#and she get band code and whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupidkenji · 5 months

Text

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

1K notes · View notes

ghostykapi · 2 days

Text

three against me (the trio's love)

misamo & fem!reader // college au

thank you for @cry4mina for the misamo pictures and for being delulu with me about misamo <3 MISAMOOO

when you said you wanted your college life to be eventful

you didn't expect the universe throwing you three girlfriends, each with their own side of how they got you locked with them

it starts during the first semester of your 3rd year, when you were in a small cafe, getting to a headstart in your pile of homework

it's perfect, a iced coffee by your side, three readings beside you, your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and phone silenced, muting whatever the onslaught of messages nayeon is sending that you can't even be bothered to check

you needed this, you couldn't handled anymore 'dubchaeng babysitting!' when the duo would just make your head hurt with the amount of crazy ideas they had. the change of pace for the day is much welcome, especially knowing that jeongyeon took over with the lure of seeing a band a cafe next university over

it's nice, you can feel like you are in control for even just for a bit

then the cafe's noise dies down when the door chimes

it's too silent

fuck.

you brace yourself at the trio, who’s presence can make the entire student populous go on their knees. the mere whisper of their little group brings the entire college either trembling

misamo.

you can feel her gaze land on you, despite the only indication that it is one of them without looking is the whispers within the cafe. even the baristas know them

hirai momo. softball player, the star athlete that brings medals and more recognition to your university. average grades, stellar performance when she steps on the field and can land a nasty punch

with each step you hear her take, the more you have to remind yourself not to look. you can hear her giggles and the way your heartbeat is now in your ears

minatozaki sana. influencer and model, the unspoken leader of their group. through her bubbly and charming personality, she uses her wit to become the face of the university. part of the top 10% of the whole university, the inspiration to study hard and diligently

you feel a hand on your shoulder, the firm grasp rendering you unable to move, yet it's how you know who it is. she hums in delight at your sharp intake of breath, knowing that you don't need anything else to tell her apart

myoui mina. rising entrepreneur of 3 different business ventures, the deadliest one from the trio. always calculating, always 10 steps ahead of her peers and competitors. sweet, kind, and demur, she brings class to whatever she does

that includes sitting beside you, her bag gently landing on the table, your proximity leaves the others questioning your relationship, but all you know is that you must have done something at your shared class with her yesterday for her too approach you

"i hope you don't mind" she starts, eyes confident and you want to scream and cry because she's wearing a suit. typically worn when she's fresh from visiting one of her businesses. "i heard you were well versed in code"

"programming is my major yes" you keep your voice leveled, after all, being a woman in such a male dominated course has made you what your flock of admirers say, freezingly cold.

"i have a proposition for you" mina starts, keeping a dangerous game of who can keep the eye contact going "you help me with homeworks and projects while i give you money per assessment made"

while mina has a fair share of students that matched her energy, something in your gaze makes her crack a bit

"what makes you think i'll say yes?"

"you can't say no to me"

"yes i can. here watch i'll say it"

and mina can't deny it when she feels her heart start to race when you get closer to her. faces barely a few inches apart

"i don't do things for money. so no"

and you pull back, ready to put back to attention to your homework when mina speaks up

"every time you have to help me i'll pay you in food"

oh goodness free food

"ok i'm in" you hum, hands typing away on your laptop "we start in two days, send me an address and i'll met you there myoui. now shoo, i have to catch up to my work"

she stares at you with a blank gaze, but inside she's dumbfounded at your boldness

nevertheless, she stands up to leave you be, but before she's out of earshot, she says something you don't quite catch

"what?" you ask

"you should call me mina. myoui is too professional even for my taste dear"

three days later, it's momo who bugs you after your morning class

she slips up right beside you, the lack of dress code in the university gives momo a chance to wear a body hugging pink dress, something that makes everyone go crazy. what you don't like is how every guy is looking at her in ways you want to pluck their eyes out

filthy bastards don't deserve to gaze at her at all

"momo" your ears are red because everyone can clearly see you both in the halls, her arm around your waist as you slowly walk to the next building for your next class "what are you doing?"

"accompanying you to class" momo won't admit it, but ever since mina said you were, in her words, 'pretty and sufficient', she had to see you

"why?" you ask, glaring at every man who's looking at her too creepily, making them scurry away

"just because, plus our classrooms are right beside each other" she relaxes more with each less man in the hall, you notice it

"fine" you huff, and before she can even say anything else, you remove your jacket, giving it to her "wear this for today, i don't want any man to look at you. you're too gorgeous for them"

the rest of the walk is silent on the way to both of your classrooms. only thing you can hear is the squeak of every sneaker from each man running way and the whispers in between students

it's the most peaceful walk momo has had since becoming star athlete

so when you wave at her from the door before disappearing to go to the classroom beside her's, she feels like she can breath without panicking

she hates taking anything math related, but she might bare it more when she knows your beside her classroom

she's hooked

later that afternoon, while you lounge around the student council office sipping a red bull, someone barges in, scaring your team who's having a heated debate on who should the rest of the papers

"fucking jesus who the fuck-" ryujin is silenced from who she sees at the door

minatozaki sana, the ever persistent and one of the most notable member under the team of the president.

"someone sent you flowers?"

not a question you were expecting, even your team is gawking at her

dressed to perfection, you can't catch her in a regular outfit at any point, which is kind of ridiculous. sana doesn't care, always styled like she's going to a fashion week in europe. today she's wearing that white dress that she just wore in her feature in some magazine

what is it with the trio and wearing designer clothing every time they are at university grounds? specifically when they are within your eyesight

"pardon?" you know the amount of admires that still try despite cold rejection, even hailing from different courses. hell you think someone from the university over sent you chocolates once, you gave it to your team though

"did you accept some stupid boy's flowers?" sana repeats, anger in her eyes, an emotion she barely shows, and possessiveness in her body language, something you see glimpses of when someone gets close to mina and momo that she doesn't approve of

"minatozaki you know i don't do that" you say calmly, your team in awe at how you keep a calm attitude "if the suitor doesn't have the guts to face me, then they do not deserve my limited time"

"then you'll entertain if i do right?"

you can hear felix and lily choke over their pizza behind you

"you are not serious" you look at her like she's crazy (she loves being called that, you learn from mina later on)

she gets closer to you, faces barely an inch apart, any slip up from her leaning way to closer over your table and she can just kiss you

"try me, i'll see you at tomorrow's meeting miss vice-president"

when she leaves the office, it takes you and your team a total of 5 minutes to recover

"jesus what the fuck was that"

"ryujin shut up, go back to bickering with lia"

no one has ever said no to the trio

maybe a few people had

they're just not as pretty, charming and confident as you

maybe that's why mina keeps sitting beside you during your shared programming class even oustide 'tutor' hours, why momo's insistent at being beside you in between periods to carry your items on days your classes line up, and why sana shows up in every weekly meeting with an expensive gift or a trinket, challenging each suitor head on.

women like them are gonna be the death of you

"you have some crazy women that like you" jihyo jests beside you, giggling at how sana is glaring daggers at how close you both are. you both are now taking a break along with the rest of the internal team to finalize some papers

"yeah well" you don't like to admit it, but ever since their persistence to always either be near you, you have been starting to crack bit by bit "can't really escape them y'know"

"i think you would look cute with them" jihyo hums, swinging her pen between her fingers, making someone across the table keep her stare at the president "misamo and their girlfriend who sucks ass at karaoke"

"ok that was one time" you huff, jihyo's snickering makes sana look up from her phone, jaw tensing up at how close jihyo is "clearly i let you win because you liked it when tzuyu said she's treat you out if you win right?"

that shuts her up. the said tall woman is at the other side of the room, watching the president's face get red, wondering what you just said to make her like this

"get back to work" jihyo then shoos you away, your laughter making jihyo flip you off before returning to work for herself

before you cam even return to work, your eyes meet sana's, her expression unreadable. you wonder what she's thinking of

you look away, a light blush on your cheeks from her intense stare, busying yourself once more with the papers

to sana, witnessing your smile and laughter rewires her brain, heart pleading with her to speed up whatever this stage the three of them are in. each day that passes drives the three of them crazy

mina is messing up in her calculations, momo is missing her shots and sana is losing her composure on the daily

she needs you. they need you.

when sana heads home that night she keeps thinking about you. even when she lets her girlfriends debate what their late night dinner should be (mina wants tacos, momo is craving for some pasta). she blurts out in the middle of it

"do you think y/n would say yes if we offered her sushi as a late night dinner?"

the two stop at their bickering to look at sana, who's eyes are begging for the next move. she's getting itchy and desperate to make it

"satang" mina reaches out to her, letting sana wrap her arms around her waist as momo hugs them both "did something happen?"

"it's just" sana doesn't even try to hide it at this point, knowing that the three of them are nearing their breaking point "i saw her laugh today and it really made me think that 'i want to make her laugh with us' and i-i don't know but it has been driving me mad"

mina hums in understanding and momo speaks up, ready to take that push

"then let's go"

staying late even after meetings is normal for you to catch up with the papers, but for the past few days, you have been staying late in the office to busy your thoughts

mina hasn't been looking at you in the eye or been acknowledging you

momo hasn't been accompanying you to class

sana hasn't shown up to a single meeting this past two weeks

trying to silence your head, you decided to throw yourself into your extra curriculars every night. this night, you are working alone, the only sounds that you can hear are your aggressive typing on your poor keyboard, the music coming from your small speaker and the voices in your head making your heart ache

and now a knock and the door swinging open

"if you have any concerns please drop them by our social media accounts, email, or even the drop box by the-"

you stop your next words when you look up

mina.

you want to curse at the woman, for deliberately avoiding you. it was worse with her, because at least with the two you didn't have the urge to scream because they simply did not show up.

momo.

even clad in that handsome suit, she's still wearing that jacket you handed over to her. devastatingly handsome and gorgeous, you wonder why did she have to leave you wondering in the noisy university halls

sana.

meetings are still the same, but jihyo keeps on asking why your eyes have been straying, always going back to the door. waiting for that laugh to annoy you, waiting for a snarky remark to any stupid men flirting with you, waiting for anything from her

you really want to throw a chair at them for just showing up now and pissing you off

you don't though, because you missed them

each in their own suit, each with their own gift, each one with a nervous smile that no one will ever see, each one wearing their hearts up their sleeves, and each with the same question you didn't know you wanted to hear until now

"we like you. would you like to go out with us? dinner tomorrow night, our treat"

you can't say no

"you guys are horrible at courting. pick me up at 7"

bonus:

in every first date you've been on, you never come over to your dates home. that changes and ends with them

"hirai" you're trying to keep your breath stable as her hands are playing your hair. eyes hazy, but clearly on you, her self control out the door, just like yours

"myoui" she's behind you, her hands on your waist, murmuring what she's been thinking about for the past days. it's all you, and it makes you melt

"minatozaki" you let her kiss you, silencing your worries and doubts, silencing anything that makes you question them. the heart finally getting what it wants

"you my love, deserve to be ours"

252 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

Text

Sunshine and Flowers

Logan Howlett x plus size reader

Logan has had a great many loves in his long life and he’s over it. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else yet somehow, the annoying and very much younger art teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, wormed her way into his heart.

Warnings: grumpy and sunshine, jealousy, Logan is a dick but we been knew, reader is kind of oblivious and touch starved, age-gap (reader is mid 20s and Logan is old as shit), Logan POV, bit of a slow burn, reader and Logan are Keely and Roy coded

WC: 3.8k

Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Yo Logan!” The seemingly ever present pounding in the older mutant’s temples suddenly got worse, the band around his forehead tightening as the young woman cheerfully skipped up to him without a care in the world. Her arm looped through his own, tucking herself into his side, like she always did.

“What d’ya want?” He grumbled. It was easier to just ask her outright than stay silent and her chatter away at him for an hour before she finally got to her point. Y/N beamed up at him, her e/c eyes sparkling. “Wellllll… I was wondering if you wanted to come with me on a little field trip with the kids! I was thinking of bringing them to the MET, you know because art.” She waved her right hand around as if to emphasise her point.

“No.” Logan said firmly.

“Aw please! Please Logan! Please! Please! Please!” He could practically feel his blood pressure rising as Y/N pleaded with him, pulling on his arm, acting like a complete child. Dear god, what had he done to deserve this?

With the huge throngs of students constantly being enrolled in the school, Charles had come up with the bright idea to introduce an art program to the children as a way of “expressing their creativity”. But what that actually meant was hiring a new teacher specifically for this class since no adult in the school had even an ounce of artistic talent.

And so six months ago, Y/N Y/L/N, a recent college graduate, strolled into the mansion and never left. Her gift to generate small stars gave her the remarkable ability to light her classroom in any way she wished, allowing her students the perfect lighting to create absolute masterpieces. And like her gift, she herself was a big ball of endless energy that constantly bounced around, latching onto whoever she came across, and more often than not, that person was Logan.

For some inexplicable reason, she gravitated to him, always seeking his approval, trying to get him to engage in activities with their students, among many many other things that made the older man truly resent when the final bell of the school day rang and she would float into his classroom, ranting about something or another. The only way he could get her to stop was by distracting her, usually by shoving her in the general direction of her best friend, Alex Summers.

But Havok was on a road trip with Sean and Peter for the next month, so he had been abandoned. Logan sighed as her grating voice made his sensitive ears ring, and the overpowering smell of her flowery perfume was a downright assault on his senses. “Logan, come on! It’ll be soooooo much fun! I’ll even buy you lunch after!”

While the temptation of free food was great, Logan knew it wouldn’t be worth spending the entire day with Y/N glued to his side, forcing him to do whatever she wanted. Taking a deep breath, prepared to let her down as gently as he could, given that his patience was hanging on by a thread, he would probably be more rude than he wanted to be, when he paused, really taking in the young woman.

“Is that my shirt?” He drawled, his dark eyes flicking over her plump body. She was wearing one of her typical outfits, white converse splashed with paint, shorts that very well could be called Daisy dukes, they were that short, with little flowers embroidered on them. Her chubby thighs almost entirely on view with one of his favourite red plaids on top of a black tank top instead of her usual blouse, making her sizeable cleavage pop. Y/N looked away bashfully.

“Yeah, I um found it in the movie room and it looked so warm so I took it and it’s super comfy like seriously how do you get your shirts so soft it’s really weird but they always smell like cigars so I guess that’s the downside. That’s not to say you smell bad! I’m just saying that it’s like your trademark-“

There she went again. “It’s fine kid, just wash it before you give it back.”

“What about the MET!” She called after him.

“Maybe.” He grumbled and with that he walked away, be-lining for the kitchen where he stashed his Vodka, losing her in the sea of students just getting out of class.

“Now, for today’s class, we’re going to go over some art history!” A collective groan resonated through the room but Y/N’s bright smile never faltered, it actually got bigger as she looked over her small group of students sitting around the art-filled room. “I know, I know but this stuff is important! Art plays such a big role in human evolution. Actually, the argument can be made that our ability to create art is what truly sets us apart from other animal species-“

There was no denying that Miss Y/L/N’s class was a favourite among the young mutants. Her rants not only served to brighten up their day but they also prevented her from giving out any actual work. It especially helped when most of them came from Logan’s class the period before. He was quite well known to be, well there’s no delicate way to put this, a hard ass.

So when, during this spring afternoon, with just a month left before summer break, Logan strode into the art class, his heavy boots thundering loudly against the hardwood floors, everyone was shocked. Y/N was pacing the room now, well and truly absorbed in her own thoughts, which became an impassioned speech as soon as the words formed in her mind. Logan cleared his throat as he leaned against the door jam, his jaw cleaned tightly when she didn’t answer or look at him.

The collection of children were now starting to get nervous as the seconds ticked by, Logan’s eyes getting steadily darker with anger, the muscle in his lower jaw working over under his mutton chops. They could all see his famous tempter growing and none of them wanted to be on the receiving end. “Um Miss?” A young girl spoke up, trying to break her train of thought. But nope, that couldn’t stop her.

Logan was getting fed up now. How in the hell did these kids even learn anything with the way she was carrying on? “Kid.” He growled, immediately making the entire class freeze, including the young teacher.

“Oh Logan! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She laughed nervously, pulling on the edge of her sheer pink sleeve. He noted she was wearing a dress today, it was frilly and absolutely drowning in flower print, with translucent sleeves that went all the way down to her wrists.

“Right, Wheels needs us in his office. Now.” He pressed as she opened her mouth to point out she was in the middle of a lecture. Y/N nodded then addressed the class. “All right, students. I guess you’re getting out early today. No homework!” She was quick to jog out of the room before the kids were able to leave their seats, effectively avoiding the clambering mass of them trying to practically sprint out.

Her smaller hand easily slipped into Logan’s bigger one, intertwining their fingers as her left hand came up to rest on his exposed forearm. He felt the cool of her metal rings against his skin. Unconsciously, he noted that he had never seen her wear any kind of jewellery before. “Did Charles say what he wanted?” Her eyes caught his brown ones, falling into step with the older mutant through the quiet halls. Logan just shrugged, fishing a half used cigar from his breast pocket and sticking the thoroughly chewed end in his mouth, a sharp canine slicing into it.

