although too lazy to get a haircut, puts it in a little hair-tie he had from when he was seven years old, it's a pastel pink with a yellow tinge to it. Riza comments on it, that it suits him, and he smiles.

Today is normal, for once, it's Monday 9:34 in the morning, and Frank can remember most of it. Another State Alchemist much alike Roy visits, he doesn't remember his name, though. Short, (well, Frank himself is nearly the same height, just a few inches taller) Blond and accompanied by a large suit of armor. Frank tunes them out quickly after seeing their appearances, he continues working.

Soon though, he has to tune back into the conversation, the blond one pushes him slightly, even though he has little reaction to it, the boy becomes more irritated, it seems?

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" He sounds annoyed with Archer. "Hellooooo?" The boy, Fullmetal, waves a hand in front of his face. Frank is having none of it and quickly grabs the boy's wrist, the automail one,

The boy seems a little scared, and Roy says--

He isn't listening.

Frank doesn't remember the rest, it's entirely blank from there. Apparantly he had chewed out the young man with quite crude language. He doesn't remember this at all. Frank doesn't tell anyone that last part though.

Why is he like this.

Frank get's a long, long lecture after this by Roy, he vaguely remembers the details, that boy is above his rank, he should pay a bit more respect to Fullmettle, Foolmetal, whatever his name was.

Work goes on as usual afterward thankfully. The boy stays however, Fullmetal, the irritable blond one, he sits nearby within Frank's eyesight, how unfortunate.

Paperwork is a bitch.

Sometime's he'll see names, words in strange combinations, shakes his head and then they're gone, they look normal again. Despite not having been tested for dyslexia, that's what it seems to be, to Frank at least. It feels so eerie how quiet the room gets when someone runs out of things to say, he almost misses Havoc's voice when the irritating ringing starts again.

Frank goes to get groceries after work, he looks dead-tired, still in his uniform, it's too late to change. The lights feel just a little bit too bright, he squints almost the entire time trying to read signs attatched to the stands with various vegetables.

He barely remembers what he picked up or even bought when he comes back home. His mother loved his cooking whilst she was still here, so he makes pasta (minus one ingredient...) it's one she loved in life.

He feels hollow.

Frank cries for the first time in a while, breaking down after cleaning up the kitchen. He misses his mother, feeling his lungs cave in and his heart ache, longing to be with her once again. He holds onto the picture of all of them when he was eighteen, he clutches it near his chest, but is careful to not crush the fragile glass and wooden frame.

He feels so useless not having his family with him anymore, he doesn't have any cousins or grandparents anymore, he's the last man of his family. They accepted him as such, but they have never seen the horror that went on behind his eyes, the fear of being rejected as a young, still developing, man.

When Frank was nineteen he went on HRT for the first time, it had been around for a while since before he was born so it wasn't an entirely new concept to his parents, thankfully.

When he was twenty-one, Frank changed his name and applied to the military with it, wanting to be a great man like his grandfather. The first fime Frank looked into a mirror with his hair in a military buzzcut, things felt right for once, despite his illness riddled mind since he was around five. Frank always looked very much like his dad, gaining his receeding hairline and uneven complexion along his transition aswell, looking like a younger version of him.

What was his name? Gerry?

Yes, that's right.

He feels ill when looking into the mirror now.

Something like this doesn't feel good, having skin as pale as a ghost with deep scars all over, it's like seeing the phantom of his father who had since passed.

"How long have you been like this?" The doctor asks, his mental state having deteriorated so badly that even his co-workers want him involuntarily hospitalized. "For as long as I can remember," Frank replies.

He simply has never thought other people had different mindsets, at least not too much. Too many things are left unsaid to him that his vision of life is blurry and obscured, his life is abnormal, but he always thought this is how other people experienced life.

He can't keep his eyes shut, wide open, though squinting when it is too bright, and has a hard time reading the clipboard the doctor hands to him.

"Sir?"

He feels sick.

"...Are you alright?"

He feels faint

I feel,

He can't finish his sentence, stuttering about what God and the light feels like (He wonders if there are others outside of this world he's made in his mind.)

"Sir?"

This will not be the last time he ends up in a hospital bed. He's cold, so cold that the floor feels less like a way to travel the building and more like ice, burning the soles of his feet.

The hospital gown rips somewhere, he doesn't quite pay attention to it though, but he hears it. It's 4 in the morning (a Friday.)

He wonders if his mother and father watch over him, even now in this horrible, messy, state.

He's always been a sheltered little girl,

He looks into the mirror provided by the bathroom that's connected to his room, he sees no longer a phantom of his father, but the little girl who still lives inside himself. His hair grew out a bit longer, how long had he been out? It couldn't have been that long, he checked the calender. Maybe it was out of date? Someone forgot to fix it? Or maybe he just never noticed how long it had gotten.

Frank can't tell anymore.

It's 5:56 in the morning (a Friday) and Frank lays back in his hospital bed, he's exhausted. He doesn't want to move, yet he does.

A hand slips under the hem of his underwear, although not delicately, he pleasures himself, making no noise.

A sigh, maybe even a couple of squirms but he's so quiet that often times his partners thought he had been left unsatisfied.

Maybe not the wisest decision considering he is in a semi-public space, but he doesn't have half the mind to care in the first place.

This left him quite uncomfortable afterward though, intrusive thoughts telling him he had been watched,

Dirty

What?

You're a filthy little girl

He feels eyes, in fact, he sees them, two tiny bright lights at the end of this bed but no real body attatched to them. This isn't real, is it? What is that?

It was lights attached to a monitor of some sort. Like most things, he couldn't make out the shape immediately. He breathes slowly, in and out to calm himself. Frank decides he'll sleep, and is out for a while after this.

He wakes up to the smell of santization, it burns his nostrils and eyes, he closes them again. The nurse tells him to wake up sometime after the smell has gone away, and he does.

Why is it so Goddamn bright in here!? Damn you all.

"What does this say?" Frank asks, it's a clipboard with all of his information that his mother once put in for him when he was found unresponsive at twenty (this is not the first time this has happened.)

"This is all of your previous info, we'll be updating it with

Frank can't remember the rest. Something about mental disorders. He's not formally diagnosed with anything yet however.

He doesn't quite care though. This is how life had always been for him, this is normal, his mother told him so.

He goes home with a warning.

Frank rests, and rests, and rests, and rests, and rests

and rests

Frank wakes up with in a cold sweat, what happened? What did he even dream about? nothing? It was nothing. He curls up, knees held up to his chest as he lays in his bed.

Something is wrong.

Sex was maybe the worst decision he had ever made in his life, he thinks, as the ringing starts in his ears again, it's a cacophony of strange noises until someone knocks on his door and snaps him out of it. Is that even real?

"Archer?" Knock, knock, knock

"Archer?"

Oh it is real.

Knock, knock

Get me out of here.

Frank gets up finally, making a small noise of effort I'm so tired and opens the door. Roy?

"I know it's very early but I just wanted to check on you, Archer." It isn't early, though? What the hell is he talking about. "I also wanted to ask if you were free later," ...Roy? Of all people? Why would he want to ever treat him to a Goddamn thing?

But Frank doesn't turn down the offer for later, (It's a nice cafe near where they work, somehow Frank hasn't heard of it) Frank wonders if he will remember this event in whole (They leave at 2 in the afternoon) It feels nice, to be thought of, even if he can't entirely say the same for Mustang.

Frank looks at the clock after Roy leaves, it's currently 6:45 in the morning.

...It's six-fourty-five in the morning?

Frank takes a shower, often looking through the glass door and into the mirror covered by the steam. The water is hot, too hot-- It reminds him of

When he gets out he presses a palm to the mirror, making a handprint on it whilst the other hand holds the towel firmly up to his chest. There is a mirror in his own room not covered by steam thankfully, but always has it's back turned unless he has use for it.

Frank looks at himself, all of him, tracing over his scars with his eyes, faintly reminding him of himself when he was younger, he's long overdue for a haircut, but it looks nice (to him at least.)

He remembers something he thought of when he was fourteen, how she was scared she'd grow up to be bad. He couldn't understand what she mean't back then, but it makes him uneasy thinking about it now.

Does it make me bad, these thoughts I have no control over? Frank shakes his head and proceeds to get dressed, nice yet casual. It's all a nice blue and black accents. He puts on a bracelet he's had since he was fifteen (he and his mother made it together), it has little wooden charms, every part about it a dark brown, nearly black.

He feels good for once, like this.

It's 1:34 in the afternoon, he plugs back in his phone to call Roy, he's ready now and just waiting for Roy to come pick him up.

Frank gets into Roy's car and feels increasingly uneasy, the sun is a little too bright, but Frank hates wearing sunglasses, he thinks it makes him look like a creep. "You okay?" Frank is actively picking the skin on his fingertips, but nods, "Yeah." Be normal, and casual. He has no script nowadays since he barely even talks to people, but that's okay.

When they arrive at the cafe, Frank feels a little less nervous but the feeling persists. It's a little dimmer inside, the sun makes for great light since the windows are very large. Something still makes Frank a little uneasy however, the glances he gets because of his half-burnt face (at least that's how he put it since he was seventeen.)

He overhears a conversation while waiting for their food and Roy has gone to the bathroom, something about Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist. He's read a lot about the man, maybe a little too much, and they're saying he recently broke out of prison. This makes him feel something, but he has to ignore it as Roy comes back to their table, he shall dwell on this information later.

"You okay?" Frank nods, he guesses he just spaced out and started staring into the table as if it were as deep as the ocean. Roy still looks a bit concerned but shrugs it off, he knows how stubborn Frank can be.

They have a nice conversation for once, about how work has been since Frank had been gone, turns out Riza worried about him the most (that's a half-truth, it's actually Roy but he won't admit that) and then their interests, which Frank doesn't have many of other than Kimblee classic art and what might come on the radio (he rarely turns it on anymore.)

It's nice, talking like this with Roy, even if he has no script and the sun hurts his eyes, he covers the side of his face with a hand to keep the sun out of them. He off-handedly mentions Kimblee for a moment and it confuses Roy. "The Crimson Alchemist? You know him or something?" Frank's face goes a little red, he realizes a little too late that he should not be talking about the Crimson Alchemist so casually. "Ah, no, I've just done a lot of research on him..." Frank will say that as if it's entirely normal, too. But Roy thinks it's nice, maybe even cute. They laugh it off.

Maybe they're both just a little messed up in the head.

Frank thinks, today was a good day, whilst Roy drives him back to his parents house, and he picks at the skin on his fingertips again, trying hard to resist the urge to bite and tear at his nails and bleed. They still talk though, it's nice, it feels light and lovely as they converse.

When Frank finally enters his home, he stares at the kitchen again, but with a sort of goofy smile, today was a good day! He can remember most of it! Roy is a lot more considerate than he originally thought, only thinking that Roy was just awfully polite at first.

When Frank gets ready for bed he remembers what those strangers were conversing about earlier. Kimblee... His mind wanders, brushing his hair gently with his mother's old hairbrush (some of the bristles have since fallen off.) "Oh, Kimblee..." He says with a fake dreamy sigh, joking to himself where no one else can see him, chuckling softly. Frank lays in their his bed, thinking about Kimblee, Kimblee, Kimblee,

Kimblee--

Frank lays there, head tilted back into the pillow as he

Oh, mm, there--

Frank laughs at his own theatrics even now as he masturbates under the sheets.

He rests soon after, cleaning himself for once and not just sleeping in his own mess, and for the first time in a while,

he has no dreams.

He has no dreams,

the static chases him thoroughly running through his mind and the

edges of his brain

that is where it returns

the feeling

of--

Frank wakes up slowly, feeling his heart race, he's sweating. What was that? He can't remember. Frank lays his head back into the blankets, curling up further, and falling back asleep.

It burns.

What?

Mama my skin is burning.

It's melting off my bones.

Mama?

...?

Mama?

It's hurting me, the fire.

The fire

burning me alive.

The phone is ringing.

What?

The phone is ringing.

Frank wakes up again, he remembers this nightmare clear as day (or as clear as his days get) he gets up to the living room where the phone is on a little table. "Hello?" He picks it up, answering whoever is calling at this ungodly hour (but when he checks the clock above the phone it's 12:20, just a bit after noon.)

"Frank?" It's... Roy? "Yes," He groans quietly for a moment, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. "I just woke up, sorry." Roy stifles back a laugh. "It's okay, Frank. I was just checking up on you." For totally normal reasons, or something. Frank tries to rationalize it in his mind, Roy is a nice guy, he's charming, sweet, the kind of guy you'd bring to meet your parents, but Frank has already set his heart out for another man he doesn't even know. He wishes he could kiss him through phone, some sort of strange feeling taking over.

They have a nice conversation, Roy being as compassionate and empathetic as possible, or something like that.

When Roy hangs up it feels as if he is still there with him in a way, it's strange. Frank returns to bed, just a little longer. He does however have to go to work the following day. Oh, he gets to see Roy his co-workers again.

This isn't the first time he's felt like this.

Over the following week he goes back to work, he feels something for Roy. A crush maybe? It feels so much more than that, and Frank often returns home and thinks about Roy almost obsessively. But is that it, truly? Roy is just being nice, right?

Right?

He glances at Roy from his desk, smiling somewhat, but covering it up quickly with a shake of his head and his focus returning to his paperwork. Tonight though, Frank takes Roy to his home his parents house and there's this longing feeling that neither of them can deny any longer, truly. It feels natural to hold another in his arms, the comforting warmth that radiates off Roy makes his heart flutter.

Roy kisses him.

Roy Mustang kissed me?

Roy--

He almost feels nauseated, the amount of obessive thoughts that go through Frank's mind as this happens. He's shocked, very nearly appalled by Roy's behavior (Isn't this what we had been building up to, though?) They kiss again and again and again until,

Until,

He feels hands on his hips and thighs groping and grasping almost violently as they continue on passionately--

Frank digs his nails into Roy's clothes by accident tearing some of his shirt--

It feels good whatever this is, this soul crushing obession, but not the first he's had.

He still feels that thought persist in the back of his mind, dirty, dirty little-- Kimblee-- Dirty little-- DIRTY-- KIMBLEE--

"R-Roy," Frank speaks with a smirk, half lidded eyes as Roy has a hand down his

Oh, there--

Do that again--

It's blurry, but it feels so, so good,

Roy's free hand rests on his cheek,

caressing his face gently as his other hand does wonderful things to him--

His own hands clench tightly onto the back of Roy's shirt and the material of the couch they sit on--

He let's out a shakey sigh as he nearly tears the material of the old couch too, thighs clenching slightly around Roy's hand.

Frank can barely remember the rest of the night after that, it's all just sensation and sounds. He awakes the next morning (clean thankfully), holding Roy as he sleeps soundly, skin to skin although he can't shake the feeling that he used Roy of his intrusive thoughts, crawling over his scalp, into his ears invading his skull, then the membrane, then into the wrinkles of his brain.

His hand rests on Roy's stomach, his thumb rubbing little circles into the pudge there, so soft, he absentmindedly traces over Roy's hair, lowering but not too far. He doesn't want to wake up Roy so soon, taking in how serene and calm Roy looks for once.

Later on though, they do have to go to work. Riza does glance at them suspiciously as to why they showed up at the same time (in the same vehicle, no less) and Frank seeming a little less out of it (he isn't though, in all actuality he's just in a slightly better mood.)

That boy, Fullmetal, visits again, once again though Frank has no actual idea what they are saying (tuned out so fast?) but Fullmetal seems almost scared of him, and Roy seems to be reassuring the boy that Frank isn't dangerous? Is that right?

Frank tunes in for once, not entirely spacing out even if from the outside it looks like he's staring a hole into the seperator on the desk (where Havoc is on the other side of.) "Edward, I can assure you that Frank is of no danger to you,

No danger to you,

No danger to

Where did he start. Hell, where did Roy even finish his sentence? The boy leaves after a good few hours, writing his report down in the office. He seems a little more relaxed now, thankfully (good for both of them.)

Frank returns to his home, though later than usual (without Roy) he stares into the floor of his parents kitchen (no warmth to be found here) and stands there until his feet ache from being planted solely on the old creaky wooden floor.

He relapses in thought again, head slowly tilting upward to look at the one window he hasn't covered entirely. The curtains are drawn, a nice blue floral pattern that his father and mother picked out however long ago now.

Mama?

Are you there?

Watching me?

He gets ready for bed, already noticing little spots of blood. It's fine, he can handle this.

Frank wakes up the next day in his parents bed, feeling oddly wet. He lifts the blanket slowly, rubbing his eyes trying to chase away the blurry vision. There's a deep red spot there.

He can't handle this

all.

But he has to go to work. I mean, Riza has never missed a day (though maybe Riza is just like him) the thought entirely bugs him, why him, why does he have to go in like this.

He spirals, and whilst in the shower he scrubs more like cutting his scalp, it bleeds a little bit there too. He feels like tearing his hair out but has enough of a mind to realize that'd it only make everything so much worse.

Frank feels nauseated, the painkillers and whatever other medication he had been prescribed haven't kicked in yet, oh God,

The car ride there (Roy picked him up) is a Goddamn nightmare. It's nearly 8 o'clock, they'll be late, isn't today important? Something about that secretary, what was the name-- Juliet?

He doesn't have time for this, and as soon as they even reach the building he rushes to the nearest bathroom to vomit. Although the meds kick in soon after. What the hell is wrong with his body. He rests his head on the desk, thankfully not near vomiting again though, just sitting there, eventually going back to writing.

His hands get shaky.

He can barely write.

What is he seeing -- sensing -- What is this?

Frank feels the urge to stab someone

something.

He taps on the desk, staring a hole into the seperator again. Frank?

"Are you alright?" Falman puts a hand on his shoulder, it's warm he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind. "I..." Frank doesn't break eye contact with the seperator, not once. "I..." Frank feels like he's about to cry, scream, something, he needs to feel something, he taps insistently on the desk with his (scarred) hand.

His burnt hand.

"I..."

His hand was burnt.

"I..."

"Mama?"

"Do you need to go home?"

"Mom?"

Frank? He doesn't listen, where is he? Mom? Where are you? Why aren't you here with me? Mom? Please answer the phone, we're worried. Mom please answer the phone, mom?

Mom?

Frank hadn't even realized he started crying, tears streaming down his face as he stares into the seperator, the seperator that seperates him from Havoc's side of the desk. He wipes the tears, though smearing some ink on the side of his face from a pen he broke because he crushed it in his palm just a few moments before. When did he break it? Mom? Why aren't you answering? Me and dad are worried, please-- Mom-- Please answer the phone...

Mom?

Frank? "Huh?"

Frank finally returns to reality, face in his hands, tears and ink mixed together to make some sort of toxic concoction of

"I'm sorry," He whispers, he doesn't even realize who he said it to.

"Mommy?" The little girl asks as she tugs on the older girl's dress, her mom's dress, it's a nice beige with a floral all around the skirt.

Frank wishes he could just turn back time, go home where his parents were, maybe even his grandparents, he wishes he could've spent much more time with them.

The fire--

No. Don't even start with that.

Frank is in the bathroom as Roy helps him calm down, even helping him clean his face, now free from ink and tears. They hold hands for a moment before someone else enters, then wiping away some non-existent tears.

His face is so red and splotchy from the bloodflow. God, why does life have to be like this? The fire--

Do not. We don't have time for that.

Tonight Frank goes home alone, but the proceeding days are followed by things that Frank didn't even think were real.

Something about chimeras and a man with an array on his arm--

Mom?

Along with the boy, Fullmetal and his brother (apparantly that suit of armor houses his soul?) He doesn't have time for this, even just thinking about it in the shower.

Frank feels like he's being boiled alive like a lobster, unpleasant and hot, his already burnt skin needs a break.

He looks into the mirror, the one covered in steam, the condensation creating an entirely different vision. Is this what it's like? Frank never truly had any solid sense of self, this blurry and foggy appearance feels as if it suits him more than his actual body. I want to go home (but you are home) I want to go back to the time it felt like home, then (it never felt like home) love doesn't heal wounds, does it? (it never has.)

When Frank goes into work, he finds that Hawkeye, Roy, Havoc and Breda are gone. "What happened?" He asks Falman, they've been assigned to East city, the lot of them. Frank feels sad, maybe even a little disappointed. He misses Roy. Come on, can't I keep something for

one

MOMENT!

The next few months drag on, he misses Havoc's voice, he misses the way Roy would snap his fingers to get his attention, he misses Riza actually caring about him, and Breda bouncing off Havoc's jokes... they were a good team. Now all the work has been piled onto him, Fuery and Falman. This fucking sucks. The three of them do as their told, begrudgingly, the other two also hate this change of course.

This isn't enough, it will never ever ever ever

ever

ever ever

ever

be enough.

Frank wishes things didn't have to be this way. Mother, do you see me from up above? Tell me, what do you see?

Father, do you see me from up above? Tell me, what do you see?

Will I ever be free?

Have I crossed some invisible line I didn't even know existed? If so, when? Where? How?

Frank wakes up, it's too hot in here, he pushes all of his blankets away from him and sits there, sweaty and uncomfortable.

There's--

Frank freezes up whilst peering into the dark doorway that leads him out of the bedroom and into the living room, he stares wide eyed at the pitch black darkness that proceeds.

There's someone something watching--

Watching him in the dark. This goes on for what feels like hours, days, weeks months, years, decades, centuries, eons

But eventually, Frank stops staring, warily looking at it as he pulls the blankets up and over him as if he were a little girl again hiding from the sound of thunder, waiting desperately for his mother to tell him it's okay, it's okay baby--

...

Only the deafening silence and ever present darkness greets him.

Life goes on for Frank, albeit painfully.

When Roy eventually returns he is greeted with horror. Roy is missing an eye, his left eye--

"Who did this?" Archer asks softly as he gently holds Roy's face, gently lifting the eyepatch with permission (in front of everybody else no less) he hopes it was just an accident-- like his scars, his burn scars, just an accident, please, God, let us go.

Roy stays with Frank a long while after this.

