#Listen I have a migraine I can be a bit stupid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Singer!Reader - 141, Los Vaqueros + Konig

Requested by Anon

Summary: Reader has to go undercover for a mission - and the guys find out that they have an amazing singing voice.

The song I had in mind whilst writing this was Doin' Time - Lana Del Rey ~

"Remember - eyes open, watch your six, Sergeant," Price's gruff voice spoke through your ear piece," The target is front and centre."

"Copy, Sir," You replied lowly.

Undercover missions were nothing you hadn't done before - in fact before your transfer to the 141 Taskforce they were your bread and butter. Usually your role was that of the other members of the squad - watch for the target, and then get them quickly and discretely as possible. This time? Well, Laswell had decided it would be best to put one of your other skills to use; before joining the army, you had a passion for music and singing, something that you didn't really get a chance to indulge in after climbing the ranks.

The mission itself was simple enough - you were to be onstage, singing to distract those in the room, namely the target, while the rest of the squad got into position - at which point, it was 'capture or kill' (as Ghost had put it).

You took a calming breath in through your noise and out through your mouth. Laswell would definitely owe you for this one...

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Had no idea that you could sing - when your melodic voice reaches his ears, it catches him off guard for a second, before he shakes his head slightly. Focus, he tells himself.

His eyes remain glued to the target, but he's internally fighting with himself not to stare at you.

Especially since you're dressed so nicely - he thinks you look good in anything you wear, even when in sweaty camo gear.

The target seems to ogle you just as adoringly - and it sets a fire in his belly.

When Price gives the signal to move in, he's taking the lead - and to his delight when the target resists, he gets to throw a punch at his stupid face.

After the mission, he voices his appreciation - well, as best as Ghost usually does:

"Not bad, Sergeant."

Definitely wants to hear you sing again, and might ask for an encore in private...

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

He's staring at you with this adorable look of pure awe - it takes a nudge and disgruntled look from Ghost for him to remember why he was there in the first place.

Johnny also had no idea that you could sing, which was made more obvious by his reaction.

He sings your praises as soon as the mission is over, eyes practically sparkling with barely contained excitement; he has to reel himself back a bit given he was around his superiors.

"Aw that wis absolutely class*, (Y/N/N) - got the voice of an angel ~" [wis = was] [class = amazing, brilliant, great ].

Congratulations - you're now going to be his partner for drunk karaoke.

((I can absolutely see Soap getting piss drunk and belting out 'Sweet Caroline' in a pub after a mission - it gives Ghost a migraine every time he does it))

Captain John Price

He knew you could sing, he's seen your file - but he didn't know you could sing like that.

When Laswell had suggested her plan to him to use you as a distraction, he was a bit sceptical - to be honest, he'd rather have just captured the target either before he got to the venue or when he was leaving. But he trusted her judgement.

And he's glad that he did.

He praises you like a typical Dad;

"You did good there, (Y/L/N)," As he pats your back.

When Soap drags you up on stage with him for drunk karaoke, he's slightly less annoyed - at least your sweet voice might help cancel out Soap's :))

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sweet boy is trying to stay composed for the mission - but try as he might, he can't control his facial expressions.

He's not as overtly expressive as Soap, but his eyebrows do almost meet his hairline, mouth parted slightly in surprise.

See, I reckon Kyle probably knew because you told him one night about how you used to sing a lot before joining the army - he's easy to talk to and a good listener, so you didn't mind him knowing.

Still, he's still amazed that you were this good.

I can also see him joining in on you and Soap's drunk karaoke session after a few drinks - and he's not a bad singer either.

Alejandro Vargas

Oh, he's your number one fan.

Stays composed for the sake of the mission but he can't help but crack a smile.

You probably met him during the Hassan mission, so he hasn't known you for too long - and you're full of surprises.

After the mission, he asks you questions - how long have you been singing? did you have lessons? He's just curious.

Probably would ask if you knew any Spanish songs - and if not, he's happy to teach you :)

Rudy Parra

He's naturally quite a quiet guy so he doesn't say much - his face says more than words could.

Like Alejandro, he hasn't known you very long but being able to learn more about you - and your skills off the field - is interesting.

He's a man of few words so he'd probably just give you a compliment which is short and concise;

"Tu voz es hermosa." ["Your voice is beautiful."]

Definitely would love to hear you sing again, and silently hopes that he will in future.

Develops a little crush on you then and there.

Konig

He knew you could sing - he's heard you singing in the showers back on base.

Being the shy guy that he is, he didn't say anything to you - he wasn't trying to be creepy but he was walking by on route to his room, and he heard you. Yeah, that sounded a bit sus.

But to hear you on stage, your voice crystal clear and so beautiful, had the little crush he had on you tripling in size.

He probably wouldn't say anything to you after the mission - he's naturally quiet and shy, plus he likes you, and you both were around the team so his anxiety said no.

However, when you're back on base and he gets a moment alone with you, he gets his words out;

"Sie haben eine erstaunliche stimme, Sergeant." ["You have an amazing voice, Sergeant."

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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months

Note

Headcanon: Steve having a migraine and Eddie unintentionally making it worse

The music was a lot louder than Steve could handle, but he kept his mouth shut.

It wasn't Eddie's fault that his migraine was unbearable and the noise was just making it worse.

Plus, anytime Eddie was willingly washing the dishes was too much of a win to let a stupid migraine get in the way.

But it's just that Eddie's music was already pretty loud, even when the volume was low. It was a bit overwhelming even at the best of times.

And with Eddie singing and banging the pots and pans around while he washed them, Steve was going to end up passed out on the floor.

"Going to bed," he said suddenly, standing up and trying his best not to fall over.

Eddie didn't hear him. He was pretty quiet and the music was loud, so it made sense.

He walked to their bedroom slowly, carefully. He didn't need to get dizzy and fall over.

The music was still ringing in his ears, even with the door closed, even with his head under his pillow.

He didn't want to be the asshole; This was their house and Eddie should be able to listen to his music when he wants to. He's earned some freedoms.

But Steve couldn't even see straight anymore.

The migraine was making his head pulse, his vision blurry around the edges.

The music shut off.

"Stevie?" Eddie's voice rang out. "Where'd you go, sweetheart?"

His voice was too loud, even from the other room.

Steve groaned in response, closing his eyes and hoping that he could get through this conversation without throwing up or being too bitchy.

"Why didn't you tell me you have a migraine?" Eddie asked from the doorway.

"You were busy."

"You know you can always interrupt a chore, sweet love."

Steve couldn't help giving a small smile at that.

"You want me to hold you or do you wanna be alone?"

"Hold me. Quiet, though."

Eddie leaned in to kiss his forehead, lips barely putting pressure on his skin.

"I can do that."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 1 year

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play stupid games, win stupid prizes

sirius thinks he’s hot shit, that is until you play his game.

warnings: no warnings, maybe a few curse words? sirius being dumb

tags: fluff, 4.2k wc, established relationship, emotionally constipated sirius, accidentally made an oc charlie wilson (also appeared in my james potter fic here)

“sirius, what the hell?” you near shouted as you got close to the group of boys. one in particular looking way too chipper for your liking.

roughly tapping your boyfriend’s shoulder, as he continues to ignore you. “sirius, i’m talking to you.”

slowly, he looked up at you from his seat. irritation flaring under your skin, as he all but smile calmly at you - looking like he’d done no wrong. you felt a blooming shame from making a scene in the great hall but the flare makes it easy to ignore.

“where were you? i was waiting for you all afternoon.”

he looked at you, cooly, before shrugging, “oh i forgot, sorry about that.” though he looked anything but sorry. frankly, he looked rather satisfied with himself.

you felt a gnawing migraine slowly come to you. you’ve noticed conversations like these are becoming way too frequent with your boyfriend, as of late. as pathetic as it sounds, it wasn’t the first time he’d stood you up either.

you scoff, “you had begged me to come all morning and then you were no where to be found and you just forgot? what the fuck.”

sirius rolled his eyes, and you felt your eye twitch in anger, “i just forgot this one thing, it’s already over and done with. merlin, what else do you want from me?” he clicked his tongue and turned away from you to grab more food to fill his plate. seemingly done with the conversation. but you stayed standing behind him, boiling in anger.

the hall started to stir in murmurs, yet you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“what i want is a little respect from you - as your girlfriend.” you spat out, hands clenched to your sides.

sirius turned to look to look at you sideways, before he says his voice in a staged whisper, “i’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” scratching his neck, “how about we keep this relationship - open?” he says, “i want to have options, and i don’t want to get stuck—“

“stuck?”

“—into a relationship that’s too serious, too early. you get it, don’t you sweetheart?” his tone dripping in honey.

but it all felt like saccharine venom filling your lungs as the blood drain in your face and hands, hearing a couple of people at your back giggle and whisper at the spectacle before them. you felt a sliver of humiliation—one you’ve never though you’d feel with sirius. you looked at the man in front of you, looking way too proud of himself, and felt a sudden distaste settle in your mouth. willing your eyes to stay clear. your hand losing its strength to clench, now lay limp at your side. breathing in deep, and sighing.

“sure,” you said lamely.

you can see sirius��s smile falter a little bit before widening again, and winking at you. “i knew you’d get it.”

without another word, you turned and walked briskly out of the hall. feeling the gazes of hundred students following you walk out. you hadn’t eaten anything at all today, but sleeping hungry, sounds more appetizing than having to sit through the humiliation sirius had happily put you through.

at the groan of the door closing shut, remus wasted no time as he leaned in and whispered harshly. “should you really be acting like this towards your girlfriend?”

sirius looked taken aback first, before looking at his friend with an easy smile plastered on his face.

“oh moony,” sirius breathed out a haughty laughter, grabbing remus’ shoulder and smiled as if pitying, “this is why i’m the one with a girlfriend, yeah? trust me, i know what i’m doing.”

remus rolled his eyes, already done listening to this nonsense as he pried his hand off of his shoulder with a shrug

“and what is it that you’re doing exactly?” james asked, hands clasped in front of him, his dinner promptly forgotten.

“you know,” sirius gestures vaguely, “giving them a little taste of good ol’ padfoot and then depriving them of it.”

james frowned, “again, what is it that you’re doing exactly?”

peter looked at him apprehensively, “did you just refer to yourself in third person?”

sirius ignores peter’s quip and continues, “it’s the push and pull trick,”

remus frowned, “and i’m assuming this trick has something to do with being an asshole to your significant other then?”

sirius scoffs, “it’s not,”

james looking at sirius, indignant, “it sounds like it is.” sirius psh’ed, waving his hand.

peter sighed, “i feel like like i’ll regret asking this but - what is the push and pull trick?”

“don’t-“

sirius grinned, “i’m glad you asked,”

remus roll his eyes already fearing the worst and james not even bother trying to hide the grimace on his face.

“it’s when you give them a little bit of something like asking them out on date or bringing them flowers. and then you act nonchalant and aloof, like forgetting the date, or the flowers are all limp and dying.”

james gasps horrified at the prospect, “that’s bloody awful!” james slams his hand on the table, flabbergasted. “please tell me you didn’t give her dead flowers!”

sirius just shrugs, and james slumps in his seat.

peter shakes his head and turns to his food. “i regret asking.”

“that is probably the stupidest thing i have ever heard.” remus sighs, his eyes dead and unamused.

“you are a terrible boyfriend!” james shrieked, still dumbfounded.

sirius rolls his eyes, “i am not!” running a hand through his hair, “this is a way to strengthen our relationship!”

“that’s assuming you still have a relationship to strengthen,” peter hummed into his cup.

“if she cares enough, she’ll chase after me.”

remus rolled his eyes, “and why does she need to chase you?”

“to prove she wants me enough,”

“want you enough? are you actually insane?” james clicking his tongue, and looking at sirius as he’d wrong his entire lineage. “she doesn’t have to prove anything,”

“james, don’t bother,” remus says, putting a stern hand on james’ tense shoulder. “if sirius wants to play stupid games, let him. it’ll bite him in the arse soon enough.”

it was the next day when james, for once, had decided to heed remus’ advice of not bothering. so now sirius has been subjugated to conversations needing a middle man, as james refuses to associate with him until further notice.

“are you actually still pissy about last night?” sirius groans, looking over peter’s stout stature over to his petulant friend.

“wormtail, can you please tell sirius i’m not talking to him until he apologizes to his girlfriend.”

sirius groans louder following his friends in the halls.

“james said he won’t talk to you because he hates you.” peter relays, deadpanned and muffled by the candies in his mouth.

sirius grimaces, “i did try! but she wasn’t in the dorms last night.” he had meant to talk to you again, something to get the image of you deflating and leaving the halls out of his head. he would have apologized and you would have forgiven him, like you always did. but he hadn’t seen you at all since last night.

“wormtail, can you please tell sirius he didn’t try hard enough and i refuse to be his friend if he treats his girlfriend like shit?”

peter nods and turns to sirius, “james said you look like shit.”

sirius gasps, looking to peter now, “he did not say that—“

“james she’s not his girlfriend remember,” remus finally quipped. “he wanted it open,”

“mate, come on!” sirius laughs exasperated. “i really didn’t want it to be open, i’m gonna take it back today and go on our weekly dates like always.”

remus snorts, “ha! like she’ll say yes after your show yesterday.”

sirius frowned, “of course she’ll say yes,”

peter scrunches his face, and shares a look with remus, “how sure are you this push and pull thing is even working,”

“because, we’ve already been dating for weeks and i’ve been doing it since the start.” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

james sputter out sounds of disbelief before speaking harshly, “wormtail please tell sirius that he is absolutely mental for ever thinking that treating a lady like that is a good idea.”

“james said—.”

“i heard him,” sirius says, waving him off. “this verified data, okay? this is working.”

remus laughs in that irritating way that he does, when he knows something you don’t. sirius can already heal the bubbling irritation, wanting to say a scathing remark back but peter looks at something behind sirius, smirking as he points to the courtyard, “isn’t that your not-girlfriend with a guy over there?”

the group looks and, sure enough, there you were. your back against a post and a guy’s hand flat beside your head, leaning way too close as the both of you laugh. sirius doesn’t like the way the guy is looking at you. he doesn’t like the way he’s inching closer and closer to you, and he really doesn’t like the way you aren’t doing anything about it.

“begging, huh.” remus hummed, an irritating tone of smugness coating his voice.

sirius ignores the teasing quips and practically sprints to you, eyes blazing in anger and chest beating in jealousy. “hey!” he shouted when he sees you leaning up into the guy.

“hey,” he repeats, trying hard to not pant as he pushes his hair around to look nonchalant, “how are you?” he asks, eyes looking between the two of you.

the guy leaned back from your face, but his hands still remained near your head. sirius wanting nothing more than to cut his hand off and throw it to his face.

you didn’t bother moving from your spot, regarding him in a dull look. it leaves a bad taste in sirius’ mouth.

“oh,” you breathed, looking over at him. your face void of all the frowns and obvious anger you would usually have after a fight. which strangely makes it even worse for him. he knows how to deal with your anger, or your irritation but he doesn’t know what to do with your indifference.

“who’s this? a new friend?” he said looking pointedly at the offending hand beside your head and the excessive closeness of your positions. you raised an eyebrow, arms crossing in guarded scepticism, which, okay fair. but he’ll be damned before he leaves without getting some answers.

“charlie wilson, nice to meet you mate.” the blond reaching forward and offering his other hand.

sirius stares at it in great offence, before dragging his gaze to look at you instead. “what are you doing?” he asked, frowning to see any sort of tell, a clue to what your thinking. not even bothering to pretend he cares about the blond’s name, as the offending hand drops and stuffed into his pocket.

“i’m talking to charlie,” you say his name as if you’re close. as if this person wasn’t a practical stranger in your life. as if it wasn’t a guy you’ve barely interacted before.

sirius doesn’t even know what to say that. frantically at the position you’re standing in, hands gesturing to the scene. charlie sensing a tensing shift in the air, slowly removed his hand beside your head and stuffed it into his pocket, too.

the guy laughs, “look black, i don’t want any trouble.”

“don’t you now?” sirius snapped, turning to glare at the guy still standing way too close. “then what are you still doing here?”

