#warblers x reader

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

XX ~ S.S.

Part Four: Rush (Final)

A/n: This is a separate request but I combined them (This prompt list). This has been sitting in my drafts for AGES so very close to completion and I got a final boost from @mmmalakai so this one’s for you bestie <3

Request: “22 for Seb? 👀”

Word Count: 3800+

MASTERLIST

~ Kiss in a rush of adrenaline ~

The Warblers ran into a problem when competition season rolled around. They had essentially been cut in half, and that meant they were working with significantly less people than normal. Adding on top of that the rivalry he was brewing with New Directions and... well, it wasn't ideal.

Y/n got an earful every evening after glee rehearsals. Blaine was apparently up Sebastian's ass, playing some form of protective older brother for Y/n. He had made it clear time and time again that he didn't approve of Sebastian, and his boyfriend Kurt was only too happy to support this endeavor. Predictably, Kurt had been most on board for it when Blaine had told him of Sebastian's initial flirting and move making. It made Y/n wonder if Kurt was in it to protect Y/n like Blaine was, or if he was in it for his own personal revenge.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be where the struggles ended. They had enough people to compete and so did Noteworthies - but only one team could compete from one school. Which meant that on top of push back from Blaine and Kurt, and the dance they'd been having with all of New Directions, there needed to be a pre-competition face off to see which Dalton Glee club was going to compete.

Which was strange to talk about, when they were technically opposed team captains, but also had been spending as much time as they could together again. They'd wanted to perform together again and neither could come up with a reason to. They were busy practicing for all the face offs and performances they had coming up, which meant they didn't have much free time. With the stress increasing, the need for peace and quiet got worse until their routine became shit talking everyone else in the car and then going back to Sebastian's, cleaning up and changing, and then just doing homework in absolute silence for hours and hours, cuddled up until dinner. Dinner was the best part of the day because they would be recharged from everything else and would put the homework away and just talk. Or watch something. They didn't talk about school during dinner, or Glee. They'd talk about music or the thing they watched or anything else. Sometimes Blaine and Kurt, but never New Directions.

It was so strange to find themselves on opposing sides when school came around at the beginning of every new day, especially when their mornings were spent getting coffee where Y/n and Blaine used to and tormenting the New Directions people who were there if they happened to run into each other.

Y/n didn't even feel bad about it. He had tried to stop Sebastian at first, but then Blaine had ruined that.

The day had started cool, which was nice because the Dalton blazers were always a little warm on the body. Adding coffee to that usually meant feeling a little warmer than one was usually comfortable with. But not that morning. Instead, Y/n and Sebastian were in line to get their coffees, Sebastian going on and on about a wild encounter he'd had in Paris when he was still living there. Y/n had been sent into a fit of laughter, face turning red and wrapping his arms around his stomach. "You did not get that drunk at 11 years old," Y/n accused.

Sebastian was grinning. "I absolutely did. My parents were mad, but it wasn't as big of a deal as you'd think. The problem was that I had stolen all the cream puffs. There were three heaping plates made for everyone at that party and I had eaten them all by myself. I was sick for two whole days, and still couldn't eat chocolate without feeling sick for another week." Y/n peeled into giggles again and the room seemed to get brighter, warmer. Sebastian watched him with so much adoration on his face that the people around them all smiled.

Well, almost everyone.

"If it isn't my favorite Dalton boy." An arm looped around Y/n's shoulder, and he looked over to see Blaine. Immediately, the joy started to seep out of him and Sebastian watched in irritation as he put on the mask that he always did. The calm and the patient and the gentle. Not that Y/n wasn't all of those things, but more that he only ever allowed himself to be those things specifically when certain people - like Blaine - were around. The more time he spent around Sebastian, the more he allowed himself to express all of the different sides of him, but it was slow coming. It was easier with the Warblers and most of the Noteworthies, but harder with Lyran and anyone from McKinley. It bothered Sebastian immensely.

"Hey," Y/n greeted with a soft smile.

Blaine positioned himself to cut Sebastian off from the conversation and immediately Sebastian's jaw locked. He tried to play as nice as possible with Blaine - he meant a lot to Y/n. And even if Sebastian didn't get the appeal (he had flirted with the man once before actually getting to know Y/n, and now he just about laughed out loud at the thought. How could be have gone for stick-in-the-mud, goody two shoes Blaine when Y/n was right there?) it wasn't about him, so. Whatever. The move from Blaine was an affront though, and he barely managed.

"I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

Kurt shot him a look and Sebastian purposefully ignored it. His eyes were on Y/n, who suddenly seemed uncomfortable. It seemed he has picked up on Blaine's actions - and Sebastian's reaction to it as well.

"Fine," the boy eased, sliding fluidly from Blaine's hold to pick up something off of a nearby shelf, tilting it as if considering if he was going to get it. He put it down and turned back to the other three. It was a well masked attempt to include Sebastian again, and a well appreciated one. Well, appreciated by Sebastian. Blaine's smile got a little tighter.

"I heard you started a new acapella group at Dalton," Blaine picked up again. There was something very awkward about him trying to start small talk, and Y/n shutting it down with one word responses instead of expanding in the least. An awkwardness that was showing in Blaine's tone.

"Yeah," Y/n nodded, and the tension grew.

Sebastian swallowed a smile when he saw a hint of his Y/n. The hidden shade he was masking so well with innocence and softness. It wasn't cruel, more unsure. Y/n didn't know how to show Blaine that finally, he had changed too. In the way that Blaine had become more a team player, flourishing with a bunch of people who challenged him and treated him like a normal person instead of some music sex god, that Y/n had bloomed in the same way.

Under Sebastian's pressure and fire, he had grown to something infinitely more beautiful: Himself. Not filtered to be more palpable, or fit the vibe someone else was setting. He was himself - both soft and hot to the touch. Soothing at one point, and agitating the next, depending on what he had to rise to the top to meet. And there was a whole new side to him too - one that didn't just react, but set expectations and then kept them going. Who established a mood and then continued it. One who knew control and patience and could balance firm grips and gentle nudges.

Blaine missed it all. He hummed in such false amusement that it was so obviously just irritation.

"Seems you're spending a lot of time with Mr. Competition over here then." It was light and airy, easily dismissed unless you already knew he was trying to shove a wedge between Y/n and Sebastian. Which they all did know.

Y/n seemed to consider that. "Competition drama and interpersonal relationships are different things. At Dalton we try to keep it clean - nothing personal, no dirty play." He shot a pointed look at Sebastian. "These days at the very least."

Sebastian felt himself warm, flaring under Y/n's attention. "The whole point of a game is there are always rules. I set some, you set some. They must all be followed or people stop playing."

Y/n snorted. "Very good job Bas, you're learning so well."

Blaine seemed uncomfortable with the easy banter between the two, and he tended when Y/n used a nickname. "Y/n-"

"Listen," Y/n cut off. "I've tried to tell you before but you refuse to listen so I'll be very blunt with you. I'm a different person now - a better person. This is a good thing, and if you can't see that and accept that people change I don't want to be friends with you anymore. I know you have beef with Sebastian. It's a good thing you're not the one who has a relationship with him." He turned without another word and made his order, filling in Sebastian's as well without thinking. He had been correct to the T so Sebastian let it slide. He relished Y/n stepping in to stop Blaine, and he especially loved that Y/n was so easily showing how well they knew each other and how much they meant to each other. It was delicious.

Blaine stumbled over his words for a moment at the display from the boy who used to be so close to him. "What happened to you?"

Y/n's irritation slipped. "What happened to me is that I finally got a life outside of you. I'm in a glee club that isn't revolving around you. I have other friends. I developed a personality based on myself and not you and your standards and expectations, and found people who like what I have to offer. If the only way you want me is folded nicely so that you can have me at your disposable for you and your irritating ass boyfriend then you don't want me." He slapped money on the counter and grabbed the two drinks before walking away. "See you around Blaine."

As they left, Sebastian's face twisted with a smirk. Not the teasing or biting one he usually donned, but one filled with admiration and adoration.

Something bubbled under the surface of his skin and he shivered. Then decided to ignore it for now. Y/n started a conversation about how bagels sounded good for breakfast and that was the end of it.

For now.

-

It was decided that a face off would be held to decide who was going to competition of the Dalton glee clubs.

It wasn't a shocking conclusion, but still needed an official announcement.

When the day came, Sebastian thought the Warblers had it in the bag.

Then the Noteworthies went.

Whatever the group had accomplished in the past, they had surpassed themselves several times. They were completely in sync, switching out and weaving through each other like it was second nature. They kept a certain energy between them that truly was contagious, like before, but also tangible. An energy that flowed through the air. Not a performance, or a show of any specific person. No call to attention or vie for spotlight, but a conversation between them that became increasingly interesting to follow.

They sang songs and it seemed like words. Banter between friends, or inside jokes. Stories that weren't all the way told yet. Secrets on the cusp of being spoken into the world. It was a sleep over or a camp out, telling stories in the dark and trying to scare each other. It was a safety net that if anyone crosses a line, you could stop and it would be okay. It was a breath of relief, or the first day of Summer vacation. Full of possibilities and mischief and energy and wonderment with all the stability of not having quite lost your sense of time. Youthful. Bright. Fun. But also accepting and gentle and understanding.

Of course the Warblers lost.

Y/n had been right - a group that worked as a unit far surpassed a ring leader surrounded by people to make them look better. And after the challenge, Sebastian lost even more Warblers.

He was losing the game, and he realized he had been for a long time.

Fascinating.

He swallowed his smile when Y/n met him at the car. Y/n rose an eyebrow. "What is it? You're not mad we won are you? And I swear I'm not trying to steal anymore of your Warblers-"

Sebastian shook his head. "Please. It's like you said - we've far surpassed taking things personally and lashing out."

Y/n rose an eyebrow. "So you're not going to be petty?" Sebastian was surprised to realize Y/n was being sarcastic when he asked the question.

Y/n knew him so well...

Sebastian's smile finally made it through as they got into the car. "Perhaps just a little." Y/n laughed and suddenly Sebastian didn't feel bad at all anymore.

-

"Oh I love this song!" Y/n shot to his feet, pushing homework aside for a moment to grab Sebastian's hand and force him to follow. They were dancing together before Sebastian could even complain.

He did it while they were up instead, despite the fact that he didn't sit back down even when Y/n let go of his hands. "You promised you wouldn't get distracted if we played music today. We need to study."

Y/n rolled his eyes. "We do homework all the time - my grades are better than they've been in ages. It can wait for a single song." Y/n stepped close, something mischievous in his eyes. "Or two."

Something bubbled in Sebastian's stomach, worming it's way up to his chest. Words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite pull them out or place what they were so for now he let them be.

And the two danced.

The second song was slower, and Y/n tried to do a funny bit by using choreography slowed to half speed, his facial expressions even changing at a snail's pace, which did get Sebastian to laugh. But then he reached out and pulled Y/n against him, chest to chest, and grabbed his hand and waist. "Slow dance properly or skip the song," he chided.

Y/n snorted but didn't pull away. "Of course the rich boy is particular about slow dancing," he teased. "You know how to waltz I assume?"

Sebastian's eyes shone. "Would you like me to teach you?"

Y/n grinned. "Fuck yes." So Sebastian did. It was the first time they'd danced that it wasn't competitive or teasing. There was fire here too but it was quieter, calmer - familiar. Sebastian grabbed his hand, then his waist, and stepped closer. He spoke softly, giving directions and telling him when and where he was stepping and the directions he was going.

It was easy to follow him. Sebastian was excellent at leading, both with his steps and his words. At one point he spun Y/n, slowly to allow for him learning, and Y/n giggled. When they were face to face again they were both grinning.

"This is fun," Sebastian noted. He didn't speak as loudly as he usually did, keeping that soft directional tone he'd been using up to this point.

Y/n felt his face warm up. "It is. Maybe we should make this a regular thing. You can teach me everything you know."

Sebastian's smile grew a little teasing, and seeing that peek out now only made Y/n blush worse. "Je crois que je t'aime."

Y/n's eyebrows came together when Sebastian spoke in French. "No fair! I don't know French."

"If I teach you everything I know," Sebastian reasoned. "You will one day."

Y/n narrowed his eyes. "Okay," he eased slowly. "What did you say though?"

The deviousness crescendo'd as Sebastian chuckled. "I'll tell you one day." He slowed them to a stop, spinning Y/n outward and catching his wrist. He brought the back of Y/n's hands to his lips, leaving a kiss. "You're a wonderful dance partner."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "You need to be dubbed an official Disney Prince with all this charm you're using on me."

There seemed to be something Sebastian wanted to say, but he chose not to.

A new side to him.

Instead he cleared his throat, covering up a laugh. "Let's get back to homework." Unsure of how to get him to divulge information when he was so often readily offering it and not hiding it away as he was now, Y/n was forced to let the interaction go.

For now.

-

Noteworthies killed it at competition, putting Dalton in first place for the first time since Sebastian had started coming to school here. When they were announced as first, Sebastian's eyes went wide and he couldn't stop smiling. He was in the audience, but he was quickly out of his seat and rushing backstage. When Y/n was off of that stage, he was quick to close the distance. Y/n was surprised, but laughed as they met in the middle, getting caught up in the kiss immediately.

It was the first time they'd been explicitly affectionate in public, and it was wonderful. Especially as Lyran smiled to themself, watching the two.

"Finally, am I right?" they whispered to one of the other boys who laughed, all of them heading to the changing room to leave the pair alone.

When the two boys separated from their embrace, Y/n was blushing. "What was that?" he asked.

Sebastian shrugged. "Probably... adrenaline." He chuckled, finding himself a little breathless. No one had ever made him this soft before, taken him so completely. He felt a little silly and completely ridiculous and stripped entirely of his power-

And he loved it.

-

“Hey I have a question.” Things had changed since the kiss back stage. They weren’t playing this maybe-friends-maybe-not thing, they were definitely more than friends. Things had gotten as casual as Y/n ending up in Sebastian’s bed for no other reason than better cuddling positions as they watched Netflix all day. That was their Saturday routine. They only got out of bed to make food, and then they’d play music and dance together or tease or kiss…

It was domestic.

But they’d never made anything official.

Sebastian had waited for Y/n to give him that staple look people always did when things got a little too serious. Usually that was when he’d run away, but with Y/n he was sure he’d have drifted into a relationship blissfully. No one could keep up with him and change the game like Y/n could - who could ever even keep his attention after this boy?

But Y/n had never asked. It had never come up. And once again the rules were different than Sebastian had expected. It wasn’t Y/n asking about their relationship that day. It was Sebastian. His hair was soft, dried post shower, and he had only bothered with the bare minimum necessary to be comfortable. Y/n had lost his shirt at some point, stealing one of Sebastian’s even though there were clothes just here that were Y/n’s at this point. It felt intimate in a weird way. Different than sex, but maybe on the same level as it.

Y/n looked at the boy, smiling. “Ask away.”

“Are we together?” Sebastian asked. “Like, boyfriends.”

Y/n’s face light up. “I thought you didn’t do labels, Hot Shot.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “If you don’t want to-“

Even if Y/n could throw him off, Sebastian was good at catching up. The dynamic shifted as Y/n gently caressed his cheek, leaning in to kiss him to get him to stop. “No, it’s okay. I’d love to be your boyfriend. And to have yours as mine. Please.”

Sebastian grew warm. “Okay.” There was that thing… that thing just under the surface…. But he let it go.

Not yet. He couldn’t handle two huge leaps in character in one day. Something told him that Y/n wouldn’t want him to anyway.

-

It happened, ironically, after they decided to hang out because Y/n’s parents were getting a divorce. Maybe that was actually what made it perfect timing. They were tangled together on the couch, Sebastian soothingly running his hands up and down Y/n’s back. They hadn’t spoken in a while but Y/n’s mood seemed to slowly, steadily, improving. Sebastian could feel that feeling that was growing more and more impossible to ignore. The words that were getting closer and closer to slipping between his lips. They were getting less and less scary - easier to say. Easier to accept. He knew that they would escape any second now.

“I love you.” It was Y/n who’d spoken.