Roy says that his vision of course got worse, but the eye just needs time to heal (it looks like a big scab more than anything though) It just needs time to heal.

When it does, he's nearly blind in that eye, having extremely spotty vision there. Frank tries his very best to take care of Roy during these times, despite not comprehending half the words that pass through his ears.

Months pass, life is normal again (or as normal as it'd get for Frank) and Roy continues to live with Frank. It feels a little strange, how this house is finally inhabited by more than one person for more than a single night.

(Does it feel like home yet?) not quite

(will it ever?) I don't think so.

For the longest time after the fire, Frank felt so disgusting, unlovable, ugly, repulsive. He was only a girl healing from grave wounds, crying herself to sleep almost every night whilst he was in that hospital bed as his mother held his un-burnt hand.

Never before had Frank truly known the pain outside of natural occurence.

This was the second most traumatizing experience to him though. He's aged out of it, finding it makes him look more masculine now (as if Frank were a real soldier and not just some guy who worked at some desk in Central.)

The feeling never goes away though, does it? The burning sensation he feels in his nightmares as if he were still sixteen and realizing after the accident that it was his grandfather's fault for the fire starting and killing--

Frank takes a deep breath, in and out as he holds onto Roy by his clothes. "Are you okay?" Frank nods, he can't doesn't want to talk right now.

Beep, beep, beep--

Mom? No, no this isn't happening again--

I just want to go home, okay? It wasn't my fault, right?

Frank lays in Roy's arms, desperate for the comfort that his mother once brought him

Mom?

and lays there holding hands.

The phone is ringing.

Mom? Do you hear me?

Frank wrestles with his thoughts, holding onto Roy's shirt for dear life. "Frank?" He buries his face into Roy's shouler. Don't look at me cry, please--

This is wrong this is all wrong. Isn't mom supposed to be there? Why isn't she answering the phone? Mom, please--

I'm so cold, mom, please answer the phone.

Roy holds him for a long time in bed, waiting and waiting for him to fall asleep and have this living nightmare be over with. He stays with Frank, always, always caring and loving.

Love doesn't heal all wounds though, does it? (Of course it doesn't, you idiot.)

Frank still often dreams of the man he cannot have, Solf J. Kimblee. He was always intrigued by how sadistic and positively chaotic he is. Though he always feared how the man had a sort of attraction to the extreme noise the explosions his alchemy induced. If anything, this man was a walking nuclear bomb. Hell, those haven't even been invented yet.

What? (Nothing.)

He still often daydreams about touching meeting Kimblee, imagining the way he must smell, it makes him feel dirty wet.

Though, there is a fear behind this, that he will be burnt, but this time on purpose. A man like the Crimson Lotus Alchemist should not be let free ever, but as he heard, he's still out there.

He leans closely toward Roy in bed as he reads a book of some sort, he can't make out the title, but they are close, so close. It's warm, it's finally cozy here.

Hello?

No! I don't have time for this--

Frank holds onto Roy as he slowly eases into a deep sleep, exhausted from how much Goddamn overtime he's had to commit to over the past

however many months. Frank wasn't counting.

He's sleeping, he feels it, sort of, the beige peeling wallpaper and the sensation of warmth slowly fade into darkness, pitch black.

There's a room, a place--

Mom? A payphone, he's standing inside of a box a clear box and answering a phone-- or is he the one calling?

Mom? Please, fuck-- He fumbles with the quarters in his hand, trying to put more into the slot. Mom? Please answer the fucking phone, me and dad are worried sick about you. Please mom...

He wakes with a start, once again, staring into the dark as he feels it consume him, the static growing larger, absorbing his body.

"Frank!? Wake up!" He hears it, but he cannot see, he can't see,

This will not be the last time he ends up in a hospital bed, it's 11:43, nearly midnight when he finally wakes up. Roy is by his side as he fears whatever had happened to him, he can't remember.

He doesn't tell Roy that part though, for his own safety. He wishes he could just be alone again, conflicting thoughts course through his mind.

Frank doesn't just crave love, he needs it, just like everybody else does, but the problem comes with

with

Frank feels his vision fall away from him again whilst sitting in his desk, but continues to write down whatever he was supposed to, he hopes it comes out comprehensible. "Frank." Falman? No. Who's voice is that? "Frankie." The voice changes, who is calling?

Something lurks deep within this voice, he can't quite tell what.

"Frankie." Mom?

"Frankie!" The older woman calls out for the young man, pulling him in tightly for a hug. "How did it go?" Frank smiles, saying it went good.

"Frank." He snaps out of it, realizing he's still sitting at his desk, the middle chair where Fuery is on his left and Falman on his right. "Yes?" Frank responds with a kind tired voice. "Were you daydreaming again?" Frank stills, but nods after a moment of hesitation. "Thought so..." Havoc goes back to his work. What was that about?

It doesn't matter how many times Frank cuts his hair, he should just let it grow out this time. He chases away the thought as he reads some extremely classified files that he stole from work however many years ago now. Kimblee again, huh? Frank focuses on it a lot more than someone might originally think, the rest of the world being more than a blur, maybe even darkness around him as he reads, falling into the pages of a long document.

He stares at a particular phrase for a moment, the Philosopher's Stone, something that he had become quite familiar with during his time working there but something finally clicks in his brain. There is something special about it, the fact so few had been made, for State Alchemists during a war no less, it almost makes him feel a bit uneasy.

Days pass, mind stewing over this info. Something about those boys, Fullmetal and his brother, weren't they after it? Does he even have time to think about such frivolous things? No,

no.

Frank sits there on the shower floor, letting the cool water run over him. He looks over his scars, all of them, seeing where it reached, where he needed stitches, where his skin stretched unnaturally. This is his life now, isn't it?

"Frank? Are you okay?"

Frank laughs to himself. "Yes." He feels the eyes again, but he doesn't care anymore, does he? (He cares greatly so) but not in the same way, currently, spreading himself as if the creature that seeps through the cracks of doors and nooks of the walls will see him. Frank laughs to himself.

Frank returns to work with an extra scar on his face, it crosses over his lips. He feels better, something about that felt good but in the worst way possible. What he did was wrong, but a natural conclusion to his mental state. Work goes on.

And on

and on.

Frank feels faint standing in front of the door to their his house. What's wrong? (Nothing.) Frank stands there, fumbling with his keys-- Answer the phone please-- He freezes up. What if this is just like before, will he find the corpse of his mother Roy as soon as he steps inside?

He dreads opening the door, instead knocking as if he forgot his keys. He waits for this feeling to stop, despite how cold tonight has gotten. "Frank?"

Oh thank God, he holds Roy in a tight embrace for a long while after that.

Life feels a bit brighter though, now that Roy has a permanent spot to sit in it, often cuddling and talking about life experiences as couples do. He feels a little less hollow, but when Roy is asleep, he gets out of bed wandering, pacing, all around the house.

Even Frank doesn't understand why he does it, but still does it anyway, not bothering to stop himself most nights. He will stare at the corner every which way, as if looking for an answer, to what though? He can't remember.

Mom?

I don't have time for this.

#time moves slow #frank archer #;fma #;ag #yes i named this after a song.#if anyone else reads this i am so so so so so sorry.#does this follow canon? no. barely.#edit: now with reblogable

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praphit · 1 year

Text

JW4: Symphony of Carnage

If you haven't been paying attention, John Wick IS BACK!

The GOAT of Assassins! The Boogeyman! And the Best Husband Ever! What spouse out there wouldn't want their significant other going on a killing spree after they die, all in the name of...

...

why has he been doing all of this killing again? - doesn't matter. Many have said to their loved ones that they'd kill for them, but how many of them can prove that as John Wick has?? Btw, do we know anything about John Wick's wife (Helen)?

What kind of person marries an assassin? I'm just sayin... she might not have been as saintly as we're led to believe. But, that doesn't matter - we know the story:

John Wick's possibly shady wife dies, but beforehand, gave John a puppy... and bad guys killed that puppy (”bad guys” worse than the GOAT of Assassins) - now JW has to kill four movies worth of people. He could have been a good Christian and forgave, but BLEEP that! He's more Old Testament - "eye for an eye" - or eye for your life, your whole family, associates, and the lives of most of the people who live on your block.

THE GOAT!

(TIME OUT: There are a lot of angry, sad, frustrated, confused people out there. Some of you might be overwhelmed by all of that and say to yourselves

“John Wick and I are a lot alike; we’re both mad and want to selfishly take out our pain on others.” Allow me to remind you that you are NOTHING like John Wick. JW is a calm, collected, honorable, trained assassin going after murderous psychopaths in the criminal underworld. Keanu Reeves is a sweet, humble man who is very VERY rich. You are nothing alike.

If need be (when life gets overwhelming) please get some professional help. There are way too many people in the real world trying to take out their personal demons with physical/verbal violence on others. If professional help is too costly, then your friendly neighborhood Praphit is here for you. For the low cost of maybe a beer or two, these unprofessional yet praphitic ears are here for you, so you don’t do something horrible. Ok. TIME IN :)

That “time out” being said, a movie where John Wick forgives, seeks therapy, trusts in the law for justice, and moves on with a healthy life would make an awfully boring movie plot.

GET’EM, JOHN WICK!

GET’EM!

KILL!

Of course, it's not just about his personal kills - John has interrupted the lives of his friends with his killing spree as well.

(lost everything)

(risked everything)

Not to mention all of the stray bullets flying through heavily populated buildings in which John Wick is doing his thang.

How much is too much?

In this 4th installment, The Board of Crime Lords have asked themselves that very question, and have decided that John Wick is too unruly to stay alive. Old white conservatives understand this - WE NEED LAW AND ORDER! so they elect Bill Skarsgard to get the job done.

well, not himself... he's not going to get his hands too dirty; he's more like management. Can you picture Bill doing martial arts training for this movie? No, right?? Yeah, he couldn't picture that either. He was like "BLEEP that! I'll just wear killer suits and talk on the phone a lot in a French accent." And he does that well. Work smart, not hard. Ain’t that right, Bill??

There's so much killing in this movie! So... so very much... and it is AWESOME. But, it's not just about the killing, it's also about how John Wick survives. You've heard people say stuff along the lines of "God isn't done with you yet." When it comes to John Wick, it's been more like God is rooting for John Wick; like He’s got money riding on John Wick. Like Death keeps trying to run out to John, but God keeps stopping Death, and saying "Wait, I want to see how this plays out."

We've seen him fall off a couple buildings (not just fall and splat, but fall, bang his head a few times on his way down, and then splat), he's been hit by several cars (sometimes while in a car himself, but most of the time, not), he's been shot, stabbed, sliced, he fell down thousands of steps (literally) in this movie - doesn't matter. John Wick will die when he's good and damned ready to die. This movie is the climax of a symphony of carnage. It's been a crescendo of killing! Think about the ride we've been on with John:

he's killed with pencils, swords, Lord knows how many bullets to the head he's dished out, he's killed with vehicles, he's killed people with horses, a library book.... yeah, a BLEEPING LIBRARY BOOK, he's engaged in knife-throwing fights, ax-throwing fights, and now in this one he doesn't even need his own weapon, he'll just steal yours and kill you with it - rockin nunchucks, setting people on fire, killing people with cupcakes... he didn't do that last one, but it wouldn't have surprised me if he had.

BEST ACTION MOVIE EVER! If John Wick Chapter 4 were a steak dinner, every bite of this beautifully choreographed film would be delicious. I'm licking my plate!

Don't ask any questions though:

Don't wonder why this secret underworld of assassins does so much killing in public. When you get to the part when Bill Skarsgard chooses some blind dude (played by Donnie Yen) to lead his team against John Wick, don't think on it. As badass and handicapable as IP Man is, it's a questionable decision.

Bill needs to not only hire someone who can find JW (who takes out armies with a knife and a pistol), but someone who can sneak up on JW and beat him in combat... sure, go hire the retired , old blind dude.

Don't ask where all of the law enforcement are... there were some in the 1st movie, but... Don't ponder on how/why 80% of the people in this universe appear to be assassins.

And certainly don't ask why no media outlets are covering this story. I know we love our celeb news, Trump news (indictment, baby!), and the royal family, but perhaps all of that should be pushed aside.

Imagine you're at the club

when all of a sudden bodies start dropping, with bullet holes through their knees, chests, and heads.

Most news outlets would care about that as it happens for like the eighth time this week, but.... it's just another day, apparently.

DON’T ASK! Just enjoy the movie.

My only complaint is that it's a lil long. You kinda feel it in the last 40 mins or so (it's almost 3 hrs long). I was never bored, but... you know?? - I got stuff to do. But, as soon as I'm about to look at the time, something pops on the screen to recapture my attention. Whether it's John kung-fuing his way thru traffic, or a cool video game-like angle of JW blowing people away, or THIS lady (Rina Sawayama)

stabbing a dude 20 some times while he's trying to get away. He had stopped fighting her a while ago, but it was too late. He's in a John Wick movie and his name ain't John Wick. I loved Rina btw (she plays Akira and a real-life musician:). I hope we get more of her.

Some complained about Keanu's acting. Some say it got worse somehow. I would never say such a thing, cuz he's my guy. But, are those people right? I'll say this - I was concerned about his running in the 3rd movie. He was running like he had to pee; it was confusing. But, in THIS movie, he's running like a pro. I think he traded in his acting coach for a running coach. But, he has far more moments of running than he has lines, so he chose wisely. Way to go, Keanu. He doesn't need to sell lines when he's selling ass whupins.

THE GOAT!

Grade: A+

After four movies, with this one probably being the last one... I wonder what the lesson was in all of this carnage. I think I've stumbled across it:

WALK AWAY!

Akira says at some point "Everything John Wick touches, dies." The people listening to her had a chance to leave, but nobody listened to her, and... yep. It was not pretty.

WALK AWAY!

In four movies none of these assassins who are going after JW ever stop and say "Nope. I'm outta here." I mean if it were me, and I was an assassin going after him (1st of all I never would, but... )... seeing him kill like 30 trained assassins... looking at their bodies all mangled as he pulls out a picture of his wife and kisses it, before he walks towards me with a knife and library book, i'd be like "NAH! I'm done!" And I'd WALK AWAY.

It's ok to walk away, people. Don't be stupid. And If you must be an assassin (a horrible career choice, mind you), don't go after other assassins who don't seem to die. Stick to fat, slow, dumb people.. who kinda wanna die.

BUT, most won't do that. Most won't walk away. Most will say to themselves and anyone else around, who's still alive "I got this."

Now, this is happening.

Big dummies.

#JohnWick #JohnWickChapter4 #johnpraphit #praphitproductions.com #violence #shooting #therapy #mentalhealth #Praphit #KeanuReeves #lifelessons #assassins #Rinasawayama #actionmovies #moviereviews #kungfu #symphony #revenge

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kissbentennyson · 2 years

Note

Hii, could you write a albedo x reader? maybe a jealously scenario

Thanks for your time, love your stories

Of course! Sorry if it’s a little ooc, I haven't actually written for Albedo since I was actually posting my Ben 10 Scenarios/Preferences on Wattpad. Also, it’s a little short.

Left Eye

Albedo x reader | reader uses they/them pronouns and gender neutral terms.

Economics.

A horribly boring class, with a monotone voiced teacher who thinks Walt Disney is a ‘fine man’. A class where a lot of your grade weighs on partner research projects, of all things. Oh, not to mention, you don’t even get to pick your partner. So, instead of having someone who was willing to carry their own weight, you got the one person in the class who thought she was above it all- despite her grades not even being above the passing line. You don’t usually judge her for it, there could be a lot of reasons she acts like this- but now, your grade is on the line.

“I was able to go to a few stores earlier and collect some of the Data we needed- When do you think you will be able to-” You look up from your papers and over your computer screen, only to see her on her phone. Your lips press flat with displeasure, your already built up frustrations beginning to bubble up. You fake clear your throat loudly, only for her to nervously drop her phone onto her lap. She looks at you with wide and confused eyes.

“What was the question again?”

Your shoulders go slack with annoyance. “When are you going to go to the stores to collect your part of the data- I’ve been talking for the past five minutes, how much did you actually hear?” You made no effort to hold back the bitterness in your words, normally you would have tried to sugar coat everything to keep good ties- but recently your… significant other’s personality has begun to rub off on you.

“Uh, almost nothing.” She said, her face deepening a shade. You let out a sigh, eyes narrowing. “I figured as much.” She flinches at your words, and it seems to hurt her a little bit. The you inside twinged with momentary guilt, but was fizzled out like a spark falling onto wet ground. This is the exact reason why you had begged to work alone, even before you were assigned a partner. She rubs her arm awkwardly before looking around for anyone else. When it was made obvious that you two were the only ones here, she sat up straight.

“I’m sorry you got partnered with me, I was doing well the first few weeks- but then I kinda got lost, and every time I ask for help or clarification, everyone gets mad and doesn’t actually explain anything.” She said, her voice in a soft whispery tone that wore heavy with embarrassment. A knot forms in your throat as all that anger melts down into nothingness. You scoot closer to her on the couch, your normal nature taking over.

“I can help you, I may not be an ace at the class but- I can still help.” You say quickly, and she looks confused. Like she can’t believe anyone would want to help her. “Really? I mean, I can just back off and let you work. I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother Mel, if it were, I wouldn’t have offered. Plus, we have until next Friday to get this done- I think we have the time.”

It was another hour before she left, and after you felt a lot better about your partner- and your project. After you say your goodbye, you hustle up the stairs to change out of your nicer school clothes and into something comfortable. You had planned to make dinner, and didn’t want to be uncomfortable while you did so- or while your boyfriend was over. Speaking of which, he should be over soon- he’d always been rather punctual when it came to you. You hurried down the stairs and into the living room, not expecting the person sitting on your couch to already be there.

“Who was just here?”

You jump, letting out a loud scream as you spin around to the view of red eyes and white hair.

“Ugh, why do you always, just, appear!? Can you stop? I really hate it when you do that.” You yell, trying to calm yourself down. You really hated raising your voice at the people you love, but sometimes it happens by accident. Taking a deep breath in you brush your hair back ith your hand. “I’m sorry- Stressful day. Have any dinner ideas?” You say as you continue your walk to the kitchen. From behind you, you hear him get up and follow.

“I don’t appreciate you not answering my question.” He says firmly as you yank open the fridge to look inside, to which you give him a deadpan look. Yes, he’s your boyfriend- but that does give him the right or obligation to know and/or monitor every little piece of your life. Your school project really isn’t any of his business. You lean down, looking into the fridge, rooting around for any hint at an idea. But, maybe telling him will prevent a fight… and lord knows how fights go with him. You’d have a better chance at winning a debate with a wall then your boyfriend.

“She’s just my partner for my Econ project, you don’t need to worry about it.” You pull out the vegetable drawer, looking it over for any rot or mold. “Hmm, I’m thinking… French Onion soup. How does that sound? It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll still taste the same…” As you look up from the fridge, he’s still glaring at you. That definitely wasn’t enough to get him off your back. “What?”

“I don’t like how close she was to you, or how she was looking at you.” After he speaks there's a hefty moment of silence, which is abruptly broken by you swallowing your laughter. As much as you want to validate his concern, it’s completely ridiculous.

Closing the fridge, you pat his arm gently. “Look, It’s not anything like that. This is only the second time me and her have ever spoken. I promise you that she does not have any feelings for me, and never will.” You give him a small smile before kissing him gently on the cheek. “Even if she did, you’re the only person I have eyes for.” You say in a whisper before heading to the cabinets to pull out some pots, and as you set them on the stove, you catch a glimpse of him standing in the doorway. Pink in the face and flustered.

Eventually, he actually joins you in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter while you cooked, obviously still a tad bit miffed. As you pour the stock of your choosing into the pot full of caramelized onions and crushed garlic cloves, something comes to mind. Bringing a small smile to your face.

“You know, hun, I never would have pegged you as the jealous type.” Your eyes flick over to him to see his reaction. Seemingly unfazed, he responds. “I’m not Jealous.”

His left eye twitches.

You smile wider, going back to your soup. With a small giggle.

“You so are. You told me so.” You set down the box of stock and stir the onions around to keep them from sticking to the bottom and burning. “What do you think not liking when someone is around your significant other means?” You set the spoon you used to stir the soup down beside the stove and turn to face him. He looks away, baring mostly the left side of his face to you as he tries to keep a fake calmness, something about his ego and not wanting to seem unstable.

“I am just worried about who my significant other surrounds themselves with, out of concern for their well being.” With that, his left eye twitches again. Yikes, talking about you in third person. At least he’s gotten better about admitting that he cares about you. You cross your arms with a chortle, shaking your head.

“For someone so intellectually smart, you are so emotionally dumb- or you think you can lie to me. Either way, a little stupid.” You say in a light voice, causing his moth to gape open as he tries to say something to come back at you. However, he can’t fast enough. Even though the thought infuriates him, he has no clue on how to articulate his feelings. But to be fair, the person his unfortunate human flesh suit looks like doesn’t seem to have the best knowledge on his emotions either.

“It’s cute when you get jealous though, I kinda like it.” You say pressing a kiss just below his left eye, before turning back to your soup. It is then he realizes exactly what was going on.

Damn Tennyson’s genes.

#proship dni #ben 10 x reader #albedo x reader #alternate bens x reader

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221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

Show Me Your True Colors

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 14092 (I swear this was supposed to be a short oneshot but it got out of hand. I'm so so sorry.)

Warnings: 28% smut, 72% plot. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Oral (male and female receiving). Fingering and Squirting due to overstimulation. Some dom/sub elements but not full-on. Creampie. Rough handling (e.g. hair-pulling, spanking, hand-binding, some more hair-pulling). I think that's all?!

Inspired by these posts [x] [x] and by this lovely artist. Thanks @danniburgh for humoring me with my thots.

A/N: I came back from my temporary hiatus to post this because I couldn't wait. And now I shall return to my little corner again. Sorry guys these school/administrative issues are taking longer to deal with so I'm for the most part still away. This is not beta'd. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments please and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy. And you can add yourself to the taglist here.