“sirius,” you warned, no longer leaning against the post, and your arms tightly crossed.

wilson, still with an easy-going smile on his face, raises his hands in the air in faux surrender, “okay then,” softly grabbing your hand and squeezing it, “i’ll see you later y/n,” then stepping away. to hell with later, as if sirius’d let him come up to you ever again.

sirius was about to follow him, wand in hand - clutched tightly. he has a few colourful words to express to this bloke charlie. maybe his earlier friendly glances were too subtle, for him to still casually address you like that. but before he could even take a step, you turned to look at him. gaze hard and serious.

“what was that?”

sirius sputtered out words of disbelief and looked at you, his eyes wide as saucers, “what do you mean what was that?”

“you didn’t have to be such an arse towards charlie like that.” again, with his name!

“well, someone’s got to be.” he puffs, “i see you have a bit of qualms telling him off as you were practically humping in the courtyard.”

“excuse me?” you gaped.

he should stop. he should stop and the apologize. take it back and start over, and beg for forgiveness.

“you heard me,” he retorted, arms crossed in defiance, “why didn’t you tell him off?”

“last time, if i remember correctly, you were the one who said you wanted an open relationship.”

he did say that. said it in front of the whole bloody school, too. he might as well have gotten up to the tables to scream it out so everyone could hear.

but sirius is nothing but destructively defiant. even if he was wrong, he’d never admit it. “i know.” he sniffs, nose raised to the sky as he crosses his arms too, “i just wanted you to keep the tiniest bit of decency as to not go at it in public. wouldn’t want people calling you a scrubber.”

he saw you deflate again, like last night. your lips tremble just the slightest bit and your eyes take on a new shine of unshed tears. his arms uncrossing, apology already on the tip of his tongue and reaching out to you, but you stepped away.

“i’ll keep that mind for next time then.”

he should’ve apologized.

he didn’t know much about charlie wilson, and he kinda wishes it stayed that way. because now he was everywhere. everywhere with you. always seeing you smiling and laughing with him in every bench, at every meal, ni every class. how easy and happy you looked. it made him think to the last time he made you smile like that though it only caused a heavy pit in his stomach when he realized he can’t think of any. too caught up in his head about methods to assure himself of the feelings you felt for him. that he failed to assure you of his.

there were already a handful of people speculating if you two had broken up. each time sirius hears it, he denies it vehemently. he tries to approach you but you either ignored him or were too preoccupied in a conversation with that prat wilson to even give him a chance to say, hello.

sirius groans, running a hand through his hair and plopping his head on the table with a thud. the gryffindor common now being the only solace for him from the onslaught of offending visuals of you and your new beau.

“bit you in the arse real good, yeah?” remus chuckled, popping a candy in his mouth. as he leaned back on chair next to him.

“it’s what muggles call karma,” peter cheerfully quipped.

his voice muffled from the table, moaning to himself, “what should i do?”

sirius couldn’t see it but he can feel remus roll his eyes, “how about try not being a complete wanker then?”

peter smiled from the couch, “i would’ve gone for asswipe, as the americans would say.”

“or actually treating her like a human being, not an experiment.” lily stated as she entered the room. james following closely behind, her books clutched in his arms.

sirius mutters silently, “and no actual help was offered. got it.”

but not silent enough it seems, as james replied, “this is your own fault, anyway. why would we help? i mean, seriously, who in their right mind would even think that what you were doing was going to end good.”

james had started speaking to him again, but only because peter kept adding gruesome details that always included hitting sirius’ bits that made him stop relying on peter to be middleman. but if you asked sirius, he would have preferred james not talking to him at all because now every time they talked it would always lead to a lecture about how bad of a boyfriend he is. which he sort of is (he can admit that now), but he doesn’t need the constant reminder.

“i’m happy for her, she seems to glow lately. i’m guessing without you to stress her out made her even prettier.” james huffed.

“agreed,” lily hummed.

remus nods enthusiatiscally, “you have to admit, this is the best case scenario.”

“best case?!” whipping his head to look at remus as if he had gone bonkers. “how is this best-case? we barely talk now!”

“oh sorry,” remus sheepishly laughed, before scratching his cheek, “best case for y/n, i mean.”

“and what, you think i’m bad for her or something.”

“well you did treat her like crap.” peter said mouth full of candy.

james nodding in agreement, “not to mention she’s leagues above you.”

sirius gasped, scandalized, “we’re in the same league.”

“are you though?” lily hissed theatrically. “i mean, you’re here miserable and she’s out there dating.”

“she’s not—! of course i’m miserable, how could i even think of dating other people when i have her! i lover her,”

lily raised an eyebrow, “then why’d you say you didn’t want to date her?”

“i never said that!”

“right, you said you wanted it to be an open relationship.”

“yes—“

“and then you stood her up,”

“i stood her up before i said-“

“like that makes a difference?” she bemusedly hummed, “you ask her for space, she gives it you and sulk. you ask for an open relationship, she starts talking to other people and you sulk. she just can’t win with you huh?” sirius seemingly sinking into his chair, trying to ignore the onslaught of judgement and scoffs “then why’d say all that in the great hall?”

sirius pauses, “i thought, it’d be good for our relationship—”

she gives him an incredulous look and scoffs, “are you joking? how could you possibly think it’d help with your relationship? you’re just pushing her away! not to mention humiliating - doing it so publicly, why if i was in her shoes i wouldn’t even give you the time of day. forget dating you, i wouldn’t even talk to you. did you even apologize? hm? or were you too caught up in your games to notice?”

he kept quiet seeming to sink deeper and deeper into his seat. a sneer etching itself on lily’s face, “typical,” she spat. “and now you’re putting on woe is me act as if you’re the victim when you’re the exact reason why this is happening in the first place. if you want to be an arsehole then at least have the balls to act like it until the end,”

“but i don’t want to be an arsehole,” he mumbled, hands restless on his lap feeling like a child again, waiting until the sermon stops.

“what was that?”

“i don’t want to be an arsehole.” he repeated louder.

lily looking triumphant, leans back into james and crossing her arms. “then do something about it, instead of dragging everyone into your mess.”

sirius hadn’t a clue how to even start a conversation with you - feeling like he’d lost all the right to. the shame and guilt and inadequacy settling into his subconscious like a second skin. he doesn’t know what he could possibly say to justify his grievous actions towards you (because it really was a shitty thing he’d done to you - fuck, you won’t ever want to be with him after this), but he suppose he could start by coming clean.

finding you was easy enough— it was approaching you that proved to be rather difficult. you had a whole set up in place; your yellow blanket spread on the ground, snacks littering your sides and a book in your hand. breathing in deep, his eyes firmly set on your figure, he slowly approaches you. this is probably be the first time in days that he sees you all alone. and sirius isn’t much for signs but he can’t help but think that it must be fate working for his favour.

once he’s close enough, he sees the thing you’ve been reading. he pauses mid-step, almost tripping him. but he steels his nerves and walked on. he had to do this now, or else he might never have the chance to make things right again.

“hey,” he says slowly, low and careful, like he knows anything could set you off— judging by the furrow on your eyebrow, and the frown set on your lips, he knew it wasn’t a far-fetched assumption.

you look up, the magazine still clutched into your hand. staring up at him, eyes still holding that cold indifferent gaze.

he pauses and then slowly, “am i disturbing you?”

you looked at the all too familiar magazine, and all the annotations to the pages. he was pretty sure you were going to drive him out, maybe even hex him for good measure. he wouldn’t blame you if you did, you had every right to. but then you shook your head no and moved just a tiny bit to give him space. he almost sighs in relief before slowly plopping down. he wanted to reach out and touch you over anything. maybe even just your robes if he could, but he knows that would be more than he deserves from you. so he settles half in the blanket and half in the grass before slowly asking, “what are you reading there?”

you flip the magazine close, the cover in plain sight for the both of you, cosmopolitan’s marvellous guide to keep him interested! in bold yellow. “it’s a muggle magazine. somebody lent it to me.”

he gulps, “i see,”

you hum, still looking at the cover. your fringe covering your eyes, “it’s an interesting read - the contents are horrifying but the owner of this even more-so.” you plop the magazine into his lap. the wrinkled pages, a testament to how much the owner has read this thing is obvious. sirius grabs it and opens it to a familiar page. his handwriting scattered around, filled with stars and exclamation points to the things he’s curious to try.

“i can explain,” he says plainly. feeling his hand lay heavy on the glossy pages and the heat rising to his neck and cheeks.

you look at him, your eyes carrying indignation now, better than nothing he supposes. “okay then,” you huff, “explain to me why you’ve been using ridiculous magazine tactics to mess with me. is it your idea of a joke? hm? thinking i’m not even worth a decent relationship with you, that you just play me like that? experimenting with bullshit like appearing aloof to capture my attention?” you read into one of the things he’d underlined thrice.

“i know i know, it’s fucked up - but i didn’t do it to mess with you, believe me,” sirius says, running a hand through his hair and sags, “i did it - well, fuck okay, i did it because i didn’t know how to be a boyfriend.”

there it was, the embarrassing truth of it all. he doesn’t really know what the fuck he’s been doing the past weeks. too ashamed to admit his lack of experience in dating that he’d created this façade of easy confidence, reducing him to pathetically consulting magazine articles.

“oh come on,” you scoff, before quickly getting on your knees and reaching all over the blanket to grab all your stuff. “you’d honestly think i’d believe a sorry excuse like that? sirius you’re literally the hottest guy in school—“ sirius really tried not to preen at that, he really did. though his joyous moment of narcissism quickly fades once you stand, arms full, and heart tightening frown on your face. “—everybody wanted to get with you, i had people - people! - that would beg me to break up with you so they’d have a chance. you expect me to believe some bullshit about you being a budding virgin?”

there was a pausing silence when you looked at him, at least he felt you look. sirius refused to look at you, resolutely staring at his lap and willing his cheeks to calm down to its natural pale colour.

sirius had never gotten with anyone else except for you. his impromptu celibacy was defiance at first, his parents urging him to make connections and meet people at hogwarts. people he can someday marry and produce an heir for the family, naturally he’d rebelled. refusing to meet with anyone, or even entertain the idea of dating and he’s successful in this endeavour (though some might too successful). but then he met you. wonderful you, that broke down his walls and his immature need to defy his parents, like a battering ram and had made him want you. you made him want to be with you, and get to know you and love you, and you were so perfect. you’d always know what to say and what to do, and he’d just wanted to be that with you. but he hadn’t had the guts to ask for any help at the start, because people expected so much from him — expected him to know and he doesn’t. he didn’t want to disappoint you. though now he knows, he still did either way.

“you’re actually—?”

he nods.

you sit down again, things tumbling out of your arms to your lap and across the blanket.

“why didn’t you say so?” you say quietly. your annoyance simmering away. even when he knows you have every right to run off and curse him out and never talk to him. but you were toonice. thank merlin, you’re too nice because now, you’re sat closer to him. he could almost smell your pleasant perfume.

“i didn’t want you to think that you’d made a mistake dating me that you could do so much better.”

you flick his tie, “that’s a stupid reason.”

“i know,” sirius sighs, trying to still his twitching fingers from reaching out to you. “i’m sorry.”

you huff crossing your arms, “i wouldn’t’ve cared, you didn’t have to use cheesy tactics to get me interested because i’m already am,”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

“and i really got upset you wouldn’t talk to me properly,”

“i know, i shouldn’t’ve done that, i’m sorry.”

“treating me like i’m garbage in front of the whole school too, do you know how mortifying that is?”

sirius bit his lip, “i’m sorry, that was - i’m sorry.”

you sag, throwing a pack of crisps into his chest, making him look up at you. “i don’t forgive you.”

sirius looks down, because of course you wouldn’t. it was enough you’d hear me out if anything. “i understand,”

you sigh, “you have to make it up to me first,”

“what?”

you opened a bag of crisps, all the while gesturing to the bag on his lap to open it too. “you could start by spending the entire day with me and telling me everything you’ve learned from this magazine.” throwing a piece into your mouth and giving him a tentative smile.

sirius can feel the painfully wide grin spreading on his face, eagerly grabbing the pack and popping it open, you really are too nice for him.

extra:

“how did you even get the magazine?” sirius asks, his arms carrying the folded yellow blanket and the crumpled magazine.

he was sure he had it hidden in his bedroom drawer - with a strong locking charm too. he can’t think of how this could’ve possibly ended up in your possession.

you shrugged, “peter gave it to me.”

he didn’t even know peter could pick locks! let alone counter his locking charm. “that traitor.” he grumbles.

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hai7ani · 5 months

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橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut), complicated relationships, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, wounds & abuse please proceed with caution

thank you for 300 followers! i thought i might as well upload this today ^^

masterlist | playlist

part iii / your lips, my lips; apocalypse

2004

Rindou had experienced true homesickness when he was 16.

Middle of December when the snow had just started falling in Tokyo, and he is home alone, disassociating to some Mozart playing at max volume along some other things (or thoughts) while laying flat on his bed. If Ran was home to hear the kind of music he is currently playing, he'd be a dead man by then.

But he doesn't care about Ran, no. He cares about you. You're the one who's been plaguing his mind -- so sticky and frustrating -- after he'd left your pouty figure back home in Kanagawa with kiss-swollen lips 5 months ago. You and your stupid, pretty lips that has taken his first kiss, your laugh that feels a lot more effective than those pills his Mother tells him to swallow for his migraine, your soft, shaky hands when they reached up to cup his cheeks as you open your mouth wider to allow his tongue in . . .

Requiem in D Minor reaches its peak, and he finally finds it in him to turn the volume down with a click of his tongue -- he's to become a madman if he continues this any further.

It's been 2 years since the boy's moved up to Tokyo alone with his brother. Rindou doesn't think he's struggled much in adapting to the lifestyle -- in fact, it suits him a lot more than he's expected it to. He likes to think he's adapted to it sooner than Ran, although the older seems to be much more put together than he is -- judging from the listening habits and different lifestyles both brothers have chosen to adopt in this big city as two young teenagers -- because Ran is actually doing something useful right now: staying back at school for extra Physics lessons and then attending his Track and Field club meeting after class, and Rindou is here: still dressed in his uniform, still not yet finished his McDonald's that he'd abandoned at the dining table before retreating back into his room to sulk because he's been missing a certain somebody a little too much.

He admits that things are more fun in the city -- the nightlife that he finds himself getting excited to when walking past the centre of Roppongi to get back home after night class, easily accessible skate parks that he frequents with a few friends after school in his half-buttoned uniform, the drifting culture he's taken up after spending most of his savings on a second-hand MX-5 to drift illegally on weekends where he doesn't have to get up early . . . It is all so different and fresh, and Rindou thinks he hasn't felt this good while having fun before.

But you wrote him a letter 2 months ago for his birthday and he still hasn't replied to it yet.

I still think about our kiss in summer. I also miss you a whole lot. See you next summer, and again, happy 16th, 竜胆.

You'd wrote it in the ending paragraph of your lengthy four-paged letter -- all the things you wished he was there back home to experience together with you, your stupid little thoughts flashing by your head while laying flat in bed at 3 in the morning, your already-planned new year resolutions that he knows you're never going to finish despite your sudden burst of motivation, recent hobbies that you've started picking up due to extreme boredom now that December is here and everything outside is cold and slippery -- and Rindou finds himself thinking about you and you and you over and over again.

Summer of 2004 -- when he finished his can of beer and crushed it in his hands as he silently admired you through the curtains of his eyelashes. When you caught his eyes and bit your lip before shifting closer to him on the floor while fixing the loose strap of your tank top. When he inched closer to your face and smirked, before puffing out a small, warm air that smells like beer with a hint of peppermint over your cupid's bow.

When you blushed and decided to be bold by placing both hands on his sturdy chest as you knocked your forehead against his very warm and red cheek. When he looked you in the eye one last time before pressing his dry, boyish lips tight against yours that tasted a lot like your favourite honeydew flavoured lip balm and he'd smiled into it.

Sweet, peachy, and the kiss wasn't perfect; it was merely just a quick peck, but it was so lovely that he finds himself growing warm at the memory of your eyelids fluttering open when he pulled away, only to lean back in and peck at your lips once or twice more before shoving in a tongue and getting you all worked up in the process, because he just couldn't help it -- you were so addictive. You were so pretty.

You are so pretty.