“Hmm.” She hummed, her gaze shifting down to her feet, trusting Logan to guide them to the headmaster’s office. “Do you think it’s a mission?”

“He doesn’t send you on missions.” Logan said firmly.

“Yeah I know but it could be! Stranger things have happened.”

“Like what?” He humoured her.

“How about Peter actually scoring a date~” She teased, making the Wolverine’s lip turn up briefly in a smile then dropped again into a frown before she could see.

“You do have a point.” He conceded. They rounded the last corner and came to a stop outside the solid door of Charles’ office. Logan went to knock, a muffled ‘please come in’ sounded before his permanently bruised knuckles could meet the stained wood.

Charles sat behind his grand desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he looked over a mountain of paperwork that gave Y/N a headache just from looking at it. She pulled her hand from Logan’s and bounced over to one of the two chairs in front of the headmaster, immediately making herself comfortable.

Clasping her hands on her lap with her back up straight, Y/N focused on the older mutant as he took off his reading glasses and laid them on what looked to be his grade book. Logan himself leaned against the doorjamb, much like he did in the young woman’s classroom, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest.

Charles sighed deeply as he looked at his teachers. “There really is no way to say this delicately so I suppose I’ll just say it: Erik’s come home.” Logan’s entire body seized with an emotion akin to fear.

“Fuck.” He snarled. But Y/N had an entirely different reaction. Her face visibly lit up but not with excitement but instead with the joy of someone who didn’t have to lie anymore. Charles raised an eyebrow at the young woman, prompting her to explain herself.

“He slept in my room last night, there was no other free space.” She said casually as if she hadn’t just dropped the bomb that she spent the night with a dangerous mutant who hadn’t hesitated to kill before. “Don’t worry! I was being safe. He slept on my couch.”

“Like that makes this whole thing any better.” Logan muttered under his breath but only Charles heard him. The telepath gave him a strange but knowing look before turning back to the young art teacher.

Her smile wavered only for a moment before returning with full force. “He was super nice to me! He even picked out my jewellery today.” She flashed her hands towards the headmaster, showing off the various silver rings that adorned her fingers. Logan huffed at her naivety but Charles had an entirely different reaction. He took her hands into his own, delicately tracing the metal with a soft touch.

“Erik did a good job, they look wonderful. But Y/N, I still want you to be wary. Erik can be very volatile and unpredictable and his abilities far outmatch your own. Just be careful.” She gave a firm nod. “Although, I believe you could do him some kind of good to be around someone who finds him tolerable.” Charles gave a not so subtle glance toward the Wolverine who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

An awkward and tense silence fell over the trio. Y/N cleared her throat, tugging on the hem of her dress which lay only an inch above her knees. “Is that all you wanted to tell us?”

“Well, I do need to speak to you about this art trip you have planned. Logan, you’re welcome to stay, you might find this information useful.”

“Fuck no, I have better things to do with my time.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. She visibly flinched at his words and her smile became so fake it made him ache. Charles’s own expression fell as he sat back in his high-back chair.

“Then if you’ll please excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” He said sternly, quite obviously not pleased with Logan’s rudeness. “Close the door on your way out.”

As the door swung shut behind him, Logan caught the smallest whimper escaping her lips and the muffled words of his old friend consoling her.

The manor was almost dead silent as Logan emerged from the cave that was his room. There were no sounds of footsteps (save for his own), or screaming or chatter, there wasn’t even the ever present clatter of utensils from the kitchen.

Curiously, he wandered through the empty halls, occasionally glancing into the empty rooms he passed. Just as his dark brows began to furrow with concern, Ororo turned the corner, nose buried in a book. “Hey Storm.” Her dark eyes met his own.

“Logan?” She replied with a curious head tilt before returning to her book. Logan huffed through his nose.

“Where is everyone?” She gave him a strange look and glanced over her shoulder as if the answer to his question was just behind her. The young mutant snapped her book shut.

“At the MET? You know the big field trip that Y/N organised. I thought you were going with them. She has been talking about it for weeks.” Logan’s frown deepened. That was today? Storm seemed to pause as she took in his stormy expression. “Oh, I guess you forgot. No wonder she was so upset when they left. I guess it’s a good thing Erik went with her then.”

Just then, noise exploded through the halls once more as dozens of feet stomped on the expensive hardwood. Ororo sighed heavily through her nose, upset at not being able to have a little more quiet to finish off her chapter. But Logan remained frozen in place, his veins filled with icy terror. “Repeat that last part?”

She glanced at him with a devastating side eye. “Evidently, Erik saw how upset she was this morning when you didn’t get on the bus so he decided to go with her to take care of the kids.” She shrugged and tucked the leather-bound volume under her arm. “She looked like she was going to cry before he stepped up.”

Poison curled in his gut but he quickly stamped it down. Just then, kids and teens stampeded around the corner, hyped up on what Logan guessed to be sugar and excitement. And right smack dab in the middle was Magneto, his head thrown back in laughter, the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders rippling with the movement. His right arm was bent allowing for the soft hand of the younger woman to rest on his forearm. Y/N was smiling shyly at him, not used to the undivided attention he was giving her.

As they passed him, Logan caught her eye. She barely even gave him a glance but he saw the sadness deep within those e/cs and he knew it was because of him. She quickly looked away, drawing her gaze back to the dangerous mutant who was speaking once more, his laughter fading. But Logan couldn’t hear what he was saying over the roaring in his ears.

He watched them until they disappeared into one of the many living rooms of the manor. “At least he got her smiling again.” He barely registered Ororo’s words before she too left him.

This went on for weeks. It seemed that everywhere he turned, Logan would see the unlikely pair together. Whether that be baking in the middle of the night, reading quietly in the library, working on lesson plans, he even saw them training together!

He watched them from afar as they grew closer and her pull away from himself until one day he was walking out of his classroom after a long day. “Wait up!” Unconsciously, Logan slowed his pace , a smile crawling upon his face. He expected the familiar weight of her touch against his arm, the smell of her floral perfume and the bright sound of her laughter but when a blur raced by him, his heart dropped.

Y/N flung herself at Erik who was just a few paces in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug too tight to be just friendly. He caught her easily, his arms winding around her thick waist and tugged her closer.

Logan forced himself to turn away, missing the sad look she cast him, heartbreak clear in her eyes.

The end-of-school party was alive with laughter and music. Lights floated over the small dance floor that had been assembled in the gardens. Professors mingled on the wooden stage, swaying to the smooth acoustic guitar Kurt was strumming. But Logan’s attention was trapped on the centre of the crowd where a small circle of space had been formed and trying as hard as he might, he couldn’t look away.

Y/N twirled in time with the music, her eyes shut as she let it wash over her. Her skin glowed in the golden sunset, the sweat along her brow sparkled like glitter as she moved. Pale green tulle embroidered with dozens of sunflowers floated around her, her dress fluttering in the light breeze. She was absolutely breath-taking. No weight rested on her shoulders nor anxiety in her face. She was serene, she was like a goddess in human form, dancing and delighting with mere mortals.

How badly he wanted to stride across the gardens and take her into his arms, to feel her curves beneath his palms as they moved together. Logan shook himself from those thoughts and took another sip of whiskey. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat but that was nothing compared to the burning rage in his stomach as another man approached her.

Erik, dressed in a matching dark green suit, caught her mid-twirl, his left hand holding her hips in place as he captured her left hand in his right. She fell easily into step with him, her once fluid movements becoming a slow waltz.

Logan was so consumed in his anger that he hadn’t noticed another person walking to his side until they were right next to him.

“Why are you so worked up about this? You’ve made it very clear that you can barely even tolerate her.” Logan’s scowl deepened, his eyes growing even darker with rage as Hank spoke to him. “I mean even I’ve heard about the things you’ve said to her and I barely leave the lab.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Beast.” He didn’t bother to hide the way he was glaring at the pair. Almost as if in slow motion, Erik pressed his lips to her ear, speaking in a whisper so quiet, even Logan’s powerful hearing couldn’t pick it up. She pulled away from him for just a moment and hope bloomed in his chest. But it quickly died as she nodded in response.

Erik took her hand, their fingers intertwining as he led her away. Logan slammed his now empty glass down on the temporary bar behind him and stormed off towards the couple. The music faded away as he ran.

Her laugh carried on the breeze, the skirt of her dress fluttering behind her. Logan ran faster, now regretting the tight suit pants and button-up he donned for the evening as they got steadily further and further away.

Without thinking, he made a sharp left, launching himself over the perfectly pruned flower beds Charles loved so much and tore through the gardens. Then suddenly, she was within sight. One heeled foot was over the threshold but he still had a chance.

With a final burst of speed he grabbed Y/N’s wrist before she could enter the manor, forcing her to let go of the other man. “Don’t go with him. Please.”

“Logan, what are you doing?”

“I can’t let you go with him. Y/N, I-“ He swallowed harshly, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly. Y/N looked over her shoulder to the other mutant only to find him gone. “Fuck why can’t I just say it.”

Her body was fully turned to him now. “Say what?”

Taking in a deep breath, he looked into her eyes. “I love you.” The slap came out of nowhere, knocking the breath from his lungs. Y/N’s jaw was dropped in shock as if she didn’t see it coming either even though it was her hand that now burned with the sting of meeting his unshaven cheek.

“Let me go, who-who put you up to this?” She attempted to pull away from his hold but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Y/N-“ He started but was quickly interrupted when she spoke again, tears spilling down her full cheeks and voice wavering.

“No. You can’t feel that towards me, you barely even like me. You’ve made that very clear over the past couple weeks, no the past year! You brush me off! You make me feel like an idiot! You ignored my blatantly obvious feelings for months and now you say something?!”

“You feel the same?” He asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do! That’s why I asked you to go to the MET with me. I was gonna bring you to the American wing where all the native art was because I know you love it so much and then I was going to tell you. But then you were just so awful to me when Erik got here and you forgot about the trip!” Once again, she tried to break his grip but Logan instead tugged her back and right into his broad chest.

With a massive paw, he cupped her soft jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Can you just let me explain?” Her bottom lip popped out in a pout but she didn’t object. “I have lost so much, too much. Every woman I have ever loved has died because I loved them. And you, you are so young and so beautiful and way too kind for your own good. I love you more than anyone else and I guess that scared me. I pushed you away. But I can’t do it anymore, I can’t watch you fall for someone else.”

“Goddamnit.” She growled before her arms shot out and wrapped around the back of his neck so she could yank his face down to her level, and then she kissed him.

Stars burst around them like little fireworks as he pulled her closer by the small of her back. Her hands travelled from his neck downwards so her fingers could curl into his shirt like she was terrified that this was all just some dream.

“You do anything even remotely close to that whole fiasco again and I will let Erik do whatever he wants to you.” She murmured against his lips.

“Just kiss me again, sunshine.” And she did.

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @km-ffluv

Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @luvvvjada @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017 @beautyb1ade @bitchy-bi-trash

Logan Howlette

@springdandelixn

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x plus size reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #Wolverine x plus size reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #logan x reader #logan x plus size reader #logan x you #logan x y/n #female reader #reader insert #plus size reader #fluff #logan howlett x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

hrryshoney · 8 months

Text

no. 1 party anthem

A/N: lowkey projecting bc im a photographer/videographer❤️ this is set during like self-titled. if u could tell. named this after the AM song bc i think it fits (the bridge of this song is so them coded) this is unnecessarily long (6.1k words) but anyway Enjoy

warnings: smut 18+. um fingering, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation a bit? (male), degradation, praise, use of a camera during sex, Sir kink, exhibitionism (kinda), sex on a couch, light choking/slapping (blink and miss it!), probs more kinda filthy etc..

Today was shit. Complete and utter shit. Your alarm didn’t go off, you spilled coffee all over yourself, had to go home to change, and you were going to be late to your first clients appointment. It’s only 8:30, and you could already tell it was going to be a bad day.

Your first client was booked at 7:45. You only had four appointments today. Normally, you’d be a bit more booked out. But, your last clients would take up more time than usual. An up-and-coming band you heard, that were quite popular already. Their management had informed them about your local studio, and an appointment was made.

Upon walking into your studio promptly at 8:00, you saw that your best friend was stalling for you. She had your first client engulfed in mindless conversation. God love her, Lexi knew how to keep a crowd entertained. Really, showing up 15 minutes late wasn’t a good look. You were glad she was here to null some of the damage.

As you walked up to them, you caught the tail end of her gossiping, no doubt. You placed your hand on Lexi’s shoulder, startling her out of conversation. “Oh! Let me get out of your way. I was just telling Christian how my last shift at the diner was absolute madness. As always, though. He’s all checked in. Have fun, hope the shoot goes well!” You shot her an appreciative smile, then an apologetic one to Christian.

Stepping out of the lobby and leading him to the studio, you were face to face with him. “I am so, so sorry I kept you waiting. This morning was one from hell, for sure.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry. Shit happens.” He smiled back at you, following you into the room.

You were grateful for his understanding, hoping it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. You prided yourself on being punctual and professional. Thankfully, the studio was already set up for his shoot

You took the lens cap off your camera and began to set up your tripod for some head shots. Flipping the camera switch to ON, you then turned to Christian.

“Let’s get started.”

…

Your next 2 appointments went on without a hitch. They were both fairly basic shoots, nothing too heavy. Your 2nd client was even a regular. She was so lovely. Today she came in to get maternity photos with her husband. Considering how long she’s been coming to your studio, you were ecstatic for her.

You were still a bit out of it and tired though, the effects of your morning not completely worn off yet. You had an hour and 45 minutes before your last clients for the day came in. The band that you’ve been anticipating.

It was 11:34 now, so you were taking this as an opportunity for your lunch break. You decided to go to the sandwich shop that was about a block down from your studio. Walking out of the darkroom in your facility, (some guests preferred genuine photographic film) you spotted Lexi. Still behind the front desk, but now on a stool, slouched and looking at her phone. Mindlessly scrolling, she was kicking her feet back and forth as they dangled from her place in her seat.

“Hungry?” You came up beside her, tapping her thigh twice. Lexi was pulled out of whatever she was watching on her phone, looking up at you. “Mhm, starving. Lunch?”

“On me,” You confirmed, “thought we could get it in before our last clients. They’re gonna take a while, but I’m looking forward to it.” You said honestly, looking out the studio’s glass windows to the street. “Have we ever shot a band?” You use the term ‘we’ loosely. When you and your best friend both got a start, you always knew that you were going to be more hands-on. She didn’t necessarily share the passion for photography, but when she had no shifts picked up for her service job at the local diner, she would pay you a visit. She stuck beside you, and you’re thankful for it.

Lexi does most of the behind the scenes work for you when she’s there, and it would honestly be 10x harder without her. “Don’t think so. I would have remembered that. Every guy in a band is, like, insanely hot.” She hopped off her stool, beat white converse hitting the ground.

“Good to know where your priorities are. Hopefully they’re cooperative.” You wondered aloud, you knew they were young. That normally meant they would be rowdy, too. Four guys around your age was bad news in general, even worse that they’re musicians. “Hopefully they’re hot.” Lexi corrects, too caught up in picking at her nail beds to see your expression.

She had you laughing out loud. Wide eyes and an even wider grin on your face. “Right, extra incentive.” You picked up your keys to the front door that were lying on one of the shelves under the front desk. Checking your watch and walking to the door, you flipped the sign to CLOSED so you and Lex could grab a bite in peace.

…

You and Lexi wasted more time than you thought. You were out for at least an hour, having went shopping after eating. You both decided you could use a new outfit. Not for anything particular, but just to treat yourselves. Then, you traveled back to the studio.

30 minutes until your next client, you still had time to kill. You went to read the email from their management, again. You saw they specifically wanted a couch in their shoot. You should probably set up their studio now. You knew you had an old, black leather couch in the back somewhere. Finding it would be the hard part.

It wouldn’t be in any of your front studios, so you decided to check the last one first. Studio 13, it was more of a storage room now. When you first leased this place, you were pretty sure it used to be a one-level warehouse. You’re never booked to the point where you’re using all the studios, and you don’t have enough staffing anyway. Still, it cleans up nicely.

You end up shouting for Lex’s help dragging the big couch to your front studio. You had already set up a white tarp for your backdrop, knowing it was a pretty minimalistic shoot. As you lug the couch along the concrete floor, the feet of it scraping against it to make a rather brash noise, you began to think the soft, calming music that you queued to combat it wasn’t working very well.

You finally push the last bit of the couch into the studio, dragging it in front of the white tarp. Lexi raised her hand for a high five, which you gladly reciprocate. You look at her with a grin. “Not bad, huh? Little studio we got going.” You both laugh, staring at the quite bleak set.

“Best in town,” Lex returns dryly, she steps out and looks to the front windows. “Those your clients?” Before you even look, you answer. Albeit sarcastically, “And I’m supposed to know, how? I’ve never met these people before.” But the words died in your throat the moment you looked. They had to be your next clients. You didn’t think anyone could fit the bill for ‘band members’ more perfectly.

So, there they were. Smoking and loitering outside the studio. And Lexi was right, because she always had to be. They were hot. No sooner than you think it, the words are coming out her mouth. “Christ, they’re handsome.” All of them wearing some short of black getup, with tight jeans and t-shirts. One boy, with longer, blonde hair, had his sunglasses on with a snapback. She laughs through her sentence in disbelief, a hand coming to her mouth. You can’t help but follow suit.