It’s such a different atmosphere, from what he remembers at least. It’s been so long since he stepped foot on a university campus, and he can’t help but smile at the spectrum of personalities all around him. While some students lounge underneath the trees and on the grass, others ran hastily to their courses. Those were probably freshmen.

As he makes his way through the campus, he has to look at his phone numerous times to figure out where exactly he was going. That’s definitely one thing he didn’t miss about being in school, the fact that he was shit in directions and how he almost always got lost during the beginning of each semester.

When he does finally find the art history department, he silences his phone and heads to the first office he can find.

“Good afternoon, my name is Nicola. How can I help you?”

“Hi Nicola, I’m here to see Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you could direct me to her office please?” Marcus smiles as he unbuttons his suit jacket, not realizing that his FBI tag was now visible to the world.

“She’s currently in one of her lectures, you could-” Marcus follows Nicola’s line of sight when she grows quiet and groans when he sees that she noticed his FBI tag.

“Please, she’s not in trouble. I am part of the FBI Art Crime Team, and I’m actually coming to ask if we could get her professional opinion on an artifact. Just need her to consult on something.” He smiles at Nicola and waits for her expression to relax before he continues.

“Do you mind telling me which lecture hall she’s in?”

“Y-yes, she’s in H140. Make a right at the door and it’s the hall all the way at the end.”

“Thank you Nicola, have a good day.” Marcus nods at her before he buttons his jacket again to avoid any suspicious, terrified looks as he makes his way to the lecture hall. He walks quietly, avoiding the students walking past him as they exit the rooms. When he reaches the door, he turns the knob slowly to not make any noise, hoping that he wasn’t being too disruptive once he walks in. As he shuts it behind him and looks around, his eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

There are at least 250, maybe 300 students filling the seats of the room. He awkwardly smiles when some students look to the side and see him standing at the foot of the door. He quickly takes a seat and says nothing as the students return their attention to the large projected screen. Marcus hears what he assumes is your voice through the large speakers but he can’t place your position. As he looks at the projected images, he finally catches you through his peripheral vision as you step off the railing near the exit doors at the front of the room.

“Because of this association with the gods, many amulets used to ward off the evil eye include depictions of mythological figures and deities who are almost, if not always, female. To the Greeks and Romans, the most common fascinations with an evil eye were women in any shape or form. They were thought to have the most powerful and harmful gaze that might kill if eye contact was established. That’s basically me telling you to never look me in the eye or else I will curse the cow of your second cousin twice removed.” Laughter reverberates off the walls at your joke and only grows louder when you whisper, “just kidding...or am I?” Marcus can’t help but smile at your jokes, watching with fascination as you move up and down the stairs of one side of the lecture hall once you continue to speak.

“Now, I know what some of you are thinking...isn’t that a bit sexist? Well, to the ancients, no. And to us, it’s kind of a meh thing. I know that doesn’t sound very feminist of me but it all comes down to the culture and the ancient practices that carried over. Just remember that it wasn’t because they were women, it was because they were thought to be powerful...a glass half-full kinda thing.” Marcus watches you closely as you maintain your focus on the students before you switch the slide and stand in the middle of the stairway with your back towards the projector.

“So, we find goddesses such as Erinnyes or the Furies associated with the evil eye because of their avenging nature. Their heads were covered in serpents and their eyes were always bloodshot and one of the Furies by the name of Megaera was considered in late antiquity as the personification of envy and whose eyes were the most envious and deadly of all the Furies. She was described by poets as baskanon omma pherousa...bearing the evil eye. Naturally, many children in late antiquity constantly wore amulets of stone galactite to protect them from the eyes of Megaera, and sometimes even wore necklaces with her face on it to counteract the evil eye of someone else and have her curse the ones who tried to harm them. Basically, the ancients were playing a game of tag with the evil eye.” You descend the stairs and walk to the other side of the hall, and Marcus feels his chest tighten with how much confidence you exude, not just through your words but with how you carry yourself as well.

“Perhaps the most famous of these dangerous women is Medusa who was one of the Gorgones in Greek mythology. The Gorgones were one of many female beings such as the Harpies, the Erinnyes, the Graiae, and the Keres, who were said to be grim-faced, and who held horrible looks. Briefly, the story tells of how she was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and later became hateful-looking by Athena as punishment for being raped by Poseidon in the middle of the huntress’ temple. Her hair became serpents and she was so furious that anyone who would look at her would turn into stone...at least that is the version you will hear from the “all-knowing” male scholars within this field. But, and I know I’m going on a rant here, if you’re like me, you’re more likely to argue that Athena pretended to hate Medusa. The serpents were no punishment! The goddess looked at the poor woman and gave her a weapon to use against men because unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to avenge her...not only because she didn’t get along with Poseidon but also because he was a god as well. Anyway, back to Medusa’s amazing power which I would love to have so I could use it whenever I’m talking to some professors in this department...don’t quote me on that.” Again, Marcus chuckles at your side commentary and notices how calm and enjoyable the atmosphere of the lecture is. If only he had professors like you when he was in university.

“Even after she was decapitated by Perseus, her powers were very much alive and it is said that Athena placed Medusa’s image on her shield, once Perseus returned it, in order to use it when she hunted. This suggests that depictions of her severed head held apotropaic power and like earlier, one could use a creature who held the power of the evil eye against another being who is said to use the evil eye. Following this principle of similia similibus, it is not surprising that most of the amulets found in Greece and Rome contained illustrations of Medusa’s decapitated head on them. What was once the possessor of the evil eye became a protective symbol against the very same thing.” Just as you are about to continue with the next image, an alarm goes off and Marcus frowns in shock at how inconsiderate it was that phones weren’t silenced. But his surprise only heightens when he sees you running down the steps to your desk and picking up the phone sitting in the middle of the table.

“Ahhhh man, we were just about to get to the cavalier. That’s okay. Remember, the second response is due first thing on Friday. If you can’t turn it in during class, shoot me an email and we can work something out with my TAs. Go forth my clever spawns!” Marcus stands up and glues himself to the wall when he sees students emptying the lecture hall, his eyes on your form at the front of the class. He hopes you don’t leave out of the front exit and begins to make his way to you through the multitude of undergrads leaving. When he reaches your desk, he stands to the side until you finish chatting with one of the students and begins to collect your work.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Please, it’s just Y/N. Who are you and how can I help you today?” You almost do a double take when you look up from your bag and see the man standing in front of you. To say that you were starstruck by the man in front of you would have been the understatement of the century.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike,” he holds out his FBI tag for you and watches as you raise an eyebrow at him before you swing your bag across your shoulders and motion for him to follow you out of the hall.

“I would like to put it on record that I do not, in fact, wish to turn any of my colleagues to stone.” You joke, and Marcus senses that you are perhaps nervous at seeing his tag.

“Believe me, I would like to do that to some of mine as well...but no, not why I’m here.” Marcus clips the tag below his jacket as he walks with you.

“May I ask what I have done that caught the FBI’s attention?” You walk ahead of him, and ask him if it was okay for him to head over to your office with you.

“I’m with the FBI Art Crime Team and I’m here on a request. We would like to consult you on an open investigation and I came here to ask what your availability is.” Marcus follows you up the stairs, barely forcing his eyes to remain on your feet instead of elsewhere.

“Oh, me? That’s...wow. Of all the things I thought I would accomplish in my life, that’s definitely not one of them. May I ask what it is you need my opinion on?” You push open the doorway of the staircase and point at your office across the quiet hall.

“Unfortunately, there is a lot of paperwork you need to fill out before we get to work so I can’t disclose anything about the case until you sign in.” Marcus steps into the office behind you and watches as you set your things down before you move to your desk. He can’t help but feel his muscles loosen at the sight of the bookshelves across your room.

“This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me all year long so yes, hundred percent. I’m available for the rest of the day today as well as tomorrow and Friday after lecture which ends at the same time as today’s.” You beam up at him as you take two books out of your bag and replace them with a folder that was sitting in the middle of your desk. Marcus looks at you quizzically, marveling at how much easier this was going. He genuinely thought he was going to meet with someone who was probably a bit proud and perhaps as much of an asshole as his previous professors but you were so much different than anyone he’s ever met within this field.

“Are you sure? I understand if you need to take a week or two-”

“No please, you’ll be saving me from faculty lunches and two seminars by colleagues that I genuinely cannot fucking stand- oh, sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” You swing your leather bag around your shoulder again and shut the blinds of the windows before you walk to the door.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Marcus chuckles at the excitement rolling off of you and bites his lower lip when he watches you quickly fix your hair.

“I might need to have lunch on the way to your office though if that’s okay?” You take a plastic container out of your bag and smile sheepishly at him as you lock your door.

“Wow...is your bag bigger on the inside or something? And, yeah fine by me.” He pushes his hands into his pockets again and walks next to you, a little corner in his heart gradually filling with hope letting him know that he should be cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

You both chat briefly on your way to headquarters and Marcus apologizes every time he looks over and sees you struggling with your food. By the time you make it to the building, Marcus can tell you are a bit nervous and he assures you once more that this was merely a consultation.

“Wait how did you even find me?” You take your jacket off along with everything in your pockets, laying them down near your bag as they go through the scanner. Marcus passes through with his badge and waits for you on the other side, picking up your things as you put your jacket back on.

“I made some calls and a friend suggested to get in touch with you because of your expertise.”

“Oh now we’re getting somewhere. You have a Greek artifact don’t you?” Marcus halts in his steps and looks over to you as he shuts his eyes in irritation. He should have watched what he said.

“S-sorry I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop until I fill out whatever paperwork you have for me.” You take your things from him and walk quietly as he leads you to the elevators.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not personal, it’s just-”

“Business I know. I know. I’m so used to watching this kind of stuff in movies that I tend to forget it’s all fake and you’re...the real deal.” You hope he doesn’t see the way your eyes trail over his taller form, silently cursing yourself when you meet his eyes and notice how he’s already staring at you with a smile.

“Sorry.” You apologize again and look straight ahead, hands tightening around the leather strap when you realize that he’s still looking at you.

Marcus fists the hands in his pockets to prevent himself from saying anything else that might make you uncomfortable, and he looks at the increasing numbers as they reach his floor. A loud ring signals your arrival and Marcus stretches out his hand so you could walk ahead of him. You wait until he tells you where to go and say nothing when he stops for a second and whispers something to another agent.

When you arrive at his office, you stand to the side and wait for him to tell you what to do.

“What’re you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Marcus calls you over to his desk and smiles, hoping to put you a little at ease. You step towards him and set your stuff on the floor as you sit opposite him on one of the two chairs. He pulls out a couple of files and sets them in front of you in four different piles.

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” You chuckle nervously as you take out a pen from your bag.

“I know, I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. These are the building rules and your signature is basically you telling us you’ll abide by all of them.”

“I don’t know any of them.” You respond immediately, and rub harshly at the pen between your fingers.

“I’ll be with you at all times so you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile throws you off guard and you nod before you sign the highlighted areas.

“And these are you swearing that you will tell no one of whatever you see, hear, do, etc. within the building.” You nod and sign through the stapled paperwork before sliding them his way.

“We’re almost done. These two are like the second pile but they have to do with this case specifically. And they extend to outside the premises, meaning that if I or another agent on the case tells you anything that has to do with your work here today while we’re grabbing coffee from across the street, you can’t say it to a living soul.” Marcus points at the four highlighted boxes and tells you to sign the date next to them as well.

“So I can say it to my dead cousin?” You ask as you sign the two papers and hand them to him, unable to hold your laughter when he shakes his head as he pushes the last pile towards you.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Can’t help it.”

“And finally, these are you swearing that whatever you tell us today, be it an opinion, a fact, or anything else, is the absolute truth. Basically, you’re not fucking with us.” You raise an eyebrow at his choice in words and he shrugs his shoulders as he motions for the empty spaces again. When you’re done, Marcus collects all the files and places them in a folder before he unlocks his desk and pushes them inside.

“I don’t ever want to see my signature again.” You whisper as he leads you out of the office towards a conference room. He holds the door for you and nods ahead, waiting for you to step in before he shuts the door behind him and turns around. You try to ignore the hand pushing on your lower back as you walk in and spot three gentlemen and one woman standing towards the end of the long table.

“Wow, that was quick.” The female agent is first to speak and you say nothing as Marcus introduces you to them.

“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course. This is very exciting for me so I’m happy to help in any way.” You shake her hand and stand to the side as Marcus motions for you to sit down.

“This is Lydia, Ethan, Henry, and Noah.” Marcus points to each member of his team as he pulls out a chair next to you and sits down.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nod towards them and look at the folder that Lydia hands to you. Marcus says something as you flip open the folder but you can’t respond, eyes almost falling out of their sockets as you take in the large image on the page. You look up at Marcus and everyone else before you return your attention to the picture.

“You recognize what this is then?” Ethan breaks the silence and watches as you move through the pages quickly.

“Umm, that seems like an oversimplification but yes.” You continue to study the images in front of you for another few minutes before you set them down and look up at Marcus.

“Some explanation would really help me out right now.” You tap softly on the papers, and your mind conjures up the wildest possible stories behind the images currently displayed in front of you.

“Oh right yes. We received a tip from the Smithsonian’s acquisitions department about a man trying to sell them this artifact for three million dollars,” Marcus notices your eyes widen but he continues, “but they’re not sure if it’s stolen or not. And he refuses to cooperate.”

“Which is where you come in. Have you seen anything like this before and if so, where?” Lydia stares at you as you return your attention to the pictures again.

“And the Smithsonian can’t confirm this?”

“Far from it. Marcus here is just afraid they’ll eventually get greedy and do anything to get their hands on it.” You look next to you and watch a faint blush take over the agent’s handsome features.

“I mean I don’t blame you. There are a bunch of real assholes in this field.” You laugh when he gives Lydia a ‘told you’ look.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you if I don’t see the actual pendant.” You shut the folder and push it away from you.

“That might be a problem.” Henry takes his glasses off and proceeds to clean them as he looks at his co-workers.

“Why? Do you not have it anymore?” Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of the FBI losing such an object.

“Oh no we have it. Our guy is afraid we’ll switch it out with a fake so he refuses to hand it to us unless he’s in the same room.”

“That’s funny. Is there a rule that says I can’t look at it while this man is in the room?” You ask Marcus and he can’t help but notice how giddy you’re being all of a sudden. Your excitement is almost palpable and he wills himself to focus on the question and not how you bite your lower lip as you wait for him.

“I mean…”

“You’re all going to be in the room aren’t you?” You cut him off before he says anything and when they all nod, you turn to Marcus once more and wait for his response.

“I guess it’s fine.” Marcus reluctantly answers before he asks Ethan and Noah to bring the man from the interrogation room he’s been in for the past couple of hours. Lydia and Henry let you in on more details and Marcus watches as you furrow your eyebrows in focus, occasionally cutting them off to ask them a question.

Fifteen minutes later and a knock on the door breaks you out of your haze. You look up just as Ethan and Noah walk in with a man in front of them. You say nothing as they bring him to your side of the room and set him down across from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!” Your ears perk at his comment but you say nothing as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you.

“May I see it?” You ask before anyone else says anything and the man continues to stare at you before he ignores your question.

“Please, I’m just here to confirm your story. I know for a fact there isn’t a museum out there that has this.” You notice the hardened expression on Henry’s face but he says nothing. A few long moments pass by and the man shifts to take something out of the inside his jacket. You inhale deeply and watch as he unwraps the cloth before he places the small pendant on the table in front of you.

“May I?” You ask again and if Marcus didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just trying to put the man at ease. If you were nervous around five FBI agents and you did nothing wrong, then his little thief must have been scared shitless.

When the man nods, you bring out a pair of gloves from your handbag and put them on, forcing yourself to remain calm as you pick up the pendant.

“What a beautiful work of art you are baby. Red jasper, my favorite!” Your excited words break the silence and you look up at the man in front of you with a smile, feeling your hands sweat when he slowly returns the expression.

Got you.

“Greek is marvelous...crystal clear, grammatically correct, unique placement.” It’s as silent as a cemetery and Marcus watches you closely as you narrow your eyes and adjust the stone under the light. If he wasn’t dealing with a criminal and a potentially stolen artifact, he would have told you how beautiful you looked when you were deep in the middle of a task.

“Hmm, what is this 6th century-ish spell? Oh my bad, no no no, I tend to mix them up sometimes. It’s definitely a 7th century formula.” You make an awkward face and watch as Lydia shakes her head at your little mix up.

“Now, let’s see what you got on the other side sweetheart.” You carefully turn the amulet around in the palm of your hand and barely hold back from gasping dramatically.

“My god...what a goddamn sight...oh oops sorry, that was probably blasphemous. A perfectly etched crucifixion...cross with 4 sides, with a plaque at the top...and of course, can’t forget the clothed Christ. The detail on this is truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen, down to the ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare’ around the figure. Where did you say you found it again?” You casually ask as you continue to inspect the stone, almost laughing when the man responds immediately to your question.

“Mount Athos.” Marcus turns to his team in shock. You’d managed to get the information out of him so easily while they spent an entire day trying to get him to say anything. It was a little funny how at ease the man seemed now, leaning forward towards you as you flipped the stone around.

“Ohh the hub of Eastern monasteries. Boy is this the most valuable artifact I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at then.” You set it down on the cloth and wrap it up before taking your gloves off and leaning back on the chair.

“See, told you its one of a kind. No one’s ever found anything like it before.” The man beams at you before he takes the object and puts it back in his jacket.

“Oh yeah it’s one of a kind alright...because it’s the most fake amulet I’ve ever had the misfortune of examining. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in my life. And here I thought another one of these was out there. Did you even bother to do any research on this?” You frown at him and cross your arms in irritation, completely missing Marcus’ reaction and how he turns to Lydia to confirm that yes, you just said that it was a fake artifact.

“W-what?”

“I’d love to know where you got the red jasper because you could have fooled me with that. Let’s break this down shall we? The Greek is perfect, too perfect if I’m being honest. You never have grammatically correct syntax etched on a magical amulet, let alone proper diction. Oh and you should have probably used Classical Greek instead of modern Greek, like were you even trying? Really bad move to use a 7th century formula with a non-altered 6th century spell. The formula didn’t even exist yet!” You tilt your head to the side and watch as the man in front of you begins to fidget. His smile is replaced with a shocked expression and you watch as it slowly becomes angry.

Marcus was speechless. He never saw this coming and was looking at you with a mixture of awe and surprise at the turn of events. He could only stare at you as he took in your energy, the same confidence and intelligence he saw earlier in the day when he walked into your lecture.

“As for the back, you never get 4-sided crosses with these, only three, and the head of Christ makes up the fourth which you don’t actually see because of his head. No plaque, too detailed and non-existent in protection spells. Christ is always nude on magical amulets by the way...yes it’s weird, but it’s a fucking amulet and he was just some extra deity. And finally, never, ever, write out ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare.’ You write the acronym IXOYE.” You flip open the folder that was in front of you and grab a sharpie from Marcus’ file, circling the first letter of each Greek word and holding it up as if he was one of your students and you were trying to lecture him.

“Don’t even get me started on your provenance. Mount Athos? I mean for fuck’s sake, Constanza would have been a better option. At least we actually found amulets out there. How much was he asking for this?” You turn to Marcus and completely miss the starstruck eyes he’s giving you. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he finally realizes that you asked him a question.

“Uhhh 3 mil.”

“Oh boy...yeah, this is worth jack shit. Wouldn’t even do it’s intended job if you actually wore it as a protection pendant.” You watch as the man’s expression changes from anger to outrage and you barely have any time to push away your chair and hide behind Marcus before the man tries to jump on top of the table towards you. It takes Ethan and Noah approximately five seconds to tackle him down before they take him out of the room. You watch as they reach for the amulet in his pocket and give it to Henry just as they push him out.

You’re still coming down from the adrenaline rush when Marcus turns around and asks you if you are alright. As soon as you see the gun in his hands, your hold on his jacket tightens and you gulp nervously when you meet his eyes. He apologizes quickly once he sees where you’re looking and quickly puts the gun back in its holster.

“You okay?” Marcus holds your wrist and rubs his thumb over your pulse point until you begin to relax. You fix your jacket and take a deep breath before you meet his eyes, almost gasping when you see how dark and oddly calming they are.

“Didn’t think a consultation would get this exciting but uhh, yeah I’m good. I think.” You try to laugh it off but looking at the object in Henry’s hand makes you realize that the last five minutes did really happen and you actually managed to piss off someone to the point where he tried to attack you.

“And we were worried it was stolen…” Lydia shakes her head when she takes the amulet and swirls it around in her hand.

“I might be wrong but I think you should try to find out who made it, especially because of the red jasper. This came real close to a fake. And you should also try to date it as well...there might be more of these out there.” You smile when Lydia agrees and collects the folders on the table, thanking you on her way out.

“My pleasure...apart from that last bit.” You laugh it off and watch as she exits the conference room with Henry.

“So…” You turn to Marcus and whisper a quick thank you when he hands you your bag.

“So, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to consult on this case. I- I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened. It’s not always like this, I promise. The exciting stuff usually happens when we find guys like him in abandoned warehouses.” Marcus continues to word vomit as he leads you back to his office.

“It’s okay really. My advisor always warned me about this.”

“About working with the FBI?”

“No no, about rambling so much that I piss off someone to the point where they try to kill me.” You’re taken aback by Marcus’ laugh and can’t help but giggle along with him as he leans back in his chair and continues to laugh.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t work with us again?” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach and you place your hand on your chest dramatically as you bat your eyes at him.

“Why Agent Pike, are you trying to recruit me to the FBI?” You ask sarcastically and watch as he shrugs his shoulders before shutting off his computer and standing up.

“Just a consult here and there, should we meet another Greco-Roman artifact? Or...a fake one I guess.” You swallow the lump in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you and hope that you’re not misreading any signs.

“Can I take you out to dinner? As a thank you and an apology for putting your life in danger?” Marcus is reluctant to ask but he takes the leap of faith and hopes that you wouldn’t reject him.