The boy sits back up in one swift motion and looks out the window to his right. He stares down at the bustling, happening city below from the comfort of his high rise.

A train passes by through the underground tunnels of Roppongi. Pristine, white snowflakes falls heavily from the sky and lands on the ground before slowly piling up on the sidewalk as a young child happily tugs on her mother's hand while pointing at it. The yolk of the sun is hidden behind thick clouds, but it is still bright outside.

The wires connect. Stars align. Clouds fade away.

He blushes.

Rindou wants to kiss you again.

He glances at your crumpled letters still splayed across his desk for the past 2 months, and the boy comes to a realisation.

Things are fun in Tokyo.

Life isn't.

And the next thing he knows, he is shoving a bunch of winter clothes and a few bags of expensive taiyaki into his black Jansport, before leaving a quick note on a yellow Post-it to Ran on the coffee table while finishing up his leftover McDonald's.

Going back home for Xmas *a badly drawn Christmas tree*

Will be back before the new years... or not

Depends on my mood. C u

🖕 - ur 弟

He throws the pen down, not before doodling yet another huge, ugly and messily drawn middle finger on the remaining space in the Post-It, and he slaps it on the table.

Rindou leaves for Kanagawa in the earliest train at 5 in the evening with your letters folded, safely tucked into the left pocket of his puffer jacket with a bag of warm chocolate chip muffins placed into the confines of his jacket to keep warm on the ride home. An elderly lady sitting beside him points it out with a teasing laugh and a silly pat to his forearm.

"Who are these for?"

He says it with a lopsided smile.

"My girlfriend."

Three more days to Christmas and Rindou is standing outside of your school gate.

He'd came straight after he arrived, not bothering to phone his parents or inform his brother of his safe arrival back home. Seeing you seemed to weigh far heavier to him, judging from how he's waiting patiently in the cold for you to get out of night class. Rindou knows of your schedule well -- he's memorised it ever since you showed it to him the last time he visited home.

"Fuck," he cusses, nose growing redder and patience growing thinner with each passing moment that you don't appear at the entrance. "Did I get the wrong time?" He murmurs to himself and pulls out his phone to check. Did he perhaps be smart that day and snapped a photo of your timetable? But he's sure you finish at 8 on Tuesdays, with Math being the last period -- he remembers you complaining about it because you have always been one to hate Math, while him on the other hand, is an absolute beast at it.

White snow slowly covers his two-toned hair as he shuffles his weight from one foot to another, and a deep crease forms between his brows after realising that his stupid ass did not, in fact, be smart that day and snap a photo of your timetable.

Rindou clicks his tongue. He's contemplating on leaving -- to turn around and just go over to your house right now. Maybe you are actually home this whole time as he's stuck here pondering his thoughts and you're getting bored out of your mind.

He thinks he cannot waste another moment to see you.

And after a few more analysing and breaking down on what would be the best option to do, a voice calls out for his name. A girl's voice -- smooth and filled with so much excitement, it seems -- and he turns around to look at her.

Himeko approaches him from the entrance -- dressed in her cozy uniform and a heavy book bag is slung over her shoulder. "Rindou, you're home." She jogs up to him, leg warmers falling off her calves as she runs and stops just right in front of him. There's a wide grin stretched across her face as she stares up at the much taller boy and doe eyes squints a little from the lamppost shining down into them. Light snowflakes cover her eyelashes and she simply dusts them away with a little smile.

"Oh, hey." Rindou blinks. He then turns on his heel to head towards your house and Himeko follows along with a finger hooked onto a strap of his Jansport. "Why are you back home? It's not Summer." She states, and she soon realises that the last sentence had sounded a little stupid -- so she attempts to make it less awkward for her by asking more questions and attempting to converse with Rindou, to which the boy doesn't oppose on answering.

"It's the last week before winter break." She states while picking up her pace behind him to catch up with the boy's wider steps.

"I know. How's school?" He asks, his vacant hand shoving down into the pocket of his jacket to keep warm but Himeko nudges his elbow. He looks down and sees that she is handing him her book bag.

Rindou fishes the hand out to get a hold of the strap and he slings it over his shoulder -- just as habit allows. Himeko seems delighted at this, as she crosses her hands behind her body and starts skipping beside him on the sidewalk. But a brown bag hanging off his left hand catches her attention and curious hands starts inching towards it without him knowing.

"Just fine. It's been a little boring though, even the teachers are getting ready for the holidays." She replies. Rindou simply hums at it. He's never been great at conversations -- always the listener with you as his speaker.

And he feels a sudden jolt at the bag in his hand. He snatches it back quick, eyes sharp and movements turning defensive as he stares at the girl who is clearly shocked at his behaviour over a bag of chocolate chip muffins.

". . . What?" He clears his throat and stops in his tracks. He's getting irritated. Himeko tilts her head to the side. She points at the bag of muffins with a pointer, "Are those for me? I like muffins."

"'S for Mom. She wanted me to buy 'em before coming back." And with that, Rindou hands Himeko back her own bag to take. He doesn't say anything further, and he shoves its strap back into her hands, the weight pushing her arms down and she furrows her brows at his suddenness.

It's so awkward. But she is Himeko -- always the peacemaker of the group -- and she decides to clear the atmosphere with a change of topic.

"Ran didn’t come home with you?"

Rindou remains quiet for a while -- obviously feeling a little pissed, but ultimately, he decides to reply to her anyway.

"Nah, he's still in Tokyo. I came back without him."

"Why’d you come home then?"

"I just missed Mom's cooking, 's all." He shrugs. A lie, but Himeko doesn't need to know that. Though she beams at his response, "I went to your house for dinner yesterday. Your Mom's cooking is way too good." My house, dinner?

"Did Y/N go, too?" He asks a little too quickly, the steady beat of his chest growing quicker at the thought of you most probably sitting on his chair at his dining table while enjoying his mother's cooking before finding ways to sneak up to his room and mess with his DJ set that he'd purposely left home for you to play with. He smiles a little at the possible scene playing in his head.

The smile on Himeko's face falters a little at his sudden burst of emotion with the mention of you, but she fixes herself fast and shoots back a response just as fast.

"No, her father came home on Sunday. I haven't seen her since."

Rindou turns his head to look at the shorter girl beside with a worried expression -- a total contrast to all that he's felt just now. He stops in his tracks, and Himeko stops too -- just two steps ahead of him -- with the smile on her face completely gone now.

"What's wrong?" She asks, face full of genuine concern.

"What do you mean?" Rindou frowns.

Himeko tilts her head to the left, trying to grasp what exactly that he's asking, so she repeats her words from earlier by talking slower.

"Y/N's dad came home on Sunday . . . ? She hasn't attended classes today or yesterday. I haven't seen her since she left to pick her father up from the airport. That was Sunday. But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Rindou scowls at it.

No, you don't.

Though she doesn't notice it, she shifts a little awkwardly at Rindou's visible shift in mood.

"Bye." He bids curtly and he leaves Himeko behind. The boy quickens his steps and turns into the road that leads straight to your house. He can see the building from a distance and Rindou can faintly make out that the lights are on.

You must be home.

"Rindou? Where are you-" Himeko calls out, but she pauses after realising the road that he's taking. He hears faint footsteps behind him but he doesn't reply -- his beating heart way too frantic for him to say anything at this point, let alone actually think for a response.

Her words play in his head over and over again, and it gets so overwhelming to the point that he has to take a breather and fix his unruly hair that's starting to block his vision.

Your dad is home.

A step closer to your house. Snow crunches beneath his sneakers.

Your dad is home.

The gate is open. He sees the quick wagging of a fluffy tail just beside the metal.

Your dad is home.

Inu-sama sits by the gate and upon sensing his owner's childhood friend's arrival, it barks at him. And it doesn't stop barking despite Rindou being someone who it has grown so familiar with over the years of your childhood and Inu-sama's place in your family.

"Hey, bud." He reaches down to pat your old Shiba, combing down its fur and giving it a few belly rubs before reaching into the pocket of his Jansport to fish out a little treat for your dog. He's not forgotten its treats despite leaving the house in a rush. "Where's 姉さん?" He asks -- as if Inu-sama could speak -- and it can, actually. It barks again to the door after his question and Rindou takes it as a hint that you are probably inside.

But the gate is open. Weird.

So he kicks off his shoes by the entrance and brings a nervous knuckle up to knock on the door. His hearts thumps fast in his chest, breath stuttering in his throat -- not because the thought of you possibly opening the door for him makes him giddy, but because the thought of your father possibly opening the door for him makes him weak. Scared.

Rindou is scared.

Everyone is afraid of your father. Even Ran who is known to have no fear towards anyone in his life -- not even his elders -- is scared of your father. But everyone except Himeko, though. Somehow through her rose-tinted eyes she still holds on to the idea that your father is just like any other: a man who leads and a man who brings structure. But you can't blame her, for she hasn't seen your father in ages. She hasn't seen the man he has become.

And Rindou knocks again, but still, no response, so he tries his luck by twisting the knob. It's unlocked and he pushes it open. Perhaps it'll earn him a black eye for attempting to enter your house without your father's approval, but he'll risk it just this once.

"Y/N?"

He's half-expected the house to be empty -- from the state of your unlocked door and gate to the awfully quiet and icy cold atmosphere of your house. Rindou doesn't think there's anyone in the house.

That is until he looks down at the sound of a sob.

The monster has done it again.

You're crouching on the floor, surrounded by what seems to be broken shards of glass and a few blood stains tainting the marble white of your floor.

He bolts towards you in an instant, not before throwing off his bag by the foot of the door and stepping over the sharp glass to reach over to you on his sock-clad feet. They cut into his flesh and he hisses a little at the sting, but he ignores the pain, and he diverts his attention back all on you.

You're not moving from your position, but he can tell that you're crying. You're hurt -- the cuts and dark bruises that's starting to swell on your arms and legs cracks his heart at the sight, and you're cold -- God, you're so, so cold when he scoops your frail body up and into his arms, away from the wrecked floor.

Weak, shaky hands immediately move to grip on his shoulder, nails sinking into the flesh as you suck in a deep breath upon realising that there's someone holding you -- someone is touching you. You panic a little, a whine escaping your throat and you try pushing him away with all the strength that you can muster. You hadn't realised that it is Rindou. You hadn't realised that he has entered the house. It doesn't hit you that Rindou is back home in the middle of December. You continue fighting against in his arms with more tears springing up to your bloodshot eyes.

"Stop, Dad. Please. It hurts."

That alone sends the boy into a shaking mess.

But he gathers himself, and he attempts to ground you by sitting you both on the couch and pressing your cold body into his warm chest. He buries his nose in your neck and kisses the skin gently, feeling the quick pulse of your heartbeat against his lips while rubbing warm circles on your upper back -- a means to soothe you, a means to tell you that he's here. "'S me, babe. It's me." He says it so softly -- right next to your ear, only meant for you to hear, meant for you to listen.

You shudder a little at the sudden warmth invading your skin and into your bones, and it then strikes you that the person holding you is Rindou. Rindou is home. The peppermint of his smell that you've long grown to love makes its way in grounding your senses and you eventually relax in his secure hold.

You're safe now.

Rindou is home. You are not alone anymore.

And then you start crying again.

"Where's the bastard? Your mom too." He asks, tone rough but he's gentle when cleaning away the blood on your lips from being busted by no doubt a harsh strike and he wipes it off on his jacket. You hold the other hand of his on your cheek to kiss the palm. "The airport. He says he's going back to the States. Just after a day." Your voice is shaky as you try your hardest to explain to him clearly amidst your choked sobs, "Mom is still in Osaka." And he doesn't make you speak any further after that -- he simply nods at your reply and opting to hug you close to his chest and calm your cries instead.

Rindou sighs angrily at your answer, a deep breath escaping his nose. You only bury yourself closer to him at it.

So your father did actually leave you in here all alone like this and went back to continuing his career. He wonders just how long you have been staying like this, in this state.

He looks around the house to make sure the man is actually gone and his purple eyes don’t miss the heavy stacks of medical textbooks and printed samples of medical reports scattered all over the coffee table. Your test paper -- Math, Tachibana Y/N, Fail -- sits atop of the books, the papers crumpled and a little torn at the sides. The large frames that hangs on the walls of your living room -- none of them are yours, all are his -- are all displaying professional photos of him attached with the many titles and prizes awarded to him.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, PhD in Oncology.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, board member of Harvard Medical School.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji.

Tachibana Hiroji.

What a man of noble character and high intellect, but is such a monster behind closed doors to his only daughter, his family.

Rindou turns his head back, and he’s gentle with you - soft hands wiping away the free-flowing tears and light bloodstains off your face.

And he decides that he doesn’t want to see you like this anymore.

Rindou presses his forehead to yours.

"I'll kill him, you know?"

"No, don't. You'll-"

"I'll kill him. I promise.”

Himeko stands behind the two of you -- scared behind the couch -- with eyes so wide and a heart pumping blood so fast underneath the bones of her chest that she thinks she might die.

But a broken sob from you on the couch breaks her out of her bubble.

She looks around the house.

She looks at your state.

She takes it all in.

"But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Oh.

tags: @nana-osakii

this took so long omg but i had time today to finish it so here it is ^^

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :3

#解 #橘 series #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #haitani brothers #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tr

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whatsa-bi-as · 8 months

Text

panic and pain

bf!Riki x partner!reader

plot; you go home early with a migraine and Riki starts to panic

genre; little bit of angst ending with fluff

warnings; mentions of medication, reader in pain (please let me know if i missed any)

word count; 0.6k

networks; @kflixnet @k-labels

Riki was worried, he knows that you’re old enough to look after yourself but you going home when you have a club after school? That’s just not like you at all.

You hadn’t answered any of his texts and the worry bubbling in his chest had turned to pure concern to the point where he felt like he wouldn’t be able to breath until he knows you’re okay.

The path to your house was one that Riki was familiar with. Whether it was walking you home or just coming to see you, the turns were something that he could navigate in the pitch black. This time something felt off, he guessed it was the fact that you weren’t by his side; without you there filling him in on your day or telling him the latest gossip the path just felt lonely.

Getting to your front door he couldn’t see your parents cars but he still knocked on the door, desperate to see you. The time it took you to answer the door felt like jelly, thick and cold, as your boyfriend stood there ready to raise hell to see if you were okay. So when you opened the door squinting at the sunlight streaming past the silhouette of your boyfriend he almost fell to his knees in relief.

Pulling you into his chest he plants kisses across your hairline, thanking every deity he could think of that you were safe. Closing the door behind him he practically carried you up to your room not letting his grip loosen until he was at your bedside.

Setting you down and falling into bed next to you he fully takes you in. You had gotten changed into one of his hoodies and some sleep shorts and even though you were the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on, Riki couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t look so good.

“Come on sunshine, what's the matter? Why did you leave me all alone in that hell hole?”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile against his chest at the quite accurate description of your school.

“Got a migraine. Promise it’s nothing against you dumbass.”

“Did you take anything for it? Paracetamol? Ibuprofen? Those headache tablets your mum gets?”

You got migraines a lot but you had never had to go home because of one before. The only thought running through Riki’s head was to try and help you and lessen your pain.

“Yeah, I took some paracetamol when I got home. Just need some sleep and I’ll be good for tomorrow.”

And with that reply Riki pulled you close and let you get comfy. He talked to you about anything he could think of. How Sunoo and Jungwon had tried to get him to settle a stupid argument and he ended up running away, how your literature teacher just gave up and let them watch a movie last period. Anything the boy could think of he talked about letting you fall asleep against his chest as you listened to his voice.

So you fell asleep with the boy you love already feeling better as you knew that you would always have him by your side. He would run to the end of the earth for you, he would take the stars from the sky if you asked for them but all you needed was this.

All you needed was to feel loved as you navigate another day because being a teenager can suck, being ill sucks, school, life, everything just sucks. That all melts away when you're in Riki’s arms, hearing his voice, seeing him smile. He just makes everything better even the most painful of migraines.

#kflixnet #k lables #niki fluff #niki angst #riki fluff #nishimura riki #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #niki enhypen #niki x reader #niki x y/n #niki x you

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orgasming-caterpillar · 9 months

Text

Dancing On Your Heartstrings

Chapter 1

Ranveer POV

"Ranveer Kashyap. Sweet name, by the way."