“Right, well. Even if they are, he best not ash his cig in my flower pots.” You squinted your eyes, the cigarette resting between the boys middle and index figure. Trailing your gaze to his face, he had dark curly hair. A pale complexion with deep brown eyes, cheeks sunken in as he took a drag of his cigarette. The face that, after you finished staring, you saw was looking right at you with a half-smirk. You smiled back and looked to Lex, taking a step back into the front studio. “He saw me.”

“You weren’t exactly being subtle, but oh well. That’s the one you want?” She raises her eyebrows in a tease, a wide grin splitting across her lips. Your face and body heat, eyes widening. “Can you not? I need to be professional. This is the real deal, you know? They’ve got management and everything.” You didn’t wanna blow your shot, you knew this was the foot in the door to bigger things. Cute band members were not taking this one from you.

Your hands came subconsciously to brush at your outfit, looking down at yourself to see if you looked presentable. You could practically hear your best friend’s thoughts, and the smirk on her face. You ignored her.

The bell on your door rang with entrance, and you turned to see one of the guys walking in. He had shorter dirty blonde hair, and you could see one of the others stomping on his cigarette before following behind.

Putting on your customer service smile, you took a few steps back to make room for the 4 men in the lobby. You scooted closer to Lexi, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Four sets of eyes were now looking back at you. Two brunettes, one who had closer to black hair. Two blondes, one whose was longer and lighter.

“Nice to meet you,” You sighed out, their intimidating gazes piercing. “So, um, welcome to our studio.” You introduced the both of you, giving your name and Lexi’s. Gesturing between the two of you with a wave of your hand.

They went down the line doing the same. Ross, Matty, Adam, and George. In that order, introductions exchanged in their thick accents through giggles. The boy you had taken interest in you now knew as Matty, and he was only drawing you in more.

“Well, we can get started on your session early since… you’re here.” You looked to the group, waiting for some sort of approval. You got a couple head nods, and a smirk from Matty.

“That eager to get us in, babe?” He chuckled, knocking his shoulder into his friend’s playfully. You felt embarrassment flood through you, but you led them to the studio with your head up.

“Sure. So, Studio 13. I’ll get a lot of ‘full band’ shots, but your manager said he wanted some solo shots of the each of you, too. Think it’ll be easier to get the group ones now, though.” You told them, wringing your hands slightly.

There was a small murmur of agreement, and you turned around to get your camera ready. Checking your lens, SD card, battery. “Whatever you think, you’re the pro.” Your head shot up, seeing Ross smile reassuringly at you. You returned the gesture and got back to work.

As you walked around the room to flick your lights on, you saw Matty shooting his friend a look. You didn’t think too much of it, but your eyes couldn’t stop finding his face. You were gonna have fun photographing him solo. “Okay, everyone! Get together, pose, do whatever you want. I’ll take a bunch of shots.”

After a few pictures, you stopped. Lowering your camera. “Maybe.. We should get you in the middle.” You pointed at Matty, him freezing in his place at the end of the line. “I mean, you’re just…” You trailed off, hoping he’d get the point.

George spoke up, saving you from having to complete your sentence. “She’s saying you’re the shortest, mate. Get in the middle.” He snickered, hand raising to his mouth to hide his smile.

Matty’s smile dropped, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever,” he muttered, moving to his new spot. “Better?” He tried to hold back his laugh, but was failing over the sound of his friends chuckles in the background.

Once you got them started, you could see they really were naturals. You assumed their close bond caused them to work so well and naturally together. Joking around, but still getting good shots.

However, this perception faded when you had to go in for the solos. Of course, above anything, they were boys. And they were also making your job a living hell. No matter who you were photographing, the other three were trying to get a laugh. Anything to make their friend break.

Your last straw was when you tried to get a photo of Adam, and Matty all but fell into his lap. You laughed along, (because truly, it really was just a little bit funny), but forced yourself back into work mode.

“Okay, this isn’t working. How about for the solo shots the rest of you stand out in the hallway? And we get a little rotation.” You suggested, trying to make yourself sound as light hearted as possible. Though a wave of whines passed over the group, they ultimately agreed in the end.

Working with them one-on-one was really nice. The two guys you shot so far, Adam and George, were very intelligent and funny. Unnaturally respectful for men your age, and you really couldn’t complain.

You finished both of them up, their mini shoots taking about 15 minutes each. You went back in the hallway you collect another one of them.

Adam and George now stood to the side, leaving Matty and Ross to linger right outside the door. You opened the door, looking at both of them and keeping your palm on the door handle. “Who’s next?”

Ross’ eyes went to Matty’s, about to step backwards and let him go. Then, Matty’s arm shot out to land on Ross’ shoulder. It seemed he tried to give his friend a shove forward, but the most he got out of Ross was a stumble. “Ross will go next. Save the best for last and all that, right?”

You giggled at Matty’s antics, while the rest of his friends let out sighs and eye rolls. Ross mumbled something under his breath, a sarcastic ‘right, sure..’ was the most you caught. You then lead him into the studio, closing the door on your way.

Ross’ session took about 5 minutes more than the others. He was incessantly flirting, making it hard to do your job. And while there was no denying that he was very cute, you knew they were all harmless comments.

You were finding out quickly that the boys were good company. And the shots were all turning out more than great. They were all so naturally photogenic, and the camera loved them. You doubted you’d have to do much editing.

…

You walked out with Ross, on your way to finally bring Matty in. You two lightly chatted on your way out, Matty’s eyes landing on you the second the door opened. He looked at Ross and tilted his head, to which the taller boy only looked down at him and grinned.

You broke the awkward silence, clapping your hands together. “Right, well. Matty, last but not least and all that.” You step back and put your hands up, gesturing for him to step in before you.

Once you finally got him away from the rest of the band and you closed the door, his whole demeanor shifted. Matty turned around instantly to look at you, and you looked down to the floor. You could see his smile through your periphery.

“Okay, so. For the rest of the guys I got a few of them standing and a few of them sitting on the couch…” You trail off, looking around the room. At this point, you’re just desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. Maybe saving him for last wasn’t the brightest idea.

“Okay,” Matty nods his head, eyes following yours and looking around the studio. “Should I.. get on the couch?” He says offhandedly, a hand coming to hide the smirk that’s blooming on his face.

You feel your face get hot, but you agree anyway. “Um, yeah. That’ll work.” You walk over to the studio light, dragging it in place from where you moved it when with Ross.

After getting the area set up, you turn back to Matty. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for direction. “You can just pose however you want. I’ll just take a bunch of shots and there’s bound to be some keepers.” You smile and turn your camera on, fiddling with the settings.

“Have to tell me if I’m doing good, then. Don’t know what I’m doing when I pose, to be honest.” He laughs, moving in his seat a bit. You scoff, still too preoccupied with your camera to realize you did it out loud. “What?” he asks intrigued, still smiling.

“Don’t think you could really look bad. I mean, you’re photogenic and good looking to begin with, so.” You press your lips together, the words flowing out of your mouth too freely. You turn around and walk to a cart that’s in the corner of the room, pretending to grab something from it.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Think I look good?” His smile grows unbelievably wider, not being able to hold back his teasing remarks. You roll your eyes, obviously not meaning the blatant compliment to come out. You come closer to him and he kicks his knee out so it brushes your thigh.

Trying to brush it off, you shrug your shoulders. “You caught me,” You said with the faintest smirk on your face. Taking photos of him flows naturally. He’s just too.. perfect. And though you don’t throw that word around, he really is. You already love the few shots you have of him.

You get down on your knees to take the next picture from a better angle, leaning back on your calves as you do. Matty’s eyes widen and immediately find yours. It doesn’t register in your head what he’s thinking, until you see him shift in his seat.

He doesn’t do it subtly, and you know he wants you to look. You’re no better, so easily giving into temptation. Your eyes drag to his hips, watching the way he lifts himself off the couch momentarily.

“Alright, babe?” He calls, drawing your attention back up to his face. Though, your gaze lingers on his mouth. He winks at you.

“Should I be asking you that instead?” You hide behind the camera, snapping more pictures. You remembered the promise you made to Lexi and yourself. Be professional.

He chuckled, bringing his hands to run them along his thighs. “Only if you’re gonna help me out.” His eyes search yours for an answer, and you can only guess that you look as desperate as you feel. You nod.

His hands run higher, rubbing over the tent in his jeans. “Gonna need your words, then.” He smirks, and you feel so out of control. But it feels nice.

“Yes, please. I’ll help you.” You get up from your spot on the floor, ready to move towards him. Matty’s hand presses on himself harder, and he groans.

“Ah,” He tsks, stopping you in your tracks. “Don’t get to touch me yet, we’re not done our photo shoot.” He smiles, which then gets interrupted with a moan. The only thing you’re focusing on is how he works himself with his hand.

“Please, Matty. Need you.” You’re already begging him, but you don’t dare move from your spot. Because you want to be good for him. You feel the pit in your stomach, and then the pool of arousal in your panties.

“C’mon, take a picture of me baby. Isn’t that your job?” Matty throws his head back, palming himself through his jeans even more. You feel your knees weaken, the camera suddenly heavier in your hand.

You bring the camera up to your face, looking through the view finder. Matty looks sinful. You clench your thighs together and his hips lift off the couch even more, a whimper falling past his lips. You take the photo.

“Knew you’d be so fucking eager. Could see ya eye fucking me since we got here.” Matty starts to unzip his pants, allowing his cock to be less constrained by the pressure. You don’t even think when your finger hits the button.

“Like you weren’t doing the same?” You shoot back, voice coming out breathier than intended. He lifted his hips up, pulling his jeans down past his thighs. He was left in his black Calvin Klein boxers. The imprint of his hard cock very much visible.

He strokes himself over his boxers, mouth parting slightly. “Watch that mouth, thought you were a good girl.” He groans out through gritted teeth. “Come here.”

You obey, of course. Walking straight to him, though your mouth gets the best of you. “Maybe you thought wrong.” You say with an innocent smile, the toes of your shoes hitting his. He grabs your wrist, bringing it to his dick. He moves your hand up and down, letting you feel all of him.

“Wanna be a brat for me, baby? Come on, take me out. I’ve got another use for that mouth.” You reach for his waistband, your camera still in your other hand. He notices the compromising position and takes it from you. You expect him to put it to the side, but he keeps it in his hand. “Get back on your knees.”

You lower yourself down, pulling Matty out fully. He’s pretty. His cock is long and thick, the tip slightly red with precum beading out from touching himself. “So big, Sir.” You look up at him through your lashes, pumping him twice. He whines out.

“Sir, huh?” He smirks, throat gravelly. You work your hands around his length more. Then, you hear it. The camera shutter. You look up, his eyes looking through the viewfinder.

“Can I suck you off?” You bat your eyelashes, waiting for permission. Matty’s hands falter, bringing the camera down slightly. He hums.

“Mhm, take your top off, sweetheart. Leave your bra and leggings.” You pull your hands off him, swiping your shirt over your head. You were wearing a blue bra with lace trim, and it pushed your tits together nicely. Thank you, Lord.

Matty started to pump his cock when your hand left, now working himself faster. “Open your mouth.” You submitted to him, quickly sticking your tongue out. You subconsciously pushed your breasts together with your elbows.

Matty slapped his dick on your tongue, loving the way your moans vibrated around him. He teased you, taking himself away to take another picture. “Please, please Sir.” You rock yourself on your heel, the desperation growing.

“Little slut,” He giggles, pressing his cock into your mouth. Groaning out when you close your lips around him. You could only take a little more than half of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip.

Your hands came up to work the rest of what didn’t fit. “Made for this, to take my cock.” You whined around him at that. Hollowing your cheeks and pulling off a bit. You say something around him that he can’t make out, and he bucks into your mouth.

Matty’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head, hand tangling in your hair. “Like that? Wanna be my fucktoy?” You nod around him, bringing one of your hands to rub yourself over your leggings. Matty guides your head down on him until you gag, letting you pull off and take a breath.

Tears welling in your eyes, you swallow your saliva and look back up at him. “I’m okay, please keep going. I like it.” You respond to the concerned look in his eyes, and he nods. Before you take him in your mouth again, you spit back on his cock.

“Fucking hell, shit.” Matty moans, throwing his head back on the frame of the couch. He pushes your head down again, making you take his whole cock in your mouth. You don’t gag this time, and he starts to move his hips.

He’s fucking your mouth, and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You felt your knees starting to bruise, and you rubbed your cunt faster. The only thing separating you being two layers of fabric.

He pulled you off of him, then. Looking at you touching yourself. “Getting off on making me feel good? S’pathetic, baby.” He teased you, and you heard the camera go off yet again. “C’mon, up here. Gonna make you feel good.”

What a gentleman, you think. Not coming before you. The thought makes you giggle, but it’s interrupted by your own shriek when he pulls you onto the couch. He places you on his thigh, grinding you down against him. Your whines are constant and he’s not letting up. “Please, Matty. I want you.” You whimper.

Matty pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. You state shamelessly, taking in all of his tattoos. They make him even more attractive, and you know you’re only feeding his ego with your wide eyes and parted lips.

He flips your position, and now Matty’s on his knees before you. He pulls your leggings off briskly. Then, you’re only left in a bra and panties. He presses over the wet spot on your panties, and you jolt. He hooks his finger in them, and pulls them to the side.

His fingers run through your wetness, and you’re practically glistening under the studio lights. He slips his middle finger inside of you, but it’s gone as soon as it came. You squirm, needing to feel any kind of friction. He pulls you closer to him by your thighs, spreading your legs wide.

He’s just staring for a few minutes, until you feel him blow a gust of cold air onto your exposed cunt. You scream out, hips bucking off the couch. Matty lightly slaps your inner thigh. “Sh, don’t want our friends to know what a whore you are, right? Giving it up so easy for a guy you just met.” You hear the smirk in his words, his accent becoming thicker and breathing more rapid.

Without warning, he licks a bold stripe up the center of your pussy. You put your hand in front of your mouth, muffling the moans. Matty sees this, however, and has a different idea. He says something without lifting up from you, the feeling of his mouth making your eyes roll back. Finally, he pulls off of you. “Camera.”

You whine, “Huh?” The camera is suddenly being placed in your hand, the weight making you shake more. “Only fair you get some pictures of me. Had your photoshoot, now it’s my turn.” And with that, his mouth is back on you.

Matty licks your clit, pursing his lips and sucking. Your legs start to shake, and he brings his hand around to insert his middle finger in your hole. Your whole body goes weak, the light grip you have on the camera not helping.

Matty continues eating you, and he’s messy with it. You feel your slick on your inner thighs. His tongue goes inside of you, slowly moving in circles. He pulls off again, watching you clench around nothing before shoving his face between your thighs.

Your moans are nonsensical, bucking your hips off the couch and squirming uncontrollably. Matty spits on your cunt, moving his hand to pinch at your clit. “Fuck! Oh my God, Matty. Don’t tease.”

“God or Me, which one?” He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your clit. “You haven’t taken any photos, Miss ‘pro’.” He brings up Ross’ words from earlier, the realization causing you to smile. The smile is wiped away, though, when he runs his two fingers through your slit and puts them inside of you.

Your mind clears, and you finally take a photo. You don’t even bother to check the shot anymore, just clicking the button mindlessly. Matty grins and curls his fingers inside you. His tongue laying flat against your clit.

He sucks on you again, scissoring his fingers slowly. “Mm, please, Sir. Gonna cum, please.” You beg, hoping he won’t take it away from you. That he’ll just allow you to let go. You take another picture, the top of his hair and bottom of your abdomen most likely the only things visual.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me and I’ll give you what you really want. Fill you up with this cock.” He stutters in his words, and you realize his other hand went down to lightly stroke himself. More precum that he’s been using to lubricate himself.

You cum with a shout, that’s muffled by his lips on yours. Matty swallows your moans, sticking his tongue in your mouth instead. You can barely taste yourself on his tongue, and you ride his fingers through your orgasm. “Matty, Matty. Shit, thank you.” You pant, chest heaving.

“Good girl.” He pats the top of your head condescendingly, snickering. He stands back up to his full height. “Don’t thank me yet, ‘M just getting started with you.” His hand comes behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to your lap. “Lift your hips up, love.”

You do as he says, letting him pull your panties off. He throws both scraps of fabric somewhere on the grand. His hand immediately going towards your tits. He grabs a handful, and starts kissing down your neck.

“Sir, need you now. Can’t wait anymore.” Matty’s lips attach to your collarbone. He bites you, sucking on the spot. He licks over the red mark, moving to another spot on your neck to do the same.

“You’ll fuckin’ wait if I make you. Do anything to please me, right?” You nod, head rolling to rest on your shoulder. You finally feel satisfied when Matty takes his cock, resting it just above your pussy.

He lines himself up, but never goes where you need him. He keeps bumping your clit, every time making your body twitch. He holds your hip in place, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. The only coherent thing coming out of your mouth is please, mixes of Matty and Sir.

He puts his tip inside of you, feeling you clench and then quickly pulling out. You whine, trying to move down the couch and put him back in. “Beg for me if you want it so bad, baby.” Matty is hard, and you know he must be aching as bad as you are. His cock and angry red, you know he needs to give in soon.