Immediately Sebastian sighed. “Of course you managed it before I did.” He sounded only amused.

Y/n laughed. “To be fair, you were the one who made the relationship official. You started all of this. I think I can get one thing on you. If that’s okay.”

“No. It’s not. Take it back.” At Sebastian’s words, Y/n laughed again. Sebastian left a kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead. Lingering. Then his lips parted and-

“Don’t say it just because I did,” Y/n interrupted.

Sebastian sighed. “I wouldn’t say anything I didn’t mean. If I didn’t love you, I’d run. I always do.” He scoffed. “But… I do love you. And I can even say that foul word. You’ve completely ruined me. I’m so young how could you do this to me?”

Y/n shrugged, and his smugness was so gorgeous Sebastian had to kiss him. When they parted, Y/n whispered, “Can we be different than everyone else? Can we just… not deal with all the bullshit? And work together and communicate and not fall apart? Or even worse - stay together forever even though the relationship is cannabilizing itself. Can you promise me we’ll never stop talking?”

Sebastian hummed, sighing. “I can promise I’ll always try.”

Y/n nodded. “That’s enough.” And it was. Everything else could fall apart. Their family, their relationship with Blaine. School could end. The Warblers could get usurped. It was all temporary. And maybe this was too, but it was also worth it in a way. Especially because it was temporary. Even if all they had was this week, or if it was for the rest of their lives… they had each other. What more could one person ask for than that?

-

Story tag list: @romanthesleepylizardking @taintedmaroon @shydinosaurcandy @clawzzz

Male readers tag: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[justaquirkyfangirl]

She's My Girlfriend - Sebastian Smythe x Reader (Chapter 3)

Sebastian Smythe x Fem!Reader (Posted on Wattpad)

Summary:

"What are you doing?!"

"We knew you guys were up to no good!"

"What are you talking about, she's my girlfriend!"

"Wait, girlfriend?" "Huh?" "I thought you were gay..?"

Word Count: 880

Y/N's POV

I rushed through the halls, passing and almost bumping into people as I raced to the practice room. We were supposed to all be there 15 minutes ago. I speed through the hallways, almost running past the room. I entered out of breath, everyone's attention turned to me.

"You're late, again." Mr. Shue says. "That's the third time this month y/n. What's going on?"

"What? Nothing, I just don't manage time well and run a little late sometimes. I'm sorry Mr. Shue, I'll try and get better at it." I tell him, still slightly out of breath.

"Okay, come sit down so we can start." He tells me.

I nod and make my way over to my seat, in between Kurt and Mercedes. As I sit down, Kurt leans over and whispers to me, "It's a boy isn't it?"

I look at him and my face turns a dusty pink shade, "What? No. There's no boy."

"Mhm, sure there's not. But that's okay, I'll find out soon enough." He says with a smile on his face. To which I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Mr. Shue.

"Okay guys, for this week's assignment we're going to bring some R&B and soul into it. So let's see what you've got." Mr. Shue tells us.

My phone buzzed, and I quickly checked and found a message from Sebastian.

'Hey gorgeous, still coming over to Dalton after practice?'

- Seb

I grin down at my phone before typing and sending a quick response.

'Of course. Love you!'

- N/n

'Love you more'

- Seb

Kurt started to lean over my shoulder, "Who are you texting?"

I jump a bit and turn off my phone before placing it back in my pocket. "No one." I state quickly.

"So I was right? There is a boy, isn't there?" He asks with a smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry did you say a boy?" Mercedes asked.

"Oh my gosh, really?" Rachel asked, excitedly.

"Does our sweet little y/n have a boyfriend we don't know about?" Finn also joins in.

Soon enough I had the whole glee club's attention once again and was being bombarded with questions.

"Okay, okay guys. Let's not push, I'm sure if there is a boy, y/n will tell us when she's ready. All of this interrogating her isn't going to make her want to tell us." Blaine butted in, getting everyone to settle down.

'Thank you.' I mouthed over to him. And he responded with a small grin.

Soon after that, we were all dismissed and I was first out of the room. I was on my way out the door before a hand gently grabbed my wrist.

"So, is there anything you want to tell me?" I turned around and came face to face with Blaine.

I let out a groan, "Oh no, not you too!!"

"Hey, I get it. If you don't want anyone to know, that's fine." He says, putting his hands up in defense. "But if there is something going on, you can tell me. I promise not to tell a soul, not even Kurt."

I let out a heavy sigh, "Fine. There is a boy but I know you won't approve of him. And I really don't want you all getting in the way of us."

"I promise, whoever it is, I won't get mad." He tells me.

"It's Sebastian." I say bluntly.

"Oh, okay..." He says slowly.

3... 2... 1..

"Him?! Why y/n? Why him of all people?!" He yells a little loud, catching other students' attention.

"Shhh, not so loud!! I thought you said you weren't going to get mad!" I tell him in a hushed voice.

"That was before you told me that it was Sebastian! Need I remind you that he's the one who threw a slushie with Rock salt at me and almost blinded me!" He whisper yelled back.

"See?! This.This is exactly why I didn't want to tell any of you! I knew that you would hate it! And of course I remember that Blaine, I never left your side when it happened! And besides I already told him off about that and he's trying to be nicer Blaine! Ask the Warblers yourself, they'll tell you that he's gotten better." I say back, a quivering frown placed upon my face.

Blaine took a deep breath, "Okay, look. I get it, really I do. If he makes you happy then I can learn to live with it. And I won't tell any of the others, you're right about them not taking it so easy. But just be careful, I don't want you getting hurt."

I pull him into a tight hug which he reciprocates. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I told him.

"You're welcome n/n." He chuckled as we pulled apart. I checked my phone's time and I was starting to run late.

"Well I'm heading to Dalton right now, I'm already a bit late." I tell him, pocketing my phone.

"I can drop you off if you want? Kurt and I don't have any plans scheduled." He offers.

"Yes! That would be great!" I say before grabbing his arm and pulling him out of school.

[kyojurokoibito]

Can you do a small fabric like if kyojuro and yn had a sleepover and when he woke up he found her in a towel getting her Uniform from the closet? (No pressure tho love the work❗💚💚

Pairing(s): kyojuro rengoku x reader

Kao's Note(s): established relationship between kyo and reader; this was fun lmao XD

the warm rays of the sun hitting your face was always a pleasant way to wake up. a bush warbler's sweet song could be heard from you resting position on the futon. a yawn leaves your lips as you rub the sleep from your dreary eyes.

just as you were about to get up and start your day, a familiar arm snaked its way around your waist, tightening it's grip. a quiet giggle rippled in your throat as you felt your beloved nuzzle into the back of your head.

"mmmm...mm' goin," kyojuro sleepily mumbled into your disheveled hair.

any other morning, kyojuro was the one to wake up first. however, when it comes to initimate nights at your estate like the one before, you both slept soundly. kyojuro normally woke up before you, continuing his aftercare from the night before, but you happen to wake up before him this morning.

"we gotta get ready kyo," you paused to turn in his arms before brushing his hair from his face. "the master called for us to discuss the boy from mt. natagumo, remember?"

kyojuro hummed, leaning into the warmth of your hand while giving you a closed-eyed smile, opting to rest a bit more before getting up.

after maneuvering from beneath his arm–which he protested against–you made your way to the bathhouse that was in the back of your estate to wash up before the meeting.

after a quick wash, you emerged from the warm water before wrapping a towel around torso, the fluffy material stopping half way down your thighs. you made your way back to your room, going to your closet in search of your uniform and haori. expecting for kyojuro to still be asleep, you were unaware of the lingering eyes ogling at your a figure.

after a while, you gathered your clothes into your arms before turning around and locking eyes with kyojuro.

you blinked once. twice. three times.

"AHHHHH!!!"

you clumsily tugged the haori over your body, closing it around yourself. "KYOJURO, H-HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AWAKE?!?!?!"

"hm," the flame hashira smiled innocently. "i have been awake since you left!"

"w-well why didn't you say anything when I got back?! you were just staring at me?!?!" you squeezed your eyes shut, turning uour back to him in an attempt to mask your embarrassment.

"i'm afraid i do not see the issue," kyojuro stood from his spot, making his way over to you. "i have seen you naked many times, love! just last night we–"

"SHUSH!" you covered your face with one of your hands while swatting him with the other one, paying no mind the rustling that coming from his direction. "that's different!"

"oh? how so?"

"well you see...it's because...it's just..." you finally turned towards him. "IT JUST IS OKAY?!?!" you paused....

"KYO WHY ARE YOU NAKED TOO?!?!"

"i thought you were embarrassed being the only one bare," he proudly spread his arms before engulfing you in a hug, adding to your flustered state. "you are not alone! we are now naked together!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

"it is alright, my love, i am with you!"

"OKAY OKAY W-WHATEVER J-JUST PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!!"

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FLIGHT OF THE WARBLER (XIII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XIV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.0K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, tension, suggestive actions, sickness, vomit, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

In the last week that you had him, Kyle Garrick had proved to be something that couldn’t be attributed to the memories you held of that day. This realization had been brewing for a long time—ever since he’d followed you in that car as you defiantly shoved your way over the landscape of this very base. It wasn’t something you’d call conventional; it wasn’t, and in the end, you couldn’t be. 

That isn’t to say you’d forget. 

Your father was a large part of your life, and even now, you have trouble separating your perception of him from what you’ve learned and accepted. You know they’re the same person—you know—but the mind plays tricks on the body, and sometimes when you wake up in the middle of the night, you like to go along with the trick that he’d be down in his office, working on all those inventory logs. You know he’s not.

The only thing that really helped the ache was the very man who’d been in the room that day. 

“You’re going to run me into a wall,” you comment dryly as the wheelchair rolls along the tiled floors. 

“I am not,” Kyle says, a smirk evident in his tone. “You just like complaining, Love.”

Your eyes turn in your head and you look over your shoulder as military personnel walk past, sending glances at the SAS Sergeant and the woman he pushes safely under him. You wear more comfortable clothes today—a borrowed T-shirt and cargo pants.

“Where are you taking me, anyways?” The pain in your wound had only increased on the second day of consciousness came along; all of that skin piecing itself together one cell at a time. The meds had helped somewhat, but the injury itself produced a pulse of heat and tightness. 

Brown eyes glance down, brow quirking. “Not fond of surprises, then?”

“Not when they’re from you,” you grumble under your breath sarcastically, turning back around. 

Kyle’s smooth laugh makes your face gain a sheen of warmth, and you try to push back against the onslaught of hands that suddenly ghost your skin. You shift in the wheelchair and silently frown. 

“I should be offended,” the man begins, taking a slow turn left, “but I’ve found I’m getting used to your jabs.” His comment goes in one ear and slides out the other, passing through the eye of your confused thoughts. “In fact, I find them enjoyable.” 

You huff, bringing yourself back to reality as your lips quirk. 

“Yeah, okay—” Your body bends forward with a ragged cough, hand snapping up to cover your mouth as your spine curves. 

Kyle stops the wheelchair, looking in surprise before his arm comes to sit on the back of your shoulder blade, one foot moving him closer. Concern immediately grows in his chest.

“Spitfire?” You wave your free hand, continuing on for a few more seconds before your aching lungs take a deep inhale. Clearing your throat, you blink a few times to push away the blurriness of your vision and move back. 

“I’m good,” your lips mutter. You clear your throat again. “Sorry.”

Kyle blinks. 

“No need to apologize.” He glances you over softly as his hand leaves you. “Feeling alright, then?” 

You nod after a moment, the man only hesitates a second before he grips the handles behind you and begins pushing again. A small silence falls between you two, and you brush a hand over your eyes as you feel those brown eyes staring into the back of your head. 

“...I ever tell you about my time with RTI testing?” The comment makes you pause, brows pulling in as you look over your shoulder again. 

“What’s that?” He smiles, nodding at you as he carts you around.

“Resistance To Interrogation.” Your interest gets jump-started, and you continue to watch him as Kyle’s eyes filter back and forth from the hallway to you. The surroundings swirl together as your focus is grabbed. 

“No, you haven’t.” Gaz hums, shrugging. 

“Want to?” 

“Well, you already started talking about it,” you slide him a sly look. 

He chuckles, tilting his head. “Got me there.” The Brit gathers his thoughts in front of you, eyebrows quirking for a moment. He moves his eyes back down to your own, and they lock for a minute—something flashes over his expression, but it’s lost before you can understand it.

“We were a group of ten,” he begins, “my class and I, yeah? All proper blokes.” The wheelchair squeaks slightly as it moves, but it barely annoys you. Kyle’s stories take precedence. “They had us separated—different rooms all over a test sight.”

“Let me guess,” you say, “it was horrible?”

“Bloody horrendous.” You both share amused looks. “You’d think they left that place abandoned for a decade, Spitfire,” Kyle speaks lower as if in secret. “Swear it was haunted.”

“As if,” you laugh, shaking your head and ignoring the muttered words from passing soldiers. 

“I’m not joking,” Gaz says, smiling easily. “No, they made it that way—simulate an actual scenario.” He smirks, teasing. “As I was saying,” you pass door after door, and you’re none the wiser as to where he’s taking you as the minutes grow longer. “Interrogation. So, they had me in a room; tiny one. All of a sudden as I’m working on the bindings, big fellow comes through the door…”

You know what he’s trying to do. 

Trying to make you laugh—smile. He wants you to forget about everything, even if for a little bit. There was no real destination he was taking you to; you’d passed this same door number two times now. He was just…talking to you. Because he wanted to.

You’d never felt as thankful to have someone to do that with than now. 

The story ends as you expected it would, a full success on the Sergeant's part and a final comment of, “You wanna know what I learned? No one can break me, but me.” More and more tales go past as you joke and tease, growing more comfortable as every one waxes and wanes. You even shared some of your own. 

“You wrecked it?” Kyle blinks in shock, laughing in disbelief. 

“I wrecked it,” you reiterate. “But it wasn’t my fault! The dude pulled out in front of me.” Talking about how you had been driving your friend's car near the middle of high school—having gotten into a minor car crash while you never even had your permit. 

“Bloody hell, what did you do?”

“Switched seats with my friend.” You’re excited. You find you don’t mind the feeling. Everything about videos and stolen goods is lost to the two of you—here, now, the only thing that was appeasing was the sound of one another’s voices. A sway and dip of syllables and accents. A push and pull that now felt more like a tug at a sleeve; gentle hands slipping over flesh. 

More than once your body had wished for the man to touch you. More than once you had to stop yourself from getting sidetracked by the smooth roll of his chuckle. 

More than once, Kyle had to do the same. 

“That worked?” The Sergeant breathes, eyes darting away from yours softly before slinking back like a horse to water. His face was hot, and he’d lost track of the time—even his feet were moving on autopilot.

“You’d be surprised,” you stifle a fond chuff on your lips. “You want to hear the one where I snuck onto a train heading into Michigan?”

He looks at you and you can’t help but feel your face heat as you gaze over your shoulder. 

“You’re trouble, you are.” The comment leaves you smiling widely. 

“Did you expect anything different? My father got a rise out of me,” you laugh. “All he’d do was laugh and ask how my day went while my mother fumed from the foyer.” 

“My mum would have a field day,” Kyle adds. “You make it that far?”

“No,” you shake your head a few times, speaking through crinkled lids. “No, I felt bad halfway through the ride and got off at the next station—found the train back and that was that.”  

The Sergeant’s amusement is obvious. You don’t even realize it’s the first time you’ve mentioned your family without feeling that wash of sadness afterward. 

A calm pause moves along the space, and soon after the man gives you a soft question.

“Leg still good?” Brown eyes look you up and down. “I can stop if you want.” 

Blinking, you’d almost forgotten the bullet wound in your thigh, glancing down at it. Small aches travel up your spine when the limb shakes with the pace of the chair. 

You think about lying. 

Talk to me.

But what could one truth hurt?

“Maybe for just a few minutes.” You don’t turn to see the slow smile that peels Kyle’s lips, but as if a sixth sense, you can feel it. 

“Want to go back to your room?”

“No,” you shake your head in thought. A line forms on your head as you shift to ask him. “Any nice places around here?”