Ranveer turned to face the boy －the eternally exhausting, exasperating boy－ and said, "Hindi bol le, angrez ki aulad."

Raghav put down his coke and feigned hurt, placing a hand above his heart. "Aap mujhe aisa kaise keh sakte hain?" he said in a dramatically British accent.

For the nth time that day, Ranveer sighed. Why did he ever think this could work out? No- Why did the principal think this could work out. He and Raghav could never work together. The boy was simply too… draining. He was a goddamned vampire dressed in neon jackets that sucked your life force out of you. Two days with him and Ranveer was already thinking of getting a prescription of migraine meds.

"The competition is in two weeks, Raghav. And we haven't even choreographed yet!"

Raghav, however, didn't seem the slightest bit pressed. "So? We can choreograph in two days, practice for ten days, rehearse on the last two days. Easy."

Ranveer wanted to grab him by the neck and shove his face into chullu bhar paani. "Easy? Easy!? Easy hogi meri chappal. Tu do minute cooperate to kar. Main akela thodi kar lunga ham dono ka dance choreograph?"

"Arey bas, yaar. Chill kar na thoda. See, main kathak se related kuch choreograph karta hu, tu hip hop jaisa kuch dhundh. Dono ke genres intermix to karke kuch dynamic banate hai."

"Dynamic to apna ban jayega. Pata bhi hai BCPA ki team ne kab ki preparations shuru kar di? Aur tune aaj ka pura din waste karwa diya. Na kuch kiya na karne diya," Ranveer grumbled, shoving his feet into his shoes. He shouldered his bag and walked out of the practice room. After waiting for a while, he noticed Raghav was still in the room. "Chaliye, maharaj. Mujhe is room ko lock karke warden ko keys bhi deni hai."

Raghav was rooted in his place. This guy was just one weird thing after another. His coffee-brown curls really looked like a bird's nest after a whole another day of goofing around and doing no real practice. His face had a thoughtful expression, eyes squinting, gazing into the distance. "Oye!" Ranveer called out to him. Then, he seemed to come back to his senses.

For some reason, there was a slight tint of redness on his cheeks. Perhaps from exhaustion. Maybe being stupid did make you tired, Ranveer had thought idiots never ran out of energy.

"Listen," Raghav called out. Ranveer quirked up an eyebrow. "You want to practise right? Come to my house. I don't have any siblings, to koi pareshan bhi nahi karega. We can look up dance moves and choreograph together."

Ranveer wanted to refuse, but when he actually considered it, it wasn't that bad of an idea. Begrudgingly, he replied, "Okay."

Raghav flashed him a grin, showing his pretty teeth that Ranveer was always so tempted to break.

Once again, Ranveer sighed. "Ab maharaj baahar aayenge ya aapke liye paalki bulai jaae?"

• • •

It was five pm when the bell to the patil household rang.

"Aati hu!" chimed in a woman's voice from inside the house. Not long after, the door opened.

It was Mrs Patil, Raghav's mother, probably. She looked at him, head to toe, from his sleek black hair, to the slight stubble on the dark skin of his face. Shit, should he have shaved? Was she judging him? He was already going mad overthinking. But then Mrs Patil tilted her head and asked, "Ranveer?"

Oh, she has never seen me before. That's why. Ranveer smiled and nodded, earning a warm smile from Mrs Patil too. She had benevolent-looking eyes and deep dimples. So that's where Raghav got them from. Ranveer had always thought he got them from his father, since he looked so much like the man.

"Arey, andar aao na, beta. Raghav told me you would come today. Do you want chai?"

Ranveer took the corner seat of the sofa and looked around. Mrs Patil hadn't waited for his answer and was already pouring a cup of chai for him. "Thank you," he said and took the cup she handed him.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen, beta. Raghav bhi aata hi hoga."

With that, she disappeared into the kitchen. Ranveer sipped on his chai and cursed himself for not asking her for her name. Now he'll have to be stuck calling her "Mrs Patil" or "Aunty".

Thought the word aunty wouldn't suit her. Despite her age, she had the sort of radiance in her that many women seemed to lack. Until now, Ranveer couldn't place a name on it, but now he realised that he had seen the same untiring energy in Raghav. He had only met Raghav's father, because he also taught at their college. So he had connected all the dots about him to his father and filled in the blank spaces, the things he didn't know about them, with his imagination.

It had been easy, both him and his father were equally energetic. Though the teacher knew how to keep a class in check, and Raghav didn't even know how to keep himself in check.

But now he realised, Raghav was much more like his mother than his father. In only a few seconds, his mother had made Ranveer recall Raghav so many times you'd think he was in love with him, thinking of him every few seconds and all.

Ranveer pushed the intrusive thought out of his mind. Phew, his mind could be a weird place. Especially when he was drinking chai with this much masala. He was pretty sure he was tasting mulethi, and he'd never had mulethi in chai before. Weird, weird family and their weird, weird chai habits.

He was finished with his cup when the door sprung open. Raghav, who didn't even have the common sense of not calling someone to his home when he's not even at home himself, grinned at him and threw his bag beside him. "I'll go wash my face. You can wait for me in my room."

Ranveer went to put his cup in the kitchen sink, but he couldn't stop the heat in his cheeks from seeing the grin on Raghav's face. One look at him and Ranveer's own brain betrayed him, replaying that same intrusive thought for some reason.

Weird.

#dancing on your heartstrings #madhav ke lekh

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websterss · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 — 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Here’s a little werewolf au I conjured up. The supermoon overpowers Stiles control resulting in a casualty.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): ANGST, mentions of dying

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,477

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Werewolf!Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you guys like it! ♡ I tried with the eyes lol, I don’t how to use after effects yet, had to turn to photoshop. :/

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You didn’t expect to become the only human in the pack. You see there were two humans in the pack, You and Stiles, but after what happened to Stiles, he didn’t have much of a choice. Stile’s life was at stake. He was practically on his deathbed. So, you had to turn to your only option left, Scott. Scott bit Stiles to save his life. It was hard enough as it was, but Stiles becoming a werewolf, now that was even harder. He had a hard time trying to control his shifting. But he had his friends to help him along the way.

“Tell me again why we’re here?” Malia asked. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to attend another pack meeting.

“Because there’s a supermoon tonight, and we need to make sure nobody does anything stupid.” All eyes turn to face Liam.

“Oh, come on, it was one time.” He whined.

“Yeah, and it’s forever engraved in our heads,” Stiles told him.

“It was really hot out that night.” He shrugged.

“Beacon Hills usually is during the summer.” Stiles quipped.

“Okay we get it guys, knock it off you two.” You gave a playful stern look to them. Whether those two believed it or not they were the best of pals. Liam looked up to Stiles and Scott, but he would appreciate it more if the guidance didn’t consist of the constant sarcasm and teasing.

“Y/n’s right, we have a serious matter, this isn’t like any other moon we’ve been through, the supermoon will make us more aggressive, stronger, even violent, and we have to stay alert at all times, we can’t risk anyone getting hurt,” Scott informed his pack.

“Or killed,” Malia said.

“Exactly.” Scott nodded.

“So how will we be able to control it?” Hayden questioned.

“We have chains, shouldn’t that at least help get you all through the night?” Lydia said.

“It’s not enough, everyone would break free instantly.” Scott shook his head.

“What about mountain ash, would that hold you guys back?” Mason suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Stiles nodded.

“Great problem solved! Um, but what are we going to do about the human in the room?” You pointed at yourself.

“The human…will stay as far away from any of us.” Stiles flailed his arms around gesturing to the supernatural beings in the room.

“I want to help.” You pleaded.

“No, I’m not risking putting you in danger.”

“I am perfectly capable of staying away from danger.” Stiles stood silent. His shoulders slumped. You were gonna give him a migraine. He looked away shaking his head.

“What, I can!” You raised an eyebrow.

“Just stay home tonight Y/n, please, just go home.” He pointed to the door. Every one of them avoids your gaze.

“Scott.” You looked at the alpha.

He sheepishly looked up at you, then at Stiles, who shook his head no.

“Stiles is right. You could get hurt, Y/n. So stay home okay.”

“Fine.” You muttered. Little did he know you weren’t going to listen to him.

“Okay, I think that’s enough mountain ash to keep you guys’ in.” Mason got up and dusted his palms on his jeans.

“Good job Mason.” Lydia stood beside him behind the line of mountain ash. They decided to keep them all in the library for the night. Scott, Hayden, Liam, Malia, and Stiles were all chained up to poles, the mountain ash was for just in case. All of them could feel how the super moon was affecting them. They let out grunts and growls. Fur growing on their face, claws coming out of their fingernails. It was a recipe for a disaster.

“I think that’s our cue to leave!” Mason started tugging on Lydia’s upper arm.

“Good idea.” She nodded her head in agreement. They ran out into the hall hoping that the mountain ash was enough to keep them from running wild into the night. When they thought they were good, it just got worse. They saw you walking past them. Lydia immediately calls after you to retreat.

You walked towards another set of doors pushing it forwards, the door creaking in response. You stood in the hallway. Staring down the dark eery hallways. There wasn’t anyone around. You never liked school at night. That gut feeling in your chest was telling you to turn back, and you almost did, except the low growl behind you caused a chill down your spine. You spun around slowly, your breathing labored as you now face what you were scared of encountering tonight. Your boyfriend was in full rage. You keep still in your tracks as two glowing eyes stare right back at you.

“Stiles.” You slowly stood. The only response was a grunt and heavy breathing. That further told your flight or fight response to take a step away from him.

“This isn’t you okay, it’s the moon taking control of you.”

“This is me!” He roared, making you flinch.

“No, it’s not!” You cried out. You took each step back with caution.

“Baby, just, just find an anchor, okay? Yeah, an anchor, okay. Think of me.” You nodded.

“The only thing I’m thinking is wanting to sink my teeth in that pretty neck of yours!”

Oh you were in total shit.

“Stiles please, okay. You have to fight this!” You pleaded. You couldn’t stop crying.

“Y/N!” You whipped your head to see Lydia and Mason approaching you. Stiles took your distraction as an advantage, rushing forward, full charge, the collision of your bodies was enough to knock you off balance. You slipped on your feet falling on your back.

“Stiles...” You whispered out in pain. You watched him slowly hover over you looking at you as if you were prey. Your eyes widened fearing the worst to come.

“No!” Lydia screamed, she was running to you as fast as she could in her heeled boots. Mason watched in terror as you screamed out in agony.

You didn’t know what was happening. It felt like a blur. You felt a tremendous amount of pain in your chest, your senses were going numb. You were going in and out of an unconscious state of mind. Then everything seemed to go dark. Stiles had finally stopped, his brain slowly starting to process what he just did. His claws were dripping with blood. Your blood. His eyes went back to their original chocolate brown. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face caressing it softly. His eyes trailed down to the gory sight of your chest and stomach covered in claw marks. His doing. He let out a shaky breath as his eyes found your face again. His hand hovering over you, not wanting to further touch you, but his heart was trying to reach out for you

“Y/n? Y/n, hey, please wake up.” He whispered. “Y/n, please!”

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice rang out like an echo. Footsteps could be heard beating down the hall, growing closer to the messy sight of you laying still in Stiles’ arms.

“No, no, no! Y/n!” Stiles yelled out. He brought you into his chest, rocking you back and forth and kissing your temple. Your head pulled back. Eyes closed. Your whole body was limp. You were practically weightless. He could no longer hear your heart beating.

“No, baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He choked up. “Open your eyes, let me see them again, please...” He weeped.

Scott, Malia, Liam, and Hayden didn’t hear the rhythmic beating in your chest no more. You were gone. Lydia was on the floor weeping for you.

Stiles had a feeling that someone was going to end up hurt, he knew the risks of the supermoon, but he didn’t think you were going to be the casualty of tonight, nor did he think that he would be the one to take away your life. Sirens could be heard from a distance. It wasn’t the ambulance though, it was Stiles’ father and Deputy Parrish.

“Stiles...” Sheriff Stilinski ran up to his son, his gaze stopped on you. “Oh god...Is she?”

“Yeah,” Lydia responded.

“Oh god…” Sheriff Stilinski ran a hand down his face. It was bad enough he was dealing with all the supernatural stuff, but to see you, his son’s girlfriend lying dead in his arms was worse. He saw you like his own daughter and wanted to keep you safe, but then again no one was ever safe in Beacon Hills.

“I killed her dad,” Stiles muttered.

“Stiles-” His dad started.

“No! She’s dead because of me. She’s dead!” He shouted out. All gazes suddenly fell on him.

Everyone knew what would happen if they ever took an innocent’s life. They’ve heard the stories. They knew the outcome. They knew how Derek ended up.

“What?” He cried out.

“Stiles…your eyes, they’re blue.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski au #werewolf!stiles stilinski #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #my gif #writings by juls

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4beomy · 1 year

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★ small talk, big talk | c.bg

synopsis: in which you beg for your annoying seatmate to shut up for just one class. wc: 2.2k genre: fluff, drabble

You were never the one to not be able to focus in a class. There wasn’t a day where you slept during a lesson—okay maybe you’re selling yourself a bit too much— but still, the point stands, you were always focused, prepared whenever a teacher would think it was a good idea to randomly call on you. And frankly, you prided yourself on that.

Until you were doomed. Your math teacher had snapped one day and from the heat of the moment, decided to assign seats again. You groaned—finding her reaction to be an over exaggeration, but nevertheless, you pulled yourself out of your old seat and stood with the rest of your classmates waiting for your name to be called.

“Y/N. You’re here.” you looked at the desk she was pointing at and immediately, you fought the urge to audibly whine. She chose a back table, way too far from the board—way too far for you to actually be able to read whatever she writes on there. Before you could try and remind her that you asked in the beginning of the trimester to be seated in the front due to your embarrassingly poor eyesight—she calls out another name.

“Beomgyu, you’re next to her.”

You’re doomed.

“Miss, I—” you get cut off with your teachers stern voice. “Don’t test me today. Go to your seat Y/N.”

Before you could respond, she had already moved on with calling other people’s names. You just had to suck it up and walk over to your new desk—And bare your new deskmate. It wouldn’t be for too long anyway, you’d talk to her later and convince her to change your seat.

“Introduce yourselves to your new neighbors. By the time I’m done trying to open the slideshow, you should have exchanged the basics.” your teacher instructed.

When you settled your bag on the floor next to your leg, you could see from your peripheral vision that Beomgyu was looking at you. Hesitantly, you glance at him— his head was completely turned to a 90 degree angle tilt, literally staring at you.

“Hey.” he beamed when you finally noticed him, a grin so big you were sure you transformed into a winning lottery ticket for a second.

You didn’t know it was possible for your face to falter, or for the corner of your lips to fall, even when they weren’t up to begin with, but it happened. Because a realization set on you. Beomgyu, the officially certified class disturbance, was going to be sitting next to you. You were in the comfort of your previous seat, being able to roll your eyes everytime he decided to open his mouth—to either make a stupid joke or ask the most idiotic question—and now, that was gone. You were in the comfort of your previous seat, not having to have him close enough for you get a migraine, and now thats gone too.

You exhaled managing to put a weak smile on your face—one that trembled, “Hi.”

Your plan was simple. To just sit, and listen, like you’ve always done until you could go up to your teacher and ask for a seat change.

But that didn’t happen. Not the seat change, not the listening.

“You’ve been seeing just fine the past couple of weeks Y/N. All of a sudden when there’s a seat change, you can’t see?” it was a week after the seats were assigned, and you finally decided to request a seating change. It was torture to put things simply. It was like your ears only picked up Beomgyu’s sound waves and you were very, very close to pulling out your hair—officially declaring your insanity. When you saw her eyebrows raised, questioning the motive behind your request, you internally panic at the thought that she might refuse to change your seat.

“It’s not all of a sudden! I told you about it before when you asked us what seats we prefered! I swear I can’t see the board from where I am right now.”

She sighed, choosing to study you for a minute, then finally saying “Hun, Beomgyu isn’t that bad. You can live sitting with someone new, yea?”

So. That ultimately failed.

New plan. Ignoring your seatmate till the trimester ends and hoping for the best.