“Please! Please, I need it. Need you so bad.” You’re not above begging, obviously. And Matty loved it. He groaned, your wet cunt coming in contact with his dick again.

“Need what? Gotta use your words like a big, or I won’t know.” He rubbed his cock down your slit, pressing on top of your clit. He moved his hips forward slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You threw your head back, “You! Your cock, Matty. Need it inside me.” You tried to close your legs, clenching around nothing and needing friction. Matty gripped your inner thighs, prying them apart and pressing them to either end of the couch.

He lined himself up with your dripping hole again, slipping inside of you slightly. “Gonna give it to you, ruin you.” With that, Matty thrusted inside of you. He started slow, half his cock inside of you. He was stretching you out so good, letting you adjust. “More,” You grit out, teeth clenching in your head.

“Was gonna give it to you gently.” He pressed more of himself inside of you, watching you shake your head. His hand came up to grip your jaw, making you look at him. “You don’t want it slow, right? Just wanna be fucked dumb.” Matty pushed the rest of his cock inside of you. Finally, you were taking him in full.

“Yes! Yes, Sir.” You feel so whole, so full. It makes you want to scream, and you bring your knuckle to your mouth and bite down. You see Matty reaching behind your head for something, and see him with the camera in hand.

He pulls halfway out of you, and the camera shutters yet again. “Look at the way you grip me, christ. Just milking my cock. He starts pounding into you again, hips slapping against yours.

Matty has a steady rhythm, it feels so fucking good for you. You keep clenching around him, and you’re close again from your other orgasm. “Faster, sir. Please.” You jut your lips out. “Wanna cum.” Matty laughs.

“Thought you wanted to be my toy, huh? Sit so pretty for me and take it? That’s dirty, you know, babe. Toys don’t get to cum.” He pouts at you in faux sympathy, eyes casting down towards you. The leather couch was making you sweat now, his gaze piercing through you.

“Please, Sir. Need it so bad, I’ll be so good. I’ll be quiet.” You whined, hips coming off the couch before Matty’s strong hand pushes you back down. Letting your head fall back, a gasp escapes your mouth again when his hand attaches to your clit.

“You’re greedy. Already came once and begging like a slut for it again.” He presses down on your clit, thrusting into you harder. He does go faster, speeding up his rhythm. Your stomach turns and you know you won’t be able to hold it.

Matty’s hand comes to rest lightly on your throat, pressing his thumb into one of the hickeys. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

You do, with a shout so loud Matty doesn’t even bother covering it. He’s too focused on reaching his own release. He speeds up even more, riding you through your orgasm and making you overstimulated. “Fuck, fuck. Good girl. Where can I cum, baby?”

“My mouth.” You say with no hesitation, and he pulls out of you cunt. Matty moves up slightly, and pumps his cock above you. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and the visual makes him cum. He throws his head back with a loud moan, letting his cock hit your bottom lip.

You swallow, holding his eye contact. He curses under his breath, picking the camera back up and taking a picture of you like that. Then, one with his thumb pulling on your bottom lip before he wipes the corner of your mouth with it.

You giggle. “You taste good.” You watch him step off the couch, searching for your clothes. He finds your underwear and bra, bringing it back over to you. When he realizes there’s nothing to clean you up with, he leans down and licks your cunt.

You shriek out. “Could say the same about how you taste.” He winks at you, handing you your clothes so you can get dressed. He goes to find his own and do the same. You hide your face in your hands.

“No way you’re shy, you just had my dick inside of you.” He rolls his eyes, throwing his shirt back on. Tone full of amusement and disbelief.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be vulgar.” You joke, strapping back into your leggings. The anxiety about Lexi and his band mates is hitting you now, but there’s no going back. “Thank you.”

He looks over, a wide grin on his face. Matty grabs your shoulders. “No, thank you. Best photoshoot of my career.” He walks over to the door, and you take long strides to catch up with him.

You smooth a hand over your hair and straighten out your clothes. It’s no use though, because when you open up the door and walk into the hall with Matty, they all know.

Lexi and the guys all stood there, knowing smiles on their faces. George even starts laughing when you both walk out. Adam’s head hung with his shoulders shaking, and Ross a smirk on his face.

“Think Matty got the all inclusive session, then?” George says, causing the rest of the group to burst out in laughter. You shrink in on yourself, looking over to see Matty’s grin. Lexi shoots you a look. A timid smile, but her eyes say ‘we’ll talk later.’

Matty giggles, humming. “Mhmm, don’t be jealous.” He shrugs looking between Lexi and you. “Contact us again for another shoot, then? We love your work, and would love to come back.” His eyes go to your face for the last bit, and you nod.

They all say their goodbyes, exchanging handshakes and stares. When they walk out, Matty catches your eye again through the window. Waving, and pulling out a cigarette.

…

Later, when you’re cleaning up the studio, you find a folded piece of paper under the front desk. A 10 digit phone number, a small heart and the words Matty scrawled under it.

#divider cred: @cafekitsune #photographer!reader #tea’s writing✍🏻

267 notes · View notes

pandorafairy · 2 years

Text

The Sully's in American Public School

Lo’ak:

Wears Nike Jordan's and sweatshirts

Snapchats Tsireya in class: “So wyd?” “Wanna meet at the gym in 5?” “U look cute today”

Takes the hall pass to go to the bathroom and never goes back to class

Attempts to make thirst traps and TikTok’s in said bathroom

Makes fun of Neteyam to his friends but if one of them agree, Lo’ak will punch them

Always late to class and will try to talk the teacher out of giving him a tardy (it never works)

Is literally always in trouble for something

Runs track and plays basketball

"Ayo, my parents are out of town. Party at my place tonight!"

Neteyam:

Definitely the best dressed guy in school. Baggy jeans/cargos, oversized t shirts, bomber jackets/pullovers, and beanies.

Captain of the football and track team

A lot of people have crushes on him but he pretends not to notice

Involved in so many extracurriculars

Literally everyone knows who is but he's still always so nice. Like he is popular but goes out of his way to talk to everyone not just 'cool' kids

Really good at math

"Lo'ak said what???"

Kiri:

Always has her airpods in

Pretends not to know Lo’ak

Wears crystal necklaces

Uses a bookbag not a backpack

Loves art and English class (actually enjoys Shakespeare)

Very quiet except for in debate. She completely dominates every single argument

Looks out the window and watches birds instead of paying attention during class (Rotxo likes to watch her because he can look at her without her noticing)

"Oh, I don't know a guy named Lo'ak." *rolls her eyes*

Tuk:

Tries to trade snacks at lunch but no one ever wants to because Neytiri makes her bring healthy food (Jake will secretly put candy in so she can trade)

Definitely wears like Nike and Under Armor athletic wear but in cute colors

Races the boys at recess (she always wins)

Goes crazy at Scholastic Book Fairs. She buys silly bands, bookmarks, those fuzzy mini wallets. Literally anything except actual books

She likes science. She loves learning about the chicks life cycle and watching them hatch

Her backpack is a mess

"Nete? Why are so many people in our house?"

Neytiri:

Gets in fights with PTA moms over dress codes (her kids can wear whatever they want)

On the environmental committee

Defends her kids always (even when it is clearly their fault) “How do you know that Lo’ak did that?”

Packs all their lunches and leaves good luck notes on days when they have a big test

Has to help the kids with their homework because they all cry when Jake tries to help them

"I am going to pluck out Lo'ak's eyes." *Lo'ak gets everyone out of the house and goes to hide* *Neytiri finds him easily*

Jake:

Tries to help Tuk with her math homework but she always ends up crying and then Jake feels bad and gives her candy.

Big football dad (at all of Neteyam’s games)

Drives his kids to all their school dances and gives their dates death stares

Makes friends with the other parents (Neytiri tries to be friendly)

Puts all their report cards on the fridge

"Neteyam! I said no parties. How could let your brother do this?" *Neteyam apologizes but secretly had a lot of fun and would do it again*

Thanks for reading! I've never written something like this but it was fun! Hope you enjoyed :)

1K notes · View notes

snivyartjpeg · 2 months

Text

space dandy is one of my favorite anime ever so here's a real self indulgent rain code au where the detectives are space bounty hunters and shinigami is yuma's horrible alien parasite

(lore + spoilers below)(it's a lot so warning for that lol)

so like space mercs and bounty hunters are a classic right? imagine there is a whole ranking system on these guys ran by the intergalactic united government, and there's one guy who's the best in the business: a professional bounty hunter who has no name. he simply responds to his ranking- number one.

he carries out his work anonymously, his face only known by very few elites. born and raised to kill, he's really got no other identity to him.

he's never been fit for close combat, so he excels in stealth and marksmanship, as well as using his little genius mind to macgyver his way out of most situations

well eventually number one gets a little too cocky and gets fatally wounded on a mission. as he's dying, he hears the voice of an alien parasite who goes by shinigami. she's close to death as well without a proper host, so she proposes a deal: she takes over his body, and he gets to live. desperate to survive, he accepts, but the shock of her takeover knocks him unconscious and gives him amnesia.

by the way, shinigami works a lot like venom- she gives him super powers but also she does get hungry. yuma ends up letting her devour (read: she takes over his body and makes him devour) any hunted targets they kill.

anyway, now wholly dependent on her as a guide and life support system, number one manages to escape the planet he nearly died on and reach a trade center to find help. however, once he gets there, he is immediately chased by other bounty hunters and police. while running, he catches sight of a wanted poster, featuring someone with a face that looks just like his...

he finds what he thinks is an old abandoned ship to hide in, but turns out this worn down hunk of metal is inhabited by a man named yakou furio and his band of misfit outlaws that are also hiding from the fuzz. they have a big panic upon meeting, but all calm down and ask their newest guest how he got here. after giving his long winded explanation, number one gets accepted into the crew, and they name him yuma, after fubuki endearingly mispronounced the term U.M.A. (Unidentified Monstrous Animal, the thing the crew initially mistook yuma for).

the nda are all different types of aliens too! yakou is of a carnivorous race from a planet that's always raining. desuhiko is from a shapeshifting race of aliens that often blend into other planet populations. fubuki is a 4th dimensional time being, encased in a robotic body so she can interact with the lower plane creatures. halara is basically a furry from a planet ruled by anthropomorphic mammals (they look like some sort of gray fox). and vivia is like danny phantom- a guy who only half died thanks to a wormhole warp accident, so he can travel between spiritual and physical planes and cause anomalies. they've all got their own crimes and past, but they're all good people. will i ever draw them? hopefully someday!

anyway, this kinda plays out like a humorous, episodic show in which the crew go on odd jobs and missions to scrape by, all while trying to not get hunted as bounty targets. eventually things would get intense when they get attacked by a huge ship that's manned by a masked man... and this masked man seems to have it out for yuma, specifically. who is he? why is he attacking? whatever will this band of misfits do?!

i guess we'll have to find out next episode...

(or you can send any asks about this au. i WILL infodump abt it)

#rain code #raincode #mdarc #master detective archives: rain code #yuma kokohead #shinigami #shinigami chan #rain code spoilers #yumagami #i think

77 notes · View notes

funniestpersonalivefr · 4 months

Text

resident evil music headcanons

OKAY OKAY first time writing something and putting it out there but i need to speak my truth lmfao. dont judge too harshly im just autistic about resident evil

includes: albert wesker, leon s kennedy, chris redfield, claire redfield, jill valentine, rebecca chambers, and carlos oliveira

albert wesker:

let's be so fr wesker is gonna be a prick about music

only listens to classical music and maybe some slow smooth jazz

he only listens to music at home playing it through a record player

just imagine him sitting in his at home office working on research with tchaikovsky playing in the background

he'd enjoy going to ballets, symphonies, and operas and you cannot convince me other wise

leon s kennedy:

"he's so lana del ray coded" shut up his ass is listening to limp bizkit be so fr

especially when he's older its just divorced depressed dad rock

he's screaming the words to higher by creed in a bar and chris is trying to calm him down like yikes

definitely would try to go to concerts but they get so loud it gets a little overwhelming for him

he's got a banger cd collection and he's got a portable cd player he refuses to get rid of

chris redfield:

he says he doesn't have that much of preference in music as he just will listen to whatever is playing on the radio

however i think he definitely likes classic rock and classic country

he enjoys bands like queen, pink floyd, and the police

with his work schedule he rarely gets the opportunity to attend concerts and a lot of his favorite artists are dead (rip me too tho)

chris doesn't listen to a bunch of music but that's okay the man is busy

claire redfield:

claire, claire, claire

i wanna say claire is listening to abba and she sings along and dances whenever she does

she also would listen to stevie nicks

(also probably bands like weezer and gorillaz)

and i think as lana del ray started popping off claire was there listening like cmon guys she'd love the ultraviolence album

jill valentine:

jill is listening to the cranberries and the cardigans

when she was younger she loved loud rock but as she's getting older she finds herself wanting to listen to calmer music

when she was younger she would've loved bands like nirvana

now she likes to just plug her headphones in and lay down (its her way of escaping everything and taking a step back)

her and claire make playlists together 🫶

rebecca chambers:

can i real quick just say i love rebecca? okay thank you she is my girl

now idk if this is gonna be controversial but im gonna say it

she'd be a swiftie

she certainly doesn't enjoy taylors carbon emissions but she loves the music (her favorite album would be 1989 or lover)

she's also someone who uses a streaming platform instead of lugging around cds or something

carlos oliveira:

whore.

i just know this man is listening to songs like daddy's home by usher

he probably enjoys a lot of hip hop and rap

some of his favorite songs are captain save a hoe, california love, and it wasnt me

he's like if hey sexy lady by shaggy was a person

anyways just remember these are all my opinions and dont like scream at me for it yk. this is just a silly post. :)

#resident evil #claire redfield #jill valentine #albert wesker #leon kennedy #chris redfield #rebecca chambers #carlos oliveira #resident evil headcanons #im so in love with all of them #i love rebecca so much i wish i saw more people writing for her

88 notes · View notes

chaoticloving · 1 year

Note

So... I had this funny request.. See.. What if Reader is a famous personality? Like they are an actor and a singer at an young age? Like they worked for movies like Harry Potter and marvel and then later on took singing as career option which resulted being an awesome choice as their music skyrocketed. So what if One directions manager arranged a collab with reader? And one direction was also a huge fan of her but Harry had a huge celebrity crush on reader which he had hinted alot of times in interviews which fans could see, reader didn't knew them well only that they were a famous band and she didn't knew their names too? as she was rather busy with her own stuff plus she didn't knew fans shipping her and harry? So when they all saw reader at the office because it was kept a surprise for them with whom they were gonna collab so Harry started fan girling? I mean it's just pure fluff and teen love?

Performance of a Lifetime

harry styles x reader

a/n: lil blurb for ya! changed it a bit! plus some cheesy h for you!

Harry’s never felt more excited in his life, entirely exhausted, but had that excited-about-to-vomit feeling inside of him while practicing this dance routine.

Its how all of one-direction was feeling at the moment. Wanting to drop dead like flys but not because they needed to impress a certain singer, joining them for a charity performance.

Y/n was a house-hold name, from a young age of being a child star, working her ass off to be taken seriously without being taken advantage of, she slowly dipped into the world of music before she started to become the face of the music industry. She was doing a joint performance with one-direction this friday as the headliner for the day.

Harry nearly fainted when his managers told him they were preforming with her; he also didn’t hesitate to go to dance rehearsals when asked too. He needed to make sure his performance was flawless but also needed to work up his abs—and by work up he means create.

This afternoon though, will be the first time him and be the rest of the band meet Y/n. Harry new he had some competition over winning the stars heart; both Zayn and Louis were trying suspiciously hard during rehearsal to outshine one another, and Harry hated every moment of it.

Soon enough though, they were out of the showers and changing into more professional clothing to meet the singer. Harry was tapping his foot, rehearsing how he was going to introduce himself and win over the girl.

“You ready?”

“Huh?”

Niall chuckled and wrapped his arm around Harry as they walked down the long hall. “You’re going to meet your celebrity crush! Big day for you.”

“I don’t have a celebrity crush-“

“Everyone has a celebrity crush. Mine in Selena Gomez.” Niall chided. “I think Zayn likes one of that Hadid girls, Liam likes Miley Cyrus, and Louis likes any celebrity that people say are nice—which I think is a good thing honestly.”

“How’d you know that then.” Harry sighed.

“You remember in X-factor days, those stair videos we did?” Harry nodded. “Someone asked who our celebrity crushes were, and I think yours is the only one that hasn’t changed.

Harry shook his head, ignoring and hoping that Niall is the only one stupid enough to remember whatever video. “But you saw Zayn and Louis in practice today? They were trying much more than normal, no way they don’t have a crush.”

Niall shrugged his shoulders. “She’s hot. Of course they do. I mean, if she talks to me and is nice I might.”

Harry shoved Niall off of him and groaned, speed walking away from his friend and trying to catch up to the rest of the boys.

“Wait up you dolt.” Niall yelled. “Don’t be stupid, I follow the girl code—I won’t date, flirt, or fuck your crush—and the bro code—I will hype you up. Scouts honor.”