“I- actually...in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll do well in public after that whole thing.” You gesture towards the outside offices, and Marcus nods in disappointment and contemplates on whether he should ask you to dinner some other time. You never give him a chance to follow-up though.

“How about take-out at my place?” You stand up and smile when you see his eyes beam with excitement as he fixes his tie and motions towards the door.

“Lead the way doctor.” You flush under the title and walk ahead so he doesn’t notice the obvious effect he’s having on you. You glance at Marcus every now and then as you make your way out of the building and towards his car.

You chat about random things as he drives through the busy streets, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he says something scandalous about your favorite Impressionist artwork, not because of the comment but because of the way he winks at you as he slides his hand to your thighs and nudges them to let you know he was just joking. You hope that Marcus asks for your number by the end of the night, maybe even invite you to dinner again, because if you’re being honest, it’s been a while since you met a decent guy and he’s been checking all of your boxes all day long.

Kind. Intelligent. Hard-working. Funny. And of course, attractive. There was something about the way he smiles and you kept on replaying the moment he hid you behind him and continued to ask if you were alright.

“What do you mean you don’t like Bal du moulin de la Galette? It’s one of the most magnificent paintings out there. Best of Renoir’s if you ask me.” You unlock the door and switch on the lights, throwing your coat and bag on the wall before telling Marcus to make himself at him. He takes his jacket off and hangs it as well, turning around to continue his argument.

“Listen, I’m just not a crowd kind of guy. I’m more of a Paris Street, Rainy Day man okay so-”

“Why am I not surprised by that?” You laugh as you bring him a cup of water, hoping you were being subtle as you continued to check out the gun resting in his holster. Shaking your head, you take your phone out again and tell him that it’ll take you a few minutes to order pizza since neither of you can make up your mind.

Marcus looks around when you walk away to place the order, his eyes taking in the three bookshelves behind your couch. It’s almost as if the office space wasn’t enough so you had to make more room for all of your textbooks and novels. Maybe it was the other way around…

He takes a sip of water and glances to the side, instantly choking on the liquid when his eyes zero in on the three watercolor paintings hanging above your television. Marcus blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. He approaches the wall and looks between the three artworks, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices new details every time he focuses on a different corner of each painting, and his pants suddenly feel uncomfortable when he shifts closer.

“Pizza will be here in thirty-ish minutes and-” You almost drop the phone when Marcus jumps back and almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” When you walk closer and see the blush creeping down his neck, you can’t help but giggle and glance at your paintings, almost as if you were taunting him into commenting on your choice in decoration.

“These are...interesting.” Marcus avoids looking at them when you stand next to him, merely pointing to the side as he looks at you.

“Oh no...here we go. I know what that means. You don’t like them?” You tilt your head to the side and hold back from smiling when he takes a long sip of water before he sets down the glass.

“N-no no, that’s not...I didn’t mean- I just...it’s a bold choice.” His stutter makes you laugh even harder and you apologize when his blush deepens. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s always really funny when people come over because I get all kinds of reactions but you’re definitely the first guy that doesn’t call me a slut because I have pornographic paintings hanging in my living room.”

“Why not? The Dutch lords and the Italian merchants did it, why can’t you?” Marcus is almost offended by the remark and he forgets all about the awkwardness of the paintings when he sees you nod aggressively in agreement.

“Exactly!? Why is a guy allowed to hang an Odalisque in his home but I can’t hang some BDSM scenes?” You take the glass from the table and ask him if he wants more. Marcus shakes his head and quickly attempts to fix himself through his pants before you return.

“So you like them then?” You lounge on one chair and wait for Marcus to sit on the couch before you ask him.

“It’s a different aesthetic I think, and it somehow goes well with your bookshelves. Something about textbooks and nude paintings depicting sex just goes together...can’t explain how. And kudos to the artist too! The brushstrokes, the layering, the complementary colors...the scenes and positions are so natural. They’re perfect combinations. Did you pick them or did you commission them?”

“Oh I commissioned two of them. The third was just too good to not order. I’ll ask you this then, which ones do you think I commissioned?” Marcus glances to the canvases again and grows quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching from one painting to another before he meets your gaze.

“I think you commissioned the two on the left.”

“Why?” You try to hide how impressed you are by how he correctly figured you out, almost cringing when the question leaves your mouth before you could stop yourself. As much as you enjoy where this conversation was going, you really hope this wouldn’t lead to some misogynistic response on his part. Just as Marcus is about to respond, the doorbell rings and you tell him you’ll be right back.

Marcus thanks the heavens that the pizza arrives because he isn’t sure how he could respond to that question without accidentally giving his train of thoughts away. When you come back with plates and napkins, Marcus thanks you and proceeds to separate the pizza slices.

“It was the closest I could get to owning something that resembled the area I study.” You say through chewing and Marcus furrows his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate on your comment.

“Nudity I mean. I can’t afford sculptures so I settled with these.”

“They are beautiful. And the positions are-” Marcus stops abruptly when he realizes that his inner monologue just rolled off of his tongue.

“Go on, what were you going to say?”

“I- uh, I just think that the positions are intimate. And they become more intimate the longer you look at them.” He chews faster when you nod and take another slice of pizza.

“You have a favorite?” You ask and pretend you aren’t paying attention to every single word he says. You get the sense that he has a lot to say about the paintings but is choosing to hold back so you don’t get the wrong idea about why he is having dinner with you in your apartment after only knowing you for a few hours.

“Definitely the middle one.” His answer surprises you, especially because the one on the right has handcuffs and you genuinely thought he’d be into that because of his line of work.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh...I- this might sound weird but I think the scene is intense and- and close? Private? I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to say but the fact that she’s completely nude except for the panties around her thighs while he’s fully clothed and is focusing on her pleasure is- it’s intimate. And the hand on her back is a mixture of dominance and care, like he’s letting her know that she has his undivided attention but she has to behave for him.” You’re not sure when exactly you stopped eating and you clear your throat when you realize that Marcus was looking at you to gauge your reaction.

“Y-yeah that...ahuh.” Something about the way he says the word ‘behave’ twists your insides and you immediately stand up and head to the kitchen, whispering something about needing to wash down the food with something. Marcus eats quietly and hopes he hasn’t just made things even more awkward. When you come back and hand him a glass of red wine, Marcus relaxes and continues to eat.

“Have you ever drawn something like this?” You shake your head as you take a sip of the wine, laying against the back of the couch and crossing your legs.

“I wish. Human anatomy is so fascinating I think. I sometimes get this adrenaline rush when I look at the far right one and I tell myself that I’ll sketch all the risque and open positions I can think of but then I remember how long it would take me to finish one piece and I- I don’t have time for that sadly.”

“You can always start out with simpler ones? Maybe solo pieces, and move up from there.” Marcus mirrors you and sits back with the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but I just love this kind of genre so much. It needs to be passionate, and sexy and out there you know.” Marcus smiles at the energetic response, feeling much more relaxed now that he’s had a cup of wine and found chatting about your choice in decoration less awkward.

“I get you. It’s why that lifestyle is interesting to so many people. The whole dynamic, whether we’re talking about the figures in the scene or actual partners, is based on that trust. You- you have to create that sense of trust and comfort for the scene to be enjoyable...pleasurable. It’s not as easy as some think it to be. As a Dom, you have to be aware of your partner at all times and the effect you have on them. And the same goes for a Sub too. You need to ensure that your Dom knows how much trust you put in them and the level of dedication that’s going into the scene. Both parties are depending on each other and it’s- it’s amazing.” Marcus smiles when he notices the intensity swimming in your eyes and he gives you a few seconds to collect your bearings before he asks his next question.

“Would you draw something as intimate as that?” He breaks the silence and watches your train of thought come and go.

“Would you?” You throw the question right back at him, holding in a breath when you see him lean forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I would...but only if I have the right model.” Marcus doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but he can’t find it in himself to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You’re silent for a few moments, long enough for Marcus to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossed the line.

But then you’re smiling at him mischievously, chugging down the rest of the wine before standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“I have an easel and some 16x20 papers lying around...I hope you don’t mind working with chalk.” You throw back at him before you walk down the hallway and Marcus has to give himself a quick pep talk before he follows you. He slowly makes his way into your bedroom and stands at the doorstep until you allow him to come in.

“I think the lighting is best in this corner but you’ll be the one working so sit wherever you prefer.” You bring over a chair and set it in front of the easel before you grab the large box of supplies and pull out all the chalk sticks that you have. Marcus nods in silence as he pushes the easel closer to your bed and begins to choose which of the chalk sticks he wants. There is a variety of shapes and sizes, and he’s not sure if he should start out bold or if he should ease himself into this. It’s been a while since he’s drawn a model and he really doesn’t want to screw up, especially because it is you.

Marcus is so busy preparing his workstation that he doesn’t notice you stripping off your clothes. You keep your eyes on him and find the little scrunch he does with his eyebrows when he focuses on something endearing. Taking a deep breath, you take off your bra and panties before laying on the bed and getting in a comfortable position. Your movements are minimal, and you stretch out your legs in wait for him. You fight the part of you that’s yelling at you to cover yourself and keep your focus on him to gauge his reaction.

“Pose however you want and we can work on the postures once we-” The words die in his throat as soon as he looks up from the easel and sees your state of dress, or lack thereof. The thick chalk stick he’s holding between his fingers snaps in half and breaks the blanket of silence that fell on the room. He visibly gulps and doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes trail down your form slowly before they return to look into your dilated ones. Marcus knows for a fact that the image of your heaving chest and hardened nipples will forever be etched in his mind.

“I- uhh, are you...c-comfortable?” He hates how much he’s stuttering and you smile at him when you notice how he is focusing on the wall behind you and not you.

You look around for a few moments, grabbing a couple of pillows and placing them behind your back before you stretch out one leg and bend the other one to your chest. Marcus almost chokes on his breath when he sees how open you are being with him but he says nothing and turns his attention to the blank piece of paper underneath his hand.

“I’m ready.” Your voice brings him out of his stupor and he nods briefly as he tries to reason with himself. He cannot draw you unless he looks at you. But he is well aware of the hardening predicament he’s currently suffering from and he’s sure you probably noticed by now the effect you were having on him.

“I won’t tell you how to do your job Agent, but artists usually have to look at the models they’re drawing to...you know, draw them.” Marcus rolls his eyes at the teasing remark, briefly glancing at you with a raised eyebrow before he begins to softly outline the shape of your shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants and he tries his hardest to not squirm too much in his seat. But every time his eyes move towards your nude form laying not five feet away from him, he silently curses himself and pretends he’s fine and that he isn’t imagining pushing you down and shoving his tongue deep into your wet cunt.

“Are you usually this quiet when you’re sketching, Agent Pike?” Something about the way you’re addressing him makes him clench his jaw tightly and he unintentionally whispers a little louder than he intends in response.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your giggles let him know that you heard his remark and he is sure his face is growing a deeper shade of red but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores your obvious amusement. Marcus swallows the lump in his throat as he shifts his focus below your neck, parting his lips when he notices the tilt of your head from his peripheral vision as he ceases all movement and continues to stare at your chest.

“Oh sorry, is my arm in the way,” you lower your arms and move them behind you to support your weight, never breaking eye contact with him as you rock your bent leg back and forth and give him a full view of your most intimate parts.

Marcus is almost shaking in his seat at the sight of your breasts, unaware that he’s harshly rubbing the chalk stick with his thumb the more your leg sways to the side and reveals the outer folds of your pussy.

“P-perfect, thank you.” He whispers and returns to the sheet in front of him, biting into his lower lip as he rolls the chalk across and sketches the curves of your breasts. For a moment, he forgets what he is doing and narrows his eyes at the shapes in front of him before he smudges the black material across to shade in the skin. He looks back and forth for a couple of minutes until he’s happy with the shading of your body.

You marvel at how he’s managing to keep it together for this long when all you can think about is begging for him to fuck you into the mattress. You thought it would be easy for him to break but ever the gentleman, he takes the task seriously and tries his hardest to not dwell on your skin for longer than necessary.

A thought comes through your mind and you smile to yourself as you shift your bent leg to the side and move the other one until it falls from the side of the bed. You stare at him and hope this is what finally does the trick. And you don’t have to wait for too long because the next time Marcus looks at you, he takes a double-take and doesn’t bother to hide how he’s only focusing on the skin between your thighs.

“I thought it would be easier for you, you know. Easier access and everything.” You’re not sure what you’re going on about but you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of control in his body to not pounce on you. You hold your breath when Marcus stands up and meets your eyes, and you think this is it. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But then he’s freeing the paper from the easel and moving towards you, his expression never once giving his plan away. You gulp when he kneels at the foot of your bed and sets the paper between your thighs.

“You’re right, easier access,” Marcus says as he brings the chalk down on the paper and sketches your thighs, not bothering for propriety as his eyes zero in on your slit. You know you’re wet and you can feel slick easing down your folds but you don’t move a muscle, watching him as he expertly outlines your skin before he rubs the chalk with his thumb to shade the area again.

“It’s not quite how I want it…” His remark makes you shiver and you’re about to beg him to forgo the sketch when he leans forward and nudges your legs apart, perhaps a little carelessly, before he collects your arousal with his middle finger and swipes it across your folds. You’re shocked by the turn of events and barely hold back from moaning as he dips the clean finger into your pussy and rubs your walls for a few more seconds, his soft brown eyes turning dangerous as pushes his finger a little deeper and bites his lower lip when he feels you clenching around him. Marcus turns his attention back to you, his jaw tensing when he sees sheer bliss etched on your expression. Your little gasps are music to his ears and just as he feels your hips moving against him, he pulls his hand away.

You watch him like a hawk as he inspects his finger, gasping when he smudges at the chalk on the sketch to create darker shades around your center.

“Hmm, that’s more like it.” Marcus turns to you and smirks when he sees your parted lips turn into a frown.

“Do you not like it?” He feigns ignorance and raises an eyebrow when your frown deepens as you move back into your pillows. You lean back but continue to hold his gaze as you part your thighs and lazily stroke your cunt. Marcus slowly puts down the paper and chalk onto the floor and stands up just as you begin to pinch your nipples.

“Please…” Your whispered plea shoots straight to his cock and he laughs when it turns into a whine once he makes his way to the bathroom in your room. He says nothing as he quickly washes his hands and dries them before moving back and standing next to your bed.

You don’t stop touching yourself, hoping the needy sight of you is all the push he needs to take what he wants.

“What’s your safeword doctor?” Marcus keeps his hands in his pockets as he trails his eyes down your shivering body. He’s itching to touch you but he remains still and waits for confirmation that you do, in fact, want this as much as him. A part of him knows that the two of you should probably slow down and perhaps discuss whatever this is before you go any further. But it feels right being here with you. And he doesn’t want to give it up just yet.

“J-Jasper.” Your voice breaks when you see the hunger swimming in his eyes and you shift to the center of your bed as Marcus kicks off his shoes before taking off his socks.

“Hmm.” Marcus hums as he takes off the holster from his belt and quietly places the gun on your nightstand. When he turns back and sees you watching the gun and increasing your movements, he groans down at you before walking around the bed.

“Maybe another time baby...when you and I are a little more acquainted with each other.” You flush at the implications behind his words and nod at him. You watch as he begins to roll up his sleeves and your anticipation grows with each inch of skin he reveals.

“You look so pretty sweetheart, all needy and desperate for my touch. Do you want to cum baby?” Marcus asks teasingly and you nod frantically as you begin to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Nuh uh, use your words. I’ll let it go this time but from now on, you use your words if you want something from me.” His tone is less gentle and your inner walls spasm at the thought of hearing that same commanding voice telling you to get on your knees for him.

“S-sorry yes...yes please. I- I want to cum, please.” Marcus smiles in amusement as he steps closer to the bed until his knees touch the mattress.

“Good girl. Now, if you really want to cum, then you better come here and suck me off. Be a good girl for me and show me what that sweet fucking mouth of yours can do.” His chest puffs out proudly when he sees how quickly you’re moving to please him. You lay on your stomach and palm him through his pants, moaning along with him when you find him hard and ready for you.

“May I undress you?”

“Go on sweetheart, take what you want.” Marcus caresses your cheek as you excitedly unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn’t dare look away as you shove his pants down his thighs before leaning forward and nuzzling your nose into the bulge of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck baby, are you trying to kill me?” You giggle and shake your head in response, purposely rubbing his length with your nose just before you feel his fingers combing through your hair and tugging on it.

“Remember sweetheart...bad girls don’t get to cum. Stop your teasing before I shove my cock down your throat.” Marcus pulls on your hair harshly and groans when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Is that a promise Agent Pike?” You know you’re pushing his buttons and don’t hold back from gasping his name as he rolls you onto your back and aggressively pushes his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock. He’s not really a vain man but seeing you lick your lips and inch closer to him as you stare at his hard dick makes him just a little cocky.

“Go on baby, open your mouth. Part those pretty fucking lips for me.” Marcus pats your lips softly and shivers when you respond to him right before you shut your eyes and wait for him to give you his cock.

“Yes sir.”

His knees buckle for a second the moment you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it. Marcus is torn between throwing his head back to enjoy the softness of your mouth and keeping his eyes on you as you suck on his cock. He leans forward and bites his cheek when you relax your throat and take more of his cock down your throat.

“P-part your legs for me baby please. Let me- oh fuck, your mouth is made of magic sweetheart. Let me- let me see how wet that pretty cunt is.” Marcus is already breathing heavily and he furrows his eyebrows in focus, not wanting to end this night early. You swallow around him a few times and hum when you feel his hand cupping your breasts while the other rests around your throat.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you try to take him down as deep as possible just as you part your thighs and begin to play with your pussy. Marcus groans and swears above you as you work him expertly and he can’t hold back from pushing the palm of his hand a little harder on your throat. He can feel his cock passing across your pharynx and moans your name over and over again when he looks down and sees drool rolling down your cheeks.

“Ahh fuck oh god, s-sweetheart you’re a fucking dream. W-where have you been all my life?” Marcus continues to kneed at your tits, but when he gets a little irritated when he sees your fingers rubbing your clit. Without warning, he leans forward as far as he can and slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own and biting his cheek when he finds you soaking.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” You hum around him and twitch in surprise when you feel two of his thick fingers pushing past your wet folds and into your cunt. You’re already so close to coming from his teasing and you whimper when he nudges your thighs apart aggressively.

“Keep those legs open for me baby. Shit, the smell of you is fucking intoxicating. Fuck, that it’s, get on your hands and knees for me.” Marcus moves away and silences you with one look when you start to whine and reach for his cock.

“Unless you want to call it a night, you’ll get on your fucking hands and knees for me. Shit baby I’ve wanted to shove my tongue in that pussy as soon as you stripped for me.” He never breaks eye contact as he kicks away his pants and briefs before he makes quick work of his shirt. You quickly turn around and bite into your wrist as you get on all fours and try to look at him through your elbow. You reach down and ease two fingers into your cunt as you take in his broad shoulders and lean form. You swear his muscles flex the longer you stare at him and when you finally look at him, you’re a little embarrassed at being caught openly ogling him.

“Look at you, like a bitch in heat.” Regret rolls off of him as soon as he registers what he just said. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but then you’re arching your back and shifting closer to him, giving him a show as you curve your knuckles to try and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh aren’t you the prettiest sweetheart in the world.” You moan his name when he caresses your back and kneels behind you, laying soft kisses across your back as he palms and lightly smacks your ass. Marcus removes your hand away slowly but not before licking your fingers and humming around them as the taste of you fills his mouth.

“Marcus please...I- I need you inside me.”

“What do you need from me? You want my tongue and fingers? Or do you think this cunt is ready to take my cock?” Marcus nips at your skin and pushes a hand on your lower back when you try and move away from him.

“W-whatever you want...just- need to feel you inside me. I don’t care, please. Oh fuck...please.” You squeal when Marcus spreads your cheeks apart and spits on your slit right before licking across your cunt. You fist your hands into the sheets and bite down on your wrist when you feel his nose nudge at your entrance as his tongue flicks your engorged clit.

“Good answer sweetheart,” you hear him whisper just as he kisses across your folds and dips his tongue into your core. You’re already shaking with need and rock back against him, hoping he’d end your agony and give you his fingers as well. Marcus is losing his mind and he tries his hardest to focus on pleasuring you. But it’s so hard to hold back when you’re whimpering at his touch and shoving your pussy in his face to get more friction.

“Stop moving,” Marcus growls against you, and you cry out his name when his palms land on your ass cheeks three consecutive times before he rubs the reddening skin.

“Oh god, your tongue feels so good Marcus. D-don’t stop, please. I want to cum, l-let me cum. You’re so fucking- ahh s-shit.” You think you feel him smile against you as he pushes two fingers into your pussy but you can’t be sure because you suddenly feel full. Fuck, and it’s only his fingers.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He slowly parts you with his fingers and groans when he feels you squeezing his fingers. When you try to move against him again, Marcus slithers his hand across your back and grabs your neck, pushing your face into the bed as he leans over to whisper in your ears.

“You’re being such a bad girl tonight. I won’t give you another warning baby. Move again and I won’t fuck you.” You shiver when you hear his hoarse voice on your ears, grasping the pillows as hard as you can when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible and curls his knuckles.

“N-no please...I’m s-sorry- ahh gahd I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Marcus is pleased with the effect he’s clearly having on you and almost gives in. But he wants you to cum before he takes you. From the looks of it, you aren’t looking for anything gentle, and with how hard he is, has been for the entire day, he doesn’t have the self-control to be anything but rough.

“Good girl...sweet fucking girl.” You force yourself to remain immobile as you feel him reaching deeper and applying more pressure on your spongy walls. The hand on your neck moves to your back and massages your heated skin. It takes you a while to realize that he’s reenacting the paintings in your living room and the thought shakes you to your core. Before you can even warn him, you feel a familiar pressure growing in the depths of your stomach and your heart hammers in your chest as you lose yourself to the sudden swelling sensation. You gasp his name over and over again as you cum around his fingers, and Marcus fists his hand in your hair when he feels you shuddering beneath him.