You were starting to notice things you hadn’t before—or maybe you had seen them, and just hadn’t been paying attention. Kyle’s smile moved the scars on his cheek, pushing them tight, and when he looked at you, he gave you all of his attention. When he stopped and started walking, it was always with his right foot. At every noise, even if he wasn’t paying it any attention, his head would slightly tilt in that direction.

Everything has become a metaphor, and all you can do is experience it. 

“Not many,” the man admits, brows furrowing as he stares off. A moment later he looks back down with a dog-like angle to his head. “Library?” 

Your soft smile gives him all the answers he needs.

—

This strange comfort went on for the days remaining, yourself being none the wiser while the guilt on the soldier’s side persisted. How could he tell you? There wasn’t a thought in his mind that he wouldn’t tell you what was going on—that wasn’t who he was. He would never up and disappear without a goodbye, but even thinking about it rubbed him the wrong way. 

Who was to say you would take to the next person who gets put in charge of you? It had taken months for Kyle—whoever else would be flayed on a stake at the first appearance of your wrath. For everyone's sake, the Sergeant hopes it will at least be Alex. 

There might be some hope for him, at least.

But the overarching truth was that he didn’t want to leave you here. He didn’t want to go thousands of miles away and join the others…even if he knew he had to. 

His duty, or his soul. He can’t do one without hurting the other. And he knows he has no choice but to join back with One-Four-One. 

On the third day, you got sick. 

Your body lay heaped over the toilet, a trail of vomit and blood leading into the bathroom that a nurse is hurriedly cleaning with a mop and spraying down with disinfectant. The smell of it only makes you retch more.

“Breathe,” Gaz utters beside you, hand rubbing circles on your back. 

Your head spins; throat on fire. Everything you’d eaten today comes up until there’s only acid and regrets. 

“Ow,” you say through saliva, eyes stinging. Your spine shakes and you dry heave, choking on air. 

Kyle’s lips thin tightly to his face, glancing out of the bathroom door as a patient guard would. His fingers at your back give a little more pressure—the tips digging to give you something to focus on. 

The nurse leaves on fast feet. 

“How are we feeling, then?” You’re asked as your eyes clench tight, your abdomen tense and the muscles shaky like a series of rivers under the skin. “Take your time, Love.”

“Like shit, Garrick,” Your head turns with a weak glare, bags formed under your eyes from a restless sleep last night. No matter how hard you tried to get comfortable, pain had been stirring in your chest—different from the one in your thigh and the ache of the now-healed mark on your palm. It was like a dull droning; a precursor. 

Coughing, you groan and dip your head away, a hand coming up and slapping the handle to make the bile swirl and disappear down the pipes. Kyle sighs under his breath, watching. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” You resist the inner voice wanting to tell him to keep rubbing your back, only commenting on brushing your teeth beforehand, which you do with the ever-present shadow behind you in case you might fall over. 

Back in the sheets, Gaz grabs another blanket from the other side of the room and brings it over—spreading it over your body until a toasty feeling overtakes the headache that emanates from behind your eyes. 

“M’gonna lose my mind,” your words slur. “This is worse than getting shot.”

“It is not,” Kyle mutters, a small smile on his face. “You just got a stomach bug. Could be from the meds—wouldn’t be the first I've heard of it.” 

He packs the blanket firmer around you and huffs as he moves into his chair, leaning back. Not once do his eyes leave you as your body shifts and curls—moving to face him. 

“This where you read me a bedtime story?”

Kyle smirks, looking away. 

“A long time ago, in a—”

“Shut up.” He laughs and moves a hand out as you restrain a wide smile, one you had to fight hard to keep hidden as your mouth dips under the blanket. 

Kyle chuckles before shaking his head. “But, seriously, do you remember what you ate today?”

“Nothing besides what was handed to me,” you sigh, moving a hand to your head to feel your skin. “A few more shitty coffees.”

“Let me.” Gaz moves and gently pushes your own aside before his limb flattens over your forehead. Your eyelids momentarily move down at the action, but you allow it to continue. At the gentle way he slips his skin over yours, you nearly purr. 

“Hm,” the man leaves and your eyes follow. “Bit hot.” Kyle’s eyes study you. “Your wound isn’t infected, I know that. Just proper bad timing on your part, Spitfire.”

You rub at your eyes. The comment slips out before you can care to stop it.

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” Brown orbs widen, and the whites, for a sliver of a second, become more visible. 

Your face blazes, embarrassment shifting the lines of your face—expression twisting back up at the lapse in speech that suffocates like a rope. 

“I don’t mean it like…” Your tongue bites at itself, throat clearing as your eyes dart away from blank brown bulbs. “Just, I know my mother comes to visit before I fall asleep, but I don’t want to risk…” 

Nerves make your jaw slam shut like a lock to a hatch. “Forget it—”

“I’ll stay.” 

Eyes lock. Kyle blinked as if he wasn’t conscious enough to know he answered until it was already said. The Sergeant’s hands go up to fix his cap, licking his lips and taping his foot to the floor. He reiterates after a shocked moment. 

“I’ll stay, Love.” After all, this was the only form he’d be able to. “It’s not a problem.”

Your heart constricts, fingers twitching for your coin that’s still back at the mansion. The words leave your tone breathless. “Okay.” 

So that’s how the Sergeant, who prided himself on his high tolerance and tactical awareness, found himself utterly void of all sense. He sat there, idly on his phone and sending glances as the minutes passed—growing longer. The single lamp is the only light to stay on, sitting on the far table with its warm glow. 

When you do fall asleep, mind and body tired, Kyle’s hand reaches over and pulls the blanket farther over you, sighing softly. It’s only after he leans back that he speaks, almost to himself.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, guilt filling up his eyes like a glass of water. “But I can’t be forever.”

A creak at the door makes his spine straighten, head whipping over and hand unconsciously jerking to where a sidearm would be strapped to his thigh. 

But it’s only your mother. 

“It’s Kyle,” she whispers, glancing at your sleeping body with a glass of water in her hands, “right?” 

“Ah,” the man speaks low, sending a look your way before standing. “Yes, Ma’am. Kyle Garrick.”

“Sorry.” Coming into the room, the glass is set on the bedside table, liquid sloshing over the brim. “I’m horrible with names, that was always my husband’s specialty.” Kyle shares a polite smile as she puts a hand on his arm. “I always had to write them down to keep it all straight—I’m more organized than a filing cabinet.”

“Aren’t you a nurse, Ma’am?” He chuckles, one eye watching you breathe softly; that gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

You looked calm like this. 

Beautiful, even.

Kyle’s thoughts make him blink quickly, fighting to put his full attention on your mother as she speaks to him. 

“What do you think the patient sheets are for?” They share a good few chuffs at that, the Sergeant’s hands going to cross his chest. 

“You know, young man,” your mother utters, looking at you as something swirls behind her eyes. “You’ve really done a fantastic job with her. Truly. Her father…well…” she trails and Gaz’s chest has a concrete block on it.

He knew that the older woman didn’t know the full story, or else she wouldn’t be telling him this. 

“...he would be thankful, I know he would. He loved that girl more than anyone in the world.” A tiny sigh. “She just…fell apart when he passed, you understand.” A wave of a hand moves in the tight vision of those brown eyes. “We don’t speak about it.” 

Maybe you should have. A cut of resentment makes itself known. How much you’d suffered. How much the solitude had left you a shell of someone who was just coming out again—a clock needing a new battery. 

“Spitfire’s strong,” Kyle says, shifting his feet. His face is firm. “Far stronger than most.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” is the response. “Everything that’s been attempted, and here she is.” A little look is sent his way, paired with an inquisitive nod. “Do you care about her, or only the job?”

“Her,” the answer is immediate. “Bloody job isn’t even half of it, Ma’am, you have my word on that.” 

Those eyes watch him for a moment, digging in a way far sharper than Kyle could have anticipated. But woe to the man who gets in between a mother and her daughter. 

“Good.” Your mother moves, going to kiss you on the head and slip past Kyle. “Make sure she drinks her water when she wakes up,” the man watches as she exits the doorway. Her hand sits on the frame as the last bit of advice fades into the hallway before the door closes with a soft click. “She needs to keep hydrated.”

The guard resumes his midnight shift, but he was correct with his previous assessment. 

You did look beautiful, and perhaps he’d just now begun to see it. 

—

Alex wasn’t bad, truthfully. He had that same charm to him that Gaz possessed like a proud poster boy—the main model with the blond Agent soon after on the first page, blue eyes over the top of the text. He didn’t seem to take your prior muteness to him to heart, in fact, when you apologized for it out of your own free will, he’d only smiled and tilted his head in your direction softly. 

“No need to apologize, Ma’am. I’ve had worse welcomes, trust me. A cold shoulder is the least of my worries.” 

You found yourself actually liking the man, as strange as that sounded in the recesses of your skull. But there are worse things than talking to someone who actually answers back. 

“China?” He stares at you from the side of his eye, Kyle sighing from across the space of the rec room. You sit back on the couch, a forgotten book in hand. “You sure?” 

“Chiyou is a Chinese deity—a company coming out of there with the same name would make the most logical sense, don’t you think?” You shrug. “It’s also a country that’s in the middle of Laos and Russia besides Mongolia; hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Mongolia has a port to send goods from. Executions,” you tilt your head, “sure. Ships? No.” 

“Can we be sure that those are the same thing?” Kyle speaks up from this dark conversation. “Drugs and weapons are two linked businesses, but getting directly involved in hits isn’t usually how those types of things go.”

“I’d have to agree,” Alex sighs. Your mother was out helping in the medical ward due to her knowledge of medicine—there was no need for Keller to follow her around with so many reliable eyes on her. For the moment, he’d been relieved to do as he wished. “Not exactly how cells operate unless something happened to make ‘em change their main sources of income. But it isn’t unheard of. So the laptop was entirely those videos?” Blue eyes move back and forth, the Agent’s arms crossed as he reclines into his seat next to the card table. “Nothing else?”

“Didn’t have time to look.” Gaz grunts. “Someone took it out from right under our noses.” 

An eerie silence settles, and you try not to think too hard about it. 

“The best bet for answers is the guy I shot,” you speak after a moment. Two pairs of eyes with different hues share a fast look as you itch at the back of your neck. “He knew Samson, that has to count.” Your voice slips to a mutter. “He knows something we don’t.”

“You feeling any better today, Love?” Gaz changes the subject. You look up, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Not really, why?” You can’t stand up fast unless you want to black out, and this morning it hadn’t taken long for you to grow sick after trying to take down food your mother brought you. The nurses were at a loss with what to do, seeing as besides a fever, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. 

It was only after your own heated insistence that Kyle had helped you into the wheelchair that sits next to the couch currently, concerned that if you walked, you would fall unconscious. 

Brown eyes watch you now, face stiff. “Just wondering.” 

You blink at him, trying to speak through your eyes. The man shrugs, tilting his head away. 

Alex looks between the two of you, mustache twitching as he eases out casually in reference to your mother, “She’ll be getting off soon. I’ll leave you both here to think over the details.”

“Right,” Kyle utters, prying his eyes away from you. “Be seeing you, Alex.”

“Call me if you need me,” the Agent comments, patting your shoulder as he slips past, giving over a kind smile. “Get better soon, Doll.” 

You hum as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Lips start moving at the same time.

“I need to go back home—”

“I’m getting sent back to One-Four-One—”

Wide eyes meet and lock with quick breaths. 

“What?” Your face twists in, again your voice building over Kyle’s instant refusal of your proposal.

“Not a chance.” 

“Whoah, whoah, back the hell up.” You raise your hands, splaying them out—the man shakes his head, a hand coming to itch at his facial scar. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m not letting you go back to the mansion.”

“Kyle!” You bark so loudly that your eyes gain dancing black dots. “What the fuck?” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he breathes, avoiding your gaze. “I wasn’t thinking clearly when I sent in the reassignment form—Laswell had me placed back with them faster than I could remember to take it back.”

Your face is devoid of blood, your jaw loose, and your gut sinking inside your abdomen like a fishing line had it connected to your ankle. More than once your mouth opened and closed in shock—in betrayal. 

Leaving? He was leaving you here?

“I don’t…” Your words trail off, throat closing. A pain sparks in your heart.

Kyle’s face screws up, jaw clenching as he stands up, walking over. “Believe me, Spitfire, when I say I had every intention of taking it back before this blew up.”

Hands capture the sides of your arms, grabbing at them as he kneels down to the floor in front of where you sit.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle says slowly and sincerely—staring deeply into your eyes as you struggle to keep the contact. “I’ve been beating myself up over it for days now. I…” he pauses. “I was waiting for a good time to tell you, but it just came out. Please, understand.” 

Your eyes slip away, lips thin and skin pulled. 

Kyle’s muscles are wound, nervous about what this could do and how you would take it. In reality, this last week might be the last chance he’ll get to try and fix what he’s done. 

“Spitfire,” he implores gently, hands squeezing you. “Say something. Anything.” 

Your eyes flicker back, face lost. How fast you could go from hating this man to relying on him. “Are…you coming back?”

Kyle’s breath is a shaky exhale. “I…”

He doesn’t know. He can’t answer that.

“When do you leave?” You grow more upset at his silence. Panicked even. How dare he come here and do this to you after all of it? Your heart is pounding, veins bulging with blood that rampages with fast aggression. 

“Soon.” The Sergeant clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I know whatever I say won’t make it any better.” He repeats his apology. “It’s my own fault, and I can’t take it back.”

You don’t know what overtakes you, but before you can stop your limbs, you’ve already snapped your arms around his neck, dragging him into your body. The man, while shocked, goes willingly—returning the embrace tightly. 

His hands curl, cruel warmth overtaking you as Gaz sets his head on your shoulder and lets your head burrow into his neck. A weak exhale leaves your sputtering lungs, and the marks on your palm burn like the space behind your eyes. 

Leaving? No, he can’t leave you here.

Hurt melts with sickness, encased in a film of fear. Fear. He can’t do this. No, not now. Not now. 

Not now that you care about him. 

“I hate you,” you force out, voice warbling. Maybe you were always just a fool. “I hate you, Kyle Garrick.”

“I know,” he breathes, not letting you go—pulling you tighter to his chest as your air caresses his neck like a sea storm; clouds of ice and a sky of fire, the boat battered by ardent winds. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Words only mean so much, but they help when they’re uttered into the skin of your temple—the British accent rolling off his tongue. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He holds you for a long while, and by the end of it, you say in a hard tone, “I’m going home and grabbing what I need.” 

The man lets his eyelids flutter closed. 

“Okay.”

So that was how on the last day he was here, Kyle brought you breakfast, and soon after you’d finished the plate, not expelling it all to your own surprise, you were both off with an escort squad headed by the Sergeant. You were able to rely on a cane for the time being, feeling better even if the news had your mind in a worse way than it had been previously. 

Your mother had been against it—vehemently. 

“There’s no reason for you to go back,” she had said. “You’re going to get yourself hurt!” 

But it was apparent as the car moved through the blackened gates, which had been busted off their hinges, that the house had been utterly abandoned. Kyle had explained that the group from the town—Firebird, as you recall—had been watching over it and seen no one enter or exit. 

“Are you sure?” The Sergeant was in full gear, sitting in the back with you as the car ambled along up the driveway. 

You don’t look at him. “I’ll be quick.” 

Kyle shifts, the assault rifle over his chest and hat on his head. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses even if you can still feel them on you as the time lengthens. The wheels pull to a stop, and the driver comments that they’re parked and all ready to exit. 

“Sweep the perimeter,” Garrick explains, clicking into his comm line. A volley of copies wafts out like a flock of birds on the wind, and out of the window, you watch the overgrown hedges sway with their dying leaves. Autumn was here, now, and you could feel it in your bones. 

“I can go in and grab what you need—”

“Kyle,” you sigh, shifting to gaze into the reflection of your own visage in his glasses. He frowns delicately. “Please.”

“Just concerned, Love.” He explains.

“I know you are,” you can’t help a flicker of a smile, skin crinkling. “Worse than my mother.” 

“Well,” he smirks, “now that’s an achievement. I get a medal for that?”