Harry sighed. He was grateful for Niall’s help, really; but sometimes it gets a little carried away with matters of the heart.

“Hurry up ya pussys!” Liam shouted from the elevator, holding the door open for the boys. He got a smack from the manager, John, who gave him a stern glare for his word choice.

Harry and Niall got into the cramped elevator and watched as the doors closed. Harry watched the red numbers go up, slowly yet not stopping. He started worrying as he got higher and higher, it was less than five minutes until he meets his crush—he shivered at the thought.

The doors chimed and then opened. The boys pushed each other out, Zayn, Louis, and it seems now Liam were all extra eager to meet Y/n. John walked slowly behind the group, typing away on his phone.

The say the assistant who stood up when the men entered and made a gesture for them to follow her. She knocked on the door. “Y/n you’ve got your entourage here.”

“Entourage-“ Liam questioned, before the door swung open.

Y/n glanced over the boys, giving them a once-over, and then opened the door fully to let them in. “It’s nice to meet you all!” She chided, flashing a quick smile. “Come in! Come in!”

The women turned around and sat at the other end of a long table, filled with mood-boards, pictures, and tons and tons of sheet-filled binders. The rest of them joined on the opposite side. Harry didn’t miss the glance Y/n sent him, it wasn’t as confused as the last time though, it was more…curious.

Harry ignored that thought. He’s just being delusional.

“Alright so one-direction I can’t wait to preform with you all this weekend.” Y/n’s assistant handed her a clipboard, and she flicked through the pages. “I see the songs you want to preform, and I must admit, I’m not hugely familiar with your work and would like to go over them.” Her manager nudged her. “Sorry.” She sighed, clearing her throat. “I’d like to get to know all of you foremost.”

Harry blinked, but Liam didn’t. “My names Liam, huge fan of your work—both music and film. I sing, dance, date, you name it!”

“Alright nice to meet you-“

“I’m Louis. Raised in Doncaster. And I like your work too, especially that one song on your last album—the one that goes like “why not me la la—“

“Would it surprise you if I told you he’s a singer too.” Zayn smirked, hand on Louis’ shoulder to get him to stop. “I’m Zayn, and to make the rest quick that’s Niall and the one on the end is Harry.”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you all. And I’m Y/n and quite frankly I’m ready to get to work.” The boys nodded in agreement, a little afraid. “So...Story of My Life.”

“Y/n how was it preparing for this event with a group of boys? Annoying I bet.” The interviewer asked.

Y/n and the boys were in their stage outfits, less then an hour left until their due on stage. Harry had on his black skinny jeans, and a grey tang top, his tattoos on display—trying to go for the edgy, bad-boy look. Y/n had on black baggie jeans and a tight, cropped bra-like shirt to match. Harry liked how they looked coordinated.

“It’s been a trip, honestly.” Y/n laughed. “I didn’t know much about one direction, but I like to think that that I’ve made some friends.” Y/n giggled as she pulled in Harry, her arm around his neck. Harry was quite shocked, first of all, he wasn’t apart of the interview, and second of all, she considered him a friend!

“Can you confirm Styles?”

“Oh yeah. We’re best friends at this point.” He delivered his million dollar smile (with a hint of desperation in there) and felt the heat from his blush on his cheeks rise up. “Nice break from those losers back there.” Harry pointed to the boys behind him, shooting the shit and trying to look better.

“How cute you two look! All matching! Was this on purpose?”

“Uhh.” Harry didn’t know what to say. Luckily Y/n saved him.

“Of course! Gotta have the main attractions coordinating!” She joked, leaning into Harry’s chest.

“How cute of a couple!” Harry’s jaw dropped and could feel Y/n freeze. “I’ve got the others to interview! Good luck!”

How Harry got through the performance will forever be a mystery. How he will face Y/n again is an even bigger mystery.

After the interviews went on, more and more people questioned or reminded him of his relationship status with the star. He couldn't even get much of a break after the show because they swung into even more interviews, some better than others though.

Y/n acted odd though. Harry thought back to different relationships he has had with women he was friends with, none were this close to him, sometimes the hug here and there but never hand holding or arm around the neck constantly. Harry was getting mixed signals and was scared he was misinterpreting Y/n's actions. But the public eye, and his band mates, were always around watching him so it's not like much could be said without fear of someone knowing.

"Alright, I think that wraps up this interview. Next in two." Some manager said.

"Hey." Y/n whispered. Harry glanced around him, no one was near; the other boys sat on a separate couch from him and Y/n, and no praying ears were about.

"What?" Thats how you flirt Harry? Come on.

Y/n smiled though. "I just wanted to say I liked hanging out with you today."

"Really?"

"I wanted to know if you could hang out again, but without everyone else?"

"Like a date?" Harry gasped, voice not even a whisper.

"Yeah? If thats alright?" Y/n asked, looking at the dreamed out Harry who was rapidly blushing. "H?"

"Get ready boys!" ... "And Y/n."

"H were are almost live." Y/n reminded him, fixing herself up and then him. "Wanna answer?"

"Good afternoon-"

"Yes." Harry interrupted the interviewer, looking over at shocked Y/n. "Of course! I know this great place off of some road-"

Harry got knocked with a pillow by Niall, who gave him a rude look.

"Anything you wanna share mate?" The interviewer asked.

Harry smiled, finally looking where he should of been all this time, instead of the girl next to him. He nodded his head, held up high and straightened his shirt.

"I got a date."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles one direction #1d!harry styles #1d!harry #fetus!harry #fratboy!harry

519 notes · View notes

violetashfall · 4 months

Text

Holding it together.

Where Carl cannot stop staring at the wrong person.

┊ ➶ ｡˚

!basically fem reader - 3rd person!

[name] is described as strong and midsize. (My attempt at an) unmedicated ADHD-coded personality - comes off as someone with high anxiety.

Special tag: @elisiassideb1tch (Hope you like it)

Be warned 5k words.

Slightly Pretend Warnings;

The ‘misunderstanding’ trope is buried in here

Lots of Insecurity & Anxiety (She’s stressed as hell)

Idk, Carl’s a loser PT2 and putting his one eye to use!

It’s so damn long, the opener is mad. I highlighted the part where Carl finally comes in, but it’s very focused on “[name]” instead of Carl through most of it.

lil angsty

The apocalypse wasn't an easy place, filled with more highways that killed you than took you anywhere needed, all roads tattered with dangerous potholes, deadends, or an invisible line that when crossed filled your stomach with animalistic fear, begging you to turn back.

That's what [names] mind felt like to her, each thought always led somewhere it shouldn't… and the only way she could turn it off was by hunting, she had to be quiet and precise, her thoughts stayed on the tracks she followed - and there was always a goal she could reach.

She couldn't say that about anything else, it didn't feel like it, nothing felt like there was an end to it, not even the end of the world.

…Throw yourself into something and you will succeed, that's what her dad always said - the man had problems but he knew how to teach her to hunt, to identify what mushrooms could be eaten, and what plants to nibble on for some extra energy.

Wake up, get ready, go hunting, catch something, eat, bring some back, settle down for the night - and then repeat. Never. Stop. Moving. Never start thinking about what she could never forget… because she knew if she stopped, that inevitable burnout would hit far quicker than she could handle, that suffocating knowledge of what would happen when she stopped terrified her because then all she could do was think, lay there - isolated as she always was, and just think.

Since [name] always brought back food to share with Alexandira, people noticed the only thing that never seemed to start moving was her mouth, when someone talked to her she stayed quiet, her mind screaming at her to just run, to make them stop speaking to her, stop acknowledging her…

It became a rule in her mind to not acknowledge something that didn't want to exist, that shouldn’t exist, and in [names] mind, that was her - the thing that shouldn’t be, just like the virus, the walkers, the collapse of everything… It didn't just stem from simple teenage insecurity, it was born from the world killing itself around her, there was no security to be found in the decay, the security she desperately needed and others somehow found.

While she tried not to look at herself, acknowledge she existed, that she could be seen and heard, felt, touched, she still knew her capabilities - you didn’t need to look in the mirror to know how far you could push yourself until breaking point, to know you’re already being pushed, how that band squeezing you, keeping you together would soon snap.

[name] knew she was strong, strong as whatever held her together, and even though she could hear that band around her groaning and feel it tightening, she didn’t stop moving, because if she kept moving then she didn’t have to think about the things that haunted her.

She was glad she could still find some light, tracing through the forests, each and every sound filling her mind instead of her overwhelming thoughts… even the fear was downed out.

So when Rick Grimes asked if Carl could accompany her on her hunts, asking her to teach his son a thing or two about tracking and foraging - [name] had to make a decision.

It gnawed at her for nights, she never felt right telling someone no, and it felt selfish to know she didn't want to take Carl, to teach him something so vital to survival, the guilt ate her up, the countless hours her stomach turned and her hands perspired from knowing her safe place would be filled with a watcher who had one piercing blue eye. She couldn’t concentrate during the days that slowly passed… she never could unless she threw herself into whatever finally stuck… all to be unforgivingly spat out without warning whenever her mind decided it was time to let go of everything, anything but the worry that ate her alive.

Ultimately, [name] felt she had to say yes, that week Rick gave her to mull it over got cut short when she agreed after three days.

It was just helping out a boy her age …Still, she was expecting the worst from their first hunt, praying the day never came and also begging for it to be over with already.

Carl wasn’t late, but [name] was early, she had waited and waited until the day came, beating herself up over how this little thing was affecting her so much. She had been standing and watching the gates from afar, the restless half hour already making her pacing feet sore. She wasn’t impatient, she swore it… so why couldn’t she wait like a “normal” person? That was a question she didn’t want to hear the answer to, and luckily the thoughts were interrupted by a sheriff’s hat catching her attention - Carl Grimes moving up to the gates with a pip in his step.

Carl was a… cool kid. He talked a little funny and always wore a goofy grin around his small family… That was pretty much all she knew about him as she tried not to know who she was feeding - she could imagine feeling that anxiety of someone you know going over the walls, risking themselves, so she tried not to know anybody.

“...So, uh… do you like comics?” Carl asked after many minutes of complete, tense, silence. They had gotten past the gates 30 minutes ago and all [name] did was throw him a nod and a ‘let's go’ It was not what he expected from a girl with eyes as full as hers were.

Similar to [name], Carl had been counting the days too, how couldn’t he? She was such a mystery… one he had the opportunity to learn from.

The voiceless silence held for another minute, the sounds of Carl’s boots stumbling over a tree root broke through the atmospheric sounds, prompting [name] to finally answer, “...No.” her voice was quiet and her eyes kept locked forward - She didn't mean to seem so standoffish, or rude, she just couldn't help but feel panic when someone, anyone, questioned her… she didn’t get how she was supposed to teach him anything, trying to figure what to point out, trying to catch a trail to even begin the “lesson”.

Carl's lips parted and closed several times as he tried to figure out what to say - he hadn't met a kid his age who just didn't like comics or was so blunt about it, every teen in Alexandria had opened one, it was one of the only forms of entertainment for them. “Have you ever read any?”

[name’s] jaw tightened a little. It wasn't like she wanted to seem unapproachable, she just didn't want to be approached… “No,” She answered again, it felt odd to say no, the words didn’t quite fit her tongue. That time her voice had a slight waver of nervousness Carl didn’t catch.

“Can you say you don't like them if you've never tried?” Carl questioned, wanting to start something friendly, lips twitching as he tried not to speak more and more. He didn’t even see the anxiety in all her movements or catch the uneasy glances she threw around the forest.

What would a girl like her have to be anxious about? …Other than the obvious of an apocalypse... she just seemed capable enough to deal with it on her own. Carl thought so, most people did, but [name] knew she wasn't. She resented herself for it - these were things she didn’t want anyone to uncover, so she didn’t answer his question with anything more than a shrug, keeping it short, nothing to grab on to and use for more conversation… more guilt inevitably built up.

Carl moved beside her as they walked, eye soon trained on her arm as her unbuttoned flannel draped off it. A part of him wanted to feel jealous that she was obviously stronger than him, insecure that the girl was in much better shape for the apocalypse - but instead, all he got was a lousy crush, one he had held for a few months, he was very curious about the girl who could out-hunt Daryl Dixon, had been since he saw 2 guards help her lug a deer into Alexandria.

[name] looked at Carl, feeling a slight glare coming along as she tugged her dropped sleeve back over her arm - feeling something she could only describe as insecurity crash over her in a heated wave. She finally realised how much Carl was eyeing her - looking at her more than she had herself in weeks.

She kept moving, hoping that embarrassed blush wouldn't follow her, that the worries and stupid insecurities wouldn't either, but they all followed her… reminding her of each and every emotion she was trying to suppress so desperately.

It was supposed to be her time, hunting, alone as always, the one thing she could do without losing interest, without failing - but now she had a watcher, someone trying to learn off her - someone acknowledging every move she made, all while trying to perceive her. She felt so weak when she realised she wanted to cry, that it was too much, that she was so overwhelmed - she didn’t know how to cool down, all she could do was wait.

Carl quickly diverted his attention when he realised he got caught staring - not quite feeling like the blind idiot he should have, he didn’t know she was insecure, didn't even think she could be.

She reminded him of certain women in his vintage comic books, the statuesque aliens from female-dominated planets, how they were drawn with strong, rounded arms and shapely legs with wide hips he just wanted to touch, how they dipped before meeting outer thigh. He quite liked those comics and began favouring them the older he got, looking over the pages for longer than he’d care to admit… Looking over [name] more than he’d care to admit.

These women were always depicted with poisonously neon skin and skimpy studded outfits, completely unrealistic, in all ways–Carl assumed. He didn’t believe he’d actually see a body reflect the shapes on paper so well, but there [names] body was, hidden under loose clothes that draped over her hips as if it were carefully chiselled marble, Carl was sure she was Aphrodite’s favourite creation.

[name] peeked over her shoulder to see Carl staring at her legs, lips closed yet jaw slightly slack… [name] thought he was about to talk with such an expression on his face. She looked forward again, cheeks flushed red and suddenly everything sounded too loud, time passed too slow, and she felt too seen, too judged. How was she supposed to believe she had caught an admirer when she was hellbent on pretending she didn't exist?

“You see everything around us? Can you tell how many animals and how little walkers move through here?” She asked Carl, desperately trying to get his attention off of her. She was not so subtly directing his attention to some animal tracks they could follow, anything to get his eye off her. Carl tore his stare away from her legs, her hips - looking around at what the hell he was supposed to find, “I think there are some rabbits that pass through?” He questioned, pointing at the small uneven breaks in the dirt, printed with hops of lucky little rabbit feet, he could also catch some chew marks on low plants - didn't that mean they were safe to eat?

[name] nodded her head, a slight shrug to her shoulders as her fists clenched and unclenched. “Mhm, good job.” She began walking to find a fresh trail to set Carl on, but Carl found it hard to walk without his knees wobbling for a second. Her murmured praise doing things to him - the person he admired so fully had complimented him.

Maybe his desperation to know her was from how aloof she seemed, how she didn’t look him in the eye or make conversation, she just seemed so uninterested in him - it made him want to get her attention so badly. He was so oblivious to how nervous he made her, everyone made her… So he started conversation again.

“So, how’d you learn this stuff?” He asked, following after her as he secured the bandage around his eye again, trying to stop his gawking by only looking at her face, he needed to see her rounded cheeks swell with a smile someday.

[name] tried to take some inconspicuous deep breaths, frustration flooding through her since he kept prying at her. [name] was trying to find the rabbit's tracks, trying not to break down and cry like the little child she felt she was... All she felt like she did was try sometimes, try and fail, but she didn’t fold that time, she kept a straight face, unaffected, “confident”...

“Let's follow these tracks.” She diverted - not wanting to answer his question. [name] found herself unable to straighten her neck from the slouch she walked in, an attempt at looking intrigued by the rabbit tracks she’d seen thousands of times before.

Carl nodded his head, once again failing to make eye contact with her at the rare time she wasn’t ahead of him. He shook his head, ready to try again any chance he got.

[name] knew she had to find a way to get behind him, let him feel like he was accomplishing something so he didn’t focus on her so entirely.

The little silence didn't last long, and neither did [names] mock interest, looking around the forest like she was trying to find something - only seeing trees, more trees, and maybe an extra tree.

Carl snuck up beside her as they slowly followed the trail, eye smoothly travelling to her after pretending the sky was so interesting, “The– uh, how you learnt?” He quickly fumbled what was supposed to be a smooth reminder, “--to hunt?” he cleared up like he meant to, cheeks puffing for a split second as he awkwardly coughed. “How’d you learn to hunt?”

[name] actually sighed at that, her step buffering for a moment when she realised what she had done, “Um, my dad?” She said, actually replying in a clearer tone, voice surprisingly gentle, subtly apologising for the irritability she showed, even if he may not have caught it, “He taught me, we lived in a small place… our backyard was basically a hunting ground.” To anyone, she’d sound friendly, open–but she felt like a Gecko dropping its tail, she was giving herself time to escape, to think of a plan to answer the least amount of questions she could while he thought on the one she had already given him.

Carl’s eyebrow raised, looking around at the tracks again as he subconsciously led, not noticing how she purposely kept dragging on a step to slow down and get behind him.