He’s shocked at how quickly you unravel at his ministrations and he doesn’t look away as he brushes his thumb against your clit and watches your body fight to not move away from him.

“M-Marcus wait- I...too much.” You can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought, and you bite into the sheets when you feel his scruff scratch your skin deliciously as he licks off your juices.

“Use your safeword sweetheart and I’ll stop. But you came without asking so now I have to punish you...fuck, you taste as good as you smell baby, shit, maybe even better.” Marcus slows down but continues to move his digits across your tightening walls and when you say nothing, he sits up and twists his hand, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he begins to fuck you with his fingers.

“Oh oh f-fuck I- Marcus M-Marcus oh god...yes please fuck ahh I- I’m…” You try to warn him but he doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your abused cunt until he feels you tightening around him again.

“Beg!”

“Can I- oh god, can I cum? Please fuck, I- I can’t s-stah ahh fuck.” You reach around and dig your nails into the hand fisting in your hair. You try to warn him again of what’s about to happen but he doesn’t give you a chance, picking up the pace just as he curves his digits and rubs at your sensitive spot.

“Drench me baby.” It’s all you need to fall over the edge again and your vision whites out as you convulse around him. Marcus smiles proudly when you listen to his command but his expression changes to one of awe when he feels you gush around his hand and wet his arm and thighs. He doesn’t stop once, completely captivated by the sight of your juices flowing around him so easily. When you try to move up the bed, Marcus lets go of your neck and pushes down on your lower back to keep you still. The damp spot beneath you is growing and something primal takes over Marcus. He wants nothing more than to soak the entire bed.

But he snaps out of his haze when you cry out his name and beg him to slow down. He looks at you as he gradually comes to a halt but keeps his fingers in your pussy. Marcus massages your muscles as he eases his wet fingers out of you and carefully maneuvers you until you’re laying on your back. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness and almost jump away when you feel his tongue passing across the skin of your thighs. When you finally have enough mind to look at him, you’re taken aback by the sheer bliss written on his face as he closes his eyes and cleans you up. Your eyes widen in horror and embarrassment when you look at his glistening skin and you call for him shyly to grab his attention.

“I-I’m so sorry...I- I’ve never-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and the fact that I’m the first to make you squirt...best feedback I’ve ever gotten.” Marcus cuts you off as he licks at his forearm and fingers before he sits up behind you. You find his gaze much more intense than before and you hide behind your arm to avoid it.

“Marcus, stop.” He laughs at your sudden shyness and leans over to pull your arms away from your face.

“Please baby, don’t hide from me. Please.” You feel exposed underneath him and it’s a stupid thought considering what the two of you have been doing so far. But something about the way he’s staring at you with those deep, brown, soulful eyes makes you want to hide under the sheets. But instead, you take his hand and pull him close until he’s flush against you.

“K-kiss me.” You watch as his expression intensifies just as he leans forward and molds his lips with yours. You expected him to be rough but the way he parts his lips and allows you access to his mouth leaves you breathless. His scruff and mustache heighten the sensation and you instantly shove your tongue in his mouth when he melts against you. You hum when you finally taste yourself on his tongue and Marcus growls as the kiss grows more desperate. Just as you run out of breath, Marcus pulls away and holds back from smiling when you chase after him.

“Sweetheart, c-can I have you?” You’re amazed by how he’s still asking you if you want to do this even after the events of the past hour or so.

“Yes, please.” You respond as you push him off to resume your previous position again. Marcus feels his cock harden at the sight of you on your knees for him. But the moment shatters into a million pieces when he looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms.

“Fuck.” He hisses and begins to move away when he feels your hands reach for his thighs to stop him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I didn’t think this would...I don’t have any condoms baby.” You stare at him for a few seconds before you break the silence and hope he doesn’t think any less of you. “I was tested after the last time and I’m clear. A-are you?” Marcus pins you with his eyes as he nods along. “I’m clean too...and, it’s been a while.” He hates to admit that last bit but he wants you to know that this, whatever it is, is serious.

“Same.” Your answer surprises him and he’s about to ask how that’s possible but forgets the question when you shift closer to him and dig your nails into his thighs to grab his attention.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request sounds so pure rolling off of your tongue and Marcus pushes your knees wide open and settles between them. You continue to stare at him with hunger in your eyes as he strokes his cock a few times before he slides it across your wet slit. You’re already so sensitive from earlier but you can’t care less because you’ve only wanted to feel him inside you for the better half of the day. Marcus bites his lower lip and grasps your hips with one hand as he positions himself against your entrance and slowly pushes past your wet folds. He feels your walls already clenching around him and he hesitates for a moment as he moves his hands across your back to try and get you to loosen up.

“F-fuck...relax sweetheart. Relax for me please. I- I don’t- oh god, h-how are you this tight?” Your walls flutter around him when his hoarse, almost pained voice sounds through the room. “You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock in that pretty little cunt. Fuck, that’s it. Let me in sweetheart...could make you feel so good. Shit, that’s it.” Marcus cooes above you as he feels you slowly sucking him in. You sigh heavily when he finally sheathes himself completely inside you and it’s not until a few moments later that you realize he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Marcus, m-move. Fuck, just- move.” Your impatient groans make him twitch inside you and the two of you hiss when his hips jut forward at your gasped requests. His hands hold onto you a little harshly, squeezing the skin of your hips and making you giddy at the thought of seeing those bruises the following day.

“Just wait...please baby I- I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so fucking good around me and- and I...oh fuck, f-fuck...squeezing the shit out of me. Please I-”

“Fuck. Me.” You turn your head around enough to look at him and find the sight of his sweaty forehead and furrowed eyebrows intoxicating. He can sense your eyes on him and reluctantly looks down at you when you pronounce those two words, watching as you pierce him with a harsh gaze as you roll your hips against him.

“I- are you…”

“Fucking please...take what you want.” The desperate tone of your voice breaks him and he pulls away until the tip of his cock is nudged in between your folds before he snaps his hips forward aggressively.

You shut your eyes and cry into your pillows as Marcus lets go and pounds into you. He’s no longer trying to hold back and you feel proud of the effect you have on him. Thinking back to the past hour, you realize that Marcus was going out of his way to control himself and not hurt you. But with every brush of his cock against your inner walls, with every groaned swear word and whispered affirmation, you can’t help but beg for him to fuck you harder. To take you like a crazed man. Because now that you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of, you don’t want him to ease up on you.

“Shit baby, you’re perfect. Fucking perfect. Your cunt is begging for my cock sweetheart. Can you feel how deep I am? How deep this tight pussy is sucking me in?” Marcus nudges your knees a little farther apart as he plunges into you over and over again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him and as you try to reach back to hold onto his hands, Marcus lets go of your hips and grabs your wrists, using them as leverage to fuck you deeper.

You scream his name as his thrusts become relentless, the resonating sound of skin against skin reminding you of how sore you were going to feel for the rest of the week. You can’t really pay attention to what he’s saying anymore, choosing to focus on the way his dick fills you up completely and hits your special spot with precision. The thought of knowing that you’re at this man’s mercy and that he’s using you like he owns you makes you shudder and Marcus doesn’t realize you’re coming around him until he feels a pressure push out of you. He looks down and watches your cunt gushes on his cock and thighs again, the sight somehow even prettier the second time than the first.

He waits until you’re no longer convulsing in his arms before he thrusts his cock back into your pussy. Marcus leans down and wraps his arms around your front to bring you flush against his chest. Marcus brushes your hair aside and nuzzles into your neck as he begins to roll his hips against your ass, trying to drive his cock into you even further without hurting you. You reach around and pull on his hair when he bites on the juncture of your neck.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” The confession feels more intimate than anything he’s said to you thus far and you throw your head back and smile when his hands roam your front and settle on your navel.

“Marcus...please.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything. Tell me...oh god, I- I’m so close.” Marcus kisses across your shoulder as one hand cups your breasts while the other descends to your clit. He feels you convulse around him but he doesn’t move his hand away, wanting to feel you cum one last time around his cock.

“I- I need you to cum for me...cum inside me. Fill me up baby...wanna feel you so deep inside me. Make a mess of my cunt. Please.”

“C-can you give me another?” He’s breathless, his pace faltering when he feels your walls squeeze around him tightly with every pass of his cock against your heated core.

‘I- I don’t think I can...too much baby.”

“Please, for me. Cum for me o-one last time...oh god, I’m close sweetheart. B-but I wanna cum with you. Please oh fuck- oh god, I- I’m fucking coming.” He growls into the crook of your neck as he rubs at your clit harshly, crying your name like a prayer as he feels you milk him dry. His thrusts are desperate and you pull on his hair harder than you intend when you feel his cum fill you up. Marcus can barely breathe as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy and feels you pulse around him. He continues to buck against you, the caveman mindset telling him to breed you and fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.

He stays motionless for a few minutes before he finally registers that you probably need to rest. As carefully as possible, Marcus pulls out and cradles your body against him as he lays you on your back. He looks down at you and smiles when he sees the mess he’s made between your thighs. He tries to get off the bed to bring you a cup of water and grab a wet towel when you reach out and pull him by his wrist.

“I need to clean you up sweetheart.” He tries to reason with you but you shake your head and pull harder on his hand so he could sit next to you.

“No just- come here. I need you. Please.” Marcus doesn’t have to be told twice. He lays down next to you and kisses your forehead when you cuddle into his arms. He draws circles on your shoulder and back when he feels your fingers play with his chest hair.

“Are you alright baby?” Marcus asks and pulls his head back when you hum a soft ‘yes.’ He searches your expression for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds none, he rests his head back again and lets you explore his skin.

“Hmm...did you know that hair was used in some ancient spells to ensure that the desired outcome occurred?” You break the silence after a while and Marcus furrows his eyebrows at you when you look up from his chest and meet his face.

“Uhh should I be worried Y/N?” He asks almost immediately and laughs when you panic and try to retract what you just said.

“Oh god sorry that- I didn’t mean...Jesus, I still need to work on my bedside manner.”

“I was kidding sweetheart. I actually enjoy listening to people talking about their interests, it’s a little calming. And no, I didn’t know that. What kind of spells are we talking about here?” You’re surprised by his response but say nothing and continue to follow the soft trail of hairs down his chest.

“Well, there are lots of curses that didn’t need hair but it was better if they were added...for efficacy and such. But the most common spells that required little curls like these were love spells, which technically are also curses but it sounds better when you say that it’s just a spell.”

“Are you trying to tell me something doctor?” Marcus can’t help but tease you again and he snorts when you sit up on your elbow and try to justify what you just said. He pulls you back into his arms and brushes your hair aside to take a better look at you.

“Oh no no, I just- I tend to think about this stuff at random times. Sorry. I swear I’m too much of a wimp to actually try anything. You never know if the desired outcome has any side effects...”

“No need to apologize baby. Besides, I don’t think you’ll ever need love magic with me.” The admission is out before he can stop himself and he cringes at himself, hoping that you don’t misunderstand him.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Agent Pike?” The hint of amusement in your tone lets him know that you didn’t mind teasing him back and he blinks a few times at the ceiling before he turns to gaze into your eyes.

“Well, you’re doing fine on your own being this amazing human being. You’re mesmerizing when you’re lecturing, you’re confident in your skills and knowledge, your intelligence is- I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface with the case today. And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen...we could work a bit on your art choices but-”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder and try to slither away from him but he’s too quick and wraps his arms around you before you can get off the bed.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding...your art choices are the cherry on top.” Marcus nudges your nose with his and leans down to kiss you. He smiles when you moan beneath him. But the kiss is cut short when you push him away suddenly and narrow your eyes at him.

“You never told me how you knew which ones I commissioned.”

“Ugh no please, you’re going to think I’m a pervert.” Marcus falls back on the bed and tries to hide behind his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You slowly trail your hand down his stomach and wrap it around his cock. It’s all Marcus needs to lower his arm and look down to where you’re touching him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back when you lean forward and nip at his jaw.

“B-baby fuck...oh god, please. I- I need a few more minutes and-”

“Tell me, please.” You cut him off with a bite to the shoulder, giggling when he thrusts up into your loose hold to get more friction.

“I- I was picturing the two of us...fuck, re-reenacting those scenes and those two jumped out more...more than the third.” He can barely speak through the haze you’ve put him in, and moans your name when you reach down and fondle his balls just as you whisper in his ears.

“How scandalous of you Agent Pike!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Marcus whines for you, the arm around your back pulling you flush to him and giving him perfect access to your breasts. He wraps his lips around one nipple and softly sucks on it as you continue to stroke his cock.

“Hmm, I like the sound of you begging...baby. Tell me, do you by any chance have your handcuffs on you?” The question catches him off guard, and he pulls away to look at you, finding a different kind of fire dancing behind your eyes.

“Fuck…I- uhh, they’re in the car. W-wait where are you going?” Marcus regrets his answer as soon as you let go of him and jump off of the bed. He watches as you run to the bathroom without answering him, only to return a few seconds later with bright red handcuffs clanking between your fingers.

“To get my own set Agent. Like you said, you and I need to get acquainted.” You unlock them as you walk back to the bed and straddle his thighs. Marcus looks at you with adoration and softly nods at you when you silently ask him if you could cuff him to the headboard of your bed.

“I’m yours sweetheart, take what you want.”

Taglist (some aren't working):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @fan-of-encouragement @evelynseventyr

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal #yall don't understand how much I love this fucking character #he's literally the softest #and he deserves the world #ugh #anyway

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

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Piss Off Your Parents - Part 5

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: arguing with parents, stereotyping?, reader's parents just being generally horrible people, angst

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 4

Next → Part 6

"This is a horrible idea," you whispered to yourself as you got ready in your bedroom mirror, unable to concentrate for more than five minutes without a small panic attack taking over.

Your eyes flicked over to your clock every few seconds. Keishin was due to arrive at your family house for dinner in about thirty minutes and with every minute that passed, you asked yourself over and over again why you ever agreed to this.

Originally, when your parents had insisted on meeting your 'boyfriend' over a family dinner, your heart had dropped into the pit of your stomach; it was the worst feeling you had ever experienced . . . until you told Keishin about it jokingly and he actually agreed. Never before had you felt so sick to your stomach. Dinner was the last thing you wanted, and to make it worse, it was going to be dinner with your parents and fake boyfriend.

Shit.

More than once you had contemplated pretending to be sick or throwing yourself down the stairs, but you just couldn't go through with it. Every time you got close to backing out, a small part of your brain reminded you that this dinner might be the thing that changed your parents mind, and even though the odds of that actually happening were close to none, you couldn't give up without even trying.

So, with knots in your stomach and your palms sweating like never before, you continued getting ready for the evening and prayed that everything went as smoothly as possible.

If only you had known then that it would take much more than a prayer to save this evening.

When you heard the doorbell ring approximately thirty minutes later, your whole body froze and the thought of jumping out your second story window was starting to sound really appealing. But then, you remembered that it would be way worse if your mom or dad answered the door before you could so you rushed out of your room and down the stairs.

"I've got the door!" you shouted throughout the house, almost as if you were marking the front door as your territory and trying to scare anyone else away from it.

Standing in front of the door, you drew in a few deep, calming breaths before plastering a forced smile across your face and pulling the door open. Let the night of hell begin.

As soon as your eyes settled on Keishin, your smile faltered and you gasped. His dyed blonde hair was slicked back like usual, but instead of a headband, it was clear he had used gel. He had every hole in his ear stuffed with a black earring, and to top things off, he had showed up in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

"What?" Keishin took a step back and examined his outfit. "You said to go all out. I did."

"I know, I know . . . I just . . ." You took a moment to compose yourself. "I didn't even know you owned a leather jacket."

"Yeah, well, you don't know everything about me," Keishin smirked devilishly, proud that he still had a few secrets to himself. "Well, are you going to let me in? I kind of want to get this dinner over with."

Opening the door wider, you stepped to the side and let Keishin inside your house. "You and me both," you agreed. "You sure you want to do this? We could both make a run for it right now if we act fast."

Shrugging the jacket off of his shoulders, Keishin shook his head. "Come on, at least give your parents a chance to change their minds."

Just then, your father's heavy footsteps could be heard exiting the kitchen and approaching the front door where you and Keishin stood together. Swallowing hard, you wiped the sweat from your palms on your clothes and sent one last pleading thought up to the heavens above, hoping that if there was a great being up there, they could be on your side tonight.

This was it. No turning back now.

"If your boyfriend has arrived, Y/N, please don't keep your mother and I waiting. Introduce us." Your father rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks when he set eyes on Keishin. Sure, you had told your parents all about your 'boyfriend', which was why they had insisted on this dinner in the first place, but Keishin was a man that words couldn't quite capture. "Oh. Hello." Your father reluctantly held out his hand to greet Keishin.

"Hello, sir." Keishin shook your father's hand without hesitation. "I'm Ukai Keishin. Keishin is fine though."

Seconds later, your mother joined the three of you. She had a similar reaction as your father had and was not subtle about it in the least. "So this is the man you've been seeing?" Your mother gave you an almost pleading look, like she was silently begging you to come clean and admit that you were joking.

Right off of the bat, things were not going well.

"Well, let me take your jacket and hang it up in the closet." Your mother stepped toward Keishin with the fakest smile you had ever seen on her face.

"Oh, there's no need." Keishin hung his jacket on the banister of the stairs. "I'll just end up taking it out in a little while anyway when I go out for a smoke. It's easier this way, but thank you."

You watched your mother's eye twitch and the smile she had forced threaten to crack. "You smoke?" You could tell that both of your parents were on the brink of snapping right then and there, but they had promised to actually get to know Keishin, and despite all the horrible things your parents did, breaking promises was not one of them.

"I do." Keishin grinned. "I know, I know, it's not good for me. Y/N tells me to quit all the time so I'm trying."

You let out a nervous chuckle as both your parents turned to face you. "Shall we head into the living room?" You started ushering everyone into the other room, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Yes, let's have a seat." Your father nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Keishin, watching him like a hawk. "Can I get you anything to drink, Keishin?"

"Just a water is fine, thanks." Keishin had obviously decided not to push his luck too hard because you had been fully expecting him to ask for a beer.

With that, both your mother and father disappeared into the kitchen; your mother to finish dinner and your father to collect the drinks.

Taking the brief moment of reprieve to breathe, you looked up at Keishin. "I've never seen my parents struggle between their flawless hospitality and kicking someone out of their house so much in my life," you chuckled lightly.

"I'm a bit of a shock." Keishin placed his hand on your lower back and led you toward the couch. "I brought out all the stops in the beginning so they could have the whole night to get used to me."

"How kind of you." You sat down, slightly caught off guard when Keishin sat down right next to you and slung his arm over your shoulders. You were about to ask him what he was doing, but then you remembered that the two of you were supposed to be an actual couple and this is what couples did.

As soon as you felt his touch on you, however, your mind flashed back to that night in the park a few weeks ago. Since then, neither one of you had spoken about what had happened on that bench; a wordless agreement between the two of you that you would just move on and pretend it didn't happen.

But as much as you pretended to forget, you never actually could. The feeling of Keishin's hands on your sides and his warm breath on your lips kept you up at night. As much as you tried not to think of him like that, you just couldn't help yourself.

"You seem really nervous," Keishin leaned closer to you a whispered. "You okay?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just trying not to freak out is all."

"Hey." Keishin tilted your head toward him so he could look you in your eyes. "You're their daughter. No matter what happens, they will always love you. Remember that."

You flashed a smile. Somehow, Keishin knew exactly what to say to help you relax. "Yeah . . . thanks."

Just then, your father returned with two glasses of water in hand. Handing one each to you and Keishin, you didn't miss the way his gaze settled on the sight of Keishin's arm around you.

"Thank you." Keishin grabbed his glass right away and took a sip. You, on the other hand, let your glass sit on the coaster on the table. Despite how dry your mouth was, you didn't trust your shaky hands to pick up the glass.

"Dinner should be ready soon," your father said as he sat down in his armchair across from you and Keishin. "So, Keishin, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"Well, currently, I spend most of my time coaching the boys' volleyball team at Karasuno high school," Keishin answered, his eyes lighting up a little when he spoke about the team he coached; you could tell he really enjoyed it. "And my family owns Sakanoshita Market and I work there sometimes."

"Sakanoshita Market," your father repeated. "That sounds familiar."

You rolled your eyes, not surprised in the slightest that your father had forgotten the name of the place you had been working at for the past few months. "That's where I work, Dad," you told him. "That's how Keishin and I met."

"I see." Your father eyed Keishin and you were surprised that Keishin didn't shrink under the cold, hard gaze like you usually did. "So do you go after all the young women who work at your family store or just my daughter?"

"Dad!" you gasped, unsure whether to tell him off or apologize to Keishin on behalf of your father.

"It's okay," Keishin told you calmly before answering your father's question. "Actually, the store hasn't seen a new employee in years. For the longest time, it was just my mother and me. We are both very grateful for all the hard work Y/N puts in to help us with the store. She is a wonderful employee."

You couldn't help the blush that tinted your cheeks at the compliment. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's the truth," Keishin said before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "And good thing you took the job too, or else we would have never met."

Keishin then shot a sparkling grin your father's way, completely blinding him and distracting him from the shocked expression on your face. You knew you told Keishin to act like the two of you were really a couple, but you never expected him to play the part so thoroughly.

Your father opened his mouth to no doubt interrogate Keishin some more, but before he could, your mother began setting the table and announced that dinner was ready.

Moving over to the table, you took a seat across from Keishin while your parents sat at the ends of the table. As your mother brought the dishes of food over, you took the chance to drink some water and parch your dry throat.

The thought of having to keep this awkward conversation up gave you a headache, but thankfully, Keishin seemed to be handling everything quite well. Just as you had expected, he took everything with a grain of salt and refused to let your parents get under his skin.

You wished you were able to do that.

After the four of you bowed your heads and said thank you for the food, you dug in. At first, everyone was too busy eating to say anything. Somehow, the silence was worse than when your dad had been firing off questions rapid fire.