“And what medal would you want?” You play along, quirking a brow. It was easy to forget he was leaving when he talked so casually to you. “Unfortunately, I don’t have one that says ‘idiot’ on the plaque.” You liked how his lips moved when he spoke—his fingers twitching over the body of his gun like he was always so deep in thought to control them. His shifting feet. Kyle’s easy air. 

That stupid, bloody, hat. 

“Oh yeah? What else are you going to give me, then?” The Sergeant mirrors you with a raised brow, neck bending, and a wide upward motion to his lips. The tone is a flowing tease that leaves your body tingling, and your legs moving closer to one another.

At a shocked pause, a certain electricity enters the air. Kyle rubs at the back of his neck softly, and the sound of his skin is almost enough for you to shift closer. Blinking, you realize you’d been staring at his lips far too intensely—blind to the fact he’d been doing the same.

“The ability to keep your sanity,” you deadpan, rolling your shoulders as the ache in your wound is dull. “Don’t thank me.”

“Can’t complain about that one.” Kyle shifts his thighs on the seats as he mutters. Soon after the radio opens with a soldier giving the all-clear and you grab the cane from the floor with a huff as Gaz’s door opens and closes.

Hand moving to the handle after you’re situated, the barrier opens to the Sergeant on the other side, his vest strapped to his chest. Kyle smiles teasingly as he reaches out, fingers loose.

“Ma’am,” you roll your eyes but slip your limb into his, the gloves he wears rough against your flesh. 

Muttering as your feet carefully settle to the ground, you look up into his face sarcastically, “Such a gentleman.”

“Well, thank you,” he winks, stubble moving. But he slips back into a sheen of seriousness easily. “Slowly, now.”

You huff, already off to the door—also busted open with yellow tape around the front. The stitches in your thigh pull, but it isn’t something that will make you slow down. You’re here to grab what you need—your jacket, your coin. Answers. 

Shifting the tape away, you move into the foyer, soldiers milling around and talking to one another over the radio. Like ants, they shuffle, moving from one point to another in case of any attack from the phantoms in the air. 

It becomes harder to imagine a family living here. 

Eyes slip over the bloodstains, over the ruined hardwood, and the remains of family history. No amount of money could get the shattered remnants of a childhood back. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Gaz whispers to you, standing as a sentinel beside you as he takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his collar. He can see how this might go. “There’s no shame in leaving, you know that?”

“It’s okay,” you blink away from the pool of crimson in the shape of a man. Brown eyes meet yours, concerned. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Kyle watches you walk away, his face loose and open before diligently following with a lick of his lips and a downward nod, ordering the two men in the foyer to watch the entrances. His face is hot.

When you’re upstairs, after many exasperated looks from the Sergeant, you wipe the sweat from your brow and move onward to your room. You wondered when you’d grown so used to gore and violence that now the sight of it meant nothing to you, sliding past the large splatters; the holes where Gaz had fired through the door. 

“Here,” you sigh, grabbing your canvas jacket from the bed where it had sat for days on end, balancing on one leg while you put the cane down and push your arms into the article. It doesn’t offer the same comfort it usually does, but it certainly helped. One hand takes back up your aid—the other slips into the pocket, finding that silver disc easily. 

The movement of a shadow makes you pause, looking over. 

Gaz is at your nightstand, and in his hand, he holds a picture. 

You’d forgotten about it, really. Stashed under the gun and hidden away—crumbled up so you wouldn’t have to see the faces printed out on it. You move to stand beside him and explain softly. 

“The day I was born. He had to rush to get to the hospital—he was so frazzled he nearly ran right past the delivery room.” Your dad was holding a small version of you, tears on his cheeks and his face in a wide smile. The hospital background is blurred around the two of you. “He always told that story on my birthday,” you finish, voice nothing but a mutter. 

The house suffocates everything.

Gaz had been watching you the entire time you’d been speaking, your arms brushing periodically.

The Sergeant offers the picture without a word, and you take it, fingers touching as you pause. There isn’t much that can be said about that. Skin to gloved skin, you hold the picture in between you, studying it as if you did, all of your questions would be answered. But the only answer that you know is that the pain of it will never fade—even if you can reduce it to an ache instead. Like the wound in your thigh, it’ll just scar over. 

“When I leave,” Gaz utters, hand moving to capture yours. “I’ll call. Everyday.”

“I doubt that,” your eyes tilt, faces close. “Everyone always says that.”

Firmly, Kyle squeezes your flesh, noses nearly touching.

“Not me,” the words are said so earnestly, there’s no room to deny them. 

You stare into his browns—the only eyes you’ll ever be able to look into fully and for so long, breath caught in your throat. It’s the way they shift; how they darken and lighten with every dip of his eyelids and shift of his dark lashes. He swallows, and you find yourself stuck on that image of his throat bobbing as if in slow motion. Your mouth goes dry as he speaks in a whisper that moves the air in front of your face. He’s closer now, hand holding yours on fire.

“Do you trust me, Spitfire?” 

It’s embarrassing how long it takes you to fully understand what he says, and only after your heavy lips move in the slightest show of speech that you’re stopped.

“We’ve got movement out front. Looks like reporters.”

The both of you jerk back, Kyle taking long steps away and panting as your eyes are wide with shock. Under the skin, twin suns with enough firepower to light galaxies ignite from his and yours’ features, sputtering meaningless words. 

Mouth opening and closing, the Sergeant nearly fractures his wrist bone as he wrenches his hand to his radio, pushing out a quick response of, “Be there soon.” 

He backs up another step as your mind whirls like a storm—good, bad, every thought in between. 

What had just happened? 

“S-,” he rubs a hard hand over his chin. “Stay here.”

And then he’s gone with a flash of gear. 

You don’t know how long you stared at that doorway, hand shaky and still outstretched. The picture in your hand had fallen to the ground moments before, twirling like a leaf. With a violent inhale, your other limb was clenched around the cane so tightly that the knuckles were clearly visible, blood pulsing with intent. 

Where you just about to…No, no that wasn’t what was happening. You shake your head, looking around to distract yourself. No. 

You pick up the picture with some difficulty and put it inside your pocket next to the coin. But it doesn’t stop the flight of your heart. 

Left on the coffee table was your phone, which you take and look at the countless missed calls and texts from Hector—you block his number and limp out of the room across the hall. It’s still damaged, the nightstand on its side and your personal laptop’s shattered screen on the floor. 

That makes you pause. 

Why would only one of the devices turn up missing if the other was still here? Even the man who had tried to steal it didn’t know the correct version. Your lips go thin, head moving around to study the space with a more brightly lit intensity. 

You zero in on the large wardrobe. 

Your blanket was still there, and if you can recall only snippets of what happened, there’s one that sticks out more than the other. You remember kicking the journal with your heel as you had pushed off the ground. Moving as fast as you’re able, you huff weakly as you near the large wooden structure, shifting the blanket aside. 

Nothing. 

“No,” you mutter to yourself, looking at where the wardrobe is held up by its four elegant legs. “Not nothing.” 

Moving one leg so that your knee hits the ground, you grunt and clench your jaw as your stitches pull tightly; letting the other limb follow. Your cane hits the ground with a clatter, but you care little. Going down on your hands and knees, stuck in cobwebs and sitting with some of its pages leaking out, your lock on the form of your father’s journal.

—

The drive back was silent. 

Kyle wouldn’t look at you, sunglasses back on and his fingers still over his service weapon. You didn’t comment, too occupied with the item you keep secret inside of your jacket, stuffed into the lining. 

You hadn’t told him that you’d found it, and to this moment, you still don’t know why you don’t. The thought was perhaps that, since he was leaving, it would be pointless, and on that front maybe you’d be right. This wasn’t his concern, but yours. 

But it was also because of that fact that you’d nearly kissed. 

Kissed. 

Your body is stiff in its seat. 

When you’d met back up with him only seconds after snatching the journal and cleaning off your knees, you’d been told about the reporters outside—journalists and news crews. It cut the visit short to the mansion, and with only a single glimpse of a black cat’s tail among the hedges of the front walkway, strangled amid the flash of cameras, you were back in the car.

There had been some talk about how they had known you were there, but none of it was anything sure.

And now you were trapped back here with him. Kyle. 

Kissed. 

The entire vehicle is suffocating in tension.

You don’t remember how long the ride is, how long it takes for the pounding in your skull to start when you can feel him shifting only a foot away. In your mind, you’re upset, but it’s not for the reason you should be. You can’t stop thinking about his hand on your thigh, pushing and pulling the skin—how he holds you so tightly and breathes into your ear. What was wrong with you? Out of everything he’s done? Him?

You’re not upset that he had tried to kiss you. You’re upset that he stopped.

Sitting in your seat, your gut swirls, an airiness to your brain. 

Without any concept of time beyond the treacherous thought of how his body would feel with its weight on top of yours, the base is already in sight and the car is parked with a silent squeal of the brakes. You snap out of it and ignore how the hair on your arms stands on end, and a low pulse emanates from deep inside of you. 

A tinge of sin to take down like bitter coffee. 

Someone opens your door, but it’s not Kyle. 

You lock eyes with Kate Laswell for three seconds before blinking away, but those three seconds are enough. Your oxygen gets choked up in your throat.

“Kate?” Gaz speaks over you, leaning forward in his seat to look around the barrier that is you. He tries not to linger on the fact that your scent is stuck inside of his nostrils, unable to get out the smell of your flesh. “Problem?”

“Not one that you can solve, Sergeant. You,” she nods her head your way as you go back to staring at her nose, frowning at her sudden arrival. “You’re going to come with me. I have a job for you.” 

“Excuse me?” You sound irritated, even to yourself. 

The woman’s response is quick and firm. “Do you want answers, or not?” That in and of itself renders you as silent as a bug. You didn’t want to admit how much Laswell intimidated you, even all that time back when you’d first officially met. You read her record—it wasn’t thin. Pages upon pages of achievements. “Good, follow me. Quickly.”

“Bit hard on the ‘quickly’ part of it,” you mutter, cane hitting the ground and feet following after. Kyle is swift with his exit on his own side, coming over and reaching out a hand to help. Inches above your skin, he halts with a twitch to his outstretched fingers. 

He takes a slow breath and lets his hand drop, eyes darting away. You don’t comment on it, and even the third member of this emotionally constipated club seems to pick up on something else going on—Laswell’s brow moving a millimeter upwards. 

“What’s this about, Ma’am?” Gaz’s voice is low, his hands up at the collar of his combat vest, trying to act casual. Being near you makes his head light all of a sudden, and it’s only his fault.

Maybe he really did need to leave. For both of you. Whatever had just happened was a massive step over boundaries. 

Kate waves a hand and you follow, eager to put distance between you and Kyle even if it pained you. He stays a good ways away, and the gap isn’t subtle. A pain in your heart joins the one in your thigh—the pressure behind your eyes. 

“Joey Lowe,” the name makes you blink.

“Who,” you ask dryly. 

Kate pushes open the door to the main building. “The man you shot two times. Not bad aim, by the way—internal bleeding and four broken ribs. The surgery took three hours to stop them from puncturing his organs.”

You make a face and Kyle’s confused expression turns to the woman in charge. “What’s he got to do with her? Thought you had him in interrogation.”

“We do,” Laswell is all business, sighing under her breath and guiding the both of you to who knows where. You try to share a glance with Kyle, but he only looks away. “He’s not speaking to us. I took the decision upon myself to find a pressure point.” A pause. 

Kate stops walking and you jerk back, cane slamming to the floor as she pivots and stares deeply into your eyes. You tense and glare into her nose. 

“You.” 

“Me?” You blink wildly. “I’m sorry, are we just forgetting that this dude shot me? You want me in a room with him?”

“Kate,” even Kyle has reservations about this, moving closer in and lowering his voice. “Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?”

“This has already been going on for too long,” the woman says, unbreaking in her conviction. “He won’t speak unless there’s something to push him and we can’t risk him in his current state.”

You don’t want to think about what that last comment implies, but you aren’t entirely opposed to this. Answers were answers, and if it meant this nightmare was over with sooner, you’d do it. Maybe you really were losing your rocker. 

Kyle’s jaw clenches, moving back and straightening his spine. This wasn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to even think about this. 

“Spitfire,” he tries to gain your attention as he sees you in thought, legs shifting him to you. “You don’t have to agree—”

“I’m in.” His heart skips a beat.

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grunts and your eyes widen as they slash over to look into his sunglasses. “You do not have to go through with this, you understand that, yeah? We can get answers another way that doesn't involve civilians.” The last is directed at Kate, who frowns and crosses her arms over her blouse. 

“Any other ways that you suggest we do that, Kyle?” A silence. “If I recall, you’re supposed to be getting ready for take-off. The C-17 is waiting to take you to Russia with supplies for your Task Force.” 

You try to stop the tight inhale, but it slips out like a fish to sea. A head fights itself to not gaze at you. Such dead air settles that you half expect the world to be frozen if not for the occasional soldier that moves past, giving glances over to the tension-ridden group. 

“Kyle?” You ask, voice small. 

He stays well away. “You don’t have to.”

A flare of that stubborn spite gradually fills you back up. The man makes you care about him—nearly kisses you, gives you all of these mixed signals…and then goes cold again? It was rude; cruel. It was…confusing. 

And the best thing you can do when life gets confusing is to cage yourself in. 

“I’m doing it,” you say, voice tiny but sure of itself. Neither of you breathes, and the man pleads with himself to try and fix this before it's too late. Tell you it was a mistake…but was it? Can he lie? 

“...You better get going.” Your mind is made. “You don’t want to miss your flight, Sergeant.” There were a million things that needed to be said—to be spoken about in the long nights and the gentle mornings. But in the minute where both of your eyes could be felt gracing one another’s, brown trapped behind the glare of his glasses and yours, hidden by your own pained will, there wasn’t a word that could be uttered. Not without making things far more harder than they already were. 

“Good luck,” you say, but the ink of the words bleeds.

It’s as if every grand step that this week has taken has been based and reduced down to zero. Kyle opens his mouth to respond, but you’ve already walked past with Laswell, leaving him behind as he stands in the hallway staring at nothing.

He doesn't remember a time when he’d clenched his hands so hard. He doesn't remember a time when he had to restrain his legs from chasing after someone. 

And he certainly doesn't remember a time when he could physically feel his heart break his mind. 

TAGS:

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[rallentando1011]

hi! Saw the inbox was open, and wondering if I could slide in with a rise donnie boy x readerone-shot..

So essentially- donnie is STEM smart right? What if- what if reader was the opposite, like lit/history smart? Like, reads a lot, and almost never puts there book down, even when people talk to them (puts it down for donnie and gives him their full attention tho-) knows a lot about almost any point in history and adores archeology. (The only thing they understand when donnie goes science mode is biology.)

And so what if- what if reader, who's oblivious to almost everything and is a huge hopeless romantic bc of ✨️books✨️, decides to try and come up with ideas to ask donnie out in a more STEM way? But like, before they can donnie sees the list and is just like "smh ur math is atrocious/aff" and then fluffy stuff yaknow??

Lol sorry, went on a tangent. Anywhizzle, love ur writing! Don't forget to take a break, stretch and get some food and water if you need to!Have a good morning/evening/night!!! :))

U + Me = Date?

(this took a minute, but it’s such a fun and sweet request that I had a wonderful time with! Tysm, and please make sure that you’re taking care of yourself as well! Enjoy! Request guidelines are located here btw) Word Count: 2371

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything on earth has a niche, a designated function it gets to act out, a role it gets to fill. The Cape May Warbler, Bay-Breasted Warbler, and Yellow-Rumped Warbler have the top middle and bottom of a spruce tree to eat in, respectively. Humanity has its niche of expansion, whether it be out through the globe or up in towering metropolises.

If you had to specify your niche, it would just about have to be reading. Now, of course your life is filled with numerous aspirations, but your multifarious interests can all be classified under your affinity for books.

Any form of literature, thrillers, epics, romance novels, they all did it for you, enveloped the entirety of your attention in an immersive world.

That was without a doubt: they entertained you. 

At least, they made you feel inspired to do things, take action in your personal life, possibly commit to confessing certain feelings to a certain softshell turtle. Actually committing to the bit, though, was a completely different story.