“That’s cool, deep in the woods?” He questioned, rolling his shoulders as he took more notice of the forest around them. [name] nodded her head, finally looking at him now he wasn’t staring at her, “Yeah, a super shabby cabin.” she rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the ache slowly subside.

Carl knew better than to ask about family, even though he was so curious. “That’s cool, you must feel more prepared than all of us.”

[name] wanted to disagree, she wanted her opinion known to such an assuming boy, but at the same time, she couldn't find any real desire to speak, not enough. Not nearly enough.

Carl realised she wasn't going to answer, what was he supposed to ask next? “Do you think these trails go on for long?” he thought that probably sounded like a stupid question, but what else was he supposed to ask? When he looked back at her, he managed to catch her eye contact for a second before she looked away. He had a little smile trying to curve the corner of his lips, finally... She had looked him in the eye.

“Maybe, they’re new…ish, we’ll see.” She tried to urge him to continue walking by picking up her pace, hoping he’d copy. The day had already been too long and it was only an hour since they left the walls, more and more were to be accumulated.

“...You’re out here a lot,” Carl murmured. Simple enough, as long as he got a few mumbles back he’d keep speaking. His mind raced with other questions though, mouth barely parted to prompt more and more, already itching for another answer. [name] wanted to roll her eyes again, feeling guilt pooling out her palms as she rubbed the anxious dew off and onto her jeans. “Mhm, Gotta be.”

“You sound like Daryl,” Carl chuckled, shaking his head a little at his thought, “do you know him?” He slowed his steps, trying to walk beside her in the awkwardly small path, a hand on the top of his hat so it didn’t get knocked off by all the tigs knocking his head.

“No.” She didn’t know anyone, Carl was bound to find out what a loser she was that day, something she didn’t want - why couldn't she just ghost her way through life? It’d be easier. She rubbed her eyebrow and took a big deep breath - Carl seeing what a nervous move that was got comforted by it, he wasn’t alone in his awkwardness anymore, “Oh… Have you ever talked to him?”

“No.” When was the last time she said ‘no’ so much? When she was a toddler throwing a tantrum after wearing the wrong socks? “--He grunted at me once, after I spooked him while sitting in a tree, I didn’t mean to - he didn’t know I was there until I snapped a twig.” She hated how much she was talking, it felt wrong, everything felt wrong.

Carl laughed a little, watching as her movements grew more anxious the longer she spoke - he assumed he’d get the reverse effect - how was he supposed to get her comfortable around him? She was out of his league, he didn’t get her, but he was hellbent on trying, “Sounds like him… You climb?”

Of course she climbed, you needed to climb better than you could run in the apocalypse, “Do you?” She asked, looking around again - clearly not focused on the trail at all, barely following after his steps. Carl didn’t know he’d be leading so fast, he didn’t mind though - it was nice to believe she thought him capable. “Yeah,” He nodded, voice cracking slightly - his freckled nose scrunching as his throat betrayed him, he wasn’t all that good at climbing, but he had to butter himself up.

[names] brows cocked with a lazy nod, once again Carl realised she wasn’t about to add anything else. She wasn’t a very talkative teacher, a part of him liked she was just letting him find things out on his own - he hadn’t got such aloof treatment from anyone else, and he didn’t seem to be a helpless kid in her mind. “You just sit in trees, huh?”

[name] felt his tone was mocking, creating trouble in her mind that wasn’t real. “Mhm,” She murmured her eyes moving to him and settling on his shoulders.

“That, that's cool…” He mumbled with a shrug, looking back to the trail as he tried to salvage the situation, why did he feel like he said the wrong thing? He was confused. “I bet you.. See a lot…” He dryly ended, mentally facepalming at his dull observation.

“Sometimes.” [name] replied, on the verge of becoming completely monosyllabic. She felt her stomach twist further, the back of her throat burning as the pressure to keep talking kept getting harder and harder to ignore, “Better to take a break in a tree than on the ground, don’t want to get eaten.”

Carl had a hard time listening to her mumble, but he caught it enough to reply, “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s true.” He sniffled airily, following the rabbity trail around a tree as the animal seemed to have drifted to the right. “Better safe than sorry,” He had to suppress the groan that wanted to come out–using parental sayings would totally woo her, right?

[name] hummed softly, a short moment that seemed to make all the sounds in the forest go silent for Carl. “My dad used to say that,” She said a little too naturally for her own liking. Carl peeked at her from the corner of his eye, did he ask about her father now? Would that be too much?

“My dad does too,” Safe enough, he thought, nodding his head as he picked up his pace to get some of that uncomfortable energy out.

The trail went on and on, and so did Carl’s thoughts the longer voiceless time seemed to pass, wondering who he was alone with.

…did she have friends? Who were they? Why were they her friends and he wasn’t? His thoughts bounced around–It’s not like he knew many people his age, there was Ron, dead. And there was Mikey but they drifted apart, luckily Enid stuck around - his second best friend after Michonne… Maybe [name] knew Enid? The two girls were practically the only ones in Alexandria. “Do you know Enid?” He broke the silence that had stretched for half an hour while they slowly trailed after the rabbit prints. [name] jumped a little, getting reminded she wasn’t alone as they had stopped for a minute. Carl searched around, trying to recatch the trail that went cold while she knelt to examine some mushrooms growing near the trees.

“...Your girlfriend?” She questioned - Carl was close to going red, his head whipping around to look at the girl who was poking at ghostly white mushrooms. “No! No–” He said, desperately trying to sound available to her - it didn’t help that [name] finally looked over her shoulder at him, eyes meeting his one. He was frozen, quickly cracking that ice that caused his muscles to go stiff and looked away. “She’s my best friend…” He mumbled, glancing at her to see something he didn’t expect - a cheeky fucking smirk that made his heart drop.

“Oh,” [name] said, examining the mushrooms once more, believing Carl just had a thing for the girl if he was acting shy and defensive. “No, I don’t. She’s sweet though, I’ve heard her laugh.”

Carl's brow furrowed, that was… cute. Would she say nice things about him to someone else?

[name] plucked a mushroom from the ground, standing up and moving towards Carl, twirling the capped fungi between two fingers. “You know what this is?” She asked, the prior silence that settled on them got her to calm some nerves, the deeper they got into the forest the more and more brush built up, and the closer the trees got - the harder it became for walkers to get through. Semi-safe, bustling with wildlife and plants that caught her eye… easy to ignore Carl’s presence that made her so nervous.

“Um,” He blinked, watching as she walked close - trying not to check her out anymore than he already had. “Is it... Edible?” He questioned, almost trying to get a hint, he wished he listened to Maggie more when she pointed out mushrooms to Glenn.

“No,” She said, “It’s very poisonous,” She told him, a brow raising. Carl saw how the plant interested her - finally, he found something she liked. Now he had to know everything about mushrooms. She spoke up again to his delight, “They’re usually just called Destroying Angel mushrooms, they're very pretty - right? But they can kill you.”

‘Like you’ Carl wanted to mutter, wondering why she was touching it if it was so poisonous, but he would touch her even if poison seeped from her skin, so… “You can touch it?” He asked, stepping closer to look at the mushroom, forgetting about the trail completely. “Yeah, but it’s best not to, just in case.” She shrugged, Carl unable to look away from her face again as his heart did flips - maybe all she needed was a mushroom to talk about and she was off - like him and his comics. He found her too sweet, “Oh, so… It’s only dangerous if you eat them?”

[name] nodded, catching his piercing blue eye for a second before her stomach got all tight again - quite mortified she was speaking so freely, having forgotten Carl was an actual person with thoughts, and quickly remembering his staring problem that got insecurities to swallow her whole. “Yeah, I’ve seen some deer nibble on them, I’m not sure if they’re edible to them or if they don’t eat enough to get sick.” She decided to throw some more information out, she was supposed to be teaching him after all…

Carl couldn’t figure out how to respond, what was happening? Did he throw out another “cool”? A “that's so awesome”? He stayed quiet to his horror, but [name] didn’t seem to mind at all, if anything she preferred the silence.

“Have you lost the trail? Need me to help?” She asked, moving away from the boy as he fidgeted with his sheriff's hat. As Carl stuttered a sentence, brain lagging as he tried to say no - but she had already pinpointed where it started again, little black boots continuing through the uneven grass the rabbit had hopped through. She decided to say some more, figuring out just how to keep him quiet, she’d try his ego next - giving him another compliment to fill his mind instead of curiosity, “You’re doing really good, I thought you’d lose the trail much earlier than this.” God, she felt so awkward.

“Thanks?” He said as he caught up to her, not knowing if she was dissing him by assuming he’d lose it quicker than he did, but he couldn’t deny how happy he felt that she said he was great… well, doing great. “...Say we do find rabbits, do we just… bring them back? Do I get to shoot?” He asked, not exactly wanting to kill fluffy little creatures, but he knew he had to suck it up, he planned on living until his last elderly breath - and he had to be able to hunt if that was going to happen, scavenging was already becoming harder and harder.

“Sure, If you want.” She agreed, nodding her head as she answered his questions, “They’re just rabbits.. they shouldn’t be hard to bring back.” She shrugged her shoulders, feeling more comfortable around him if she ignored how he had stared at her… But she wasn’t the best at ignoring intrusive thoughts, the ones that told her he was judging her.

“Right, yeah.” Carl nodded, eye flickering with a blink as the sun that leaked through the forest's canopy pooled into his pupil, if only he didn’t look like an idiot when wearing sunglasses. “Um, do you take many breaks?” He wondered, he didn’t want to seem weak like he needed breaks - but he was one-eyed with a dodgy ear canal: he got dizzy easily - it meant he did indeed need breaks, the ones he usually refused to take…

[name] wanted to say no, tell him the truth, but Rick had warned her about his son's difficulty after the poor boy got shot in the face - Carl had easy enough needs to accommodate, god knows she had them too, ones that weren’t as simple as his. “Yeah, of course.” She nodded her head, she was ready for one thing - and that was making it easy on Carl to get through the hunt - because if she was easy on him, that meant less would go wrong, no extra difficulty to overcome. “Would you like one now?” She questioned. Carl shook his head - playing it cool, “No,” He told her before reluctantly adding, “Maybe in 20 minutes?” He knew his limits, and he couldn’t risk pushing them too far with [name] bearing witness.

“Sounds good,” She agreed, not knowing how she was supposed to have a break, what was she supposed to do? Just sit..? What if it turned into her never wanting to get up again? That had happened more times than she could count.

Carl began following the trail quicker than before, fumbling limbs rushing to impress her with pretend ease he didn’t really have. The longer he spent in the forest the more things he began messing up, he thought she'd be tough about it, but she just silently pointed to the tracks he missed when he got too twisted up. he needed a break half an hour ago, but he could push himself a little further - just for her.

Tracking through the forest wasn’t easy for Carl if he wasn’t getting distracted by how [name] moved it was his headache that began building, it didn’t matter how many sips of water he took he needed to take a painkiller, ones he didn’t like using knowing someone else could need them more than him, but he needed to be his best self in front of [name] so he discreetly took a few when she wasn’t looking.

“Can we take a break?” He rubbed the back of his head, feet planted on the ground as dizziness fogged his mind, ready to sit and wait for the medication to kick in.

[name] looked at Carl as she paused with him, seeing a small grimace on his face - Rick had warned her about the migraines. “Good spot to sit a while,” She agreed, kicking her boots through some fallen leaves, hand getting placed on the trunk of a tree she resisted climbing up instinctively - despite what Carl said earlier, she couldn’t imagine he’d be in a good place to climb. She could sit on the ground that once, she didn’t always need to be on full alert... Right?

Moving to a small clearing, [name] sat down on littered grass, able to see little bugs move through the dirt. Carl watched as she sat, not so sneakily trying to sit beside her… staring at her from the corner of his eye, yet he couldn’t do it for long, finally giving into the urge to lean back against a tree and cover his vision with his hat, blocking out the bright light that had been taunting him ever since he got shot.

[name] watched with some curiosity, seeing how the boy just… stopped. He made it look easy, like a choice, she wanted to copy him - to see if she could get used to breaks too. She took a tense breath, shuffling to rest against the tree closest to her. She leaned back, slowly closing her eyes, ankles crossed over each other as her head fell back against wood.

The more [name] thought about it the easier she felt around him, Carl was damaged too - maybe she didn’t have to wear a full mask around him, well, a full suit of armour was the better description...

Maybe agreeing to Rick’s request wasn’t so bad after all, because there she sat - for once able to stop without her thoughts filling the depths of her mind with draining worry… Maybe the rest of her day wouldn’t be so bad…

SO, I’m impressed if you read this far! I had so much fun writing this, I got stuck many times near the “end”… still, I’m hoping to make a little series :) Confession time: I haven't watched TWD in a year, I’m so scared to rewatch it because jesusss do I get jealous (Of a zombie apocalypse, I know..) I get a little crazy and so despondent, I think I’m gonna flip through clips so I remember how the characters act instead.

I’m so surprised I’m publishing another Carl story before I posted a Ron or Enid one, but It got prompted by a request from a lovely person so how couldn't I?!? It’s so long but I feel like I have much more I wanted to write anyway...

#carl grimes x reader #Carl is a loser in this because I said so #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes angst

117 notes · View notes

mousyatlas · 5 months

Text

prompt from: @rabbitbites: modern au where feyd and paul are fwb, feyd wants to be more, but Paul is still trying to get over the loss of his father and breaking things off with chani and they have an angsty make out sesh about it [note: mature.]

The campus courtyard was a busy place. Off-world students enjoyed the splendor of Caladan. Those who grew up on the ocean planet continued to bask in the dreary rain and lush, green surface of the farming district. Paul Atreides had been born and bred on Caladan, sequestered to an estate near the sea where his father once oversaw the political wellness of its citizens. Leto’s death still turned Paul’s stomach. Eight months since the accident, still a wound too raw and festering to ignore.

Rain fell in drizzly sheets across the university and Paul walked through it without bothering to pop open his umbrella. Water beaded on his forehead and streaked his face, but he didn’t mind. He walked past one of the square lecture halls and cut across the lawn in front of the library and then made his way through the iron gates, stepping up onto a damp sidewalk. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

[feyd] you want a beer

Paul typed out whatever you’re having and hit send.

This quarter was almost over which meant Paul would have to start preparing the syllabus for next quarter. There was always an influx of students in the spring, cramming to get seats in prized classes with experienced professors. Paul Atreides, well, Professor Atreides taught a history class specializing in sietch formation on Arrakis, home of spice. And home of Chani Kynes, who would soon return to the desert planet, called back to her upbringing by golden dunes and Shai Hulud. By an unflinching duty to her people. Things hadn’t been the same between them since his father had died. They weren’t technically together anymore, they weren’t officially apart either. She had a key to his loft; he knew the code to her garage. She cooked him delicacies from Arrakis sometimes; he brought her boba and sushi sometimes. They slept together because it felt right. Because they didn’t have much time left and she knew his body, and he knew hers. Because for the last two years, Paul had loved her, and she had loved him.

Losing Leto changed everything though.

It started small, the grief binge, chasing adrenaline. Paul drank a six-pack one night, then a fifth of liquor the next. He went out with one his students after that, railing spice cut with something from Kaitain at a nightclub in the city. That same night, he met someone. Handsome, trouble. In his right mind, Paul would’ve walked away. But Feyd-Rautha, dressed in a fitted black long-sleeve, leather belt cinched around dark denim, had looked at Paul from across the dancefloor. They became fast friends, laughing under bright neon. Paul left with him, found something greasy at a food truck, agreed to meet again another night. Post-work drinks, like the one he was about to have, turned into time spent at Paul’s loft, watching a filmbook or cooking together, talking about the band Feyd-Rautha was in, one he couldn’t seem to get off the ground, or meeting at Feyd-Rautha’s apartment to play a boardgame or catch up. They commiserated about lost family. Feyd let Paul listen to unreleased music and Paul waxed poetic about the Known Universe. The first time Paul kissed Feyd-Rautha on the mouth at a nightclub, his mind had been glittering with spice, bloodstream tainted with whisky. They’d fucked in the bathroom like clumsy teenagers, Feyd’s palm rucked up Paul’s shirt, Paul’s pants pushed to his thighs, Feyd trapping him against the stall, chewing at his throat, and Paul spending at the first breath Feyd sent coasting along his earlobe. In the morning, they vowed to never do it again. Two days later, Paul showed up at Feyd’s apartment, sober but lonely, and Feyd didn’t turn him away.

Since then, for a handful of months, Paul Atreides and Feyd-Rautha met to talk, drink, fuck, read together, kiss lazily on the couch, share meals, fall asleep. Feyd was Paul’s friend, in a way.

Paul shouldered through the door at a small dive bar near Feyd’s apartment and took off his coat, draping it over his arm as he approached a dingy booth across from a dartboard. Feyd sat with his eyes on his phone, flicking through social media. His fair skin was warming as winter gave way to spring, but nothing could completely chase the milky glow from his complexion. He wore a leather jacket, one Paul had seen many times, and glanced at him as he fell into the booth opposite him.

“Got you a red,” Feyd said, knuckling a frosty glass toward him.

Paul nodded. “Appreciate it.”

“You go to therapy today?”

He took a long drink. “Can we not — "

“So, no,” Feyd grumbled.