“You know, I totally like ice cream. But I don’t like the sweet flavored ones, you know? I mean like, the really really sweet ones. I hate cookies n' cream ice cream. But then—”

It was the daily rambles from Beomgyu, how great. Thankfully, your brain had finally learned to filter out his voice faster. But seriously, was he insane? Who was he talking to and who was listening? Because it was definitely not you.

“Y/N, what about you?”

Your thoughts come to a stop, your brain, for some reason, not filtering out his voice when he decides to call your name.

You would’ve asked what exactly he was talking about, but then, you did have some compassion left in you and you kind of didn’t want him to know that he was talking to the molecules in the air instead of you.

So, you settle for a general response. “Yeah, I totally dooont—” you narrow your eyes at the way he his eyes turned a little sad so you immediately switch it up, “I’m toootally a big fan...?”

You think you said the right thing because a contrast to his sulky face a few seconds ago, a toothy grin spreads on his face, “A big fan? Definitely not bigger than me.”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Yeah..it’s my favorite” you say the second part quietly, not having the energy to put effort into the white lie.

The minute you hear your teacher coming in the classroom you pull out your notebook. You shoved your hand into your bag, trying to fish out a writing utensil, you get a bit frantic, confused on why you can’t find anything.

You came unprepared.

“Need a pencil?” you hear, then turn your head to the direction of your deskmate. You sighed, nodding. ”Alright, wait a second.”

You expected anything but him getting up, walking to some random student’s table.

You just wanted to run away out of embarrassment when the teacher stopped her lecture, arms crossed, tapping her foot over and over again impatient at Beomgyu’s disturbance.

He seemed tame —-and with what you could make from the small gaps of your fingers that were subtly over your face, he had a smile on. He walked towards you again, a cartoonish, accomplished smile on his face, and a pencil in his hand.

You swallowed the lump in your throat when the teacher gave you a disapproving look, for some reason, and finally continued the lesson.

“Here.” he puts the pencil conveniently on your notebook. But you side eye him, kind of annoyed that he caused such an awkward scene. “Why?” it was barely audible but he catches on, and his eyes look at you again.

“Hm? Oh—oh, it’s because Soobin’s like.. known for having really good pencils.”

“What?”

“Well not good pencils more like—”

“Mind sharing what you guys are whispering about to the class?” your teacher announced, the smile on her face showing the exact opposite of happiness. It was obvious it was directed to you guys because the whole class turns to stare, some rolling their eyes and others snickering.

Beomgyu shook his head quickly. “Sorry Miss.”

“Focus.” she warned and you both nod. When she turned to the board to write again, Beomgyu leaned sideways closer to you.

"It's more like.. Soobin wouldn't mind if you borrow and never give it back." he whispered. "And it would probably be a safer bet to like..take a pencil from him, you know?" he added.

You don't look at him, eyes glued to the board. "We should focus."

"Oh—oh, yeah." he moved away, the childish energy dimming.

You didn't say it but you did find it slightly endearing that he tried to make logic of walking across the classroom to get a pencil for you. Just slightly.

When the next day rolls around and he's talking about his favorite Taylor Swift song for the thirtieth time this month, you're oddly more focused on what he had to say. Even if his opinions were completely invalid.

"I'm telling you, Evermore is objectively the worst Taylor Swift album. Folklore was better by miles."

You narrowed your eyes at him, an unbelievable smile on your face, not believing someone could have such a bad take. Before you could start an argument with him, your teacher had slipped your graded test on your desk—no one noticed, but you did. Even when the paper was faced down, not actually being able to confirm your grade—you could hear her disappointed sigh, and it gave you the hint that you didn't do well.

"Also, the weather has been so bad these days. But even then, I'm just like...it's definitely better than sweaty armpits and bugs everywhere."

You don't focus on what he's telling you, your brain doing its best to filter out his voice as you stare blankly at the paper. You should turn it around and see what you got. It can't be that bad. Maybe not your best, but not that bad. Right?

Like ripping a bandaid, you slammed the paper around. And it dawned on you— the big, fat F.

Which did not stand for fantastic.

You could've used your deduction skills for a second and narrowed down why you did so bad— maybe because you were so busy laughing randomly whenever something that Beomgyu said pops up in your mind ...that you didn't study, maybe—maybe because whenever he would focus on the board, you could steal glances at his side profile, one that you found so genuinely beautiful— no, maybe because you haven't been focusing on your assignments lately...

No, it was Beomgyu. He successfully managed to distract you. Was he happy? Judging by the way you see him still talking, with the prettiest smile you've grown to warm up to very quickly, he is. You don't care if your irrational blaming was irrational. You don't care if you're wrong, your anger was still directed at him. Increasingly by the minute getting more and more annoyed the more you see his mouth move.

"I forgot to ask, but what's your favorite color—"

"Can you shut up?!" accidentally, your voice was way louder than you intended and immediately you're feeling regret when your eyes meet your teachers'. You apologize non verbally, showing the most apologetic face you could make but she was clearly not having it. You're doomed.

"Out. With your bags. Both of you."

Anger overrides the previous emotion, and you flare your nose, hastily carrying the shoulder straps of your bag, storming out. Beomgyu followed behind with his bag hanging on his shoulder, jogging to catch up with you.

He closed the classroom's door behind him, mirroring the way you were leaning on a wall, your leg stretched out in front of you.

"You okay?"

You shot him a glance, confused on why he would ask you that—especially when you basically just embarrassed him.

"Beomgyu—why...Why are you asking that?" your anger had basically dissipated, regret once again finding its way in the pit of your stomach remembering the way you yelled at him.

"Because I don't think you are... I just wanna hear it from you." for the first time, he doesn't look at you while talking, just held his stare at his feet.

"I mean—it was just..." you stopped because to you, it wasn't just a bad grade. It was a bad grade and you were disappointed. Extremely, to the point you had to act like a complete baby with such an outburst. "I failed the test. And then got angry for some reaso—look, I'm sorry I don't know why I yelled at you. It was just the heat of the moment and—"

You didn't notice that Beomgyu had zipped open his bag, taking something out until he offered you a long brown, paper bag.

You hesitantly accepted it, confused on what was happening.

The bag was hot, which makes you even curious so you take a peek of the inside.

Churros?

"I was gonna give it to you after class ended. Also, don't worry, it's completely fresh. My dad got it out of the oven right when I was heading to schoo—"

"How ...how did you know that I liked Churros? Like ...they're my favorite?!" you were semi scared, confused but still really, really happy at the warm cinnamon smell that made you crave shoving the churros down your throat.

Beomgyu gasps, looking at you with wide eyes. "You literally told me yesterday."

You furrowed your eyebrows—until, ah. He was talking about Churros that time? Thank god you were smart enough to read his facial expressions.

You bite your bottom lip slightly trying to hide your smile, looking down at the paper bag. He went out of his way to get you something that you said you liked.

"Thank you." you smile. And in return, he smiles too. Not the over the top grin, it was a heartwarming smile that was more than genuine. He smiled because he was genuinely happy at seeing you happy, not because he's just a person who naturally smiles all the time.

"Give me half, yeah?" he teased.

"Piss off Beomgyu."

a/n: apology drabble for the delay of nbm. u guys deserve this (non proofread) beomgyu fluff. i'm up for part 2 one day bcs i think this is still a bit platonic lol

#beomgyu fluff #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt oneshot #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #txt drabbles

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medusapelagia · 10 days

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Learning to Love 3

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,..)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers, Steve has migrains, Tommy being an assh*le, homophobic language Words: 1261

The next day he parks his beloved Camaro close to Steve’s car, and everyone at school stares at him, waiting to see if he will slash the other boy’s tires or something, but he gets out of the car and goes to Mrs. Johnson's class and glares at the girl sitting at Steve’s side.

“I think this is my seat.”

“It isn’t… you sit in the back…” The girl squeaks but when he leans on the her table she takes her things and quickly leaves, moving toward Billy’s old place.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, staring suspiciously at Billy.

“We are partners now, aren’t we?”

Billy usually doesn’t take notes during classes, for him it is enough listening to the lesson and doing some exercise at home, but this time he writes down everything in his neat handwriting. When class ends, he tears off the pages and gives them to Steve.

“I’ll come tomorrow to your place, try to read my notes and make a list of the questions you might have, ok?”

Steve nods, confused, but thanks him as he takes the notes and goes to his next class.

Hagan gets closer to Billy while they walk together in the corridors “What are you doing? I thought you hated him. Are you planning a prank on him?”

Billy shakes his head, annoyed, “Mrs. Johnson asked me to tutor him and that’s what I’m going to do. I need it for my college application.”

“Since when?” Tommy insists “You have straight As in every subject, why do you need to babysit Harrington?”

“Because it will look good on my transcript, ok? Do you have a problem with that? Would you rather prefer I babysit you? Or maybe you would like to be the one babysitting Harrington?” Billy snarls and Tommy lifts his hands in surrender.

“Calm down! You are fucking crazy, you know that, right? I know Steve, we were best friends, did you forget that? But you two have nothing in common and I’m just wondering what you can talk about. Girls? Sex?”

“Math.” Billy replies, leaving Hagan staring at his back.

Why the fuck did he care what they talk about? He is just tutoring Steve, that’s all.

***

“That’s not bad. You got the first part of the exercise, you just got a little bit confused here.” Billy says, making a red circle on Steve’s exercise “You see? You forgot to multiply those two.”

Steve curses and closes the book with anger “I will never pass the final, ok? I should just give up!”

“You are doing so much better. You just need to concentrate a little more…”

“Concentrate a little more? My head is going to explode, I have a migraine that is killing me and you want me to do more? I can’t, I really can't, ok?” Steve yells, covering his eyes with one arm.

“Do you have a headache?” Billy whispers in a soft tone of voice.

“It was a headache when you got here. Now is a fucking migraine. I think I’ll just lie on the bed for a bit. You can leave if you want, I don’t think I’ll be able to do any other exercise.” Steve sighs, wobbling toward his bed.

“There is anything I can do? Do you need a cold compress? Some water?”

“A cold compress would be great. And if you could turn off the lights please.”

Billy hums, turns off the lights, and goes into the bathroom to get a wet towel and then he gently cleanses Steve’s sweaty face with it.

“You don’t have to do it. I can do it on my own.” Steve protests weakly.

Billy doesn’t reply and gives Steve the cold compress “Did you book an appointment at the eye doctor?” Billy whispers in the semi darkness.

“You know I didn’t.”

“I could book it for you,” Billy proposes. “You won’t even know when it is and you won’t get anxious about it.”

“This is stupid.” Steve sighs, still covering his eyes with an arm “I should be able to get my shit together. I’m not a kid!”

“I’m your tutor, I can tutor you through this.”

Steve chuckles, cursing because laughing makes his migraine even worse, then he finally agrees. “Book me a fucking appointment with an eye doctor.”

Billy nods, even if Steve can’t see, and goes down to the kitchen, he calls Susan, asks her for the doctor's number, and books an appointment for Steve, it feels a strange kind of warmth inside thinking that he is taking care of someone else because he wants to, because he offered to. Maybe there is still hope. Maybe Billy’s destiny is not to become like his father.

***

On the day of the doctor's appointment, Billy drives Steve and stays with him all the time. To anyone who asks why he is there, the California boy replies that he is the designated driver, and when Steve comes out with a glass prescription he drives him to the nearest shop to buy a pair of glasses. After having some fun trying some very strange pair of glasses and almost buying a pair of matching heart-shaped glasses just to piss off the owner of the shop, Steve chooses a simple model of golden rounded glasses. Afterwards, they go celebrate with burgers and milkshakes, Steve’s treat.

But the pretty boy feels too self-conscious about the glasses. He tells Billy that he looks like a dork, even if mBilly disagrees strongly. He almost tells Steve that he looks cute, but he learned in California that telling another boy that he is cute is not something you can do, so he just says that he looks like a librarian, which somehow Steve takes as an insult. In the end they agree that Steve will wear the glasses only at home when they study together.

The glasses help Steve a lot and, without an impending headache or migraine, he can concentrate more easily, and when Mrs. Johnson gives them the final test results Billy is not surprised to see a big B+ on Steve’s test.

“So it’s true. You really do work miracles, Hargrove.” Tommy says, snatching Steve’s test from his hands “How did you do it? Did you hit him with the math book until some of it got into Steve’s thick head?” Hagan laughs, but Steve doesn’t reply, he gets his test back and leaves the classroom without even looking at him.

“What the fuck, Hagan?” Billy growls, pushing him against the wall “What do you want from my fucking life? Don’t you have a girlfriend to piss off?”

“What I want to know is what are you up to, Hargrove! I mean, the boys told me but I said, ‘Hargrove? No fucking way!’ Now I’m wondering if I was wrong all along.”

Billy glares at Tommy with his cold blue eyes “What are you implying, Hagan?”

Tommy gets closer and whispers “The boys were saying that you moved to Hawkins after your father saw you fucking another boy. Or maybe it was him who was fucking you?”

“How dare you say something like that to me.” He yells, lifting Tommy by his collar.

Hagan trembles, trying to free himself “I’m sorry. That’s what the boys said! And you are always with Harrington these days so we assumed…”

“You assumed wrong.” Billy snarls, pushing Hagan so hard against the wall that his head hits the wall with a loud thump. “And the next time you want to assume something about me I will not be so generous.”

#stranger things fanfic #steve x billy #harringrove #medusapelagia #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Harringrove #Billy x Steve #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Harringrove fic #medusapelagia fanfic #my fanfic #learning to love

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thoraeth · 23 days

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A/N: 850 words, gn!reader. You're the personal assistant of the weirdest punk band in the Grand Line and today you're having a breakdown. Unfortunately, Buggy has no intentions of leaving you alone.

[One Piece punk band AU/ modern AU]

Cut out for the job

The door slams closed. You kick your sneakers away, enjoying the silence of your hotel room.

You haven't been able to catch your breath all day: Mr. Trafalgar called at 6 am because Ace was held at the police station; third time this month. Then it was Barto's turn. He needed your opinion on a nice gift for his nana, but kept arguing that your ideas were stupid. Franky gave you a migraine, shouting left and right during the band's weekly meeting and Buggy…oh, Buggy. He was insufferable these days: snappy, needy, tense, constantly asking you to fetch him stuff, to take him places.

You’re starting to feel like you’re never enough, drowning in this chaotic routine.

You can almost hear your mother's voice in your head: “Are you really throwing your life away to follow a band of idiots?!” Well, in your defense, being a band’s personal assistant was supposed to be fun. But now? Here you are, tired, sad and underpaid, living in yet another horrible hotel room. Maybe you're not cut out for this job.

Your phone glows up, a text from Buggy. “It's 11 pm for fuck's sake!” you shout, throwing the buzzing device on the sofa.

Buggy has been doing it for weeks: every night he sends you tons of messages for the most trivial stuff. He’s lost his mascara, bought ten pairs of shoes, whines about his paycheck. A bratty, pushy attitude he’s never had before.

In fact, the two of you used to have the most interesting conversations and a special chemistry that made you feel some type of way more than once. Like that night, backstage. The glances, the gentle touching while you helped him get dressed…you can still feel the goosebumps on your skin.

You pick up your phone, puffing at the crowd of notifications.

[Hey, you still up? Listen, face paint is running out, I’m thinking cherry 3.2 this time but I’m not sure if 1 or 2 cans.

Heyyyy are you ignoring me?? 👺😭 You sleeping already?]

[Oi Bug, can we discuss this tomorrow? It's way past my working hours.]

[...ok.]

[Today's been rough, I really need to unwind 🥲]

[ Wanna hang out? A little fun will make you feel better.]

[ Thanks but I’m done with work, see you tomorrow!]

[seen 00:15 AM]

[Buggy? You ok?]

[seen 00:50 AM]

“Shit. He's upset now.” You whisper, your eyes and mouth wide open “What if he gets me fired?”

You feel low-key furious: you shouldn't be punished for setting boundaries. If he’s playing the cocky boss during the day, you can play that game too and clock out at night. Screw him.

The sudden sound of the doorbell makes you jump out of your skin. “Hey it's me.” A familiar voice comes from outside the door, muffled.

Stomping to the peephole, you see Buggy. He’s nervously thinkering with his blue hair, pacing back and forth in the duck hoodie you got him for his birthday.