In the extensive library you had under your belt, there were many a meet cute and innovative confession. However, just because it worked out in literature, it didn’t mean that you could actually do it. What if it ended up weird or cringe or downright friendship shattering?

The status quo was comfortable, subsisting off of shared time in your turtle-in-question’s lab, the two of you simultaneously performing your own tasks. You would sit and enrich yourself with a book, Donnie would tinker until he had something that piqued his interest, which happened rather frequently, and your attention would suddenly be on him. It was simple. It worked. Taking action could complicate things.

So, your inspiration remained squandered by doubt, an inkling of hope staying concealed internally.

At least, inspiration wouldn’t make anything occur unprompted, and, luckily, that nudge came swiftly.

Earlier, as you were straight chilling in a cozy bean bag chair in the lair’s living room, you saw Donnie enter the room out of your peripheral vision. However, he only seemed like a purple blur because your attention was on the thick, dense book sitting on your lap. The cover was of a similar slickness and feel to that of a textbook, the size was as well, but this read was solely for entertainment. The content could practically be summed up as history of the entire world, i guess but fleshed out with more anecdotes and primary sources.

You had been soaking in a finely written excerpt entailing early hominid tool use, accompanied by an image of a related artifact, when you felt a presence leaning over your shoulder. You opted to continue your train of thought through the lines until you heard a familiar timbre clear its throat behind you. With a sigh, you placed a finger on your spot and faced one Donatello.

“Something the matter?” You blinked slowly.

“Oh, nothing,” he shrugged, expression seeming intentionally cool, “just checking out the book choice for today.”

You lifted the book from your lap to display the contents to him.

His eyes skimmed over the page before he grinned slightly. “Ah, prehistoric archaeology? I could dig it.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your thought from spilling out of your mouth before ultimately giving in to your amusing whims. “Leo ahh humor.”

Donnie gaped. “Gasp, you wound me. I rescind my statement and shall not be partaking in any archaeological reading-slash-discussion with you.”

“I’m just messing around, ‘Tello. I can dabble in some crude wordplay.”

“Crude?”

“Crude. Heck, I’d bargain to say that was more archaic than the sector of human history I’m in right now, and they don’t even have wheels.”

He raised a curious brow, visibly less offended. You could work with that.

“Rather intriguing. Care to join me?” You patted the ample space on the bean bag next to you.

Curiously, he stared at you, then the space you were offering, and back, before slipping beside you.

“Care to enlighten me on this subject?” he parried, and with a grin, you were off, describing the main theme of the page, the early development of primates and humans, as well as outside archaeological examples that you knew of, the whole nine yards.

As you rambled on, you locked eyes with him occasionally, and his eyes were intrigued saucers every time you did. It made something in your brain click.

He played along with your banter. He was sitting right beside you, absorbing your words so vehemently and genuinely and ohmigosh this guy of all people wouldn’t judge you for trying something that could be weird. Heck, he’s a fanatic of oddities, anything mystic or scientific, so if he didn’t like you asking him out, at the very least he’d admire the effort. So, you were inspired to try something, finally take some action.

You were going for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You set to work on your asking-out endeavor as soon as you arrived home.

At first you tried looking at STEM-related pickup lines.

Sardonically, of course. You wanted something that got your point across without seeming too vulnerable, something you could play off in the scenario you got completely and irrevocably rejected.

“I less than three you… That’s not that bad,” you scrolled through the results of your search, perched at your kitchen table.

You only made it down the list to ‘the square root of all my fantasies is you’ until you actually needed to call it quits on that route. There was a fine line between being intentionally corny and the monstrosity that was that line.

So you took the next completely logical leap: concocting a page full of intricate mathematical and scientific questions, the answers of which spelled out an encrypted message.

It was the sane thing to do. 

4  1  20 5          20 15 13  15  18  18 15 23 ?

D  A  T  E          T   O   M   O   R   R  O  W ?

You scribbled the message on a scrap piece of paper. You entertained the idea of writing a whole sentence, but just these two words covered the gist clearly and concisely. Plus, coming up with questions for only two words was enough to melt your brain.

“Limit as x approaches sixteen of the square root of x… equals… yeah, four. That works,” you mumbled. “One down,” you sucked in a deep breath, “eleven to go. Crud.”

The next few hours blended together aimlessly, riddled with just about every mathematical scenario you could conjure up. Sure, derivatives and Planck’s Constant and the unit circle (the bane of your existence) were all ambitious topics to have on the totally inconspicuous worksheet, but, to quote a phrase, go big or go home. When in Rome also works.

By the time you reached ungodly hours in the night, you had curated a functional way to surprise and ask out your best friend. With your brain oozing out of your ears, you put the paper somewhere safe and collapsed face down on your bed.

You would have mentally prepared yourself to give him the paper tomorrow if not for the calculus-derived headache already splitting your mind.

Instead, you immediately dozed off.

You could deal with the minutiae of tomorrow… tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day when you waltzed into the lair, he was conveniently seated at the desk in his lab.

“Heya D! I come bearing gifts.” You presented him with the paper as coolly as you could, keeping all the panic and nerves internal, and took up the chair beside him.

“A calculus sheet?” He grinned. “You shouldn’t have.”

After a moment of looking at it, however, his eyes dimmed and smile lessened. “...You shouldn’t have.”

You faltered. “Oh, gosh, is it that bad?”

“Which letter corresponds with negative one?”

“What?” you exclaimed. “Oh nononono no, I checked my math like five times, it’s not even possible-”

“The derivative of cosine theta is negative sine theta. Not positive. Simple mistake, really. It was a valiant effort of- whatever you were trying to do.”

You blinked, smacked your lips. Well, that was the end of that. You would just take your leave and move out of the city and change your name and never feel anything again. Easy.

“Just forget I did anything, forget this paper exists- like, what paper even?” You reached for the sheet of paper only for him to use the mechanical extensions on his battle shell to hold it out of your reach.

“No, my interest is piqued,” he smirked. You could almost feel the mischievousness emanating from him. “I will gladly continue, if you do not mind.”

You complied and sat stiffly, anxiously glancing about the lab, until you saw him pick up a utensil and start marking on the paper.

“Are you correcting it with a pen? Are you seriously grading this right now?” you muttered. You weren’t mad, just thoroughly panicked.

He stopped writing momentarily. “What? No, not grading, per say. This is just how I’m deciphering this.”

You knew that tone and you knew that was a lie. 

“I- ugh,” you flopped your head down on his desk and closed your eyes. “Just tell me when you’re done fixing it. I spent a needlessly long amount of time on this just for it to be terrible.”

He didn’t deny that it was terrible, though you excused that to him being busy and hopefully not him agreeing.

Although, with how quickly his pen was scratching marks on the page, the latter seemed more feasible.

You focused on taking deep, steadying breaths, relaxing to the sounds of the busy pen until it suddenly stopped.

Lifting your head from its place, you saw he had completely stilled, staring at the paper with wide eyes and upturned lips.

“What? Did you spot another comically egregious mistake?” you mumbled, halfway intrigued.

He took another few seconds to answer you. “Something like that.” And with that nothingness of an answer, he started writing again, much more fervently.

“Okay then.” You went to put your head down again before he slammed the paper down before you.

“Boom! Here is the revised and finalized version of the worksheet,” he grinned.

You narrowed your eyes at the comments about your inability to include units, corrections on when something was supposed to be negative, but the markings at the bottom of the page were what caught your attention the most.

When you looked at the corner of the page, you saw an odd combination of zeros and ones. 

01101111 01101000 00100000 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 

“Actually, what is this?” You gestured to the code.

“It’s my response.”

“And you had to put it in binary?”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk in codes.” He sounded frustratingly nonchalant.

“Yeah, but-” you considered asking him to directly tell you, but maybe this was slightly less nerve wracking. Ripping off the bandaid be darned, you took the coward’s way out and pulled out your phone. “Man, I let you get away with way too much stuff. Has this interaction not dragged on painstakingly enough?”

“The greater the hardship, the greater the reward,” he commented with a shrug.

That pleasant surprise of a response made you copy the ones and zeros faster into the binary decoding website you’d searched up.

Just as you had everything in and your finger steadied over the button that would tell you what he was saying, you hesitated, steadied yourself with a deep breath, and hit it.

Nothing could have prepared you for the rush of adrenaline and euphoria that washed over you at seeing his answer.

“Ohmigosh, you’re serious?! Because you cannot be joking like this, Donatello.”

“As the plague.” One of his hands rested on his chest, the other was in the air as if taking an oath.

“Haha, yes!” you cheered, spinning the desk chair you were in. The late night and headache had paid off, and it felt great!

“So, where am I accompanying you tomorrow?” He mused.

Immediately, you paused. You’d only spent time thinking about the part where you ask him out, not the actual going out part.

“Where? Uhh, I hadn’t really gotten to that point of the planning stage.”

“You were too focused on biffing a math paper to actually plan out its intended purpose?”

“Yeah, not my brightest decision, nor my best work. It was a rather dumb decision on my behalf.”

“You are a dum-dum, but just because of how needlessly complex you made this, not because of your mathematical errors.”

“I genuinely don’t know if I should take offense to that or not.”

“Maybe you should be thinking about where we’re going tomorrow? Just a thought.”

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, uhh coffee?”

“A little trite for a first date, no?” Donnie propped his elbow up on the desk and rested his chin on his hand, smiling widely.

“Okay then, coffee and we go to the library?”

“Don’t we normally do that anyway? What about it makes it a ‘da-”

“Donnie, I am running on fumes from making the erroneous atrocity that is that worksheet last night. If you don’t have any suggestions, coffee at the library works. If you have a contribution, go right ahead.” You put your hands up in surrender.

Donnie’s smugness faded slightly and he lightly nudged your elbow. “Coffee at the library sounds great. And for what it’s worth, I appreciate that you tried to do something innovative. It was truly a highly admirable effort.”

“Thanks, D.”

“Of course.  But from now on, let’s leave the math to the professionals.”

There it was again: the sass.

“Oh, that’s a low blow.” You shook your head, still smiling.

“A low blow would be mentioning how you confused the natural logarithm for a standard logarithm. You see, when you have e to the power of…”

The corrections and banter flourished on from there, the both of you giggling and getting mockingly, lightheartedly angry with each other.

Despite your interests in different subjects, the two of you understood each other. It was wonderful to have a partner that you could be niche with wherever and whenever.

It was almost worth all the math and science it took to get there.

(I actually made inconspicuous math worksheet that reader made for Donnie, and it is linked HERE!)

[biscuitbox23]

The Stag and the Warbler

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion x Witcher!Reader.

Summary: The bard has written a song about you. And it has given you a lot to think about.

Author's note: It's a late night thought I've had for a while. Jaskier has always been my favorite character in both the Witcher games, books and the tv show. I wanted to give him a bit of honor by writing this :) —also a little Skyrim reference cuz im not creative in song writing.

Warning: platonic love, fluff, kind of a bittersweet ending.

As Jaskier strummed the strings of his lute, he hummed the tune of a popular ballad. "Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart…" he sang but then paused mid-verse, his forehead creasing in concentration. "I tell you, I tell you, the Witcher comes- no, that does not sound so good," he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him. You busied yourself with grooming your loyal steed, Melorax. The horse stood still, contentedly munching on bits of hay. While you brushed off dust and dirt from his coat, you could see the tiny frown written on Jaskier's face as he tried to come up with a better verse for his song.

Curious, you asked him, "Who is this hero exactly?"

Jaskier looked up, glad for the distraction. "Ah, well," he said, his fingers stilling on the lute. "It's just a tale, my friend. A story of a brave warrior who fights for justice and honor."

You nodded, understanding the stories that Jaskier shared with you during your travels as a Witcher. Tales like these were always inspiring and entertaining. Jaskier had been your companion for quite a while now, and you had grown fond of his musical talents and witty banter. He would often compare your kinder nature to his friend Geralt, who hailed from a different Witcher school whom you had heard of but never met. After grooming Melorax, you approached the front of the horse and kissed his soft muzzle. The horse whinnied softly, and you smiled at him, feeling content.

"You know I just hunt monsters for coin," you recall, sitting near him as you started the small bonfire.

"Well, yes. But, Y/n of Verden makes a good song subject. Don't you think?" Jaskier smiled widely at you as you put your hands near the fire for warmth. His fingers began strumming on his lute, calmly humming with the tune of his renowned instrument.

You began to listen closely. "With a silver sword gleaming and signs so fierce and cold…" Jaskier sang, "Believe, believe, the Stag of Verden has told."

"Stag?" You asked sheepishly, looking over at him with an expression of confusion.

"Umm… do you prefer to be called deer?" Jaskier asked sheepishly.

"Just confused with the Stag part…" you replied.

"Well, you remind me of a stag."

"How so?" You asked.

"Well, you're strong, very resilient, and almost similar to that of a protector of the realm," Jaskier beamed with poetic pride.

Upon hearing those words, a sense of pride and appreciation washed over you. It was rare for a Witcher to receive such positive recognition, as they are empty vessels of beings whose sole purpose was to slaughter monsters and collect payment. Being regarded as a hero was a new and unexpected experience for you. However, it was evident that most people still saw you as an exterminator who only existed to rid the world of dangerous pests rather than a true hero. All you let out was a slight chuckle.

Jaskier turned his head towards you, and his eyes met yours. He noticed the corners of your mouth curling up, and your eyes sparkled. Curious, he leaned slightly to his right and tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused this reaction in you. "What's so funny, Y/n?" he asked, his voice full of genuine interest and amusement.

"Oh, nothing," you jested. With a look of concern on the bard's face, he turned his gaze back towards his musical instrument, the loot. He asked in a questioning tone, "Is there something wrong with my song? Don't you like it?"

"I assure you that I like it," you said to the worried songwriter before returning to warm your hands by the fire. "Please continue."

Jaskier's face lit up with joy as he responded, "As you wish." He meticulously plucked the strings of his lute, producing a melody that seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers. His body swayed with the rhythm, and it was clear from his performance that he was a true virtuoso of his craft.

"In the heart of the woodlands, where shadows dance and play Beware, beware, the Stag is on her way For monsters she'll conquer, with every foe she'll slay

You'll know, you'll know, the Stag brings light to the gray."

You were captivated as the bard plucked at the strings of his lute, his voice soft and sweet as honey. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the tension in your body and calming your mind. The bard's songs were beautiful masterpieces of melody and meaning. What impressed you the most was how his music seemed to capture the essence of the world around you, bringing to life the sights and sounds of your travels in a way that words alone never could. Being a Witcher often meant living a life of solitude and danger. It made you feel isolated and alone. But having the bard by your side changed everything. His easy conversation and quick wit were a constant source of comfort and amusement, and you eagerly looked forward to every new adventure with him by your side.

By the end, you knew you could never repay the bard for all he had given you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

"You know one thing," you thought to him, "you remind me of a Warbler."

The bard chuckled at you with his sweet smile, "a warbler?"

"Yeah, those birds that sing a lot," you recalled.

As you reminisce about your childhood, your mind wanders back to when you were a young girl, growing up in a Witcher school. Life wasn't easy for you, especially since you were a frail child with a mother who struggled to provide for you. Days at school could be long and tiring, and you often find yourself exhausted by the end of them.

One particular memory that stands out to you is the sound of the Warblers that would perch on the window sill of your room. Their melodic songs would echo through the walls, piercing your ears and keeping you awake at night. You would try to drown out the noise by covering your ears with your pillow, but it was no use - the Warblers always seemed to find a way to sing their way into your thoughts. Despite the annoyance they caused, however, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in their presence. After all, they had been a constant presence in your life for as long as you could remember.

"They were annoying when I was young," You scoffed playfully, "I hated listening to them sing whenever I wanted some peace. Now that I'm older, I wish they still sang to me," you look at the burning bonfire as the warmth engulfed the front of your body. “I like your songs, jaskier, even if you played the same tune for a week. I won’t get tired of you.”

"Huh…" Jaskier gave your statement some thought, "I've never had anyone think of me that way." He sat over next to the fire, feeling a bit cold.