“I don’t need grief therapy, I’m fine.”

“If a therapist opened a textbook right now and pointed to potential grief therapy client, your face would be on the page.”

Paul shifted his jaw. “I’m figuring it out on my own.”

Feyd-Rautha furrowed his naked brow and gave a single nod. “You following Chani to Arrakis?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Yet.”

“Feyd…” Paul heaved a sigh and took long pull from his beer. They’d talked about it before. The idea of them. Usually drunk, usually in bed or tucked away in the dark. But they had talked about it. And Paul knew, despite Feyd-Rautha’s stoic demeanor and cold exterior, that he wanted more than what they had. More than friendship pushed to the brink of catastrophe.

The longer Paul used Feyd like a coping mechanism, the more entangled they’d become. Paul knew that already. He’d known that since the start.

“Look, I can’t…” Feyd paused to breathe. His jaw slackened and he talked with his hands, knuckles flexed, long fingers bent oddly to match his mood. Frantic, anxious. Angry. “I won’t keep doing this, okay? It’s not good for me, it’s definitely not good for you.”

“Yeah, and what’s good for me?”

“Sobriety, probably,” Feyd deadpanned, gesturing to the almost empty beer. “Stability. Therapy. Enough sleep.”

“And what if I don’t want you to be good for me?”

Feyd snapped. “You think I don’t know how we got here? C’mon, Paul. I’m not exactly your type.”

Paul felt the comment before it came out, barbed and hot. “You’re not, no.”

“Okay,” Feyd heaved a sigh, defeated, and stood. He threw a few bills onto the table and walked away.

Paul listened to the hard pound of his boots on the floor. A part of him, the stubborn part, fully intended to stay seated and let him go. But the part of Paul Atreides who loved how Feyd laughed and curled close to him at night and ate popcorn with him at the theater and panted in his lap was stronger than the grief-stricken young man left in Leto’s shadow. Paul finished his beer and darted after him, catching Feyd by the elbow outside the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, squeezing Feyd’s arm hard. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry.”

“I don’t, actually,” Feyd said, yanking away. He turned down an alley, trudging into the dark. Rain fell a little harder, splattering his leather jacket. He angled his mouth over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”

Paul stomped after him, pawing at his shoulder. “We’re here because I’m a mess,” he confessed, halting Feyd in his tracks. “Because I met you and I liked you and — ”

Feyd whirled on him. His strong hand landed at the base of his throat. He pushed him backward, sealing him against the concrete, and seized his neck, angling his face upward. “And?”

“And you make it easy. This, us, it’s easy,” he said, sighing. “Don’t take it from me yet. Please,” he whispered, craning against Feyd’s hold. “Let me keep you a little longer.”

Feyd-Rautha kissed a fire into him. Paul hardly had time to register he was being kissed at all until Feyd was prying at his mouth, licking between his lips, breathing hard. The cold rain kept falling, and Paul reached for Feyd’s face, cupping his cheek, then palmed his nape, hauling him closer. Feyd’s teeth slipped across his bottom lip. Paul nipped at his mouth, chasing the sensation.

“I might not be your type, but you’re mine, you hear me?” Feyd rasped, biting tenderly on the slope of Paul’s jaw. “You’re mine.”

“I’m a liar,” Paul said, gulping in air before he ducked down, searching for Feyd’s plump mouth. “You’re exactly my type, exactly.”

#dune #paul atreides #feydpaul #feyd rautha #dune fanfiction #paul x feyd #feyd x paul #feydpaul ficlet

61 notes · View notes

mrchiipchrome · 1 year

Text

The '23 Bonnie & Clyde

W.C: 2,9 K

You had started to play the guitar at the age of four when your parents bought you your very first guitar. It was one of those truly horrible plastic toy guitars with basically unusable strings. Two years later they put you in your first lessons and now 18 years later you are still playing your heart out, only now in front of unimaginable crowds. You and some of your childhood friends created your band at the ripe age of 15 as you started with making covers of your favorite songs in your garage and later uploading them to YouTube.

Soon enough your videos began to pick up some traction and you began getting gigs at local bars and cafes, and eventually you even began to write your own songs. You were the songwriter/guitarist, Benjamin was your bassist and backup vocalist, Amelia was your lead singer and Alexander was your drummer.

You’re the one who writes the lyrics as well as the actual music as you were the one who had the best visions of how the songs were supposed to sound. The rest of the band usually gave their input and you made sure to add as much of them as possible. In your fifteen year old minds you thought that calling your band The Summer Trucks was the most hilarious thing ever, now that was a household name.

Now at 24 you were incredibly thankful for everything that has transpired in your life up to this point. All your work and creativity has earned you a massive record deal and success all over the world with your songs being played practically everywhere. And yet everything paled in comparison to her, your girlfriend who you had met in a local coffee shop in North Carolina three years ago. You had just finished a gig, though this one without your band mates as the owner had requested that you be the only one there.

You hadn’t paid attention to where you were going, having had a song idea and needed to write it down before it slipped your mind. You were cautiously walking towards the counter to order yourself whatever drink you were craving that day when you felt another body colliding with your own, warm liquid spilling down your front as you let out a quick yelp.

You were incredibly surprised and as your now stained tee stuck to your skin you could hear a multitude of apologies fall from the other person's lips. When you looked up you were even more surprised, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl you had ever seen and you had let your eyes fall on celebrities who were classed as the most beautiful in the world. And yet none of those celebrities had even a fraction of the clumsy girl’s beauty.

You were simply speechless, the hot drink spilled on you earlier completely forgotten about. She took your silence as anger which was the complete opposite of what you were feeling. You reached your hands up to her arms, a way to tell her that it was okay and that you weren’t mad. She stops her rambling as soon as she looks into your eyes and seemingly recognises who you are, you can nearly see how the cogs turn in her head as she figures out where she has seen you before. Her eyes widened and you let a smile creep onto your face, looking down you spot her athletic wear and the iconic tar heels logo on the front.

“I’m so incredibly sorry, I don’t even know how I fell- God I’m so stupid” Before she can continue to put herself down you invite her to sit with you in one of the countless booths in the coffee shop. This led to you and the mystery girl, who later let you know that her name was Alessia, engaging in a conversation lasting hours.

By the end of the meeting it was dark outside and both of you had gotten countless texts from your teammates or bandmates respectively. But you felt like you had known Alessia for years and as you picked up your guitar from the guitar stand you asked her to put her number in your phone, even going as far as letting her know the code to your phone.

As you make your way back to the hotel where you and your bandmates had been staying all you could think about was Alessia and how her eyes were some of the most gorgeous things you had ever seen. When you had arrived at the hotel your bandmates could see the dazed look in your eyes and instead of trying to tease you about being out for so long, they left you alone knowing that times like these were when you would write masterpieces.

That night all you did was sit and write, you wrote everything that you had felt during your conversation and everything after. Then the process of rewriting your thoughts into songs began and by the end of the night your band had gained five new songs. Arriving down for breakfast that morning you were sluggish in your movements, dark circles surrounding your eyes and an accomplished smile on your tired face.

Those five songs plus an additional four amassed into an album to which you gave the name ‘Coffee Shop Love’, the band's third studio album. Made up of love filled songs and hopeful messages, it became one of the most listened to albums of 2020 with many songs topping the charts in countless different countries. You and Alessia continued to text each other and after two months of flirting and sweet goodmorning messages you had finally gotten together.

15 year old you never would have thought that this would be your life, touring with the band created in your garage and an amazing footballer as your girlfriend. Sure, it had been difficult few years with Alessia training and having games and you touring with the band and writing hit after hit.

You did take a break from touring when you attended the Euros final at Wembley, having been invited by Alessia. The pure joy expressed on Alessia’s face when that final whistle blew had your own eyes tearing up as you cheered and sang ‘Sweet Caroline’ with the rest of the crowd.

Lately you had become a hot topic between Alessia’s teammates as well as the media, having been spotted going to their games wearing an England jersey with the name on the back unknown. It had recently been revealed that the band was in the studio, working on new music and you were known for going to random and unrelated places for inspiration. Well, it had started that way but after meeting Alessia you had started to go to places that reminded you of her. Coffee shops, football pitches and different locations in Manchester were where you would be found most times.

Sometimes you could be found wandering the cold, narrow streets of Manchester before sitting down on a random bench under a tree with only your notebook and a pen to keep you company. When you would come home you would sit down and start to compose a tune which matches perfectly with the words that are jotted down in your notebook.

Returning to the matter at hand, Alessia’s teammates had been arguing nonstop for the past few weeks and it was driving her nuts. Most nights she’s heard complaining over facetime about how miserable it is to hear her teammates argue about who’s name was on the back of your jersey when it clearly was hers. And everytime she complained you just laughed and told her that it was your secret and every time she would give you one of her signature smiles, the one that could instantly light up your slightly brooding demeanor.

You and Alessia had never really had the conversation of going public, I mean you never really had to considering no one suspected anything despite going on numerous dates together and posting small hints about who you were hanging out with. There were a few muttered suspicions from people of both fandoms but nothing really took off, so ultimately it fell on our hands to reveal your relationship.

Now going about this was something new to the both of you, never having to reveal a relationship before and you had sat and discussed late into the evening on how to do it. There were many options, going to one of her games and kissing her at the end, dropping hints in your music, soft launching it or hard launching it. Eventually you both settled on making the announcement via instagram, with matching photos from the past halloween where you had dressed in matching costumes.

—————————

“Lessi! Where are you?” The vibrations of your voice carry throughout the apartment as you enter. This is normal, you asking where she is as soon as you enter wanting to locate her as soon as possible. Today a sense of urgency is noticeable as your voice sounds hurried, throwing out the words without a care in the world.

“In here!” Her downright addictive voice reaches your ears, seemingly coming from the direction of the kitchen. Unconsciously, your feet carry you in the direction of her voice in an effort to see and embrace her. Arriving at the kitchen the sight that meets your eyes is so domestic that you feel like you’re about to cry. Standing there over the stove is Alessia cooking some Italian dish you’ve forgotten the name of.

The heavenly smell wafts into your nose and you let out a small groan, waltzing over to her as she stirs whatever is in the pan and you wrap your rather muscular arms around her waist. You have started to join in on some extra workouts she performs at home recently and you’ve started to see the result, arms more defined as well as your leg muscles something you know Alessia enjoyed seeing. It isn’t that you didn’t workout before, it’s just that you didn’t do it as frequently as you do currently.

It warms your heart whenever Alessia cooks for you, to think that she takes time out of her day to cook you a home cooked meal just amazes you. She cooks for you even though she’s tired and sore from training, it just makes your heart burst with love.

“Do you need help with anything?” Shaking her head, she turns towards you while you continue to clutch her waist. When she finally faces you she moves her hands up and places them delicately against your reddened cheeks, leaning in to connect your lips for what feels like the first time today. When she pulls away she keeps her hands on your face, fingers gently running over your lips as a large smile takes over her soft features when your blush darkens.

Turning around in your arms, she takes back her earlier statement as she nods her head towards the living room where all your guitar equipment is.

“Some live music would be nice” Barking out a loud laugh at her statement you remove your arms from their place around her waist and start your short trek through the small Manchester apartment. It is a one bedroom apartment with a large living room and a nice bedroom.

There was a doorway that led from the kitchen into the living room and then when you reach the living room there was another doorway that led to a hallway straight into the bedroom you shared. The bathroom is just to the right side of the entrance, while the coat and shoe rack are to the left.

Picking up your favorite acoustic guitar, your very first one in fact, you start to walk back towards the kitchen all while picking up your capo and a plectrum. When you arrive back in the kitchen you see Alessia standing there, a glass of red wine in her hands as she continues to cook. Walking over to her you pluck the glass out of her hands, taking a quick sip before handing it back to her but not before getting fixed with an offended look.

Sitting down on the marble countertop you are in your natural habitat, with a guitar sitting in your lap. Your fingers are on the fretboard as you start to tune it, first playing the bass E while holding your finger on the fifth fret and the A string together to see if they sound the same. You tweak the E string a little bit before repeating the process and moving your finger down to the fifth fret on the A string and playing it together with the D string. It repeats until you reach the B string where you move your finger to the fourth fret as the high E has a lighter sound than what you could match with the B.

“Alright, I’m all tuned and ready. You have any requests for the performer, madam?”

“Yeah, could you do that Metallica song we listened to last saturday? I can’t remember what it’s called, Nothing happens? Nothing else…something.” Snapping her fingers as she tries to remember the song's name has a quick smile creeping up on your face.

“Nothing Else Matters, you mean? Sure I can play that for you!” You see the relieved smile on her face as you understand her ramblings. Playing the opening notes of the calm song you soon have to run your fingers all over the fret all while alternating between plucking and strumming with your right hand. You play with an unbelievable amount of class, alike to how Alessia behaves on the pitch in your element.

The song comes to a close just as Alessia finishes up the food and you put your guitar back in its place in the living room before joining Alessia again. You help her with the cutlery and the plates as she serves you both, you go over to the cupboard again as you search for a glass. Taking a hold of your chosen glass you move towards the refrigerator where you fetch the sparkling water. Sitting down across the table from Alessia, you take a bite of the food and nearly moan as the incredible flavour hits your tastebuds.

The sound of Alessia’s soft laughter wakes you from the trance the food has put you in and you look up and straight into her unbelievably blue eyes.Suddenly you can’t help but blurting out something you had thought about long and hard. Watching as Alessia takes a bite of her pasta,your mouth spills out the words.

“I want to reveal our relationship” All of a sudden choking sounds are heard and the only thing you can think about is when she told you about how she had choked on her pasta in Jordan. Going to her side to clap her back, you press a kiss to the side of her face when she seems to not be choking anymore.

“What?”

“I wanna tell people about us. I wanna be able to hold your hand and take you to award shows. I wanna be able to brag to people about my strong footballer girlfriend that I’m oh so proud of.”

“Yeah, yeah I can get behind that. How do you want to announce it?”

“Instagram? We can post the pictures from last halloween, you were so gorgeous drenched in fake blood.”

She gives you a weird look when you say that but you just shrugged as if saying ‘what? did you want me to lie?’. Getting through the rest of the meal without any other outbursts, you eventually settle on the couch after putting your cutlery in the dishwasher and you start to plan out how you were going to do this. Choosing your pictures and typing out matching captions based on your outfits in the pictures you press post at the exact same time, not having to wait for long until your phones start to blow up.

@ yourinstagram

Liked by leahwiliamsonn, alessiarusso99 and 2 863 657 others

yourinstagram all I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend @alessiarusso99

alessiarusso99 love you my Clyde❤️

↳yourinstagram love you even more my Bonnie ❤️

leahwilliamsonn you have to introduce us @alessiarusso99

ellatoone why wasn’t I told about this 😐

↳loveameliaclark yeah why weren’t we told about this

↳benmajorss yeah @ yourinstagram @alessiarusso99

↳alexgrant98 yeah

↳yourinstagram you just had to join didn’t you @alexgrant98

beyoncé ❤️

↳woso-fan BEYONCÉ?

ohgrays this is so nom x

y/nfan37 EXCUSE ME? Now this I didn’t have on my 2023 bingo card

barclayswsl hottest couple alert 🚨

thesummertrucksofficial w caption

↳yourinstagram thanks Matthew

@alessiarusso99

Liked by yourinstagram, ellatoone and 186 593 others

alessiarusso99 The ‘23 Bonnie and Clyde, Blondie and Rockstar @yourinstagram

yourinstagram I only need you my dearest Bonnie ❤️

↳alessiarusso99 and I you my dearest Clyde ❤️

loveameliaclark still mad that you didn’t tell us first @ yourinstagram, but welcome into the family Alessia!

benmajorss so you’re the reason why we have been getting sweet love songs lately…

↳yourinstagram BENJAMIN ANDRE MAJORS II

↳tstloml not the full name💀

alexgrant98 so who’s the best man?

↳benmajorss me obviously

↳loveameliaclark nah it’s obviously me

↳alexgrant98 @loveameliaclark ur not even a man

↳loveameliaclark I will hit you @alexgrant98

manutdwomen ❤️

russolover the matching captions, are they trying to kill us?

You repost each others post on your instagram stories before settling into the couch and spending the rest of the night together with Alessia basking in each others company, proud of the fact that you had just broken the internet.

Happy Easter/holidays everyone if you celebrate that! Hope y'all like that one. I've been playing the guitar since I was about 8, but I started to take lessons in fourth grade and I'm in eighth now. But yeah this was a fun one, What do we think about R being a manager for the next fic?

#alessia russo imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #engwnt x reader #woso x reader #lionesses x reader #woso imagines

442 notes · View notes

astorytotellyourfriends · 1 year

Text

The one thing that everyone seems to know about Eddie Munson is that when he's not out touring the world with his band, Corroded Coffin, he makes a point to be as invisible as possible in order to spend time at home with his family. Eddie, along with his wife Chrissy of seven years and their two young children, graciously invited Vogue into their Hollywood Hills home that's about as secluded as you can get while still having that coveted Los Angeles zip code.

Vogue: I have to admit, given what I've seen of Corroded Coffin on stage, I think I expected your home to reflect a bit more of that personality.