“Are you serious?” You ask, opening up.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just five minutes and I'll be gone.”

Buggy's not wearing his piercings and face paint; he looks serious, a bit scared. His ice blue eyes stare at you in silence and all your anger seems to melt away as he sits on the sofa.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Am I fired…?”

“What? No!” He shrieks, outraged. “Just sit, please.”

The second you're next to him, Buggy focuses on his boots, hands twitching on his knees.

“I-I know I've been a bit of an asshole lately.” He stutters. “I drove you crazy asking tons of stuff and…”

“You’re being a pain in the ass. Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to spend more time with you but I messed up.” Buggy side-eyes you, his face red and flustered.

“I think I like you. A lot.”

Those words make your heart race so fast you can barely breathe.

He continues: “I tried to write to you, but every time… I couldn't say it the way I wanted.”

“Is that why you kept texting me for hours every night?!” you snap, breaking your silence.

Buggy jumps back in his seat “I didn't realize I was bothering you! I've always enjoyed our silly chats. But I'll stop, I got it now. We're just colleagues.”

You burst out laughing. Buggy leans towards you, shouting things you can't hear over the joy exploding in your chest.

He's about to get up, distraught, when you reach for his neck and pull him towards you, pressing your lips on his. Still a bit surprised, Buggy melts into your kiss, holding you so tight it almost hurts.

“For a second I thought I didn't want this job anymore.” You chuckle in between kisses.

“I’ll ask Trafalgar to give you a raise, then.”

“He's gonna fire us both when he knows about this.”

You dive your back into the sofa, pressed under Buggy’s weight. As he kisses and laughs into your neck, you remember why you decided to follow this band of idiots in the first place: there’s no other place in the world where you’ve felt more alive.

#nevermind the blorbos #one piece fanfiction #band au #buggy the clown #buggy fic #buggy fanfiction #buggy x you #buggy x reader #one piece buggy #barto club #bartolomeo one piece #ace one piece #trafalgar law #franky one piece

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brilium · 7 months

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❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 5. Clothed Sex! with Jean Kirstein

Summary. You're a pain in the ass for Jean, and for you? He's a nuisance before meeting up with Eren for a hook up. Fortunately, the two best students of Dr. Smith are smart (or horny) enough to find a middle point where they can do more than fighting.

Content Warning.Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, fingering, masturbation (f. recieving), vaginal sex, teasing, edging.

Word count. 3,169.

Author’s note. This was kinda hard to write since I'm rlly used to write about Jean but I tried to keep his personality as I wrote it hehe

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Jean kept talking about something about God knows what. At this point you aren’t trying to pay attention anymore while you play with the border of your high socks on your thigh, thinking of maybe cutting it to get rid of the ugly rids of the past dye color that you still have.

Doctor Smith knew that you had potential, but you just weren’t interested in attending class or at least paying attention to him the few times that you showed up to class. So he had to try another way to make you learn.

And what’s better than pairing you for the final project with the top class student Jean Kirstein? Well, it was better for you and a total migraine for him.

The clock kept ticking on the isolated study room while Jean kept talking and typing on his laptop hoping that you were at least awake.

“I can work on the first part of the theoretical framework while you…” Jean raises his head to look at you clearly ignoring him and sighs. “Are you even listening to me?”

You huff, leaning on your elbows resting on the table and turning slightly to look at him beside you, Jean rolls his eyes when you just can yawn in response and nod sleepy while you tap quickly on your phone.

“Yeah, you’ll do the theoretical shit and all that stuff. Just tell me what’s my part and I’ll send it to you later, ’kay?” He swears on the low and shakes his head at your comment, you just giggle at your phone ignoring him and typing again.

Jean has a very low patience. Really Low.

So he extends his hand to grab your phone and toss it on the table to grab your attention, but before his hand finally grabs it, the picture on your phone calls for his attention.

Apparently, you weren’t paying attention to your damn final project because you were chatting with Eren Jaeger to drop at his dorm later. If Jean was already mad, knowing that the reason that his partner was ignoring him it’s because she was telling that idiot how you’re counting the minutes that you both reserved the study room to end so he can finally fuck her made him go furious.

“What the fuck!? Are you really making plans with Jaeger right now!?”

You startle, turning your whole body at him feeling the hot warmth growing on your cheeks and —finally— putting your phone down.

“Why are you looking at my phone in the first place?” You stand up, shoving violently the chair behind you. “I don’t even care about this damn final project. Fuck it— I’m done with this.”

Jean is faster than you in trying to leave and stands up too to grab your wrist and hold you from leaving. His grip is tight, not enough to hurt you but for as much as you shake your wrist in a try to get free, he keeps holding you.

“You won’t leave until we’ve finished this shit!” Jean pulls your wrist closer to him, making you look up at him to hold his gaze. “I need the credits to keep my scholarship and I won’t let you ruin it for me.”

“I don’t care about your stupid scholarship” You hiss, looking firmly at his eyes and laughing cynically. “Move away or I’ll scream”.

“You’ll scream?” Jean snorts, his free hand going up to your chin and forcing you to look at him. This time, the grip is a little bit rougher, his fingers pressing on both of your cheeks to keep you firm. “Go on, scream, scream as loud as you want. Anyways, scream and whine it’s the only thing you can do, right? That’s why you’re hooking up with Jaeger”.

Your eyes go wide as your hand grabs the neck of his shirt tightly, bringing him closer and feeling his warmth breath against your face. He’s talking out of his anger, but you’re reaching your limit too.

“Yeah, Jaeger it’s pretty good at making me scream, whine and beg for more. I guess that you use that as an insult just because you’ve never been with a girl.” You pout to take a fake sad tone of voice. “Get your nose out from the books and taste the real world, Kristein”.

“Really bold of you to tell me that when you are the total opposite of me” Jean slightly turns his head to the side, his grip on your chin got lighter but his face is closer.

"So you admit that you’re a virgin?” You snort, leaning your head to the opposite side, too.

“Try it for yourself and let’s see who is the wrong one”.

Jean doesn’t even give you time to answer when his hand on your chin already traveled to the back of your neck and grabbed your face against his into a kiss. You whimper against his lips, feeling weak legs and having to hold his shoulders for support.

It’s hard for you to admit how good a kisser he is, his lips sucking on your so sweetly and passing his tongue slowly through your lower lip in a try to join his tongue to the kiss. It gets harder for you to resist as his hands slowly slide down through your body to play with the border of your skirt on your waist.

By pride, you try to keep it like a simple kiss but his hands go up to stop on the verge of your shirt and squeezing the skin of your waist causes you to whimper and let him finally use his tongue.

He’s holding you firmly as you both continue, he groans softly when he pulls back and you grab him to bring him again to you. Your breathing is hard and your legs tremble as his hands slowly caress you under your shirt, teasing you by just barely touching the lower part of your breasts and passing softly your thumb against your nipples above the material of your bra.

“Are you scared to touch some boobs for the first time? Is that so?” You tease, throwing your head back as he starts to kiss your neck and push you gently to the table, noticing how you were changing from leg to leg to keep standing and letting you lie a little on the cold surface.

Jean chuckles and bites softly on your neck, kissing it and feeling how good your back arches under him. The movement of your body lets you feel his hard crotch touching softly your stomach, causing you both to groan by how sensitive you are already.

Jean sucks hard on your neck before answering, making you squirm on the cold surface with a soft whine.

“Nah, I just want to let Jaeger believe that you were needy for him when I actually got you ready” He winked at you and you chuckled in response.

“Fuck you. In your drea—” Jean thrusts between your legs, almost making you let out a lewd moan, but you bite your lower lip on time to not let him get what he wants.

You're about to swear at him and tell him that he's an idiot, but his thumbs curl at the border of your skirt and start to toss it down, revealing slowly more of your skin and making you shiver. Jean is impatient and hard right now, at the point to stop pulling it down at the level of the middle of your calves when he notices that you weren't wearing any underwear. He has to bite his lip to not moan at the sight of your soaked pussy already clenching to feel him inside.

So you were so whiny before because of that, huh?

His hand travels between your folds to caress your entrance and feel your fluids moistening his fingers, he opens his mouth to say the dirtiest thing about the pool between your thighs thanks to the absence of underwear, but you speak before he can say anything.

“Don’t say it” You struggle to talk, moaning softly as the dip of his fingers teases you. “My initial plan was to meet Eren after finishing this shit—”

Even though he’s wearing jeans. with the fabric as a barrier between you both, his thrust really got you trembling in arousal for feeling more. The fold of his zipper teases you so bad as he grinds slowly between thrusts, rubbing on your clit with the right fucking peace.

Your lip is starting to get a taste of iron between your teeths by how hard you are biting yourself to hold the moans but when he grabs the border of your high sock to pull it and let it go back to your skin with a soft slap. You let go a cute and small whimper as he does the same with the other leg.

“Huh? Did I hear something?” He asks, using a fake surprised tone as he thrusts, your lower lip holds it again, but your muffled moans against your hands says the opposite. “Again! What could it be? Rats?”

He keeps wondering about your noises and strangled moans, between every question it comes a thrust that has you trembling and shutting your eyes with a strength that has you almost seeing lights.

“J–Jean!” You whine through a moan, your voice coming out high pitched and making him grin with pride.

“Yes?” He smiles down at you, some strings of his hair falling on his face and sticking on his forehead.

He stopped thrusting to see how you struggle to breathe and your swollen lower lip is trembling, calling for his lips to get it to a worse state. But there's a bigger swollen pain between his legs. His boxers definitely are stained with a wet spot of precum, all the thrusting play got him sensitive too.

But he doesn’t want to be the one giving up first.

You murmur very softly three words that throw your pride to the floor, Jean clearly hears them as music to his ears.

“Can you repeat it more clearly, dear? Just to be sure that I hear someone whining and begging my name"

“I won’t. Just put it already—”

Jean introduced two fingers inside you before you could keep fighting, his fingers are long. Fucking long. So you are already squirming and biting your hand to hold the moans as he keeps fingering you and filling the room with the wet sounds of your cunt dripping on the table.

Fuck, now I understand why no one comes to the study rooms.

Then, your phone pops with a notification. Definitely is a message from Eren and you have to take a deep breath, trying to get a coherent sentence out from your mouth filled with the sounds of your pussy clenching around Jean’s fingers.

“J–Jean, please— Let me answer Eren.”

“Hmm? I didn’t asked you to say his fucking name right now” His fingers get a quicker peace, curling on the weak spot inside you that causes your back to arche and leave a hard bite mark on your hand to hold the lewd sound coming from your mouth. “I asked you to repeat what you said before that.”

Even in your current state, breathing hard and with a hot feeling pooling on your chest of your incoming orgasm, you deny with your head. Your pride was thrown away since you started moaning his name, what is stopping you right now is only the embarrassment of admitting that your pussy is clenching for him.

Jean is not really happy with your answer, sighing and pulling away his hands from you to sit again in front of his laptop, trying to fix his hair as he sighs, pretending to focus again on the screen. You whine in response, feeling a mix of emotions inside you: anger, sadness, disappointment. Everything at the same time.

“Why did you stop!? You’re fucking hard, I can see it even through your jeans!” The tone of your voice is unstable, trembling and feeling like your orgasm is about to go away. “Come on, Jean!”

Jean chuckles, his hand touching softly his thigh up and down to heal the pain a little.

“I won’t fuck you if you don’t ask for it.”

This motherfucker.

“If you ask me to fuck you,” Jean continues, unbulcking his belt to pull down a little his jeans and boxers at the same time, he’s needy as much as you that by the only feeling of the fabric passing through his aching dick makes him groan “I’ll do your part of the project, even if Doctor Smith doubts my words, I’ll convince him that we did it together.”

You already forgot about the damn project. But, the desperation of needing those credits to pass the semester joined to the desperation of needing to cum lead you to get off of the table and sit on his lap with struggle caused by your shaking. You hold his shoulder with one hand as you positionate your entrance above his hard crotch with your other hand to hold his base and put his dip right on the entry of your wet cunt.

“Please… Fuck me” You whisper desperately as your cheeks are a turning into a burning red, doing your best to hold his gaze as he chuckles and grabs firmly your hips, he licks his lips and smiles before answering.

“As you order.”

Jean bites his lip and pushes your hips down roughly, making you let out a bit too high a moan as his hard length stretches you out. In your thoughts, the fear of someone hearing you is forgotten, you just want him to start thrusting as hard as he was doing before, putting you in a worse state than before.

He doesn’t seem to care either. Jean’s moans are vibrating against the crook of your neck, using all his strength to hold himself from the need to mark you up.

But using Eren’s toy without him knowing feels so good.

“Fuuuck—” Jean groans against your neck as you move back and forwards on his lap, his nails are marking you under your sweater to keep you taking him as deep as you can while you move your hips. “This pussy is so fucking tight and wet for me, huh?”

You nod, you don’t know at what you are been agreeding, you just are tasting every second and thrust of how good it feels his cock hitting on you. Jean grabs your waist more firmly to lift you slightly so he can bring his hips up to thrust with more strength everytime he slams on you.

The soft moans coming out from your mouth when his curvature starts to hit on your sensitive spot are being held on the shoulder of his shirt, holding it so hard that you might rip it. The sweet release of your orgasm is coming from the foreplay, Jean notices it, so he picks you up to pull you out of him and put you again on the table.

Obviously, he pushes his laptop aside to put you on the table. In his desperation of getting inside you again, the laptop almost falls from it and you gasp almost scared.

“Jean! Your laptop!” You try to advertise him, but his dick getting inside you again makes you hold a breath in surprise as he starts to thrust again. The table is shaking almost violently as he hits hard on your pussy. “I–Idiot! It’s g-going to fall!—”

He ignores you, lifting a little of your sweater to hold your waist firmly on the table, exposing a little bit of your abdomen for him. You whimper at the cold feeling of the material, squeezing him harder and he lets out a weak whine in response.

“I don’t care, you’re about to cum, I feel it.” Although Jean’s comment, his thrusts lose their quick peace, but every hit is harder and deeper. Your hands travel above your head to hold the border of the table, torturing your lower lip to hold the moans. “Cum for me, cum all over my cock—”

His order resonates on your brain so hard along with his thrusts that you moan his name against the back of your hand as you squirm and shake when your orgasm hits you. All your body burns on his thrust trying to keep the same strength with your walls squeezing him.

“J–Jean…!” He keeps hitting inside you to let you ride your orgasm as long as you can, loving the sound of your whines and soft moans. You don’t want him to pull out for anything in the world “C–Cum inside, please!”

But he denies with his head, pulling out from you when he feels his orgasm about to explode and pumping his length up and down above you, throwing the white lines of his cum on your exposed stomach that slowly start to drip down to your swollen cunt.

He breathes hard, holding the table at the sides of your legs trying to recover. You are almost in the same state, breathing hard while you look at the dark bite marks on your hand. “W–Why didn't you cum inside? It’s okay for me.”

“Nah,” He laughs breathly, straightening up as he smiles, fixing his jeans and fixing his shriveled shirt and looking for something inside his backpack, moving this around until he grabs a pack of tissues and hands you one. “I wanted Jaeger to believe that he’s the only one giving you a good orgasm today.”

You snort, taking the tissue to clean your abdomen and fix your appearance too, biting your lip remembering that you’re still on plans to see Eren later.

“What makes you believe that that was a good orgasm?”

“The dark marks on your hand say otherwise” He smiles, grabbing his laptop from the border and sitting on the chair again, ready to start working again.

He literally had you cumming on that spot before and now he's typing again like nothing happened? Fucking nerd. You think with a smile as you grab your things and look at the messages from Eren.

“Are you sure that you can do it alone? I can stay a little longer if you want.” It’s weird to hear you wanting to help on it, but he shakes his head smiling and looks up at you.

”I think that if you stay here, we won’t get this thing finished in time.”

You smirk, walking to the door and stopping on it before leaving, turning to him with a soft blush on your cheeks.

“Only for curiosity” You balance on your feets, playing with your fingers. “I also need a partner for a presentation for the class with Professor Ackerman. Do you want to…?”

Jean smiles, winking at you as he answers.

“See you next week in the same room? I'll go all the way in so don't make plans with that idiot".