"Why? May I ask," You cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a bit of an exasperation and––" Before Jaskier could continue, he stopped himself. He could ruin his godly reputation in front of you, and he did not want that.

"A skirt-chaser?" You continued.

"Oh- No, no, not that," you can sense the embarrassment that overcame his confidence.

"right, alright," A mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the mention of the notorious bard. His reputation preceded him, and you couldn't help but be amused. Word on the street was he had a knack for breaking up marriages or being the third person for sleeping with married men's wives. You won't deny it. Jaskier was handsome and quite the romantic.

The atmosphere was serene as if the world had a standstill. Not a sound except for the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind passed through the trees. "Can you sing me a song, Jaskier?" You asked, "Please?"

As Jaskier continued his endless string of tales, you couldn't help but politely express your reluctance to hear more. In response, Jaskier flashed a sweet smile and said, "Yes, you may, Y/n."

One day, Jaskier won't be around you. One day, you won't ever see him again, and it will be just you and Melorax on the lonely road. It could happen tomorrow, or it could be years from now. You tried not to dwell on that possibility, but it was always there lingering at the edges of your consciousness. But that did not matter now. It was a love that grew deep inside you that you have never felt. It's a companionship that was a strange yet familiar feeling. One day, he will see you as a monster like everyone else did when they saw you. Despite this, You listened intently to his stories and musings, even when they seemed nonsensical or meandering. You laughed at his jokes and marveled at his wit. You knew these moments were precious, and you never took them for granted because you will never know when that moment will end.

A/n: hey guys :) I apologize if my interpretation of Jaskier and the Witcher universe had errors. I was busy with school to read the books and watch the show for extra context and accuracy and did this all by itself. Overall, im unite happy with how this turned out.

[embodyingchaos]

Hello again!!!can I do an ask for the episode when sebastion throws the slushie in blaines face and the reader just attacks him? (Sebastion deserved a beating for that ong) or could you write about when coach bieste first showed up and when everyone was avoiding her the reader does their best to talk to her(bieste also deserved better, shue and sue were jerks)??? THANK YOU

❥ hiii! so glad to see you on my asks again! i shall write the first option! i apologise that this is late and short and the ending is so abrupt 〒▽〒

definitely deserved pairing: glee x gn!reader genre: platonic, angst warnings: light violence, light assault, sebastian being an ASSHOLE, not rlly a character x reader word count: 1.5k

walking through the library on a monday morning was the usual routine for y/n, rummaging through books for research and song ideas. just as they took a book off a shelf, they were jump-scared by the face of a beaming rachel berry.

“holy shit, rachel. you can’t just do that to a person.” y/n scolded, placing a hand above their chest, trying to calm down their rapidly beating heart. “sorry, was wondering what you were up to. needed something to get my mind off… something.” rachel said suspiciously, looking like there was something heavy on her mind as she walked around the bookcase towards them. y/n noticed the tension but decided not to pry. “i’m just looking through some things.” the two of them made their way to the seating area, joining quinn and tina who were having a conversation.

“hey, guys.” y/n greeted, taking a seat beside the blonde. the two only smiled and waved.

y/n went through their books as the other three had their conversation before blaine came strutting into the library, singing a michael jackson classic, ‘wanna be startin’ somethin’’ alongside kurt, mercedes, santana and brittany. the four joined immediately, used to this at this point.

they all regrouped at the choir room soon enough and discussed about the first michael jackson number they’d do for the weak, planning out costumes based on some of mj’s iconic outfits.

after the rehearsal, a small part of the glee club met up after school the next day. “okay, favourite michael jackson memory. go!” blaine tells them and they all smiled. “when i was one, my mom showed me a vhs tape of his motown special, and when he did the moonwalk across the stage for the first time in history, i uttered my first words - ‘hot damn.’.” y/n grinned at the thought of a baby artie saying those words, finding it totally believable.

“i owe the king of pop a deep debt of gratitude. he’s the first one to pull off the sequined military jacket long before one kurt hummel made it iconic.” kurt boasted, “i have to be honest. i never really got him.” rachel’s words immediately caused everyone’s faces to morph into disbelief. “no way.” “and we are no longer on speaking terms.” y/n and artie share a look.

rachel quickly defends herself, saying she believed he is an amazing performer but she never really got what he was about. though these reasons did not calm them down, y/n could understand where she was coming from.

“okay, but just since you guys are so jazzed about him, i think it’s a good idea for regionals-” “that might not be the best idea.” a new voice entered the discussion and it was a voice they all dreaded. “hey, blaine. hello, everyone else.” sebastian smythe, a member of the dalton academy warblers and basically kurt’s arch nemesis. “does he live here or something? seriously, you are always here.” kurt asked incredulously, flabbergasted at the fact he showed up out of nowhere. y/n snorted before taking a sip of their drink.

artie ignored the two of them, “why don’t you think that’s a good idea?” “because we’re doing mj for regionals.” at sebastian’s words, y/n sighed into their cup before sinking further into the leather armchair they were on. “you see, warblers drew first position, so as soon as i heard what your plan was, i changed our set list accordingly.” he explained with a smug expression on his face, y/n really wanted to punch him.

“i’m sorry, how did you hear?” rachel asked, fully upset. “blaine told me this morning.” y/n’s head turned to look at blaine who only rolled his eyes at the boy, “i just called for a tip on how to get red wine out of my blazer piping, and he would not stop going on about it.” at this point, the whole group was staring at him with an accusing look.

blaine avoids their gazes, “i may have mentioned it.” “how often do you talk?” kurt’s question makes sebastian fake chuckle. “oh my god! hey, kurt! i didn’t recognise you. you are wearing boy clothes for once!” santana had enough after that. “alright, twink, i think it’s time that i show you a little lima heights hospitality.” this made y/n throw their head back against the chair in exasperation, “unless you want to join your relatives in prison, that’s probably not the best idea.” sebastian’s comeback only makes them feel worst. y/n tuned him out as he talked even more, wanting nothing more but for him to leave and go away.

when he did, they sighed. “thank god. i thought he’d never shut up and leave. he’s like those never-ending interactive voice responses you get on automated telephone systems. he never shuts up.” y/n groaned, sitting up straight again. “we need to do something about michael.” kurt announced and they all nodded, agreeing to discuss what to do the next day.

the next day came faster than it could. everyone piled into the choir room and were complaining about the whole incident when puck suddenly spoke up about his suspicions over how blaine was still somehow a warbler. “come on, blaine’s with us. he’d never intentionally hurt our chances at winning regionals.” y/n defended, walking into the room with their sling bag, taking a seat beside blaine. 

blaine gives them a grateful smile, “either way, he’s on notice as far as i’m concerned.” “we should all be on notice.” finn interrupted his best friend, trying to reason with them. “i mean, next to vocal adrenaline, the warblers are the best glee club in the state and for a lot of us, this is our last shot at a championship, so we should stop complaining about the warblers and figure out how to beat them.” finn told everyone, being the voice of reason as usual.

“i couldn’t have said it better myself, finn.” mr. schue commented, walking into the room. “i’m less worried about our set list right now, and more interested in getting us in the right mind-set to crush those guys. which is why our lesson for the week is…” with a marker, he wrote down on the whiteboard ‘wwmjd’. “what would michael jackson do?” “he’d fight back. he’d say regionals is ours. mj is ours, and if they want it, they can pry it from our sequin-gloved hand.” y/n grinned at finn and nodded along, “mhm. straight up. in 1983, mtv said they wouldn’t air his ‘billie jean’ video, what’d he do? he fought back, they aired it and the thriller album sold an additional ten million copies.” artie added and y/n only stared at him, “you’re like a michael jackson encyclopaedia.” they commented quietly, the boy held a hand to his chest. “why, thank you.” he gratefully said.

blaine smirked, “i know what michael would do. i think he would take it to the streets.” at his words, the whole room filled with excited mutters. y/n kept quiet, though. they couldn’t help but feel like something was going to go wrong with this, terribly wrong.

after the glee club dispersed, they tried to chase blaine down before he got too far away. “blaine, are you sure this is a good idea?” they asked as the two of them walked to the entrance of the school. “i’m sure it’ll be all good. we’ll show them that they’re gonna regret taking michael from us, and then we’re going to get him back.” the former warbler said excitedly before heading out the door. “god, i hope so.” y/n whispered to themselves, clutching their bag tightly.

the day of the showdown arrives quicker than they expected. they’d all agreed to wear matching leather jackets, after kurt’s persistent determination, to have some unity. it was the new directions against the warblers after all.

at the sound of santana’s snap, the rest of the group came out and they started their jackson-off. truth be told, having a dance and sing-off in an empty parking lot was a very 60s thing to do but y/n had no complaints. their only complaint was that the more the song progressed and the closer they got to the ending, they’d seen one of the warblers grab a paper bag.

y/n’s eyes widened when they realise that sebastian was going to slushee kurt. “kurt!” they yelled but blaine had thrown himself in front of the boy, getting the liquid assault instead.

blaine yelled out in agony at the impact, falling to the ground as he pressed his palms against his eyes. everyone froze but y/n couldn’t handle it anymore. “you fucking asshole!” they clenched their fist tightly and laid a hard punch against sebastian’s face, making him stumble back towards his group members. “y/n.” finn warned them, placing a hand on their shoulder to calm them down so they don’t rip their rival into shreds.

the warblers soon fled the scene with guilty looks on their faces as they helped sebastian stabilise himself and walked off. the new directions could see that his lip was bruised and his cheek was swollen when he passed by. it was easy for any of them to say, he’s definitely deserved that punch in a while.

[cordeliawhohung]

Do you got any SFW or NSFW Headcannons for your Knight!Price Sir John im in love with that one shot and i definitely need more!! ♥️3♥️

WHY YES, YES I DO

Millie is talking about my Knight! John Price x Princess!Reader one shot "As You Wish" for any of you who are interested <3 i've been dreaming about eventually turning this one shot into a proper fic once i have more time. just too many ideas and not enough time ): spoilers and whatnot under the cut!

Sir John Price is only a knight because he comes from a long dynasty of them. His father was one, and his father before him, and so on. It's a good paying job, and one he doesn't mind doing, but if he hadn't been trained to fight from birth, he would have chosen a different profession. However, he is the first in his family to receive such an honor as being the king's personal guard.

He's a natural scholar, as seen in the story. He reads up on all the old stories of the gods, ones that are seldom worshiped anymore. It's why he was able to point out the constellations to the princess and entertained her with stories while they were snowed into that old cabin.

He's a better hunter than most knights are because he always thought it was unfair that food would be given to him simply because of his profession. He made sure he studied well with the bow to be able to provide for himself and not expect people to provide for him simply because he was someone to be feared.

Though he studied the gods, he's not a religious man. Never really was. Only read about them because the old folk tales were a good way to pass the time.

He isn't married in the story, but he's not a virgin. He'd never pay for sex, and would always stray away from prostitutes, but sometimes during campaigns he would be approached by women. Never would seek sex first, though, and certainly not because he didn't want it. He's very aware of the fear his status brings, and he likes to know that a woman is agreeing to fuck him because she wants to and not because she's scared to say no to him.

Because of this, the man is TOUCH STARVED. He was secretly eating up every moment him and the princess had to cuddle up to stay warm in the story. And when she was naked after she fell into the stream? Of course he is a chivalrous man, but he certainly enjoyed it more than he should have lmao.

On that note, he is a very giving lover. Not submissive, as we've seen him be more than stern with the princess he answered to in the story, but just willing to do whatever it takes to please.

He really likes missionary in this universe lol. Just likes seeing the look on his lovers face while he's fucking them because he refuses to rely on sound alone to ensure that they're actually enjoying it.

I like to imagine he sketches. He cannot draw people for the life of him, but scenery and objects are his forte. If I do end up turning this into a proper fic, I'd like to include more of this into the story.

As a child, his favorite animal used to be the fox because he liked the scarlet red color of their coats. Until he saw an old farmer sobbing over the loss of his chickens due to their untamed hunger. He grew to favor the wood warbler instead.

He knows a few songs but is a terrible singer. Only recites them after he's had plenty of mead.

His favorite color is red. There's no reason behind this, I just think Knight!Price would look hot as fuck in plain brown pants and a dark red shirt lmfao.

He's also a bit younger in this universe than in canon due to people not really living all that long in these types of settings. I think in canon he's around 37, but I'd place him closer to 32 in this universe. Not much of a difference, but with him being a knight and all he probably wouldn't live to the age of 40.

Not even in this universe can John Price escape the breeding kink, because he certainly has one! However, he refuses to have children and subjugate them to the same, harsh fate and training he had to endure as a child simply due to their lineage. (if only a certain princess would come along and save him from that fate... tragic.)

anyway, i think that's about all my brain can crank out right now. i love this stupid little universe. i still can't believe i created so many gods for them to worship lmfao. i did way too much world building for my own good, but given the chance i would utilize a lot of it in a proper story (: thanks so much for giving me the opportunity to gush about this!!! i'm honestly really surprised a lot of people enjoyed that story la;kdj

[angst-cravings]

birdlistening

summary: you are an avid birder, and you go birdwatching every sunday morning before matt goes to church. today you invite him out

pairing: matt murdock x reader

words: 1k

an: this is so self indulgent i love birds so much. only fluff. gender neutral reader, no use of y/n

cw: some mild explicit language. embarrassment about being passionate

The sun isn’t even up yet, but you are energized and ready to go. You love Sunday mornings. Matt has his ritual of going to church and confession, while you have your ritual of going birdwatching. It’s how you center yourself before every week starts. You are silently packing your bag, putting in your worn field guide, bird notebook, binoculars, water bottle filled with hot cocoa, and a pair of gloves in case things get a little too nippy. You barely noticed, but Matt had gotten out of bed and was standing in the doorway like he always manages to do before you leave. You flash him a quick smile. He looks so ethereal with the neon lights reflecting off his bare skin, and his lack of clothing always entices you to stay behind. 

“Expecting any good birds today?” 

“Well, this week is actually peak migration, so… yeah. There will be so many birds today.” You try to hide your excitement, but you’re sure he can hear it in your voice. This is your favorite time of the year, and you are constantly looking forward to it in the winter when birds are scarce.

He grins at you. “Well, I hope you have fun sweetheart.” 

You keep meaning to invite him, but he had usually only gone to bed a few hours before. However, he had taken last night off. Maybe this would be a good time?

“Would you… maybe want to come birdwatching with me?” You tentatively suggest. You were prepared for rejection. It was so early in the morning, and you didn’t even know if he’d enjoy it.

“Well, I can’t exactly watch the birds,” He chuckles, “But I can go out with you if you’d like. I could at least make sure you get to Central Park safely.”

“I think you’d like it more than you think. I can teach you the bird calls, and then you can bird listen,” You zip up your backpack, and put on a hat, “But you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

He immediately shakes his head. “Of course. Anything to spend a little more time with you.” Warmth rises in your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile.

As you two walk to Central Park, you start educating him. 

“So, you obviously know the common ones like the Rock Pigeon and Mourning Dove and Canada Goose and stuff. We’ll probably encounter some of those today but those are kinda boring. I’m really looking for warblers; they’re some of my favorite birds. American Redstart and Yellow-rumped Warblers are pretty common around migration here, so I’m expecting some of those.” You pull up recordings of the calls on your phone and play them for Matt so he can get an idea. “American Redstarts are so pretty too, they have this gorgeous orange-red shoulder area. And the Yellow-rumped Warbler is mostly gray with a yellow butt, shoulder, and head.” 

Matt is listening to you, but he is mostly enjoying the lilt of your voice. He loves when you’re excited about things. Your heartbeat always rises a little, your grin is visible in your voice, and you move your hands around a lot. He loves hearing the near-silent swish of air as you gesticulate enthusiastically. 

“You know, you’re lucky this is me. These calls sound very similar.” 

“I mean those two aren’t pretty similar. I think they’re pretty distinct.” You shrug. 

“Maybe to you and I, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hand. 

You set up the blanket on a green patch in Central Park. Matt sits down before you and pulls you into his lap. As the sun starts to rise, birds start to fly, and you point out bird calls to Matt as you hear them. 