"This is delicious," Keishin was the first to speak. "Thank you again for inviting me for dinner."

"Yes, o-of course," your mother wavered a little but somehow managed to voice her fake pleasure nonetheless. "Y/N has never dated anyone before so we were curious as to what kind of . . . person . . . had caught her eye."

Keishin nodded, letting the not-so-subtle rude comment roll right off his back. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, here you are indeed," your father muttered under his breath. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Keishin had heard it, but you certainly had. "So, you said you coach high school volleyball. Is this a long-term thing or?"

Keishin thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure, honestly. I do enjoy it but I've never given much thought as to if I want to do it long-term. I started coaching because of special circumstances and just haven't stopped yet."

"Well, plenty of people coach and teach," your mother said. "You seem to enjoy working with kids, so have you ever considered becoming a teacher?"

"That doesn't sound like the worst job, but that would require me to have a teaching degree, which I don't have," Keishin responded.

"What degree did you get in university?"

Keishin chuckled. "I didn't go to university."

Oh God. Your jaw dropped and you wished that a black hole could just open up underneath you and suck you in. Out of all the things your parents hated most, people who didn't go to university were at the top of the list. They always told you that 'people who didn't go to university had no interest in investing in their future.'

Hence why they always pushed so hard for you to go the university they wanted so you could study what they thought would be best for you.

You watched your mother's face go red as she reached for her glass of wine a take a particularly large sip. "Community college, then?" she squeaked out.

"Nope, afraid not," Keishin answered, completely unashamed and even proud. "I started working for the family store right after high school."

The looks on your parents' faces that they didn't even try to hide filled you with a deep sense of shame. You didn't know how they could be so blatantly rude to someone they barely knew . . . well, actually, you did know, and that was the worst part. As much as you wished you could deny it, you had thought the same things about Keishin when you had first met him.

Hanging your head in shame, you let the suffocating silence of the dining room take over.

Feeling something brush against your leg, you looked up to see Keishin smiling at you from across the table. 'It's okay' he mouthed to you. You thought back to the time Keishin had told you he was a big boy who could take a little verbal ribbing and exhaled through your nose sharply, your mood lifting ever-so-slightly.

Keishin brushed his foot against your leg a few more times to remind you that you weren't alone at this dinner before he attempted to restart the conversation. "So what do you two do for a living?" he asked, looking to your parents.

"We are both lawyers," your father said.

You nodded and sighed. "Hence why they want me to go to law school."

"Oh, honestly, Y/N, you say that like paying for you to go to law school is abuse." Your mother shook her head disapprovingly. "Do you know how many children would kill for the opportunities you have been given and yet you want to throw them away just like that? You should be grateful."

You were about to retort but stopped yourself before you did, knowing that it would only serve to start the same argument that you had lost over and over again. No matter what you said on the matter, your parents refused to try and see things from your perspective.

It never once occurred to them that you might actually not want to be a lawyer.

"Tell me, Keishin, if you had a child who you could pay for to go to law school and they told you they wanted to pursue their dream of playing soccer, what would you do?" Your father turned to Keishin, suddenly interested in what he had to say on the issue.

"Dad, let's not talk about that now," you spoke softly, hoping to get him to change the subject.

"No, no, let's hear what Keishin has to say." Your father insisted.

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I think I would just want my child to be happy," he said, his eyes leaving your father to look at you. "I made the mistake of not following my dreams after high school and I regret it every day, so I would tell my child to follow their dreams and try my hardest to be there to support them."

You smiled wide, surprised by how emotional Keishin's words made you feel. For a moment, it was just you and him, and he was saying everything you had ever wanted to hear. All you ever wanted for was someone to be in your corner . . . someone to support you whether your choice was a mistake or not.

"Congratulations, Y/N, you've found a dreamer just like yourself," your father scoffed, breaking you out of your happy trance. "Too bad dreams don't pay the bills."

"Well, when your future is working at a family-run corner store, dreams are all you have," your mother cackled, not even trying to be quiet about it.

Your father laughed as well. "Too true, honey."

"Mom!" you shouted at her, your anger taking over before you even had the chance to think about your actions.

"It's okay," Keishin told you again, reaching across the table for your hand.

You shook your head and tugged your hand out of his reach. "No, it's not okay!" You rose to your feet, finally having had enough. "This dinner was a terrible idea. I cannot believe you!"

"If you've finally come to your senses, darling, we can send Keishin on his way and-" your mother reached for you as well but you shrugged her off.

"I'm not talking about Keishin! I'm talking about the two of you!" You slammed your hands down onto the table, shaking the dishes of food. "The whole night you have been making offhanded remarks and rude comments about Keishin while he has been nothing but the perfect guest. I'm sorry, Keishin, but I can't sit here and let you take their abuse anymore. I've dealt with it my whole life and I won't let them do the same thing to you. You don't deserve that."

"Y/N, you're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" your father asked, sipping his wine as if nothing was happening, which only made you angrier.

"No, father, I don't think so," you snapped back. "I think that you and Mom are being horrible and I cannot believe that this is how you're acting when meeting someone for the first time. What makes you think that you have the right to treat someone so poorly just because they don't live the same life or have the same ideals as you? You think you know what is best for me but you don't even know me, so how could you?! I would rather work at the corner store for the rest of my life if it meant being genuinely happy over being a snobby, emotionless lawyer any day."

While you vented in front of your parents, Keishin just stared at you wide-eyed, completely floored by how quickly your demeanor had changed from shy and uncomfortable to enraged and animated in mere seconds. The last time he had seen you like this was when you were going off on him and he was grateful your rage wasn't directed at him this time.

Aside from relieved, Keishin felt proud; proud of you for standing your ground.

An embarrassed look flashed across your mother's face. "Y/N, please-"

"No, just don't," you lowered your voice and took a few deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm going to put up with your plans for me just so I can have a roof over my head. Mom, Dad, I'm not going to law school. I'm not letting you dictate my life anymore. I'm done."

Stepping away from the table, completely emotionally drained, you looked over your shoulder at Keishin. "Come on, let's go." You waved for him to follow.

Without a word, Keishin stood from the table and followed you to the front door where the two of you grabbed your jackets and got ready to leave.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" You heard your father call after you as you left the house, but his threat didn't phase you in the least. If anything, never having to return to that house sounded like bliss right then.

Wrapping your jacket tight around your body to fight the cool evening wind, you sighed. "I'm sorry about that," you told Keishin as he walked silently beside you. "I should never have dragged you into my mess. You don't deserve to be treated the way my parents treated you."

"You don't need to apologize." He wrapped his arm around you once more and held you close, both to comfort you and to keep you warm. "I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?"

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes and frantically wiped them away. "I . . . I don't know," you answered truthfully. "I suppose I should just worry about one thing at a time, and since I've apparently got nowhere to spend the night now . . ."

"You'll spend the night at my place," Keishin stated plainly, not even bothering to ask if you wanted to or not. It was more like an order, but right then, you had nothing against him making decisions for you. As long as the choices weren't made by your parents, you didn't care who they came from.

"Okay," you exhaled. "Thank you."

As the two of you walked through the quiet night in the direction of the store, Keishin pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Without thinking, you wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned into him, the warmth he radiated bringing you some semblance of peace.

"I'm sorry tonight went so shit," Keishin spoke as he exhaled, smoke spilling from his lips.

"It's not your fault," you told him. "In fact . . . I don't think tonight could have gone any better. In the end, this is how it was always going to turn out. It's better I realize that sooner rather than later."

Keishin stopped and looked down at you. "That's not-"

"It's okay," you said those two magic words this time. "You remember when you told me that no matter what happened they would always love me because I'm their daughter?"

Keishin nodded.

"I wish you could have been right."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#lostinthewiind #piss off your parents #part 5 #ukai keishin x reader #coach ukai #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #series #ukai #keishin #ukai x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #dom!jungkook #dom jungkook #Bad Habits!AU

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imagine-it-to-be-true · 3 years

Note

Pretty pretty please can I have Aro being super protective and first time with reader!

Honestly he’s so calm and collected and a bit of a maniac, but I think with a S/O he gets soft and tells the funniest stories about his some off 6000 years randomly lying there after end he glances over “did I ever tell you about the time Caius and I stared the French Revolution— well I mean the people were all horribly starving— meaning the food options were just bleh. So we brought out the guillotine.”

Reader: O.O you did that for food.

Aro: do you know how awful malnourished blood is?

You got it :) thanks for the request! Aro is not on my list of characters, simply because I've always been more of a Caius girl. I'm sorry if this is a bit off than how you imagined, but I did my best to capture his character! Hope you love it.

Headcanon - Your First Time with Aro Volturi

Aro was terrifying, because one could never know what is running through his head.

One minute he’s smiling at someone and holding their hand to get a glimpse into their thoughts, the next he’s ripping the person’s head off

So naturally, you were a tad nervous, lying underneath him, exposed and vulnerable. You knew Aro for some time, and he’s always been kind to you, but this was a new level for you both.

Aro would look into your eyes, and smile softly, his black hair falling over his shoulders. He sits back, pulling you with him into a sitting position.

“May I, my sweet?” He smiles and says gently, reaching for your hand. You did not fight it. It was easier for him to see your thoughts then for you to have to explain yourself. You nod and he takes a breath as he explores your mind.

“You fear me?” He looks at you surprised.

“No Aro, it’s not that. I’m just nervous - I’ve… I’ve never done this before.”

The smile slowly returns to his face as you continue.

“You ripping the head off of Isidorus earlier today doesn’t really help,” you chuckle, “But I’m not afraid of you.”

He lets out a light chuckle, “Good. You have nothing to fear from me. I will rip off all the heads in the world in order to keep you safe, my love.”

“Me? What did Isidorus have to do with me? I did not know the man.”

“Perhaps not, my dear. But I did not like the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at you in the court room.” Aro let out his crazy, high pitched laugh and you widen your eyes, and gasp with a small smile on your face.

“You’re terrible,” you giggle, shaking your head.

“And you, my dear, are perfect, come here.”

All of the sudden, the nervousness you felt melted away as you lay under the man who would do all manner of crazy things to protect you. You never felt more protected than you did in his arms.

“I love you, my queen.” He would whisper against your skin as he slowly ran his lips down your stomach… lower and lower and lower, until your eyes shoot open, you arch your back and gasp, hands fisted into the sheets. You hear his amused chuckle, “There, there my sweet, not so fast. I’m going to make this last, so breathe, and relax.”

You want to take care of him, to make him happy. But he’s so focused on your needs, making sure you are fully taken care of.

“Aro, let me take care of you!”

“We have eternity to take care of each other, my darling. Tonight is all about you.” He answers. You stop trying to fight it, and ease into the sweet sensations you feel for the first time.

“Now, darling,” he hovers above you after giving you your first, mind-blowing orgasm. “Now comes the hard part. The first time always hurts a little. I will be gentle, and it will stop hurting before you know it, okay love?

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a reassuring smile. In one swift move, he’s deep inside you, and this pain you were nervous about only lasted for two seconds.

“Are you alright darling?” He whispers and you nod, urging him to go on. He smiles and continues moving, while you lose yourself in the bliss of his love.

____

Afterwards, you lay right on top of him, wrapped up in his sheet as he runs his hands up and down your bare spine.

“So beautiful,” he would whisper.

“I’m sure you’ve seen prettier in your long, long life,” you smirk but he immediately shakes his head

“No, treasure. You put everything and everyone else to shame.”

“Tell me something,”

“What, darling?”

“Aro, you’ve had such a fascinating life. Tell me a story,”

He would lay his head back and think for a minute.

“Would you like to hear about the time Caius and I started the French Revolution?”

You roll your eyes, not believing him. “Come on, be serious…”

“I am dead serious, darling,” he giggled, “Dead… serious… you get it?”

“Wow… lame joke much?! So how did you allegedly start the French Revolution.”

“It was Caius’ idea, really.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” You roll your eyes.

“Hey! We were the good guys. We got sick of feeding on malnourished blood. It tastes positively awful. Caius had the brilliant plan to introduce the Guillotine.”

“For food?! You did all that for food?!” You were shocked, but chuckling. These two were so crazy.

“Now, now, my dear, we only fed on the snobby aristocrats. Nobody liked them anyways. I shall never forget fighting Caius over who would feed on Louis XVI.” He pauses and winks, “I won.”

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #aro #aro volturi #caius volturi #Caius #marcus volturi #Marcus #volterra #aro x reader #aro x you #imagine request #imagine #headcanon requests #headcanon

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kodzuvii · 3 years

Text

ON TRACK! ✩ [14: so, I guess we’re soulmates?]

next: [15: the rock wannabe]

pairing - iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre - crack + fluff :) soulmate au!

synopsis - In a world where soulmates can hear the songs their partner is singing or listening too at any time, Iwaizumi Hajime wants to know who his soulmate is so he can give them a piece of his mind and tell them to stop singing along to soft lofi songs while he’s in the middle of practice because it’s seriously ruining his cool, calm, and collected image.

wc: 4k

warnings!: grammar issues plz ignore + awkward phone call between two overthinking teenagers?

a/n: this is severely long overdue and I apologize deeply for that. the taglist for this series is open! more info will be found in the note after the story! ty :)

“Nee-chan’s weakness #16: overthinks more often than usual when under a lot of pressure”

Akaashi loved you. He really did. But if the higher-ups gave him an option to choose a new older sister, then maybe, just maybe, he would consider taking it. As he watched you frantically pace around his room with your dog (who looked quite scared) in your arms, he wondered if you viewed him more of a personal therapist rather than a little sibling.

His evening was going normal. After a long day of practice, all he intended to do was read a book after dinner and maybe watch a movie with Tofu afterwards just before bed. Nowhere in his plans were for you to barge into his room unannounced with an evident look of panic on your face while mumbling incoherent words.

Your hair was a mess and you were clad in an oversized sweater and superman pajama pants with Tofu in one of your arms while your phone was being held tightly in your other hand. All he could get from the words leaving your lips at a 1.75 playback speed was “soulmate” and “phone call” and “not ready.”

Akaashi watched you stop in your tracks and pull out his desk chair. You plopped yourself onto the seat, face warm and flushed as you tried to recall how you were feeling. “No Keiji I’m telling you that any second now, my soulmate is gonna call me and uhm? Quite frankly, my brain can’t process that and I am fucking scared.”

Akaashi hummed, “nee-chan calm down.” Tofu then jumped out of your arms and leaped onto Akaashi’s bed. He walked up and cuddled up near the setters side which made Akaashi smile before turning his attention back to you.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your legs and spun around on his chair, “no Kei this is serious. This first phone call is basically equivalent to a meet-cute which also means the first impressions. I feel like his first impression already isn’t good because I literally injured his friend so this is my moment to redeem myself” you rambled.

Akaashi made eye contact with Tofu and even the poor dog looked concerned at your state.

“Kei, what if this is all a mistake? I mean the universe must be against me somehow right? What if he hates me the moment I answer and then next thing you know he’s telling me that he wants us to reject each other and then I’m gonna be left all alone to roam around this miserable world and-mph!”

You flinched back as you felt a soft pillow collide with your face and stop your ramble. You looked down at the pillow on the floor and snapped your head up to your brother, “what was that for!” Akaashi rolled his eyes and petted Tofu with his right hand, “you overthink too much” he replied simply.

You narrowed your eyes at him but you couldn’t come up with any comeback in your head. He was right after all. You groaned and stood up from the spinny chair and walked over to his bed before belly-flopping down. You leaned over and grabbed the blue pillow near his headboard and Akaashi watched as you screamed into the plush material.

You were losing it.

“This sucks Keiji, I’m terrible at phone calls. I don’t even answer Otosan’s phone calls so how the fuck am I supposed to answer my soulmates?”

In Miyagi, Iwaizumi unknowingly found himself in a similar state as you. The moon was shining from his window and the light cascaded a soft glow into his room. With his windows wide open, he could feel the cool breeze blowing in and slightly brushing over his face. But the breeze didn’t help calm his nerves at all.

Iwa was a simple guy, really he was.

As someone who meditated regularly as well as found good coping mechanisms that would help calm his stress levels down, you would think that he’d be relaxed in this situation.

But no, Iwa was also internally panicking. Being the stubborn boy he was, he tried to play it off and cool himself down by fooling himself into believing that he was fine and that he had everything under control.

He didn’t

Iwa cracked his neck and looked back down at his phone. He was sitting on the sides of his bed, hand gripping tightly onto his phone as his eyes stared at your number displayed on the screen right under your name and his thumb barely hovering over the call button.

“Okay. I’m gonna do it,” he thought to himself for the nth time in the past 10 minutes.

He took a deep breath and gave himself an internal word of encouragement and made the move. ‘So close’ he thought. “This is it, I’m gonna do it” But just as his thumb barely, just barely, made contact with the screen, he pulled it back and harshly threw his phone at his pillow. He closed his eyes and groaned in frustration as he fell back, his back hitting his mattress.

This was starting to piss him off.

It was just a phone call.

Him simply contacting and talking verbally to someone through his phone.

He was fine.

Right?

Yeah no, he was totally fine. Pft He’s had phone calls before. In fact, he had done it several times with several people (that’s a lie he only picks up to his parents and maybe Oikawa on good days) Why was this so hard? Phone calls are a natural thing. Especially in the 21st century. He wasn’t some old man who had no idea how to talk on the phone.

He got this.

But wait, did you even want him to call you first? What if you wanted to call him first? Wait what if he asked you during the wrong time and you’re tired?

Iwaizumi then lifted his head slightly to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was 8 pm. It wasn’t that late right? You would’ve told him if you were busy right? Wait what if you’re an early bird who liked catching a full 12 hours of sleep. Or what if you were just too scared to tell him you weren’t in the mood to call. God, there were so many factors he should’ve thought about before asking you. He blinked and heaved a frustrated sigh as he looked up to his ceiling. This was a lot harder than he’d thought.

If there was one thing he learned from Oikawa’s fangirls is that girls are scary.

You were no exception to that idea.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath before pulling himself back up and leaned over to grab his phone. He turned it to the side and made sure once again that his ringer was on and that the volume was all the way up just in case you know, you wanted to call first and save him from all the stress he was feeling.

He stared at your contact information and gripped his phone tighter. Your contact didn’t even have a photo and your name was just ‘Akaashi Y/n’ on his phone. Everything that happened between you two from the past couple of weeks flooded his head and he couldn’t help but internally cringe. He silently cursed at Oikawa for bringing him into this situation because maybe, just maybe, he could’ve held off this first phone call and wait for a couple of years when his voice would be a lot deeper and he would be a lot cooler and he wouldn’t be sitting on his bed with a pathetic expression while listening to his phone ring and-

Wait,

Ring?

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he now realized that he must’ve subconsciously pressed the call button on his screen. This was it, there was no turning back now. His olive-green eyes stared blankly at his screen. He kept blinking and re-reading your name and just hoping silently that it would change from your name to Oikawa’s so he could yell out all his frustration at him.

A couple of seconds went by before the ringing stopped and he felt his breath hitch when his ears picked up the sound of your voice on the other line.

“Hello?”

Oh, shit this was really happening

It’s been 3 seconds, shut up Hajime.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Hey, Akaashi-chan right?”

“Mhm but please just call me Y/n! oh and uh hi Iwaizumi-kun”

Iwaizumi blinked, he doesn’t know why but he felt his cheeks heat up as he heard his name come out of your lips. Iwaizumi cleared his throat before bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “Uh- how are you doing?” he asked. Oh my god, you probably picked up on how unconfident he sounded. This is horrible. He winced and brought his hand to his forearm, rubbing it in an attempt to ease down his nerves.

“I’m doing okay, did you uhm-- eat yet??”

Iwaizumi stiffened, taken back a bit at the question but you interrupted him before he could reply. “I-I’m guessing you got back from practice not too long ago right? Assuming you stayed back late and stuff,” you trailed off. Wincing at your own awkwardness. Iwaizumi pinched his forearm and chuckled nervously, “No-uhm you’re right I got back a couple of hours ago. And yeah, I ate already. Did you?” He asked back, You shook your head, “no not yet. Been busy reviewing and all that stuff” you answered truthfully as you glanced up at your stacks of opened notebooks and coloured highlighters messily spread around all over your desk.

Iwaizumi grunted, his nervousness momentarily washing away as concern came over him. “Y/n, you can’t neglect your health. Cut some fruit up or something” You froze for a second at how stern he sounded just now. Then you realized that this could just be his natural voice and you’re just reading into it too much. Oh god you were starting to overthink again. How did Bokuto and your brother get past their first conversation?

Your silent curses towards the world were cut short when you realized that too many seconds passed and Iwaizumi was still waiting for your reply. Like you do in any unsure situation, you stifled a laugh and nodded while scratching your knee awkwardly, “I will I will.”

A long line of silence then came through and there were no other words to describe it other than awkward. The faint buzzing of your phone sounded louder than ever. You could hear the wind blowing, the clock ticking, and the way your legs would shuffle against each other as you fidgeted. The silence between you two was long, tense, and uncomfortable. The kind of silence that made people want to die on the inside. You both started to question the situation you were in. You had the same goal, both wanting to learn more about your soulmate. Yet you’re lack of comfort and his lack of confidence made things more nerve wracking than it should be.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you tried to think of something you could say that would loosen both of you up. A quick little sentence that was casual and good for conversation starters. You thought for a second, trying to recall your favourite movie couples and what words they said to each other during their meet cute. You needed something smooth, simple, but something that could address the situation you were in. It then clicked in your mind, 5 words, 5 syllables (or did it count as 7?) whatever.

All your time spent watching incredibly dramatic romance movies has led up to this moment.

“So…” you started in a casual tone.

“I guess we’re soulmates huh?”

The moment those words left your mouth your mind short-circuited and you wanted the ground to swallow you up whole. It definitely sounded way cooler in your head. God what were you thinking? And why did you make it sound like it was a question. stupid. Barely 10 minutes in and you’ve already embarrassed yourself.