@softlilpeachxx

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #brilium #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #snk x reader #jean x reader #jean smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein smut

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souryogurt64 · 1 month

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idk if u have ever seen nbc community but there’s this girlfail character named britta and in one episode she finds out that people only listen to her and take her seriously when she has mustard on her face (long story) but tldr that’s essentially how i feel about pete and glasses like maybe if he had glasses everything he says would suddenly be less stupid and make sense to me

I have a few non gay sex related fob conspiracies and one of them is that Pete might need glasses just a little bit and is deeply humiliated by this because it ruins his image as a pussy slaying chad rockstar so he doesnt wear them or has contacts

The main reason I think this is because of that one week on Warped tour where he is wearing what appear to be real glasses so everyone collectively believes he was “wearing mikey’s glasses” as part of a gay conspiracy. Which like first of all. You would never wear someone elses glasses youd get migraines and explode

I feel like its way more likely they are his glasses and the real conspiracy is he is secretly blind all the time. This would also explain why he goes through periods where he wears stupid ginormous fashion statement glasses all the time, because he would know no one would ever think his huge stupid glasses are real so he can continue the illusion of being a pussy slaying chad with 20/20 vision.

or he is a giant tool who has owned and worn at least 10 unique pairs of fake glasses . who knows

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emberfrostlovesloki · 3 months

Text

Count the Cost [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@lone-nyctophile) Center (@weemsicalweems) Right (@paracosmoon)

Prompt: An unspoken conversation rocks Emily and the reader's relationship when Prentiss gets shot on a case.

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

Category: angst/comfort

Word Count: 5.1K

Content Warnings: Use of nicknames [sweetheart, love, etc.] throwing up/nausea, airports, Emily getting shot, not described in detail, hospitals [waiting rooms. IV’s, medical equipment.] brief mention of periods/chronic pain/migraines.

A/N: Hi loves! Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The dialog prompt this was based on was “There are a million reasons not to do something.” This is the fourth part of my Emily x Non-BAU!reader series. You can find Part I, Part II, and Part III here (all fics linked). However, you can read this as a standalone. You just need to know that the reader works for a senator. I had fun writing a bit of angst between these two. Of course, I hope I made the ending worth the angst. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/s_ = yuur favorite senator

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

The tiredness and dryness of _y/n_’s eyes didn’t stop her from keeping them open. There would be no sleep on the small dark cabin airplane tonight. The early morning flight to Kansas had been as unexpected as the call from a number _y/n_ had never seen at 2:47 a.m. At first, _y/n_ had thought it was just spam, but when she listened to the nurse on the other end of the line say he was trying to reach Emily Prentiss’s emergency contact, _y/n_’s stomach dropped like a stone. _y/n_ panicked, hit answer, and with a shaky voice said, “This is _y/n_ _y/l/n_. What’s happened to Emily?” There was a pause as the nurse took a moment to properly identify _y/n_, who was standing up and pacing with worry. Finally, the nurse replied, ‘Miss Prentiss was brought into the hospital about a half hour ago. She’s been shot.” _y/n_ nearly dropped the phone and said, “Shot! Shot where? Is she seriously injured, is there anyone there with her like law enforcement? She has a dangerous job. Someone might be after her. Try to kill her even.” _y/n_ realized that the last question was stupid because, generally, if you shot at someone, you were trying to kill them. But _y/n_’s thoughts were too paranoid and catastrophized to notice more than that. There was a pause that only deepened _y/n_’s fear. Finally, the man on the other end of the line replied, “Miss Prentiss was shot in the shoulder, has remained unconscious, and has lost a significant amount of blood. We aren’t sure about the type of bullet. And we can’t speak about anyone else on the hospital grounds, ma’am. The hospital is aware of Miss Prentiss’s situation.” _y/n_ took that to mean that they knew Em was an FBI agent. At this point, with _y/n_ knowing that Emily was hurt, potentially significantly, without any idea if she was alone or not, convinced _y/n_ that she should get to the hospital as soon as possible. Even if it meant having to phone bank, raise funds for the campaign, and edit _y/n_’s _y/f/s_ speeches in a hospital waiting room. This was the first time that Emily had been in serious, medical danger since _y/n_ and Prentiss had started dating. Sure, Em had come home once with a few cuts and scraps from a fall or a scrap with an unsub. Fights that Emily always won, it seemed. But this, _y/n_ didn’t know what to do about this, as she threw some clothes into a backpack along with some work stuff.

_y/n_ sat on the edge of her bed, the room illuminated by a single lamp, as _y/n_ looked for the earliest flight to Topek, Kansas. _y/n_ had at least had the foresight to ask for the name of the hospital from the nurse before saying that she’d be there as soon as possible. It seemed like a miracle that there was a flight leaving for Kansas at 5:00 a.m. that morning. It was a blessing, but the price of the ticket and the circumstances under which _y/n_ had to book them were like a living purgatory or limbo. Time seemed to barely pass. _y/n_ got to the airport, moved through security, and then waited for the plane to land on the tarmac. _y/n_ sent a hasty email to work letting them know that an emergency had come up, but that she’d brought her computer with her and could be accessed through email or her cell after she landed. The flight from D.C. to Kansas was no better for _y/n_’s nerves. _y/n_ had put on her comfiest _y/f/c_ sweater and kept ordering coffee after bland and burnt coffee. The acid taste of the hot liquid left _y/n_ feeling queasy and by the third hour of the flight, she was ready to be on the ground again. That wouldn’t happen for another hour and a half. Once in the Topeka airport, _y/n_ moved to the bathroom and threw up. The nerves and too much caffeine had that effect that made her body reject anything trying to keep it going. It was one of _y/n_ least favorite things about herself.

Emily had been so worried one day after a very stressful workday when y/n_ had to run to the bathroom and threw up. Em had pulled y/n_’s hair back and then handed her a cool damp towel to run over her face. After _y/n_ had rinsed her mouth and sat back down on the bathroom floor to take a few breaths, Emily sat down across from her in the small space. Prentiss took hold of _y/n_ delicate hands and asked, “What’s wrong, love? Are you sick?” _y/n_ let out a sigh and said, “I’m not sick, sick. This happens pretty often actually. When I get very stressed, it just kind of happens.” Emily nodded and said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That has to be awful.” _y/n_ shrugged and replied, “You get kind of used to it, I guess.” Prentiss squeezed her hand and said, “Well how about we get off these cold tiles and make you a cup of ginger tea to settle your stomach?” _y/n_ nodded and accepted Emiy’s hand up. That was one thing about Em that _y/n_ would never get over, just how caring her girlfriend was. The warm memory washed over _y/n_, and she was reminded that Emily was now in a hospital somewhere, possibly alone. This thought had _y/n_ get up quickly and rinse her mouth in the bathroom sink. _y/n_ grabbed her backpack and moved outside, flagging down a cab. She told the driver the name of the hospital to take her to. The closer they got to the hospital, the more anxious _y/n_ got. She was almost buzzing in her seat. She was also feeling sick with worry, but there was no time for that now. At the hospital, _y/n_ paid the driver and moved into the bright light of the room.

_y/n_ hadn’t gotten a follow-up call from the place of healing which made _y/n_ assume that Emily hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, but there was still a huge amount of dread as she approached the front desk. The charge nurse looked up at her and said, “How can I help you miss?” _y/n_ wrung her hands together and said, “My name is _y/n_, _y/l/n_. The hospital called me a couple of hours ago about my partner being shot. Emily Prentiss? Is she okay? I came as quickly as I could.” The woman gave her a soft smile and replied, “Let me check with the doctor for a moment. I’ll be right back.” _y/n_ stood and waited. The bright lights in hospitals always put _y/n_ on edge. She was more of a lamp and soft light person. Sometimes, when the lights were bright like these, _y/n_ could hear the electricity above. _y/n_ waited with anticipation when a slightly familiar voice called out, “_y/n_? Is that you?” _y/n_ whipped her head around and saw the bright colors of Penelope Garcia. A flood of relief washed over _y/n_, and she nearly ran to Emily’s team member. Penelope opened her arms and _y/n_ nearly fell into them. Garcia enveloped her in a hug, saying, “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” _y/n_ felt the panicky feeling bubble up in her and said, “I got a call from the hospital. We’re each other's emergency contacts. It sounded bad so I came right away.” An older man, whom _y/n_ had never seen before said, “I guess y’all haven’t had the talk yet.” _y/n_ lifted her face from Penelope’s shoulder and asked, “What talk?” Garcia let _y/n_ go slightly and turned her toward the man, saying, “_y/n_, meet David Rossi.” Dave gave the young woman a small smile and extended his hand saying, “_y/n_ it’s nice to finally meet you. Emily talks about you all the time.” Rossi didn’t mince his words, as he added, “You make her very happy. I’m sure she’ll be glad to know that you’re here.” _y/n_ nodded, taking his hand in hers. Now that she was here, _y/n_ was beginning to feel better, but there was still the worry, and now _y/n_ had more questions than before. _y/n_ started with the big thing, asking, “Is Emily alright? The charge nurse was just going to check for me.” Rossi let out a sigh and said, “The last we heard the doctor in charge of her care was trying to stabilize her.” _y/n_ nodded and processed the information. The next thing _y/n_ asked, because her head was buzzing with many thoughts, and not all of them were as important as the rest. So _y/n_ just asked, “What’s ‘the talk’ Emily and I were supposed to have had by this point?”

Before Rossi had a chance to say that was a conversation that should probably happen between Emily and _y/n_, Aaron and the doctor emerged from a hallway that led into the hospital's interior. _y/n_ didn’t recognize either man, but the members of the BAU team present, Rossi, Spencer, and Penelope seemed to. Everyone turned to the two men and waited with bated breath for information. The doctor approached the group and Aaron moved to the left flank of the team. The somber leader of the BAU noticed the new edition to the party immediately but didn’t want to cut off the doctor’s statement. There would be time for questions later. Doctor Smith took a breath before saying, “Miss Prentiss is more stable now. She left a significant amount of blood and the bullet was lodged in her left shoulder. The shot was dangerously close to her carotid artery, thus the excess loss of blood. However, I’ve managed to dislodge the bullet. It was a 9mm soft point bullet. The damage could have been much worse. I gave her a transfusion and stabilized the wound. She should make a full recovery. It will take time but she should be okay if she takes things slow. I’ll let you see her when she wakes in a few hours. I’ve given Miss Prentiss a mild sedative for now.” The doctor walked away to speak to a nurse nearby. The team seemed to instantly relax, but _y/n_ didn’t take the news so well. _y/n_was shocked to hear what Emily had been through, the pain, and the near-death experience of her partner The suddenly relaxed attitude of the team also surprised _y/n_. How the group could suddenly be so calm was beyond her. _y/n_ wanted to say something, but she was cut off by the last man that she didn’t know in the group. By his demeanor and solemnity, _y/n_ had to guess that the man was the leader of the BAU, Agent Aaron Hotchener. _y/n_ was proven right when the tall man said, “Hello. I’m Aaron Hotchner. I assume you’re _y/n_?” _y/n_ nodded and Aaron took on a look of understanding. With a tone that was slightly softer than his normal demanding voice, he said, “Can you give the team a few minutes to talk, alone?” _y/n_ wanted to protest, but then realized that this was all their job, she was just here. Emily was alive, and there wasn’t more she could do here until Em woke up. _y/n_ sat down in an uncomfortable chair. The tiredness seemed to hit her all at once and _y/n_ closed her eyes. She was too far away to hear what the BAU members were saying, but the tone was serious. After the conversation, _y/n_ watched as Spencer and Rossi left the hospital. This left Aaron and Penelope standing in the hallway. _y/n_ watched as Agent Hotchner put a hand on Garcia’s shoulder, said a few words, and then pulled a cell phone from his black slacks and took a call.

Garcia moved toward _y/n_ and sat next to her. The normally bright and spunky tech wizard held out a hand for _y/n_ to hold and anchor to. _y/n_ took it and sniffled. _y/n_ asked, “I thought you didn’t go on cases, Penelope? At least, that’s what Emily said.” Gacia smiled and replied, “I don’t normally go on cases, no. They needed my tech skills in person on this one. I’m happy Hotch, Aaron, asked me to come because I was able to find Emily in time.” _y/n_ squeezed Penelope’s hand. She knew that Garcia was as upset about what had happened to Em as she was. _y/n_ knew the whole team was, even those not at the hospital. However, Penelope showed that concern more openly. _y/n_, like Garcia wore their heart on her sleeve. _y/n_ looked at the technical analyst and asked, “Can you tell me how you found her? Is the um…” _y/n_ tried to remember the word for unsub, and it clicked. “...unsub been caught yet?” Gacia gave _y/n_ a small sad smile and said, “I can’t tell you, _y/n_. The investigation is still ongoing. I know it’s frustrating, but I can’t say.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding. In some ways, it was annoying but more than anything it was just difficult. Up until that point, Emily’s job had been something exciting to talk about. And _y/n_ did worry about her when she was on a case, but Em had never been seriously wounded while they had been together yet. But now the possibility that Emily could die, could be stripped from _y/n_ forever, every time she stepped out the door to a case, became a possibility. This was a new kind of dread that _y/n_ realized she was going to have to live with. That possibility felt like the discomfort of knowing a period was coming next week. And that menstruation could be better or worse or not happen at all some months, but the possibility was always there. At least until menopause. Or if someone had migraines or other chronic pain. _y/n_ realized how gross and juvenile those comparisons were, but it was the best her brain could come up with at the moment. There was a shift when Aaron came back, the phone still in his hand and pressed to his ear. The tall man walked up to Penelope and said, “Garcia, Morgan has a question for you.” Penelope stood and took the phone from Hotch and moved over to the corner where he had just been standing. The hospital was pretty crowded and the chair Gacia had just vacated was one of the only ones open. Hotch looked down at Emily’s girlfriend. The woman had a look on her face of understanding of what a job at the BAU really meant. Aaron pulled _y/n_ from those thoughts when he asked, “May I sit here?” _y/n_’s eyes snapped to his firm ones, and she said, “Of course, Mr. Hotchner, Agent Hotchner?” _y/n_ strumbled through the possible names to call him. Neither she had tried to work. The man let out a small breath that might have been a laugh as he said, “You can just call me Hotch, or Aaron.” There was a small silence before Aaron said, “It’s nice to meet you, _y/n_. I wish it was under better circumstances than this.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “It’s nice to meet you too, Aaron.” The next half hour was spent making small talk and _y/n_ looking at her hands or the hands of the clock slowly ticking by. As the time moved, the dread returned and Aaron could feel it like a weight on _y/n_’s frame.