“That’s an Indigo Bunting! They’re so gorgeous, they’re this lovely blue color. They form song neighborhoods, where in one area they’ll have one song, and in another, they’ll have a slightly different song. It’s super cool!” You gush as you follow the bird with your binoculars.

He felt lucky. He had an intelligent, passionate partner who loved him. He buries his face in your neck and smiles. The grip around your waist tightens, and he takes a deep breath. Your body wash mingles with the smell of dew and trees. You rattle off more birds to him, and he can feel you write a list of the birds you see. He felt so damn lucky. 

“So, that one I’m hearing is a… Song Sparrow, right?” He focuses on the bird in the tree near you two. Before you even respond, he can hear your heart rate raise slightly in excitement.

“You were paying attention.” A smile forms across your lips.

“Of course, I was, sweetheart.”

“I know, I just… I know you aren’t the most interested in this. Just…thank you. For doing this with me.” You tilt your head in his direction.

“No. I am interested in anything you are interested in. I love the way you talk about birds. Your voice gets a little bit faster and a little bit higher, and you ramble in the cutest way possible. And I will do anything to get you to talk more. It’s one of my favorite sounds. Don’t ever be embarrassed for being passionate. If I could only hear one thing for the rest of my life, it’d be you talking, because” He connects his lips with yours for a quick peck, “I love you. And with that, I love anything that you love too. I was actually hoping you’d invite me. You’ve been talking about this for weeks. I, uh, took last night off in the hopes that you would. Thanks for taking me.”

You shift in his lap and place your hand on his cheek. You lean in, and your foreheads touch.

“Thank you, Matt.” You whisper. You close the distance and kiss him. His lips were warm and inviting. Just like him.

[stanathanxoox]

I Think We Failed Him

gif is not mine

Thank you to @creativepromptsforwriting for these prompts; Twenty-Fourth Day of Gift-Giving: Twenty-Four Touches. There will be more of these fics to come as they are a work in progress but I hope you like what I have so far

Stanathanxoox

An arm sneaking around a waist, holding them close – Sebastian Smyth x reader

Whilst the rest of the New Directions mourned the loss of nationals after the loss of losing Finn earlier in the year, you had made your way to your boyfriends place. Sebastian was a member of the Warblers so knew of your love of the glee club, as a matter of fact it was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the beginning. You knocked on the door and waited for him to open the door, you could hear him call out to his parents that he had the door and then finally the door opens and you finally see his face after what feels like forever.

“Hey sweetheart, how’d it go?” he asks and your face crumbles and you sag, his arms immediately sneaking their way around your waist as he pulls you close to his body and whispers in your ear, little reassurances, before you feel a place kissed to the side of your head and you smile a watery smile as you pull back and whisper

“I just feel like we failed Finn somehow, I know he’s looking down on us thinking we gave it our all but, I just feel like theirs something that we could’ve done to be better than Throat Explosion you know?” you say and Sebastian nods, placing a kiss on your cheek as he whispers

“I’m sure Finn is proud of each and every one of you my sweet girl, and Throat Explosion, well they have another thing coming for them next year then don’t they, because if I know New Directions they won’t back down” he says and you nod your head agreeing with your boyfriend as he pulls you into his family home and out of the eyes of the neighbourhood.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-just-like-z1ggyd, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

XX ~ S.S. (Part Three: Jealousy/Envy)

A/n: *touches water* this request my beloved. I have missed writing this... Prompt from this prompt list

Request: “... 1, 7, and/or 46 for seb” by anon

Word Count: 4500+

MASTERLIST

~ Kiss out of jealousy/envy ~

You know what, it took a second but Sebastian could be respectful to Y/n specifically enough not to press for him to join back with the Warblers again. Obviously Y/n had made his stance and he was... happy with it. It drove Sebastian insane and made him want to undo everything he'd done, but he had never EVER been one to throw in the towel. Even if he he tried, he didn't know where to start. So he had let it sit. Fine. Whatever. Okay even!

However. Watching Y/n go around with some other guy like it was nothing? Sebastian was fuming. He was murderous.

Y/n had started walking home every day now, and he had picked up his morning coffee habit with Blaine again so Sebastian and him rarely hung out outside of class. With Y/n no longer being a Warbler on top of that, it felt like Sebastian never saw Y/n at all. To go from being together during all of their free time to not at all was wound enough, but Y/n had taken it a step further.

In the last while, Noteworthy had been scoping for new members. They weren't as big as they'd like to be - whatever it made sense. As they were very welcoming to anyone wanted to join in on the fun (as long as they could play well with others) a lot of people had answered the call. More than anyone had expected. They'd eventually had to turn people away even.

But not before Lyran joined.

Lyran actually had very similar vibes to Sebastian in a lot of ways. They had the same flirtiness; dancing around everyone and winning and smirking; lingering touches and shared glances. They had a fluid way of moving that was reminiscent of Sebastian as well. Lyran was... lower key though. They were just fine staying at the back of a room and blending in. The fly on the wall you didn't notice until it was too late. They didn't need to take charge and in fact seemed to like being bossed around. They especially liked to be bossed around by Y/n.

And really, that was the problem. Suddenly not only were Y/n and Sebastian not hanging out or talking, it had seemed that Sebastian had been replaced entirely. Now it was Y/n and Lyran who danced around each other, eyes locking as they exchanged secret looks and amused smiles that Sebastian couldn't read. They worked so beautifully together - Y/n would start the fire and Lyran would build it. The energy in any room they were both in was always at its highest. Even when one of them wasn't duetting they still seemed to be cultivating the energy of the performance together.

It got unbearable when they finally did a duet.

Of all the things they could sung as well, they decided on "I've Just Seen A Face" by the Beatles.

Sebastian was going insane from the very second he heard the starting notes.

Y/n started first, and for a second he had thought it was a solo. He was center stage, and Sebastian thought he was about to see a moment of pure hypocrisy. The music started though, and Y/n immediately turned around, looping to the back of the group and then weaving through the boys that were singing as he began, "I've just seen a face; I can't forget the time or place where we just met. He's just the guy for me, and I want all the world to see we've met..." He vocalized the ending of the song, shimming around - almost like he was telling his best friends about some crazy story that had just happened.

Then Lyran cut in. "Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way and I'd have never been aware - but as it is I'll dream of him tonight -" Sebastian was caught off guard by the purposeful change in pronouns in the song, and the way that they sidled up to Y/n. Almost like... they were singing to Y/n specifically. Sebastian's jaw locked into place as Lyran continued, "Falling, yes, I am falling- and he keeps calling me back again." They vocalized as Y/n had before, their arm around the captain's waist and a smirk dancing across their lips. The two were too close, performing to each other, and suddenly Y/n wasn't paying attention to the other boys.

Y/n laughed, returning the sudden serenading they were playing with. "I have never known the like of this, I've been alone and I have missed things and kept out of sight, but other ones were never quite like this-" The vocalizing came again, and he bounced around to the beat. Sebastian couldn't tell if he and Lyran were flirting or just playing around. Or, at least if Y/n was. The way Lyran circled Y/n, centering everything around him and looking at him and touching him... there was no mystery to what they were doing.

"Falling, yes, I am falling and he keeps calling me back again." They first slid out, and then reached over to drag Y/n with them. That seemed practiced, and Y/n slid along just a second after so Lyran wasn't pulling him so much as guiding. What was obviously not planned was when Lyran did pull Y/n, first directly into their arms for, "Falling -" They cut off to focus on dipping Y/n, who squealed in glee. "I am falling-" They winked and Y/n rolled his eyes with affectionate amusement. It was so smooth that Sebastian was enraged he hadn't thought of it... Especially when, as Lyran continued the next time - "And he keeps calling me back again," - they pulled Y/n back onto his feet. As if the dip had been him literally falling for them, and the pull up had been them calling him back, as the song would suggest.

The crowd cooed as Y/n giggled, but took his space, grinning as he picked up the next line. "I've just seen a face; I can't forget the time or place where we just met. He's just the guy for me and I want all the world to see we've met." He vocalized again, dancing in sync with Lyran. He looked like he was having so much fun... It was easy here. There was no tension or power play. When Lyran flirted with Y/n, he took it in stride and didn't see it as a challenge. Sebastian didn't know how he felt about it.

Is that what Y/n looked like when he liked someone? Did he feel relief for not having to deal with what might have only been an annoyance to him? Had Y/n not liked Sebastian after all? This seemed so different. So sweet and sincere and innocent. Sebastian couldn't place where he had seen Y/n act like this before, but it was much more his style. The Y/n most people had come to know and love. The gentle and the warm and the kind. It was so different from the Y/n that Sebastian brought out - the power house spit fire that blazed and burned shamelessly.

Sebastian was torn between jealousy and disappointment. The Y/n he loved seemed to be so unnatural on the man. Like he wasn't built for it... except, Sebastian had been so sure he was. He had looked so good with fire in his eyes. Had it been temporary? Was it a mask, a sudden burst of emotion? Or had it been his true self? Or, was it just that because Sebastian challenged Y/n so much that Y/n got the chance to actually show what a powerhouse he was?

There were so many questions, and Sebastian only passively heard Lyran sing the chorus. "Falling, yes, I am falling and he keeps calling me back again. Falling, yes, I am falling and he keeps calling me back again." They took center stage as Y/n fell back, looping his arms around Trent and Jeff's shoulders.

And just in time Y/n finished out, "Oh, falling, yes, I am falling and he keeps calling me back again..." Sebastian refocused, pulled out of his thoughts to watch his crush, just in time to see Y/n deliver the very last line directly at him. There was that pleasant sweetness still, but underneath it, Sebastian saw that fire. Y/n's smile edged more into smirk territory, and for a split second Sebastian got the distinct impression he had missed something very important.

Sebastian gave the Noteworthies a moment to bask in their praise and applause before he made up his mind to approach Y/n. That being said, imagine his shock when he found the man, approaching him instead. Y/n grinned when he reached the Warbler captain. "Enjoy the show?"

Immediately his jealousy was showing. "What, your flirt session with Lyran on display for everyone to point and oggle at? No, it wasn't my favorite of your works.”

Y/n's smile wiped off his face. He glared at Sebastian. "And what, I suppose your favorites are when we have flirt session displayed for everyone to point at oggle at instead?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Maybe."

Scoffing, Y/n caught himself before he said something. Sebastian didn't know what it was, but from the look on his face like he had bitten into something bitter, he thought that might be a good thing. "You're such an ass, I swear to god. I tried playing the game and you didn't like it so you changed the rules. I didn't like the rules so I went and played with someone else. It's kingerdarden logic Bas - what are you not getting? You don't get to just push everyone around and get what you want always and never face any consequences."

Unable to stop himself, Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Paint the picture however you want Y/n - it didn't take you long to ditch me and put someone you liked better in my place. You ditched the Warblers, and now I never drive you to or from school anymore. You never come over for peace and quiet or dinner or even a study buddy - all things I know for a fact you like. You barely even acknowledge me in class. And now your prancing around with a knock off of me? God you must be desperate to look like you don't need me."

Y/n's rage flared. "I DON'T need you, dipshit." He deflated, looking away as he scoffed out, "I always only wanted you." The anger between them dissipated immediately. Sebastian still felt that jealousy, roiling as Lyran looked at and touched Y/n like Sebastian used to. As the crowed egged them on, and looked to Y/n's newest love interest - like Sebastian had never been there to begin with.

He hated this. He hated Lyran. Sebastian looked over, instinctively looking for them in the crowd. When he saw them standing by the other Noteworthy members, eyeing Y/n and Sebastian... god, it was that look. A look that Sebastian had worn a million times. The look of someone who had shoved a wrench in between a perfectly good couple. The look of a home wrecker, grinning down at the wreckage that had been caused - with pride. They thought they had Y/n wrapped around their stupid shitty little finger...

Well they thought wrong.

Sebastian looked back to Y/n and he rushed forward, grabbing his head and pulling him into a kiss. It wasn't sloppy and passionate, or gentle and slow - it was hard and intense and desperate. They clung to each other, in the middle of the crowd, and in front of all of their friends - but most importantly, in front of Lyran.

For a moment, Sebastian was flying high. He had Y/n back, and everyone knew it. He was on top again - and all he needed was himself and Y/n and for them to be together. He didn't want the Warblers if this is what it cost.

His moment of victory was ruined as Y/n seemed to come to his senses. He pushed Sebastian away aggressively. The slap came fast and very suddenly, but not aggressive or hard. It stung a little - but all slaps across the face did. Sebastian was left reeling, but not because of pain or whiplash. He was left reeling by the remanence of Y/n's kiss. Of the thrill of kissing him in public and claiming him, in a way. Of telling everyone that he was Sebastian's. Reeling as well, at the way that Y/n had for just a second loved it too. How suddenly he had seemed to remember himself and was now in tears, holding his hand that was beginning to redden.

Sebastian looked at Y/n with wide eyes. Y/n could meet his gaze. "I- I'm sorry- But you can't-" He caught his breath, blinking his eyes to try and clear his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose before suddenly huffing out a sharp breath and then turning back to Sebastian and squaring up. "I'm not a prize, Sebastian. I'm not a thing to flaunt around. I'm a person and I have feelings. You don't get to just kiss me every time you want to grab the power back in a room. I'm not a tool to help you on your path of domination!" He then turned and stormed away, leaving Sebastian with his jaw dropped.

The Warbler tried everything not to smile.

He felt terrible that he had made Y/n feel the way. And especially for making Y/n cry. But... there he was again. Sebastian's Y/n. And it was real and raw and sincere. Y/n, at his most vulnerable, when trying to regroup himself and when he was at his weakest... it was him. Sebastian was the one who got to see it. The only one who could bring it out.

It then registered that Y/n was mad at him, and that he had every right to be. Sebastian had been reckless and stupid - he always was. But this time, it was coming around to bite him in the ass. Everything was falling apart, and more than ever he was pushing away the one person he really cared about.

Shit.

-

When Y/n saw Sebastian waiting outside for him after school, he almost walked right back inside the building and went a different way home. But... he also knew that if he did that it would add quite a bit of route to what was already an unpleasant walk - and he just wasn't petty enough for it. So he sighed and kept walking, trying to keep his head down.

It didn't work.

Not that he expected it to. This was Sebastian Smythe we were talking about.

"Y/n, wait!" The boy sighed before doing it, knowing that he would be followed all the way home if he didn't. Sebastian jogged over, something in his hand. Y/n looked down as Sebastian held the thing he was gripping out for the other boy to see.

It was a CD.

Y/n's eyes widened. They had spent so much time bouncing between the radio and Sebastian's music taste, one day Y/n had joked that they needed to listen to his music one of these days. But then Sebastian had stopped giving him rides so... they hadn't gotten the chance. The CD that was being held out to him was obviously homemade. On the back, tilted so that Y/n could read it, was a very long list of songs. Every song that Y/n had ever suggested Sebastian listen to and he had forgotten to follow up on, in fact.

Y/n slowly looked from the CD to Sebastian. "You want to give me a ride home just because you're finally listening to my songs?

Sebastian shrugged. "I can listen to them alone if you want. You don't have to know my reactions and what I think about them."

Which was of course Y/n's weakness. He loved music - it was basically his life blood. He spoke through music, never good with finding just the right words himself. Music was a release for him. A safe place. When he shared music with people, he was desperate to dissect the lyrics with them, or just feel the beat. He loved to experience music with people. That's why he shared music at all - so they could appreciate it together. Of all the things Sebastian could have tried, this was the only one that had even a possibility of working.

Of course, Y/n already knew it had worked. That's why he was trying to find reasons not to get into that car. Because he wanted to.

Unfortunately, the millions of reasons running through his head were not the things that mattered. It was the one reason to go. The one reason to stay.

"Fine." Sebastian grinned and Y/n rolled his eyes before getting into the passenger seat of the car. Sebastian put the CD in immediately, and began playing at the first song. They spent the rest of the drive working through the songs. Y/n had a process. The first time, you just listened to it. Then, Y/n would sing with it and pause it to talk about lyrics or the music - whichever thing most drew him to this song. After the two stages, then they'd move on. It meant they took twice as long to get through the songs - sometimes much longer if they got into a lengthy discussion - but it was also twice as fun.