Eddie Munson: [laughs] You can thank Chrissy for that. She's the brains behind this whole operation, I just do what she tells me.

So there's no hidden dungeon in the basement?

Hate to burst your bubble, but nope. I've been trying to get a sacrificial altar for the backyard, but I haven't found one I liked yet.

Really?

[laughs] I'm kidding. But I had you going, right?

You really did. But that's what you've always done, right? Leaned into the mania of Satanic Panic and made it work for you?

Yeah, I guess so. I mean, people are gonna believe whatever they wanna believe anyway so I might as well give 'em what they want, right? Plus, [laughs] it's a hell of a lot of fun.

What's it like having that devil-worshipper stage persona with two young kids at home? Do either of your kids know what their dad does for a living?

Oh, yeah. They [redacted] love it. Wait, can I say [redacted]?

We can't print it, but you can say it.

[Redacted] yeah. Our little one doesn't really get the whole stage thing yet, but she sure looks cute in those big-ass headphones.

And your other daughter?

Oh, if she could be on stage with me every night, she would be. On our last tour, we had this gimmick where Gareth rigged a bunch of blood packs to his drums to explode during the encore and she thought it was the coolest [redacted] thing in the world. He even offered to let her do it when we were in rehearsals!

And did she?

Maybe.

From the look on your face, I'm guessing she did.

[laughs] Don't tell Chrissy.

Scout's honor. Until this article comes out, anyway.

[Redacted]. Is it too late to say off the record?

Way too late.

[Redacted]. Oh well. Worth it. She had the biggest [redacted] grin on her face when she was covered in fake blood, it was priceless.

Seems like you might be raising a mini version of yourself. Would you support your kids following in your footsteps and joining the music industry?

[Editor's note: At this point in the interview, the eldest Munson child came running out of the back door and pounced on her father, who took it in stride and continued answering questions as though he didn't have a six-year-old hanging over his shoulder.]

I mean, if that's what they wanna do, then hell yeah.

[gasps] Daddy said a bad word!

Daddy did not, Daddy said hell.

Mommy said hell's a bad word.

Mommy also said you were supposed to stay inside, didn't she?

Pip was crying. She misses you.

Do you need a moment?

[laughs] Believe me, if I took a moment for every time I wanted to be with my kids, I'd never get anything done.

Because you love us so much?

Exactly.

How much?

To the moon and back.

That's a lot!

Sure is, kiddo. Now shush and let the nice lady ask her questions.

Ooh, ask me! Ask me! I got lots of stories.

If you don't mind?

It's your funeral. [laughs] She'll talk your ear off if you let her.

What do you think about your dad being a rockstar?

[shrugs] It's okay.

Wow, thanks for the endorsement, kid. You heard it here first: being a rockstar is just okay.

Would you rather he had another job?

[shrugs] What other job?

I dunno. Playing music's the only thing I've ever been good at.

Nuh-uh! Daddy's good at lots of things.

Like what?

Telling stories. Playing with me. One time, he built me a big castle out of pillows and chairs and blankets and we played in it all day 'til Mommy said it was time for dinner. And then we all went to bed in it. Like camping!

Camping? When did you go camping?

Mommy let us sleep outside and said it was like camping. It was when you were gone. I don't like when you're gone. It makes Mommy sad. And then I'm sad. And Pip's sad. You're not going away again, are you?

No, baby. I'm staying right here with you.

Good. [to Vogue] Do you wanna see what Daddy brought home for me last time he went away?

I'd love to.

Okay!

[Editor's note: just as quickly as she came, Munson's daughter ran off to go fetch the present from inside the house.]

Do you need a minute?

Nah. It just… [sighs] never gets easier, you know? Hearing how much they miss me when I'm gone. I miss them all the [redacted] time.

I'm not surprised. Just from the last five minutes, I can see how much she adores you and I can't imagine what it's like to leave that behind, even when it's to go on a worldwide tour.

It's tough. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's what's given us this house, all the [redacted] that the girls need, anything they could ever want, but… [shrugs] I dunno. Sometimes giving it all up doesn't sound half as hard as leaving them is. Maybe that's just me being ungrateful.

I don't think so. I think it means you're human. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know? Torn between two worlds.

[laughs] Now there's an idea for an album. The dichotomy of being a rockstar and a father.

I'd listen to it.

Hell, so would I.

(might continue this with a lil follow-up fic of chrissy and eddie reading the interview before it goes to print... thoughts? 👀)

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #hellcheersource #just a lil something me and shia cooked up earlier today #the hellcheer brainrot is still alive and well

197 notes · View notes

itsnevercasual · 9 months

Text

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

part ii

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

warnings: none really.. not edited.

summary: in which y/n's friends book her an amazing gig, but they don't mention anything about her favorite singer being in attendance.

request: nope!

your friends were more than aware of your obsession with harry styles. it’s not like it was a secret.

so, it only made sense that when you started to sing in bars and cafes — anywhere, really — that you’d always incorporate something of his into it. whether it be a love on tour crewneck, a song of his, a one direction song, or a song about him — you loved to cover style, because.. who didn’t want to strut on a stage to a song everyone knows?

however, you weren’t aware of what they were planning when they somehow booked you in a very prestigious bar.

the dress-code for this bar was strict. your usual get-up of jeans and a crewneck — or jeans and anything, really — was vetoed before you could even ask. so, you searched through the depths and trenches of your closet until you found a black, skin-tight cocktail dress that ended right at your mid-thigh.

“seriously, babe. you know sign of the times inside and out. you’re just psyching yourself out,” one of your friends, melanie, told you.

“i know, but.. still.”

“you doubt yourself too much.”

“so you tell me everyday. now shoo! i’ve gotta be onstage in five.”

you weren’t exactly sure how you got onstage. you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

as you nervously scanned the crowd, you spoke into the mic, “hi.. my name is y/n. uh.. i’ll be singing some songs tonight. i figured since it’s christmas eve, i could sing through a few.. christmas classics or whatever. so.. yeah!”

a few people in the audience laughed at your awkwardness.

you sang through last christmas first, which really boosted your confidence. the audience was very interactive, singing, dancing, and clapping along.

you sang a few other christmas classics. santa baby, let it snow, things like that.

and then.. it was time for the section you very much dreaded. your songs.

“so.. these next few songs are songs that i wrote. they’re.. like.. my babies. so.. please be nice to them,” you laughed.

you nodded to the band. a silent signal that they could start the music.

“when you first told me about her, you said she was thirty. and i just can’t help but think.. you knew it was dirty. and maybe you were just a little sad, but there’s no excuse to lie to me like that. but when you first told me about her, you said she was thirty,” you took a deep breath before belting the chorus, “but she’s only twenty-eight. i’m not even half her age. she probably just had her first high school reunion. you’re probably the first guy she’s ever moved in with. you think that i wanna hate. but you set me up this way. so for my health i’ll be blocking your number, ‘cause you couldn’t wait till i got a bit older.”

the crowd cheered, giving you more confidence as you walked around the stage.

“and sometimes i kinda feel like i wanna forgive. but it never crossed your mind that maybe i’m still a kid. and i’m so used to being the adult. even when you say it’s not your fault. but i’m kinda getting sick and tired of crying. so please stop lying, and lying, and lying. she’s only twenty-eight. i’m not even half her age. she probably just had her first high school reunion. you’re probably the first guy she’s ever moved in with. you think that i wanna hate. but you set me up this way. so for my health i’ll be blocking your number, ‘cause you couldn’t wait till i got a bit older. to tell me she was twenty-eight.”

as the drums and electric guitar got more intense, the lights flashed different colors.

“to tell me she was twenty-eight… what the fuck is twenty-eight? you said she’s mature, so that makes it okay. and you said she likes sports, so that makes it okay. and she’s actually pretty, so that makes it okay. but there’s nothing you can say that makes twenty-eight okay.. to me.”

the crowd cheered as you lowered the mic. a smile overtook your face as you laughed.

you walked back over to the mic stand, putting the mic in the slot as a slow, piano-ballad type song started. the lights switched to a soft white.

“they’re always charismatic. and they’ll turn up the charm. their words do something magic, saying no is really hard. they’re over-generous, you’ll never pay the bills. they’ll fall in love in seconds. die for you, or probably kill. ooh. and after six months, you’ll feel really stupid. ooh. i promise that it’s not your fault you fell for it,” you shook your head, keeping your eyes closed as you sang, “‘cause.. one little fight breaks into war. feels like you’re dying on the bathroom floor. you’ll make an excuse. you’ll say that it’s you. and the mirror’s telling you it’s true. won’t leave, can’t stay. how much are you gonna take? ‘cause you’ll always take the blame. it feels like shit, but that’s just how it is. when you love a narcissist. so if you’re feeling crazy.. i wouldn’t be surprised. the only thing they’re good at’s knowing how to gaslight. then make you feel like the most beautiful in the world. while they’re sleeping with another girl. ooh. and after six months, you’ll feel really stupid. ooh. i promise that it’s not your fault you fell for it, ‘cause.. one little fight breaks into war. feels like you’re dying on the bathroom floor. you’ll make an excuse. you’ll say that it’s you. and the mirror’s telling you it’s true. won’t leave, can’t stay. how much are you gonna take? ‘cause you’ll always take the blame. it feels like shit, but that’s just how it is. ‘cause i felt like shit. so i know how it is. when you love a narcissist.”

the crowd cheered as it went straight into another song.

“when you’d yell, i would stay quiet. you never noticed i was quiet. i was taught that speaking up was talking back. always first to say, ‘i’m sorry’, ‘cause i wanted you to like me. and i thought that’s what it took to make it last. it’s a lose, lose. that i don’t choose. but you don’t always choose the ones you love. i shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you. i was half of this dynamic. i was stable, you were manic. without you or with you comes with a cost. i got used to the excuses and emotional abuses. we kept moving the lines we never crossed. it’s a lose, lose that i don’t choose. but you don’t always choose the ones you love. shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you. i always think it’s over, but it never really is. but i can’t get the closure when you’re like this. can we switch? maybe this time you’ll be the bigger person. ‘cause i’m getting tired of carrying all your burden. it should be up to you, but you won’t admit the truth, oh-oh. shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you.”

the crowd cheered again.

“thank you! we have.. four more songs tonight. this next one is would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.”

a crew member came and slipped an electric guitar around your neck. you quietly thanked them as you cleared your throat and the music started.

“if you would’ve blinked, then i would’ve looked away at the first glance. if you tasted poison, you could’ve spit me out at the first chance. if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? and if i was a child, did it matter? if you got to wash your hands? oh-oh, oh. all i used to do was pray. would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. if you’d never looked my way, i would’ve stayed on my knees. and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. if you never touched me, i would’ve gone along with the righteous. if i never blushed, then they could’ve never whispered about this. and if you never saved me from boredom, i could’ve gone on as i was. but, lord, you made me feel important… and then you tried to erase us. oh-oh, oh. you’re a crisis of my faith. would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. if i’d only played it safe, i would’ve stayed on my knees. and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time…. if clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners, you and i. living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts. give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” as you held the note, the crowd screamed.

“and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil. at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time. oh, god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time.”

with the final strum of your electric guitar, the crowd stood up to applaud. the crew member switched out the electric guitar for an acoustic one.

“this next one is called ceilings.”

a little bit more applause.

“.. ceilings. plaster. can’t you just make it move faster? lovely to be sitting here with you. you’re kinda cute, but it’s raining. harder. my shoes are now full of water. lovely to be rained on with you. it’s kinda cute but it’s.. so short. then you’re drivin’ me home. and i don’t wanna leave, but i have to go. you kiss me in your car. and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before. before… bedsheets, no clothes. touch me like nobody else does. lovely to just lay here with you. you’re kinda cute and i would say all of this. but i don’t wanna ruin the moment. lovely to sit between comfort and chaos.. but it’s over. then you’re driving me home. and it kinda comes out as i get up to go. you kiss me in your car, and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before.. but it’s not real. and you don’t exist. and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed. it hits me in the car. and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before. before.”

you laughed as you saw melanie and your friends stand up in the back of the bar, dancing on stools.

“i can see my friends dancing.. so badly because they love the next song,” you laugh.

“once the flight had flown. with the wilt of the rose. i slept all alone. you still wouldn’t go. let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later. i see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. you search in every maiden’s bed for something greater, baby. was it over when she laid down on your couch? was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse? ‘come here,’ i whispered in your ear in your dream as you passed out, baby. was it over then? and is it over now? when you lost control. red blood, white snow. blue dress on a boat. your new girl is my clone,” you smiled, knowing was part comes next. “and did you think i didn’t see you, there were flashing lights. at least i had the decency to keep my nights out sight. only rumors ‘bout my hips and thighs, and my whispered sighs. oh, lord. i think about jumping. off of very tall somethings. just to see you coming runnin’, runnin’. and say the one thing i’ve been wanting, but no. let’s. fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later. if she's got blue eyes, i will surmise that you'll probably date her. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. you search in every model's bed for something greater, baby, was it over when she laid down on your couch? was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse? ‘come here,’ I whispered in your ear in your dream as you passed out, baby. was it over then? and is it over now? oh. oh. think i didn’t see you? there were flashing lights. at least i had the decency to keep my nights out sight. only rumors ‘bout my hips and thighs, and my whispered sighs. oh, lord. i think about jumping. off of very tall somethings. just to see you coming runnin’, runnin’. and say the one thing i’ve been wanting, but no. let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later. oh. i was hoping you’d be there. and say the one thing i’be been wanting… but no.”

another round of applause as you passed off the guitar.

“so.. this song is not my song. i am.. very nervous for this, but.. this is sign of the times.”

you closed your eyes tightly as the music started, “just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times. welcome to the final show. hope you're wearing your best clothes. you can't bribe the door on your way to the sky. you look pretty good down here. but you ain't really good.. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? … just stop your crying it’s a sign of the times. we gotta get away from here. we gotta get away from here. just stop your crying, it’ll be alright. they told me that the end is near. we gotta get away from here. just stop your crying, have the time of your life. breaking through the atmosphere, and things are pretty good from here. remember everything will be alright. we can meet again somewhere. somewhere far away from here.. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? just stop your crying. it’s a sign of the times. we gotta get away from here. we gotta get away from here. stop your crying, baby, it'll be alright. they told me that the end is near we gotta get away from here. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets?” you finally opened your eyes, trying to find melanie, but instead, you find the last person you expected to be here.

the man whose song you’re literally singing.

harry was slightly weary when an over-excited girl with light pink hair came up to him and asked him — begged him, really — to come to her best friends show. he wasn’t sure what convinced him. or what possessed him to bring his mother and gemma along with him.

but he had to say, he didn’t.. regret it.

you were pretty — extremely pretty. and you were a crazy good singer. he was pretty sure you were singing his song better than him.

you swallowed your nerves as you sang the chorus and bridge, keeping eye contact even though you felt like shitting your pants. “we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we don't talk enough. we should open up. before it's all too much. will we ever learn? we've been here before. it's just what we know. stop your crying, baby. it's a sign of the times. we gotta get away. we got to get away..” you finally looked away, closing your eyes. “we got to get away. we got to get away. we got to get away. we got to, we got to, away. we got to, we got to, away. we got to, we got to, away.”

you let out a shaking exhale as the song ended, backing up from the mic. you bowed and blew kisses to the audience before practically sprinting offstage.

to: mel x

WHAT THE FUCK MELANIE WHY THE FUCK DID INJUST MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HARRY STYLES WHILE SINGING SIGN OF THE TIMES IM GONNA KILL

SELF.

from: mel xx

NOOO I INVITED HIM ITS FINE

to: mel xx

you

what.

from: mel xx

I SAW HIM A WEEK AFTER WE BOOKED YOU THE GIG AND MIGHT HAVE BEGGED HIM TO COME BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WANT TO MEET HIM AND WHAT BETTER WAY THAN THIS

to: mel xx

oh i dunno

ANY OTHER WAY?

from: mel xx

BABE IT IS FINE

HE BROUGHT HIS MUM AND GEMMA TOO

to: mel xx

WHAG

from: mel xx

HE SAID HE LOVED IT AND U WERE OHENOMENAL

NOW GET OUT HERE AND MEET HIM

after taking ten minutes to breath, you walked over to the bar, finding melanie pretty easily.

“i love you so much for playing is it over now!”

“i played it just for you and your psycho obsession with it,” you laughed as she yanked you into a hug.

you two pulled away, and you turned around when you felt a presence behind you.

your eyes widened when you were face to face with harry fucking styles.

“hey.. y/n, right?”

you blinked a few times… that couldn’t be real. this was most definitely a prank.

“.. are you alright?”

“yes! sorry, i’m.. yeah, i’m good. hi, yeah. i’m.. y/n.”

he smiled at you, “i’m harry. but.. you seem to already know that, since y’sang my song and all.”

“i.. yeah, i do know who you are,” you laugh awkwardly.

“well, i’m glad to know who you are as well.”

you had to bit your lip to keep from smiling like a psycho.

“oh, and uh.. happy christmas,” he smiled.

you furrowed your brows, grabbing your phone.

12:01, 25 december 2018

happy christmas, indeed.

a/n: edging 😛 LMAO this might get another part, it lowk just depends on how well it does!!

135 notes · View notes