Hotch understood. Not from _y/n_’s point of view, but the other way around. He knew how it felt to leave Haley and Jack and not know if he’d see them again. He knew how those feelings for Haley had been so great that she had to step away. He didn’t blame her for that. It was clearly all new to _y/n_ and he softly said, “It’s not fair.” _y/n_ looked over at him and said in a weary voice, “What do you mean?” Hotch shifted in the chair and sighed very softly before saying, “It’s not fair for the people who stay behind. I can’t speak for Emily, but I know she understands that too.” Feeling slightly defeated by the circumstances and new reality, _y/n_ replied, “I was living in a fantasy world where she never got hurt, and that’s been shattered for me. I know fantasies are silly things and we don’t live in them, but I’m not sure how to deal with this kind of uncertainty.” _y/n_ turned and Aaron, the man Emily had spoken so highly of as the fearless leader of the team, was looking right at her. Not just right at her, but right into her, with an understanding that _y/n_ was unaware was possible. _y/n_ suddenly understood why the man was so respected. Hotch replied, “I think that’s a conversation you should have with Emily. That’s the best advice I can offer you.” It was with that last full conversation they shared before the doctor returned and told them that Emily was up now. They both stood up, and _y/n_ realized that Aaron was going to need to speak to her alone. Emily probably had some information that he needed. Hotch turned and said, already a step ahead of _y/n_, “I’ll make it as quick as possible, _y/n_. You’ll see her soon.” _y/n_ nodded. The anxiety came back to the surface. She spent the next forty-five minutes pacing the waiting room and counting the ceiling tiles.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a nurse came back and led _y/n_ to the back of the hospital. _y/n_ watched from the closed blinds as the shadow of Hotch stood from a chair near the shadow of the bed and the medical equipment. He opened the door and held it open so _y/n_ could slip into the small room. _y/n_ looked at Aaron and they exchanged a brief nonverbal “thank you” with each other. Once the door was closed, all _y/n_ could think of was Emily. _y/n_ rushed into the room and to her bedside. The brunette turned her head to see _y/n_ and tried to fake a smile. _y/n_ saw right through it as she sat down in the chair and took Em’s hands in hers. Prentiss had an IV in her arm and there were multiple monitors attached to her chest. Then there was the large bandage wrapped around Emily’s left shoulder. _y/n_ could see it under the flimsy hospital gown covering Em’s body. _y/n_ took a second to look Prentiss over and then asked, “How are you feeling, please don’t try and make it sound better than it is because, to be honest, you look rough.” Emily let out a shaky breath that _y/n_ knew to be a laugh. The sound could make _y/n_ cry at that moment. _y/n_ did start crying once Em started talking. Her voice was hoarser than usual and it sounded thin, but Prentiss said with sincerity, “Well I’m on a lot of drugs, so I don’t feel anything too much right now. Even with that being the case, my shoulder feels like a mountain either got dropped on it, or something burst out of it like Aliens or something. And there are some scrapes and bruises from when I fell.” _y/n_ nodded along noting how pale Em looked. _y/n_ was amazed that Prentiss could even speak as coherently as she was. It was a reminder that Emily could be tough as nails. However, _y/n_ could see the hints of pain in the corner of Emily’s eyes and the firm line of her mouth. She also looked tired. _y/n_ knew there needed to be some conversation between them to address what had happened with her injuries and _y/n_ being there at the hospital. Prentiss had seemed surprised almost when _y/n_ walked through the door, though it was clear that Aaron had told Em that she was there. Deciding to postpone that conversation for when Emily was a bit stronger, or at least in less pain, _y/n_ said, “Why don’t you rest for a while, Em? I’ll be here when you wake up.” Emily nodded and closed her eyes. The only sounds in the room were the soft beeping of the machines in the room and _y/n_ and Em’s soft breathing while both of them rested.

An hour or so later the doctor came back and checked on Emily’s vitals and administered another dose of the various medications Em was on. A nurse also raised the head of the bed and promised to bring Emily some food. Once the medical professionals were gone, _y/n_ looked at Emily. They were both slightly refreshed in a way, and with the prospect of food on the way it gave them a timeline of something happening. It was helpful because time in a hospital just seemed to stretch on forever. Lunch provided a definite finite point in space. Both Em and _y/n_ just knew that their conversation was going to at least start before Prentiss’s food arrived. _y/n_ started the dialog by asking the hard question, “Am I not supposed to be here, Em? Is there something I’ve missed? The team seemed very surprised I guess when I showed up.” Emily, with her piercing eyes, looked at _y/n_ and sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid this talk forever. She replied, “No _y/n_, it’s okay that you’re here. If it wasn’t, Aaron or Rossi would have sent you away by now. It’s just they didn’t expect you. Partners don’t normally come to see an agent until after the case is over.” _y/n_ furrowed her brow and said, “But how would I know that, Em? You never told me that. I just heard that you were hurt, maybe seriously, and I didn’t know if you were alone. How could I not jump to be here with you?” Emily nodded, knowing this wasn’t on _y/n_ and wanting to reassure her. Prentiss said, “_y/n_, you didn’t know because we haven’t had that conversation yet.” _y/n_ bit her lip wondering if this was “the talk” that they hadn’t had yet. _y/n_ released her lip from her mouth and asked uncertainly, “Em we’re almost five months into this relationship, what is this important conversation we haven’t had yet?”

Em could see that this lack of information was distressing to _y/n_ and Emily said, “The conversation about what happens if I get hurt. If I die doing this job.” _y/n_’s eyes widened and she said, “That seems like a pretty important conversation to have. I mean, we’ve talked about the risks. I just assumed that if the hospital called I should come.” Emily looked at _y/n_ and replied, “It’s not always that easy, _y/n_. Sometimes they can’t tell you. Even if it’s bad. So bad that I might not make it. If the hospital does call, like I said, most people just wait until the case is over, or their partner lets them know.” _y/n_ struggled to process the information and said, “So if the hospital, or you, or Garcia tell me you’re seriously hurt like shot in the arm say, I just have to wait and see what happens? If that’s the norm, why didn’t you tell me that, Em?” Emily listened to the desperation in _y/n_’s voice, at the fear of being left out of such important information. Meanwhile, _y/n_ struggled to comprehend having to just wait and see for something as important as Emily’s life to be had or lost. Finding out that Emily being shot had nearly put _y/n_ into a downward spiral, having to just wait and hear if the love of _y/n_’s life had made it or not at the end of a case seemed unsurmountable. It was asking too much. Em watched these emotions play out on _y/n_’s face, and _y/n_’s expression of what she was being asked was why she had avoided this conversation for so long. Because the reality of what loving an FBI agent entailed often sent people running in another direction. To something or someone more stable. A place where the likelihood of pain and uncertainty was far less. Prentiss swallowed and said, “I let you down, _y/n_. By not telling you this earlier. At how much of a sacrifice this is. I didn’t tell you because I had been so lucky that I hadn’t been hurt before. At least not when I was with you. I suppose I was naive and just hoped my luck would keep going, but it didn’t. I also didn’t tell you because when that conversation happens it forces people to choose whether or not this is something they can take. I was careless with your feelings by not telling you. I just love you so much that I couldn’t think about losing you because of that conversation. I’m sorry, _y/n_. I’m sorry for putting you through this the way I did. What happens from here is up to you, _y/n_. If you don’t think you can take that stress, I understand. You just have to count the cost of if it’s worth being with me and understanding how it works sometimes. Just know that every time I step into the bullpen, or onto the plane, I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of making the world a safer place for you.”

Emily realized that she wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edgewise, because she was afraid of what _y/n_ might say or do. But it was up _y/n_ now, and Emily thought that perhaps _y/n_ was going to get up and leave right then and there. It had happened to her once before. _y/n_ sat silently in her chair and closed her eyes wondering if she could take it. _y/n_ did feel like Emily had kept this from her, but it had been out of a fear of losing her. Their relationship flashed through _y/n_’s mind and the love, passion, and warmth filled _y/n_ nearly to the brim. She tried to compare it to the anxiety she had felt and would feel in the future if Emily got hurt again. As painful the uncertainty was, the love outweighed the fear, and _y/n_ looked at Em and said, “There are a million reasons not to do something. A million reasons why you didn’t want to have this talk with me, a million reasons why I could walk away, but I just need one reason to stay, and that’s you, Emily Prentiss. I’m picking you. I’m going to pick you every time. But no more secrets. No more missed conversations. If we’re going to make this work for the long run, which is what I want, then we have to be honest with each other. Even if it’s conversations that are painful.” Em nodded with tears in her eyes as she said, “You’re everything to me _y/n_. I promise to tell you everything. The good and the bad, there won’t be any more surprises. I’ve never met anyone so willing to love me. To choose me over the uncertainty.” _y/n_ leaned in and kissed Em’s hand. She would kiss Em all over if it wouldn’t hurt her.

Their brief moment of intimacy was interrupted by the nurse bringing in a plate of soft foods for Emily. _y/n_ pulled back, and the woman looked at them for a moment before setting the tray on the bed. The older woman said, “Make sure to use your right hand only. You shouldn’t move your left arm or shoulder at all.” Emily looked at the stern woman and nodded. With that missive, the nurse left them again. _y/n_ watched as Emily attempted to poke at some jello with a spoon unsuccessfully. _y/n_ couldn’t help but chuckle and Em looked at her saying, “Hey, no laughing at me. I’m injured.” _y/n_ fixed her face and said, “Well then let me help you because that jello is fighting for its life right now.” That comment had Em laugh slightly and it felt good to have their dynamic closer to their normal. Em teased, “Hey I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it.” _y/n_ sighed and took the spoon from Prentiss’s hand as _y/n_ said, “Listen, love, you’re the bravest person I know. We just had a brave conversation, now I just need you to be brave enough to let me help you, okay?” Em smiled and gave in saying, “Okay love, and for the record, you’re pretty brave yourself.” Though their relationship had been rocked, momentarily, their foundation was strong, built on trust and love that could endure hard storms and conversations. _y/n_ and Em were affirmed of their love for each other as Em allowed _y/n_ to feed her in an intimate act of caring.

That evening when Morgan and Penelope moved back to the hospital to check on their teammate, Derek asked, “You really think Prentiss didn’t tell _y/n_ about coming during cases?” Garcia replied, “She couldn’t have, or why else would _y/n_ have shown up here?” Morgan nodded and said, “Well I bet that was a tough conversation.” The pair moved to Emily’s room and stopped. Inside the darkened space, they could see Emily sleeping while holding _y/n_’s hand. _y/n_’s head was resting on the edge of the bed and they both seemed to be at peace. Penelope softly said, “Maybe it wasn’t so hard after all.” Pen let out a sigh and said, “Let’s get a coffee or something, we should let them rest.” Derek agreed, and they let the couple rest and recuperate in the love they had for each other.

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maraguanabana · 4 months

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so to whom it may concern. fuck you (jet lag)

I. WANT. TO. FUCKING. DIE.

in my head, it's 8:00 am and I have to get up before my nonna comes in and throws a bucket of ice-cold water to sleepy head (me). in reality, I am no longer in Italy, it's 1:00 am and I'm supposed to wake up at 6 because of ✨new year's resolutions✨ fuck you too as well, stupid stuff I promise myself I will do during the year and only actually do until March (I have to go to the gym and I can fight for title as the world's laziest person ever)

besides, my 1655 ass is not even able to go in X to get bored because everyone and their mothers are ripping each other's throats like fucking wild animals. if the man does a joke and someone laughs let it be. it wasn't even that deep or even something mean or bad. it's not like he said that he hates his guts and wants him to choke on pasta carbonara. it's fucking winter *break*, give me a *break* as well and go rewatch Monza 2019 or Singapore 2023 or Bahrain 2022 if you must, based on whose 'side' you decide to take, dear little person. it's good for your liver to let people be happy in their 'joyful ignorance'. I swear.

this was my neutral (you know what? I'm a schwartzy girlie now. that's how fucking neutral I am in this whole shit) and pacific (I have a migraine, I'm jet lagged as fuck and I'm fucking done with these people fighting over anything. if I have to choose, I'll choose whoever's side is telling absolutely everyone to go fuck themselves.) interference on the whole LA video and CS joke thing. as a both-ferrari-boys girlie and old school tifosa.

pd. how my brain is able to manipulate itself into believing that 'this year it's our year' but not into motivating itself to go three floors down to the gym that's next to my apartment block and listening to my brother for once to actually do something good for my health besides going on a run every three months and a swim twice a year is beyond my comprehension. if anyone wonders, my brother is a PE teacher and he tells his students about me. specifically uses me as an example of what they should not do. I feel a bit like a oversharing bitch today. sorry not sorry.

#f1 #ferrari #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #cs55 #cl16 #charlos #c2 #if they are not friends who cares let me be happy #and I'll let you be happy as well #let's just ignore each other's existence and likes #THAT is good for your liver and pancreas and everything in your body and for mine as well #if they are pure pr LET IT FUCKING BE FOR FUCKS SAKE #don't make pr people's job harder than it already is with the Ferrari fan civil going at it war every two hours #LET. THEM. ENJOY. THE. BREAK.#AND ME TOO!#that's it I'm done

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echoes-world · 1 year

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at my worst (2)

Kusuo doesn’t see you again for two months. Not that he was counting that on purpose, he was counting the days since he last saw Kusuke. Life goes on, you weren’t important and he didn’t care if you were dating his brother. Sure, that was stupid as Kusuke is an asshole but apparently girls like that kind of guy.

Or so he thinks, as he is stuck listening to everybody’s thoughts yearning for boys in his school that were plain morons. How did someone like Kaido have a girl pining over him? He was an eighth grader in the body of a high schooler. Or Kusuo himself. He could be a jerk sometimes yet he has an entire harem chasing after his love. Which was only reserved for coffee jelly, mind you.

So when he enters the 200 mile radius of PK Academy, he is irked to find that there will be a new transfer student. Boys are hoping it's a cute girl, and the girls are hoping they can be friends. Kusuo rubs his temple, feeling a migraine snake its way through his head. Hasn’t this school had enough freaky transfer students?

The loud chatter and thoughts don’t get any better as he sits down at his designated desk. Would it kill these people to stay quiet for a second? At least the transfer student was in another class, Kusuo found through others. He hoped that would make his class shut up. Alas, they were intent on making him suffer. Unknowingly, but still.

By the time lunch comes around, he runs out full speed to a hiding spot before any of his so-called friends yank him into an ‘adventure’. He finds himself on the secluded rooftop. Even if there weren’t many people there, because of his 200-mile-radius telepathy, the loudness was still the same. He clenched his jaw and rubbed his temple again. Maybe if he turned invisible he could nap without worries. No, if anyone happened to trip over him, it would be game over. He finds himself in his head trying to dull out the aches and loud voices- that he jumps when he hears your soft voice pull him out.

His eyes dart out to in front of him- and there you are. You have the PK Academy uniform on, and your bangs were trimmed so that he could now see your face. He felt his breathing hitch as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful, almost as beautiful as Teruhashi. No- he was lying to himself. You were a goddess. The sun highlighted your angel like features, a light glow surrounding you. It wasn’t obnoxious like Teruhashi though- no, it suited you.

You didn’t deserve to have a concerned look on your face- wait- why did you look worried?

“You look like you’re in pain, Saiki-san. Would you like some ibuprofen?” You ask in a quiet voice- not wanting to make his pain worsen.

Unfortunately, medicine doesn’t work on Kusuo. You didn’t need to know that though. He nodded, and watched as you opened your school bag and dug through to find the painkillers. Was he worthy of receiving painkillers from a goddess? Was he delirious?

“Here you go- oh, and here's some water!” You hand him the items. He freezes as your skin makes short contact and he’s pretty sure his brain short circuits.

He clears his throat and swallows the tablets along with the water.

‘Thanks, ’ he nods.

“It’s no problem!” You smile- still keeping your voice lowered. “I’m glad I was of use! Is it ok if I sit with you? I-I feel a bit uncomfortable being the center of attention…”

Saiki freezes again. Hold on, were you the transfer student everyone was talking about? He had never seen you before in his school- and suddenly you’re here the day the transfer student was supposed to start.

“It’s my first day,” You nervously said, noticing the conflicted look on the pink haired boy’s face. “The students here are… quite the handful.” (you were being too kind, they were plain clingy.)

Kusuo only shrugs. You give him a thankful smile and sit yourself next to him, looking over the city. You don’t say anything else, which Kusuo guesses was nice. After all, he could still hear the thoughts and voices from inside the building. After 3 minutes of silence, Kusuo couldn’t help but wonder if you found it awkward to sit without saying anything. He peers into your mind, having to tune out all of the other thoughts in order to see into your quiet thoughts.

‘ It’s so nice out today, no wonder Saiki-san came out here to relieve his pain, ’ you think, smiling at the sun and clouds.

That was it? He was sure you were going to be cursing his quietness, or looking for a way to leave because of it being awkward and you wanting to bask in the attention the rest of the school was giving you. He paused as he noticed the thoughts of the rest of the school body were now muffled. Like distinct background noise. He wondered if he could eventually tune everything out if he solely focused on your inner mind. He closed his eyes and he almost smiled at the glimpse of a ‘ it’s too bad lunch is almost over… hopefully Saiki-san feels better!’

It was peaceful, Kusuo found. Your thoughts were simple, and pleasant. He found his stress of being a psychic melting away at the peace he felt. The mostly silent cave that was your mind was something he found he needed after years of not having any peace unless he had his ring on. Which even then, he found weird because at least you had ordinary thoughts come about once in a while.

Unfortunately, his blissful state was interrupted when the bell rang. You stood up, holding a hand out to Kusuo. “Thank you for letting me sit here! It’s so nice out,” you give him a sincere smile as he hesitantly takes your hand and lets you help him up. “I hope your headache is better, Saiki-san,” you bow as you head towards the door that would lead you back into the building.

His brain short circuits again. Wait. How did you know he had a headache again?

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