You fell back onto your bed (Akaashi kicked you out of his room) and covered your hand over your mouth and moved your phone away from your face and let out a tiny scream so that Iwa would not be able to hear. Maybe you weren’t as smooth as you thought. However, that didn’t matter anymore. The words had been said and now the embarrassment was eating you up and every single bad scenario you had previously imagined began to cloud your mind. This was it, you’re soulmate definitely thought you were a loser, bye-bye happiness and hello staying sad and single until you fall into your grave.

Your ears perked up when you heard him clear his throat. You sat up, moved your phone closer to your ear as you anticipated his reply.

“Yeah I guess”

Your body tensed up at how unsure and bored he sounded. And you thought this moment couldn’t become anymore embarrassing. You physically felt your soul leave your body the moment he spoke those words in such a bored tone. This is gonna be a moment that would forever haunt you in the years to come.

Phone calls were neither of you guys’ strong suits and that fact was clearly evident in the way neither of you knew what to say next. While you could handle carrying yourself in real-life conversations, the closeness of someone's voice against your ear and their lack of presence in front of you made things made things more stressful than it should be. Iwaizumi was naturally not much of a talker, he usually let his flamboyant best friend that was joint to his hip take control of conversations. It didn’t help that most people found him rather intimidating and unapproachable.

The silence stretched out for another minute and the longer before you decided to speak up once again. You agreed to call because you wanted to learn more about him, your soulmate, and there was no way you could learn anything about him by just listening to the faint sounds of his breath through your phone. You shook your head and gave yourself a mini pep talk in your head.

Come on Y/n, pussy up bitch.

“Iwaizumi-kun I’m gonna be honest-”

Iwaizumi's hands that were playing with the cotton material of his sweatpants froze. His voice got stuck in his throat and a part of him became worried. Curse his lack of conversational abilities. He was too lost in second guessing himself while structuring his sentences about what he wanted to say to realize that you were probably waiting for him to say something. Did he already mess things up with his soulmate?

“-I suck at phone calls. Like, I’m terrible at it and I’m honestly really nervous right now because this whole thing is a bit overwhelming but I want to get to know more about you because well, you seem pretty cool” you rambled and were met with silence on the other line. Iwaizumi suddenly felt himself get flustered the moment you said that he was cool.

You sighed and continued, trying to ease the way your heart was pounding against your chest. “Truthfully I don’t know what to say or what we should talk about, so we can start with the basics, yeah?” You cleared your throat and straightened yourself up as you took a deep breath.

“Hi Iwaizumi-kun, I’m Y/n”

It took a moment for his mind to process the words you said. Basics. Yeah, he was capable of doing that. After taking a deep breathe, one that was meant to give him some sort of encouragement, he replied. You felt chills go up your back as his gruff voice echoing through the speaker;

“Hey, I’m Iwaizumi”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

First real conversations were never easy. A part of you felt like you were back in your first year of junior high when your teacher was forcing you to play ice-breaker games in an attempt to get to know the people in your class. The questions were the usual “what’s your favourite food?”, “when's your birthday?”, etc etc.

However, instead of getting to know your classmates, the game would usually just result in everyone staring at one another as they waited for someone to speak up. An awkward tension cutting into the classroom as everyone simultaneously realizes that everyone was kinda lame and boring and that they don’t really wanna get to know the people who sat beside them.

You hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Iwaizumi. You’ve known you’d had a soulmate since middle school. Since then, you’ve always fantasized about your meet-cute. You’ve watched many romantic movies and read more than enough manga to fuel your brain with endless cute imaginations and ideas.

But alas, the reality of the world is that cute scenarios are simply meant to live in fictional stories. Akaashi had even told you that you needed to humble down your expectations to save yourself from disappointment in the future.

The first couple words exchanged in your conversation weren’t poetic words of love confessions and sweet nothings. They were typical, short common questions that people generally use to learn more about each other. The expected “when’s your birthday?” and “what do you do in your free time?”

You learned about how his birthday was during June, his favourite colour was dark green, he liked agedashi tofu, and how he spent his free time doing some sort of exercise or physical activity. Iwaizumi was also relatively quiet, truth be told you did most of the talking while he said quiet words to let you know that he was still listening. Along with being quiet, he was private. A direct contrast to you. You were an open book, your mouth moved faster than your mind and you had not much of a problem telling him about little details about yourself.

Iwaizumi on the other hand was selective on what he wanted to tell you. Iwaizumi was simple. A down to earth guy who had his own little sense of edginess to him. He was levelheaded and was someone who strived for realistic goals rather than unreasonable daydreams. You caught that when he simply answered that his goal right right now was to attend nationals with his best friend. When you asked if he had further goals, he simply said that everything else was too far into the future and was out of his reach. You could also tell that even though he used names such as “piece of trash” and “shittykawa” to describe his said best friend, he cared for him in his own way.

Iwaizumi always had a feeling that his soulmate would be the more talkative one out of the two of them. He wasn’t reserved per se, just wasn’t one to ramble over things when deemed unnecessary. You on the other hand could talk for hours. Just from listening to your speaking patterns and tone of voice, you were bright and confident. You found ways to stray away from the original topic and talk about something completely different. On top of learning about your birthday, favourite food, colour, and basically everything he told you, he also somehow learned about your allergy to raspberries, your admiration for early 2000s movies, how you had a dog who you also considered like another brother, and now he was listening to you retell a story about how you got into baking and cooking.

You were carefree once you became comfortable. Your voice was captivating, one that made people always pay attention to whatever you were saying. He listened intently as you went on about your story, he hummed here and there to indicate that he was listening and nodded along even though he knew you wouldn’t see.

A part of him felt relieved to hear you speak so freely. While you never directly came to him, he could tell from your Twitter rants that you were going through a lot of stress from school. Iwaizumi may have only met you formally recently, but he’s listened to your taste in music long enough to have an idea about how the songs you were playing indicated your moods. You had been playing such gloomy music during the past couple of weeks but he was still too nervous and felt like he was overstepping a line if he became too upfront and told you to tell him what’s wrong.

Yeah, you were soulmates, but you technically didn’t know him just like how he didn’t know you.

Nonetheless, a part of him felt relieved at hearing the genuine excitement in your voice because he knew that at this very moment, you were feeling okay.

“-and that’s how I baked a cake to persuade my brother into not telling our Mom that we sneaked out to the convenience store at 4 am,” you said cheerfully as you recalled the memory. You had switched from sitting at your bed to now sitting on your chair and leaning your upper body onto your desk. You moved your word out of the way and had your elbows propped up on the surface of your desk, your head leaning onto your phone in your hands. A part of you felt giddy when you heard the faintest chuckle come from the other end of the line.

The awkward tension between you two was fizzling out and you no longer felt as nervous as you did in the beginning. You were slowly and surely becoming a bit more comfortable with his presence. Truthfully, Iwaizumi still felt a bit awkward. Not that he minded you talking a lot, he just didn’t know what to say and was worried that you found him boring like how Oikawa said he was.

He really was trying. It just wasn’t in his character to be so open about himself.

“Y/n, you know how dangerous that could've been?”

“Shh, my brother was practically a giant back when we were in junior high so he was enough to scare any creeps away. Plus, I already knew then that the elbow is the strongest point in the body so I would’ve been able to fight any sort of dangerous threat!” you exclaimed. “That is not a good excuse,” he replied in an unamused tone.

You huffed, “At least I know something about self-defence” you attempted to reason. You only heard Iwaizumi reply with a simple ‘tched’ which made you laugh.

It was then that you looked onto the clock at the corner of your desk and realized how late it was and it was also then that you remembered that you still had some notes that you wanted to write up before you went to bed. Curse University prep. You were so lost in your conversation with the boy that time slipped past your mind along with your other responsibilities. Just when you two had started getting into a comfortable rhythm too. You sighed sadly which immediately caught Iwaizumi’s attention.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. You shook your head and removed your phone from your ear and pressed the speaker button on your phone screen. You placed your phone on your desk and stood up to organize the notebooks you had pushed aside on your desk. “Nothing bad, just remembered I had a couple more notes I wanted to finish up before bed,” you said with a hint of sadness in your voice. You wanted to continue your conversation with him and you really weren’t in the mindset to review your nutrition notes right now.

Iwaizumi paused to take a moment to look up at his wall clock and realized that it was nearing midnight. Iwaizumi felt a twinge of guilt inside of him when he realized that he kept you up so late. This was even past his own scheduled bedtime.

“I didn’t mean to keep you up so late, my bad” he apologized. You stifled a laugh as a tired smile spread on your lips. “It’s not your fault. Something tells me that you’re the type of person who sleeps early so I should be apologizing for keeping you up” you replied.

You suddenly yawned and stretched your arms over your head, “I’m gonna finish up and call in for the night. You should get some rest Iwaizumi-”

“Go to bed” You flinched slightly at how serious his voice got.

“It’s late, you can finish up your notes tomorrow. Studying when you’re tired isn’t healthy. Get some sleep so you won’t feel extra tired and groggy tomorrow morning. If you’re gonna stay up, at least go and make yourself something to eat for tomorrow so you feel energized”

You smiled tiredly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you Iwaizumi-kun. Oh and thank you for tonight, I enjoyed talking to you and I hope we can do this again” you shyly suggested. You closed your eyes as you clutched the material of your sweater to your chest as you waited for his answer. Iwaizumi felt a sense of relief rush into him knowing that you enjoyed talking to him. A sense of his self doubt momentarily washing away. You didn’t hear a reply for a moment and it worried you that you might’ve said the wrong thing. But a couple of moments passed before you heard a faint “Me too”

You moved your hand to hover over the red call button on your screen,

“Goodnight Iwaizumi-kun, sleep well”

“You too, Y/n”

The ‘beep’ from your phone indicating the call had ended echoed through your room. You stared at your phone for a moment as it dawned on you that you just had your first real conversation with your soulmate. And yeah it wasn’t the large extravagant straight-out-of-movie scene you had always envisioned but that didn’t matter. What mattered now was that you had talked to your soulmate and you knew a little bit more about him and he knew a little bit more about you.

It was a start.

You yawned and stretched your arms up over your head once again and sighed in relief when you felt your back crack. Your arms dropped to your side and you frowned as your eyes looked down at your notebooks that you had now neatly stacked in your hands. You realized that you were far too tired to even open up your textbooks, let alone finish a couple pages of notes.

Thinking back to what Iwaizumi said, you could always tune in early for the night and finish everything up tomorrow in the library. Plus, waking up to something to energizing to eat didn’t sound so bad. It wasn’t going to take long and you figured you had a bit more energy left to cut up some fruit before surrendering yourself to sleep.

Content with your decision you turned around and made your way towards your door. However, just as you were about to step out you heard three buzzes from your phone come back to back. Curiously, you walked back towards your desk and leaned down to read the message:

“Hey, if you need someone to study with then let me know and we can facetime and I can keep you company. If you want to of course. No pressure if you’re not up for it”

“Oh and grapefruits are really good to have the morning by the way, they’re refreshing”

“rest well.”

a/n: hello! This chapter is very long overdue and I’m really sorry about that. I’m not gonna go into it but just know that this series is back and I hope to keep a steady flow of updates going :)

I struggled a lot with writing this chapter partly because I myself am terrible at phone calls but I hope this gives an insight to difference between Iwa and Yn!

I will be opening up taglist for any of my newer readers who would like to keep up with the updates of “on track!” Feel free to comment or send me a message : ) Regarding my current taglist, it’s been months and I’ve noticed a lot of people changed their @s so I tried to find everyone who changed their users. If I accidentally tagged you and you weren’t on my list let me know + inform me if i also missed you. If you no longer want to be added, then please let me know if you would like to be removed from the taglist. Thank you all so much for your patience and feel free to let me know about your thoughts down below :)

++ I just want to clarify iwaizumi’s initial care for Y/n’s well-being isn’t meant to be interpreted as “omg he’s falling for her already” and should be seen as just someone who cares about his soulmate and wants them to be healthy. He knows that YN is his soulmate and cares about her because of that. But it’s more of a platonic care at the moment. They’re soulmates, yes, but he’s not in love with her and Y/n is not in love with him (yet at least) ya gets?

yeah i’m just a fan of slow burn

I just wanted to say that just because I’m not confident in the way I wrote him 😅 thank you so much again for reading!

taglist! [OPEN; comment or send an ask to be added!]

@aircorumble @bunnyuuji-archive @cloudsvna @donteathecake @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @sunabrainrot @tadashi-simp @agaashesmilktea @sbaepsae @vicassa @akaashikeijisthighs @mariachiii @ayocee @starsinthepavement @cece-lives-here @elianetsantana @gxrleexis-arctic-monks @ssaihanuweol @sazunari @kenmacorps @simping-for-tendou @intoomuchfandoms @vxnna @froyopet @komouri @idek-at-thispoint @volexis @insomniish @amberisnotcrazy @maramalademadara @faewraithsworld @mjoork @mindofess @dreamstormings @h0ngh0ngh0ng @keekee-732 @daewengol @amessypan @applekenm @ptv-hades @killlerqween @bakusquadz @bbymilkbread @bbyhaji @sophie-duck @marissaraeblr @kellesvt

tags continue in comments w/ my main🤍

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu soulmate au #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi hajime smau #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi fluff #on track!

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animefreak1145 · 3 years

Text

The Irony of Adler and Bell

Call of Duty: Black Ops Analysis of Adler’s Brainwashing

It’s me again. And I’m here with another analysis! This time based solely around Adler. It’s always about Adler. But also Bell.

And this is about the brainwashing of not Bell, but Adler.

We have all had our theories since we first saw Adler getting tortured in the Cinematic Warzone Trailers, shown in Season 3 of COD:BOCW. Our suspicions growing when we see Sus Adler™️ doing what he does best in Season 4 by stealing an important looking chip within the crashed satellite that was taken down. (Also, Hudson, what is wrong with you letting Adler be cleared for a mission when he was just rescued like two weeks ago?!)

And although we did not see him in Season 5, we can all gather that anyone could be potentially brainwashed if you have a certain brand of earpiece. (Woods and Stryker appeared unaffected despite having their own earpieces). So the naive hope and calming words to others that Adler being different and strong is out the window. All it takes is hearing the numbers. What do the numbers mean, Mason?

Besides Bell wasn’t your average run of the mill agent either. An amazing decoder and created codes(I am with the theory that Bell did create the codes for Perseus that we have to decrypt in the game for Operation Chaos and Red Circus) with a brutal close combat skill as well as charming based on how one could talk to everyone and be a social butterfly. Also, able to handle and withstand torture after one hour of leaving Cuba despite previous injuries AND be able to go to Solovetsky/Duga and able to aim and shoot despite having a needle shoved in their eye a few hours earlier.

Bell had crazy skills. Just like Adler does. Bell was brainwashed. So is Adler.

Confirmed with this bundle that will be released. Thank you to @reclaimedbythesea who first found it and pointed it out.

We have the confirmation—the amazing, horrible, war criminal man we all love has become an agent of the man who he swore to chase down and capture/kill for longer than a decade. (Adler said thirteen years in COD:BOCW universe, so 1984 it would be sixteen years. Sheesh. Correct me if I’m wrong. I may be mistaken.) Is it wrong I kinda find it funny? Especially since he did the same thing to Bell—believing it to be necessary. Just as Stitch I’m sure finds it necessary.

It’s just a big brainwash back and forth between these two countries, a race to see who has the most mindless agents on their side in the end. But we’re not focusing on that.

We’re focusing on how Adler’s karma finally caught up to him with all his war crimes. We can infer that he hasn’t just done a cruel action like that to Bell, but to others. “Whatever it takes.” That’s his motto. He’s messed up other’s lives—hundreds, maybe even thousands. The Vietnam War has a deep dirty history, such as the real operation of Fracture Jaw, Operation Ranch Hand with the use of Agent Orange, the Mai(My) Lai Massacre and who knows how many other operations that would/did affect civilians. Not that I would see Adler doing anything like the massacre, but you can’t expect me to not believe that he may have been involved with Agent Orange somewhat? And who knows what other operations and missions he’s done as a CIA agent after the war?

My point is, the man has been gathering karma for awhile. Not just with Bell(I am aware he had his orders in the war, I’m just saying I’m not sure if he feels much guilt about some said orders. Guilt I believe he may has, but I’m not sure it’s a high degree.) Of course, Bell isn’t a saint either. They were willing to kill millions with Perseus after all. A wayyyy higher body count than Adler. And who knows what Bell did with Perseus even before the Greenlight plan? Didn’t seem to mind millions blinking in an eye, so must be pretty cold or delusional about the whole free world killing their country thing. Thank you @yunatheintrovert for this post pointing out and showing a hint of just how not good a person Bell was.

I’m not going to say they deserved what happened to them due to Adler. I feel for Bell. I really do. Just like I can’t say if Adler deserves it for everything—just can’t say that because I’m not at liberty to judge other’s actions and claim what is deserved and undeserved. Leave that to judges.

But now I’m going to point out certain things—other things. Such as what I think to be Adler’s “new” name. At least to those in the Perseus Collective/Stitch.

Do I realize that “Cipher” may just be what this awesome skin is called? Yes. Will I rather ignore it and rant about the name for two ten minutes? Also yes.

On to the analysis!

ci·pher/ˈsīfər/: a secret or disguised way of writing; a code.

This first definition is what we can all gather of what the numbers represent—the code and simultaneously the key of brainwashing others in earpieces with just a certain order of number together.

Stitch and co. used said numbers on Adler, so why not call him Cipher? The Code? Funny, cause he killed Bell—the Decoder. Maybe Bell would’ve helped him out if he didn’t kill them.

Another hammer to the irony of between these two.

But no. The name gets better. Second definition!

ci·pher /ˈsīfər/: a person or thing of no importance, especially a person who does the bidding of others and seems to have no will of their own.

PAHAHAHAHAHA! *clears throat* Now, this, this is what I think Stitch calls some true vengeance. Not only did he get to torture the man who did the same to him before, but made Adler a shadow of who he was before. A husk. Nothing really there. “Whatever it takes” indeed but for the opposite side now—a puppet with numbers for strings. Stitch did a good job in naming Cipher—I mean Adler. We don’t even know how far Adler shall go now, will the CIA have to kill him or will they be able to recondition him when/if they capture him? Will he even be the same? Nope.

Why do I find that definition funny? Well, I think Adler had a multitude of reasons for naming Bell, Bell. Just like Stitch did with Adler. And not just the obvious reasons of him ringing the bell at them to condition them as he was torturing/brainwashing them(we love Pavlov!). Let’s get the first definition out the way.

bell /bel/: a hollow object, typically made of metal and having the shape of a deep inverted cup widening at the lip, that sounds a clear musical note when struck, typically by means of a clapper inside.

I wonder if anyone knows where I’m going with this or I’m starting to seem like a madwoman.

I’m going to ask you guys to focus on the word, “hollow” for me. Hollow, as in not filled. There’s something in the bell alright, but it doesn’t do enough to fill out the hole does it? Like Cipher is now made a husk. Bell was made hollow—only a little bit filled with the little memory they got back before they were killed(maybe they weren’t, let’s just go with it for now). Or perhaps just a bit filled with false memories of Vietnam, of camaraderie. I doubt Stitch did anything like that.

Also, Bell is just an instrument for someone else to play. Play the right tune, and the Russian agent will do anything for you. Right, Adler?

Cipher is the puppet, just doing what he’s told when they give the orders. No will or thought. Just how Stitch likes it.

I’m not done yet! Second definition!

bell /bel/: a. A stroke on a hollow metal instrument to mark the hour.

b. The time indicated by the striking of this instrument, divided into half hours.

Another play on words of Bell being struck(jabbed with needles) to do what needs to be done. But it also represents the limited time that Bell has. Bell needs to help to stop Perseus and quick, Adler will make them go faster if needed by putting the highest dosage as possible without killing them to accomplish it. Or maybe it’s also a representation that Bell does actually have limited time left—Park did say MK—Ultra will be hard on the body physically and mentally. Perhaps MK-Ultra was slowly killing us and Adler just decided to give us a mercy kill while he was at it as he “tied up our strings.”( @cryinginthebackseat does point this out in their Adler/Bell story, go check it out!)

Let’s focus on the instrument thing again though, but back to Cipher. The third definition!

ci·pher /ˈsīfər/ : a continuous sounding of an organ pipe, caused by a mechanical defect.

Oh man. Sounds like Adler is being played like an instrument too, continuously due to all the numbers and how the numbers can be everywhere if one is in the armed forces since they all use earpieces. Interesting shape too, a pipe. Long and thin and has two holes, a beginning and an end but which one is the top or the bottom? The beginning and the end? We don’t know how far Adler will go like this—as Cipher. It will eventually come to a point, where something squeezes within the pipe and manages to get out. Maybe. Or maybe Adler is just forever defected, like the definition suggests.

Not quite Adler anymore and just Cipher.

Just like Bell will always just be Bell. The other self practically gone.

It seems these two will always somehow reflect and affect one another, whether one is dead or not.

I swear I love Adler, so don’t mind some of my dark humor about him and this situation he’s in. It is pretty funny. At least to me. Stitch is funny. And petty.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

@salvija @smokeywhalee @quizzyisdone @efingart @samatedeansbroccoli @weirdoartist21 @tr1ppylady

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ipuckwithhockey · 3 years

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Easier Said Than Done- M. Tkachuk

Part 1

Part 2- Can’t stay away from you

summary: Matt knows this is a bad idea but he can’t help himself when the universe keeps bringing you into his life.

a/n: part 2 is here y’all! i hope you enjoy it. let me know what you think!

warnings: cursing

You’ve been settled into a table at a coffee shop for a couple hours with your “time to study” playlist blaring through your headphones and you don’t notice a tall blue-eyed man approach you. When he taps your shoulder unexpectedly you practically jump out of your chair, causing your hand that was writing your beautifully organized notes to knock your cup of coffee off the table, shattering on impact as it hits the floor. The man has quick reflexes though, and is able to jump back and out of the way of the falling cup.

“Fuck! Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The man blurts out as you try to take in what just happened.

You take your headphones out of your ears so you can hear what he’s saying, “Sorry what? I- I couldn’t hear you.” You stutter a bit when you look up at him and realize who he is. You don’t know him, but you do recognize him.

He was at the Giordano’s about a week ago for their son’s birthday party. You remember seeing him there, his curly mop of hair and broad shoulders had caught your eye, but you also recognized him from somewhere else. You recognized him from the pictures that Lauren has framed around their home, from the advertisements plastered across the city, and from the TV when you get a chance to watch a Flames game. Matthew Tkachuk just scared the shit out of you and you almost spilt a coffee all over him.

An employee comes over to help you clean up the mess that has been made and sweeps the broke glass away. You and Matthew do your best to help but end up awkwardly apologizing to the employee and then thanking them when they’ve finished cleaning up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Probably would have gone for a different approach had I known that was going to happen,” Matthew says.

“Oh, it’s fine. I was just taking—” You look down at the table and you notice that your once beautifully crafted notes are now splotched with coffee. You can’t help it, you try to control it, but the tears start to pierce the corners of your eyes without your approval. It’s completely embarrassing but your stress over law school is winning over your pride and composure. Matthew can see your chin start to tremble and even though you’re trying to hide it, the look on your face says it all.

“Are you okay?” Matthew asks cautiously.

“Y-yeah” you choke out. “mfine. It’s fine.” Your cheeks are lightly stained with tears and you’re sniffling between words, trying to get a grip and steady your breath as you start to gather your notes. You try to make yourself busy without looking up, not wanting to make eye contact, and praying that he might just leave you be. Instead, he gently wraps a hand around your forearm to get you to look at him.

“Hey hey. It’s okay. I’m sure we can fix it.” He says with concern in his eyes. He’s trying to be gentle with you because the look in your eyes says you might just crack again as you shake your head no, looking at your notes. Matt doesn’t really know what to do in this situation but he does know that he hates seeing you upset and will do anything to try to help. “Here, how about we start by sitting down.” He motions for you to sit in the chair you jumped from moments ago, “And I’ll get you another coffee, okay?” He asks, still looking at you with caution. You can’t say anything because you’re afraid you might cry again so you just shake your head telling him okay before he leaves to go order you another coffee.

While he’s gone, you’re able to calm yourself down, taking some deep breathes as you tell yourself it will be okay. You know it will be and you know that your stress is causing you to over dramatize the events that have unfolded. You also know that you have another set of the same notes at home and that you were just redoing them to help you study. A few minutes later Matthew returns with the coffee cup he held earlier in one hand and a new one in his other. He sits the other cup down in front of you and to your surprise he takes the seat across form yours.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” You thank your voice for not giving out on you and for sounding somewhat normal as you speak. Embarrassment doesn’t exactly cover what you’re feeling, and you’re surprised that Matthew has stuck around this long in general, but now he’s sitting down in front of you and doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere any time soon.

“I think it’s the least I could do considering I scared the hell out of you, broke a glass… and then made you cry...” He looks down sheepishly as he says the last one. He feels horrible and quite frankly, very out of his league in this situation. Not only did he ignore his promise to Gio to stay away from you, but he’s also managed to get you to hate him in about five seconds. What makes him feel even worse is that you’re still being so nice to him. This is only adding to his growing infatuation with you, and he curses himself for not having the will power to walk away the moment he saw you.

You blush out of embarrassment, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, and they’re just notes, it’s fine. I actually have a copy at home. I’m just stressed, and I freaked out but I promise you it’s totally fine.” You try to reassure him and the concern he’s showing, and instinctively letting your hand rest on top of his. A simple comforting gesture that wouldn’t mean anything to most people, lit a fire in Matthew that he wasn’t prepared for. His eyes are glued to your hand and when you notice you quickly pull it back, but not without noticing how large and warm it was. But before you get a chance to apologize Matt is asking you what you’re studying for and trying to cover up the blush that has settled across his cheeks.

“It’s for the exam at the end of the semester, so not for a few months but I—“

“You’re already studying for a test that’s months away?” He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you laugh because when you broke down crying a few minutes ago he seemed pretty collected but now he’s downright flabbergasted, “I’m Matt by the way,” he adds quickly, realizing that you might not know who he is and that it would be polite to formally introduce himself.

You let out a little laugh, “Yeah, most of my grade is based off of the one exam so you have to study for it all semester.” You explain to him as he nods but still looks confused. “…I’m y/n, you were at Gio’s the other day for Jack’s birthday party, right?” you ask him, and Matt is astonished that you even noticed he was there. Every time he looked at you, you were either entertaining the kids around you or having what looked to be very mature conversations with the adults that made Matt feel incredibly of place.

“Yeah I was. I uh- that’s actually why I came over here in the first place. I recognized you.” Matthew says trying not to sound too creepy, and you can’t help but smile because you can’t believe he even noticed you. Being noticed by any cute guy is one thing, but Matthew Tkachuk had that kind of bad boy vibe that made him that much more irresistible.

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to finally meet you. The kids talk about you all the time.” You say.

The Giordano kids loved Matt and when you babysat on game nights the three of you would sit together on the couch in matching jerseys, all with the number 5 on the back, but whenever number 19 would get into a scrum the kids would go wild. Reese used to get upset every time it would happen, but her brother has taught her to cheer instead now. Jack really admires Matt and sometimes during mini sticks, instead of pretending to be his dad he’ll pretend to be Matt. (You just try to keep the pretend scrums to a minimum.) It was adorable and he is obviously attractive, but you aren’t immune to the rumors that float around town. He’s a playboy who can take a different girl home every time he goes out. Even Mark and Lauren have even made comments about his bachelor lifestyle.

Despite those rumors and the comments, you’re genuinely surprised by Matt. He stays with you at your table for over an hour as the two of you talk. You expected him to be pompous and cocky and just like all those douche bags that you met in college. He was cocky, but you didn’t expect him to be so nice or sweet, or even funny. You definitely didn’t expect him to flirt with you. It wasn’t anything too over the top, but subtle things in the tone in which he would speak made you think he was trying to flirt.

Over the hour that you spent together he asked you about your relationship with the Giordano’s and he had plenty of questions about law school. It was actually really sweet. Matt hadn’t gone to college, skipping that step, and opting to go to the OHL before signing with the Flames. Most of his knowledge of the university experience came from his brother Brady’s short stint at Boston College, or a few stories he heard from his friends back home. He didn’t know a lick about law school, and he’s fascinated listening to you explain things that are surely going right over his head.

He gets so caught up in you that he doesn’t realize how much time has passed and when he looks down at his phone, he realizes that he’s going to be late for a meeting and can’t help but feel a little sad. He doesn’t want this conversation to end and if it does, he doesn’t want it to be a singular occurrence, which is what has him asking if he can have your number.

And despite the little voices in your head telling you no, you end up saying yes. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” You reply not able to hide your smile. He’s charming and handsome and completely out of your league, but you figure it won’t hurt to give him your number anyway. He might not even use it, right?

A few days later you find yourself sitting in a fancy chair in a boutique that sells $50 scrunchies as you watch Lauren try on a dress that probably costs as much as your rent. She insisted that the two of you go shopping before lunch— on her of course, and no matter how many times you told her that you couldn’t let her do that, she stood her ground and insisted it was her treat. It’s been a couple hours of shopping and you don’t know how Lauren can do this for so long. If shopping was a sport Lauren would be winning gold at the Olympics, you however wouldn’t even qualify.

You let her buy you a new blouse that you’ll probably get more use out of when you get a job at a law firm and a swanky dress that was probably only appropriate for a fancy party. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get to wear it, and would never have spent that much money on something that you would get so little use out of, but Lauren really hyped you up and when she offered to buy it you couldn’t say no.

“So,” she says as she sits down in the chair next to yours, “What’s been going on in your life that isn’t school?”

You laugh at that. All you really do is go to class and study right now. It’s pretty hard to keep a job in law school so you’re basically just a full time student. You don’t really have a social life unless it’s studying with your friends or maybe an occasional lunch or dinner out. There’s really nothing new on the ‘not school’ front and you tell her that, getting a lack luster facial expression from her in return.

“You work too much! You’re young! This is the time in your life to go out and have fun!” She exclaims. Lauren completely admires your work ethic and she’s incredibly proud of you but the mom in her wants to make sure that you’re not missing out on some of the best years of your life because you’re too busy studying. She means well and she has a point, you probably could be a little more active in your social life and this in turn makes you remember who you saw a few days earlier.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day.” You say as you wait for Lauren to change back into her clothes.

“Oh!? Who was it? Is he cute?” She asks from behind the curtain of the dressing room, and without even knowing if it was a guy, but not so secretly hoping it is.

“It was Matthew Tkachuk. And yeah, I guess he is kinda cute.” you joke.

You can see the surprise on her face as she pops her head out from behind the curtain, “Where in the world did you run into him?” She asks in reply, but you make her finish changing and check out of the store before you answer her. Lauren may be able to shop until she drops but you’re ready for lunch and if you have to hang this over her head to get there, then that’s what you’ll do.

The two of you leave the store, Lauren with another bag in her hand, and walk around the corner to the restaurant for lunch. “So, where the hell did you run into Chucky” She asks as you settle into your seat and pick up the sleek menu sitting in front of you.

“Well, if you must know, I was studying at that coffee shop by my apartment, and he came up behind me and scared the shit out of me. I knocked my coffee on the floor and everything.” You tell her in a little bit of a mocking tone, knowing that she’s a sucker for gossip. “He felt really bad though, and bought me another coffee after he made me cry—“

“He did WHAT!?”

“Well, the coffee got on my notes and I was just really stressed about school so I kind of started crying...”

“So he wasn’t mean to you? He didn’t do anything rude, did he?” She asks in her best mom voice. It makes you chuckle, and you tell her no, explaining that it was just an accident. You also tell her about how he stayed and talked to you for a while. “He actually surprised me. He’s not as... I don’t know... dick-ish?” That probably wasn’t the best way to describe it, but it probably got the message across but when you look up you can see something brewing on Lauren’s face and it resembles worry.

“Listen, I’m just going to be straightforward with you. He’s a good guy, but he lacks... Well, he lacks some maturity on the relationship side of his life. I know he can be very charming, but I can’t promise that he won’t hurt you. The stats aren’t good, and I don’t want to see you get hurt by him.” You haven’t even told her about him asking for your number, and because of this, you choose not to. Instead, you tell her not to worry about it, and that you don’t think that door will be opening anytime soon anyway. There might be a very small part of you that is a little let down because he hasn’t called or texted since you gave him your number, but you push that thought to the side. Lauren had a point too, there isn’t any guarantee that you wouldn’t get hurt and right now you need to be focusing on school, and not on a hypothetical relationship.

The next time that Matt sees you it’s not by his doing. He’s tried his best to keep away from you and has resisted using the number that sits heavy in his cellphone. Instead, he stalks your Instagram and goes through your Twitter likes. He feels like he’s back in middle school again as he begins to pick apart pieces of your life. You apparently read. A lot. And most of your liked tweets are from the Sparknotes account or niche memes that Matt doesn’t understand. He may not understand them, but it doesn’t keep him from reading every single one of them in hopes of gaining some sort of insight into your life.

On more than one occasion he has sat up at night thinking about texting you, asking what you were up to and hoping you would come over. He never did because he knew that one night wouldn’t be enough. Night after night he could have a different girl come and go from his bed, but for the first time in a long time he didn’t want a girl for just one night. But he couldn’t even let himself pick up the phone to ask you out on a proper date because his captain asked him explicitly to stay away. He couldn’t disobey a direct order. And who knows, maybe he wouldn’t be any good at any of this relationship stuff anyway. Unfortunately, that didn’t keep him from wanting to try. All these factors only added to the list of reasons why he couldn’t let himself pick up the phone and call you. He couldn’t justify it and so he pushed the thought to the side.

The world works in mysterious ways though, and sometimes it will continue to bring two people together no matter how much they fight it. That’s exactly what happened as Matthew came by to pick up Mark on his way to the arena and you were on your way into the house to babysit for the game. You were just getting out of your car when Matthew pulled up in the driveway beside you.

You can see that it’s him and you try to rush around his car and into the house before you can experience anymore embarrassment. He asked for your number weeks ago and clearly hasn’t used it. There wasn’t any obligation to do so, but you figure you can assume that asking for someone’s number implies that they are going to use it, except he never did. So maybe he just asked out of pity or maybe he asked and changed his mind.

“Y/N!” You hear him call out your name following the sound of his car door shutting, stopping you in your tracks as you slowly turn to face him.

“Matt! Hey!” you say a bit too enthusiastically and like you hadn’t seen it was him in the car.

The two of you are at a standstill, neither one knowing what to say or how to act with the looming fact that Matt has your number in his pocket but hasn’t chosen to use it. He knows that he shouldn’t have even asked for the number in the first place and that he’s gotten himself into this mess but now doesn’t know how to get himself out.

“Um. So I-“

“It’s totall-“

You both start to talk at the same time but you insist that he finish his statement first, “I’m uh- I’m sorry about not calling. I know that’s a dick move-”

You cut him off, feeling a twinge of confidence arise, “So why didn’t you?” You ask innocently but knowing that you’ve caught the hotshot off guard.

“Um- I just I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He replies.

“Well how can you know if you don’t try? Isn’t that the whole point of going on a date?” You say and then realize that maybe he didn’t want your number to ask you out. Maybe he just wanted to see if you would be willing to crawl into his be one night and out the next morning.

You don’t get a chance to answer. Gio is coming out the front door and doesn’t seem to even notice that the two of you are in the middle of a conversation. He simply waves goodbye to you and ushers Matt back to his car as he starts to talk about something to do with Johnny. Matt does his best to play it off cool, hoping to god Gio hasn’t noticed, and thankfully he doesn’t mention you at all on the drive to the rink.

Spending time with the kids was just what you needed as a break from your classes, and you let the kids stay up until Lauren gets home from the game. The Flames won 3-1 and the kids couldn’t have been better for you. You’re in such a great mood that when Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody comes on the radio, you turned it up full blast so that you can sing at the top of your lungs. The earlier encounter with Matthew is long forgotten as you sing and dance to the radio on your way home. With the radio turned up you don’t hear a text come through. You don’t even see until you’re snuggled up in bed, ready to set your alarm for the next morning, and when you click on the unknown number you’re more than surprised when you read what the message says.

Maybe: Matt: Hey it’s Matt. I think you might be right about the dating thing. Are you free Thursday night?

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #calgary flames #flames #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #estd

159 notes · View notes

uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

Road trip w/ Kaminari, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: Shinso, Kami, and Bakugou on a long trip/plane ride with their S/o? Happy holidays bb! - 🥐

I wish I could go on a trip. I need Christmas break to last longer, I’m not ready to go back to school and study for uni, I’m not emotionally capable. I hate it here.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Kaminari Denki

-You have a mini fight about who gets to drive at first.

-You don’t trust him because he is dumb and bisexual and he believes that you’ll fall asleep ont he wheel cuz you stayed up until like 2 am the previous day downloading music and making playlists for the journey.

-He gets to drive the first shift and it goes relatively well.

-You get some extra sleep, he enjoys his time behind the wheel and boom you’re now at a gas station having brunch before hitting the road again.

-Karaoke driving.

-I think that’s all I have to say about your road trip with this guy.

-HE will ignore the playlists with the soft songs because he needs to vibe at first.

-Kills it with the Shakira impressions like you start wondering what would happen if he suddenly decides to follow a music career like Jiro.

-So many bathroom stops.

-Does this man have a prostate problem because damn.

-He can’t go for more than an hour without stopping to pee.

-The one time you ask to stop at a gas station for a bathroom break he suggests just stopping at the side of the road and you could pee there.

- “I do it so you can too.”

-Denki honey I don’t have a dick to wip out…...I need essentials.

-May or may not have taken the wrong exit at some point and you took a thirty minute detour.

-At least you got some nice photos out of it.

-Speaking of photos.

-Your camera roll will be filled with selfies, stupid videos of Kami hyping himself up at a red light.

-Races with other cars at said red lights.

-You fear for your life most of the time, grasping the door handle like your life depended on it because in reality it kinda did.

-You beg him to take over and drive for a little bit but he brushes you off.

- “You seem tired baby, let me drive for a bit.”

- “Nope I’m perfectly fine Y/N. Gonna get us to the hotel so fucking fast.”

- “Denki no-”

-He calms down after a while, and he lets you put on your soft playlist so you could both just vibe.

-His hand is resting on your thigh, giving it a few firm squeezes every now and then.

-He likes drumming the beat of the song on your skin.

-You start random conversations about anything and everything and if you’re being honest you love these types of moments.

-There are no villains to fight, no danger in the horizon *apart from his driving* and you get to enjoy the tranquility while enjoying the ride.

-Denki starts telling you about adopting a dog and you joke that he would be a horrible dog dad.

- “Maybe cats are better for you babe.”

-You are no longer heroes.

-You are just a couple going on a road trip, away from all your troubles and worries just you and him.

-You reach the hotel later than you expected though…..it was those damn bathroom breaks!!!

Shinsou Hitoshi

-The trip is spontaneous.

-You were both chillin in your apartment when he popped the question.

- “Wanna go on a trip? I’m bored.”

-You never expected him to pick a place this far away, you weren’t complaining though.

-Road trips with him are immaculate.

-He helps you pack your bags in no time, picking your favorite outfits out and placing them in your travel bags along with a bunch of snacks and a fluffy blanket.

-You hit the road in less than an hour.

-It’s still dark out when you start your trip and Hitoshi insists you take a nap, get your beauty sleep while he drives.

- “Don’t worry we won’t crash, I hope.”

-You do take a nap eventually but not for long and you wake up just in time to watch the sunrise with your boyfriend.

-He will pull over and take pictures with the sunrise as your background.

-He says he needs a new wallpaper on his phone and there’s an empty picture frame at his desk back at work.

-He needs to fill them somehow.

-Around noon he brings the fluffy blanket in the front seat, wrapping it around you so you can snuggle and possibly fall asleep again.

-In reality he wants to take more pictures of you with drool dripping down your chin for blackmail purposes but you will not yield !!!

-The trip is mainly filled with music and low humming coming from the both of you.

-Though when a love song that reminds him of you comes on he will lean over and grip your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze, a blush blooming on his cheeks.

-Makes many stops in spots that look great for photos or having an amazing view.

-Definitely has prepared a picnic basket and before you know it you are munching down on some sandwiches he made while your feet are dangling over a small cliff you happened to come across.

-Shares random facts about nature and animals with you.

-Shinsou strikes me as a guy who watches a lot of documentaries and animal planet shows, so he has obtained random information and now he is explaining the mating cycle of penguins.

-Would definitely prefer to sleep in the car and not rent a room.

-He wants to stay outside looking at the stars for as long as possible and then snuggle up with you in the driver's seat, your head against his chest and his hand buried in your hair.

-If you want to go to a hotel because you feel more comfortable, he won’t complain.

-As long as he gets to cuddle you anything is fine in his book.

-He puts on YOUR song while you are looking at the sky and invites you to dance with him.

-Wraps his arms around your waist and slowly sways you back and forth, following the rhythm of the song as he looks into your eyes.

-He loves capturing the moment so expect many photos to be taken and a bunch of videos of you two dancing.

-He has his crackhead moments though so you can expect to be shoved into the water if you’re near a lake or at the beach.

-He might draw a mustache on you while you sleep but don’t worry you get payback when he is asleep.

Bakugou Katsuki

-Whines while you back everything.

-And when I say whines I mean he grumbles under his breath about this stupid shirt that he can’t seem to fold correctly.

-Anyways once you hit the road he is more relaxed than usual.

-He keeps this tight, aggressive persona out in public you sometimes forget that this man, this amazing partner is also a pro hero who is known for his rough edges.

-Sure, his explosive behavior doesn’t disappear when he is with you but he is a lot tamer and calm around you.

-During the car ride he makes small talk with you, sharing random events from his patrols and stupid shit his “squad” have done while out in public.

-When he comes home every night he is just so tired that many details slip his mind as he recounts his day to you, seeing him right now a genuine smile gracing his lips as his only focus is the road in front of him really warms your heart.

-He becomes more affectionate.

-Hand gripping yours while he drives or his palm on your thigh, rubbing your soft skin as he hums along with the music.

-Even if he needs to switch gears he won’t let go.

-Surprisingly he is the type to put on an audio book after a while.

-Usually it's after your wedding song is over or soon after that.

-Your song is like a trigger and suddenly sophisticated Bakugou emerges asking you to pick an audiobook from his collection and put it on.

-Gets really invested in the story and pauses it every five minutes so you can discuss it.

- “She could have escaped through the window why the fuck did she let herself get caught?”

- “No Katsu!!! She needs to make sure the prince is alive!!”

- “That’s fucking dumb!”

-Let’s you take candid pictures of him and won’t complain when you coo over how pretty he looks with the sun behind him.

-Don’t worry he is plotting to fill his gallery of pics of you sleeping.

-When you actually fall asleep he will turn the radio down and hum softly under his breath.

-If it starts raining heavily he will pull over and wait for it to calm down a bit.

-My personal headcanon is that Katsuki has a car with a skylight *if that’s what its called* so he brings the seats down and you lay there admiring the rain falling onto the glass.

-He likes talking about more serious matters when you are like this.

-From your future to what pet your future kids could have.

-If you get cold while waiting for the rain to calm down, he has a blanket on the ready.

-He places you on his chest and drapes the blanket over you, enjoying your warmth and the filling of your pulse under his fingertips.

-Might get a little emotional if a slow song is playing.

-He is just too overwhelmed by his emotions at times like these, when he can hold you and feel the pure love and adoration flow between the two of you like water.

-I love you’s are exchanged and many kisses.

-When he starts driving again he is so refreshed, it’s like a completely different person.

-Gas station stops and bathroom breaks are a nightmare cuz he keeps hyping himself up in order to go into Bakugou public mode.

-You just want your Katsuki, the cuddly Katsuki.

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ohplagg · 3 years

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Normal Girl