You win some you lose some.

Y/n didn't realize that Sebastian had taken them to his house until it was too late. Y/n shot the other boy a look as they pulled into the driveway. "Bas-"

"I know," Sebastian rushed. "Just... I wanted to apologize. Let me try. We can keep listening, and talking about the songs." He smiled a little. "I like them."

Goddamnit.

Sighing, Y/n caved in once again. "Fine. But I swear, you do one even semi-bullshit thing and I pull the plug."

Sebastian nodded in agreement. "Whenever you want to go home, I'll take you home."

Y/n narrowed his eyes at the Warbler, but there was no anger there. "I don't have anything else to change into. And as we established-"

Waving his hand through the air to dismiss the worry, Sebastian only answered, "Wear something of mine. Just this once. I don't mind." He rose an eyebrow. "Do you?"

There was a challenge there, and Y/n refused to back down. "No."

"Good." Sebastian slid out of the car and Y/n followed after. They moved inside and up the stairs into Sebastian's room. He moved around as Y/n waited in the doorway. The last time he had been inside... he didn't want to think about that right now. Sebastian returned with a familiar pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It was the sweats that Sebastian had leant him the night Y/n had slept here. Y/n smiled to himself, trying to hide it as he took them and hurriedly moved to the hallway bathroom. He showered, trying to focus his stupid gay brain as he cleaned himself.

He hadn't even thought about it - it was so habit to just come over, shower, and then settle down. Y/n chuckled to himself. It was probably a bad sign when you had made yourself at home in a space that belonged to someone you were supposed to be mad at. This was like a second home to him. How could he be mad here?

Y/n wondered if Sebastian knew that. If he had planned all of this... Y/n wouldn't have been surprised.

When he finished showering and dressing, he snagged a grocery bag from under the sink where he had stashed a few emergency ones. Thank god too - he didn't want to have to carry his clothes around. It drove Sebastian crazy, but Y/n didn't feel bad about that. Might even the playing field a little bit.

Sebastian was waiting in the front room. Y/n had dragged a little bit, teetering between melting into the place he had missed more than he realized and holding onto the anger he knew he rightfully felt. When Y/n entered the room, Sebastian looked up at him. Y/n leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he sighed. “Bas,” he whispered weakly. He hesitated, swallowing once as he tried to find the exact words. He couldn’t. “This isn’t fair.”

The words he had found were apparently good enough. “I know,” Sebastian responded. He looked genuinely sorry and Y/n almost believed him. Or, half believed him. He had seen Sebastian lie and he had seen Sebastian be sincere. Hadn’t he? “I’m sorry,” Sebastian spoke again, pulling Y/n out of his thoughts with pure shock. Sebastian Smythe had never apologized. To anyone. Ever. What was happening.

A feeling of anxiety bubbled in Y/n’s chest. He felt like he was about to get pig’s blood dropped on him or something. “You’re sorry,” Y/n repeated, not quite able to wrap his mind around it.

Laughter bubbles up from Sebastian, and he had to cut it short. A hand rose to cover his mouth, eyes alight with humor at Y/n’s expression. “Listen I know I don’t say that a lot-“

“Ever,” Y/n corrected. “Not even once.”

“Ever,” Sebastian allowed. He hesitated, his jaw working as he had the same battle for words that Y/n had. “You know I’ve always felt very... far away from things.” He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with getting even close to honest vulnerability. “It’s just a joke. What’s the point of being alive and young if not to have as much foolish fun as possible, right? That’s how you learn. That’s how you make stories - and stories are how you become interesting. It was easier to live like that. Never walking on egg shells for anything, even things that I probably should have. It didn’t matter, it didn’t last. Even school ends, and it was onto the next thing.” His jaw worked again. Y/n felt touched that he really was trying to hard to be sincere. “Sometimes I push things too far. And it’s never bothered me before because everyone is just a part of the game. I’ve always been the only player.

“But, You’re different,” Sebastian added with a sigh. It sounded like the confession partly pained him, and partly lifted a weight off of his chest. An agony and a mercy at the same time. “It’s like you’re playing the game too. You’re the only person who’s been able to really catch me off guard, and playing with you - being with you was fun enough on it’s own. I like performing with you, and being here after school. It isn’t about fun, it’s just... nice.”

Y/n smiled a little as Sebastian grew quiet. He tried to swallow it. Tried to not let the words get to his head. Or his heart. He knew he failed to guard one of them - he wasn’t sure yet which one he had disappointed. “I... appreciate this Bas, but I’m not coming back to the Warblers. That group - it’s not fun anymore. Not for me. And I’m glad you can enjoy it! And that the people there like what you’re doing. Honestly, I think you’re a great leader in your own right. The leader they want, and maybe even need. But the Noteworthies need me too.”

“I get it.” Sebastian nodded, indicating he really did understand what Y/n was saying. “And, if that’s what you really want then... okay.” That seemed to pain him, but he moved on quickly. “I just want some part of you in my life. I liked having you here. It’s too quiet these days. Empty.” He swallowed, and Y/n’s heart ached at the loneliness he saw in the Smythe boy. There was so much more to Sebastian than anyone else knew, and Y/n had always been aware of it but he had never known what to call it. He still didn’t. “Maybe we could merge the groups every once in a while. I think it would still be really fun to perform together. Maybe do a face off for funsies or something.”

This time Y/n didn’t fight his smile. “I’ll talk to the guys about it. But I’m sure they’ll be down. It’s been a little chummy around there anyway. Gotta stir the pot every once in a while.”

Sebastian felt a surge of pride. He knew that it was his influence that had Y/n acting this way. Leaning into chaos, and taking pleasure in it. Missing it when it was gone for too long. Y/n had a very good balance to him, and was good at knowing when to do things and when to pull back. But when he did lean into that fire, he was absolutely stunning to Sebastian. Looking at Y/n like this, Sebastian couldn’t imagine how anyone could prefer him any other way.

When he had been in charge of the Warblers, it had been very hot and cold - either blazing as he battled Sebastian, or shut off and gentle and smooth as he interacted with everyone else in times of peace. It was almost like he had been two different people, and switched between them depending on whether he had to face certain things more often. There was Sebastian’s Y/n, and...

And then it clicked. The way Sebastian had seen Y/n earlier when he had performed with Lyran - it was the exact same way Y/n acted while he had been around Blaine. There was a lot more flirting, but it was all one sided. With Sebastian, that fire had come out because Y/n was engaged. He wasn’t just challenged - he was having fun. Pushing back. With anyone else, Y/n was much more neutral and calm - almost nurturing. He never stopped things that were mostly harmless, but he only actively took part in the games that Sebastian played. He wasn’t indulging someone, he was enjoying it himself. It wasn’t someone else’s game - it was his.

Sebastian felt a surge of victory. Nothing else mattered. And Y/n was right, he wasn’t a prize, but... love was. In a way. And Sebastian had won. He had earned Y/n’s love in a way Lyran never would.

He kept the new knowledge to himself as Y/n sat on the couch next to him. “So,” Y/n began. “You still want to listen to those songs or should I get my homework out?”

“Definitely want to listen to music,” Sebastian answered, nodding. “Maybe you could sing to me.” He leaned in, flirting now, his burning confidence back.

Y/n made a face - halfway between a smirk and that spark in his eyes that was becoming oh so familiar to Sebastian. “Bas, a lot had been happening recently and I still don’t know if I can trust you with... me.” He swallowed, hesitating. There was something he was holding back, or maybe something he didn’t know how to put into words. Sebastian didn’t push - not yet. “It’s been all over the place between us. Can we just take it one step at a time?”

Sebastian didn’t know how to make any order out of their relationship, which really had been all over the place from day one, but if that was really what Y/n wanted the Warbler captain would at least give it a go. “Okay.” He smirked a little, unable to not tease at least a bit. “Does that mean I can’t hold your hand or kiss you or anything, or just that I won’t be taking you back to my room tonight?”

Immediately Y/n rolled his eyes and they were both back to their old ways. “Music, Smythe.”

“Yes sir,” Sebastian answered immediately, orienting his focus on playing the music from where they’d left off in the car. Sebastian had no idea what would happen next, but he knew it would be great.

-

story tag list: @jooniefluff

Male readers tag: @stuckoutsideofthebox @sortzz

[justaquirkyfangirl]

She's My Girlfriend - Sebastian Smythe x Reader (Chapter 1)

Sebastian Smythe x Fem!Reader (Posted on Wattpad)

Summary:

"What are you doing?!"

"We knew you guys were up to no good!"

"What are you talking about, she's my girlfriend!"

"Wait, girlfriend?" "Huh?" "I thought you were gay..?"

Word Count: 478

Y/N'S POV

"Seb, stop. Seriously, stop it!" I laugh as I try to roll off his bed, his arms still wrapped around me. "Come on, I really have to go."

"Can't you just stay the night here? Why do you have to leave?" He whined, pulling me closer towards him.

"You know I can't. I have school tomorrow, and none of my clothes are here. Plus my parents would be furious." I say, trying to push him away from me.

"Ugh, why do you have to go to that dumb public school? That's where all the rejects are." He says, resting his head in the crook of my neck.

"First of all, I go there and so do all of my friends, so watch it. Secondly, I'd rather go there then be at a private all girl school where everyone's stuck up."

"Whatever. But I miss getting to see you. It's hard not being able to just walk around in public together. When can we finally tell them?" He asks, his voice slightly muffled by my neck.

"And risk getting rejected by them? No way! You know it was hard to find friends when I was new. I don't want to lose them." I say, with a small and sad smile.

"I don't see the problem, you're not even a threat. I mean, you don't tell me their plans and routines anyway so what's the matter?" He asks as he plays with my hands.

"Because you're you and you've done some pretty bad things, they still hold it against you. They don't want me anywhere near you or the warblers, let alone dating you." He lets out a soft sigh, I could tell that this was killing him. "I'm sorry, I just know they won't be able to accept it. They'd try and break us up and never let us be together."

"It's okay, I understand." He said, while nodding his head a bit.

I stand up and grab my backpack, "I really have to go now Seb, but I'll see you this weekend?"

"Yes ma'am." He says as he salutes, I just chuckle and lean in to give him a quick kiss. "Mm, I'm going to miss you."

"And I'll miss you. But for now, I have to go." I say before grabbing my things and going. "Love you!" I shout over my shoulder at the pouting warbler.

"Love you too!" He yelled back as I shut the door behind me and sneaked my way out of Dalton, passing by some of them along the way.

I made my way back home, singing along to the car radio. My parents were gone for the evening on a date so I was alone.

I decided to heat up some leftovers from the night before and just eat it quickly, before getting ready for bed and falling asleep.

[thestarspangledcaptain]

Who/What I Will Write For!

Warning: Mini Essay Ahead

Please Note: If you are requesting, I would prefer if you gave me the desired pronouns for the reader/character!

What I Can / Would Be Comfortable Writing & Or What Topics I Will Cover:

AUs

Expansion of plot lines

Writing for established couples

Reader inserts

Y/N

OC

Any type of romance trope

Platonic relationships

Sibling relationships

Parent relationships (including certain characters as your parent)

Magical beings

Powers

One shots and multi part imagines

LGBTQIA + characters and readers

LGBTQIA + romance

Plot line changes, time changes

Non canonical couples

Canonical couples

Non canon friendships and canon friendships

Small age gaps (when writing for older characters I will made ages fitting with the character) ex: Tony stark. WARNING: If the age gap makes the characters have a legal adult and minor relationship (w the exception of a senior and junior in high school type of thing)

Certain characters (non lgbtq) in lgbtq relationships. For example Natasha Romanoff is a lesbian relationship.

Writings inspired by a song. (I have written work planned out already)

Any shapes and sizes

Angst

Fluff

More steamy scenes (prob up to third base

More serious topics I will cover:

Mental Illness (Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar, Schizophrenia)

Disabilities (From physical to internal)

Health Issues

Eating Disorders

Self harm

Suicidal thoughts / attempts

Dysmorphia and insecurities

Abusive relationships

Bullying

Surgeries

Fainting

Vomiting (due to ED or illness)

Death

(Car)Accidents

Hospitalization

Sexual assault and rape SURVIVORS and sometimes I may write about a character’s recovery and process of coping with something that traumatic

Therapy

Homophobia

Complicated relationships

Adoption

I will NOT Write anything (no hate to those who enjoy reading some of these things, I just personally would not enjoy writing it or be fully comfortable writing it):

Yandere

Furry related things

Omegaverse

I will absolutely NOT change the sexuality of a character if it is specifically stated (ex. Phastos from Eternals, Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Sebastian Smythe, Santana Lopez, America Chavez)

I will NOT write an age gap more than an absolute max of ten years

I will NOT romanticize things in the serious topics I will write for section. They are serious topics and things such as eating disorders are serious, they should not be romanticized. I write things with heavier topics to help people.

Absolutely NO rape scenes

Inappropriate relationships (college student and professor is an absolute no)

smut

I likely won’t redeem people if they’ve done something incredibly evil

Ok here we go! I apologize for the lack of alphabetical order

Avengers/Marvel:

I will for almost any character (mainly excluding some villains)

Any Peter Parker (just request which one you prefer)

X men

Disney:

The princes

Princesses

Big hero six (I will write for hiro exclusively platonically)

Glee:

From Og Cast up to season 4, including Sebastian smythe and warblers

No Sylvester, or schue romance

Harry Potter:

Golden trio

Weasleys

Draco

Cedric

Cho

Luna

Krum

Fleur

Oliver

Seamus

Neville

Young Marauders

Top Gun (+ TG Maverick):

Maverick

Iceman

Goose

Charlotte “Charlie” Blackwood

Rooster

Hangman (I adore Jake seresin)

Bob

Phoenix

Coyote

Payback

Fanboy

Non Romantic character relationships I will write for in the Top Gun world:

Cyclone

Maverick

Penny

Admiral Cain

Admiral Warlock

Descendants:

Mal

Evie

Carlos

Jay

Doug

Ben

Jane

Lonnie

Audrey

Uma

Harry

Gil

Percy Jackson TO:

Percy

Annabeth

Grover

Luke

Clarisse

Nico

Tyson

Characters of the following actors (so if the listed actor portrayed a character I will write):

Grant Gustin

Chris Evans

Chris Pratt

Chris Hemsworth

Darren Criss

Dove Cameron

Scarlett Johansson

Emma Wattson

Jennifer Lawrence

Emma Stone

Margot Robbie

Glenn Powell

Sydney Sweeney

Andrew Garfield

I will update this list as I get reminded of more people. :) Have a great day, you are loved

[moonlight-phobia]

✾𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍✾

Epel X GN! Reader

Highly based from the TBHK Apology!

Angst.

References towards: Truth, Beauty, and Hatred by Christopher Larkin and Love’s First Kiss by Frank Churchill

“Are you upset that it wasn’t a real confession? I thought you already knew remember I mentioned it yesterday!“ it’s rare to see Epel so..teasing? Would that even be the right word too use at this moment. What was this even supposed to be!

“You got Vil and Rook off of my back for the rest of the day..so thank you..” dainty fingers gently patting the prefect’s shoulder. “Ah-“ the young man’s voice would crack a tad- are..were they crying? Epel’s bright blue hues would widen seeing the tears streaming down slowly from the other freshmen.

“You’re such a jerk-“ the cracking of their voice felt like a crack in the farmer boy’s heart.

“You..you could have told me what was going on and you- never mentioned anything from yesterday-!” It was known though the other worldly person in front of him was seen as a softie.

Easy prey like a little Townsend Warbler singing it’s melodic song before something else could pounce too make the melody break.

“I..I have to go it’s already late-“

But it wasn’t late! It’s only around two so what could they be late for!?

“Wait- wait no- I- please..please wait-“ Epel would take a step forward trying to follow after the prefect of Ramshackle.

Though..he couldn’t catch up they were already gone? How..were..no. He wouldn’t allow them to just leave like that..but he had told them- so was it really his fault?

His grandmother taught him better though to never make someone you care about cry or feel harm.

Seems..that he had done that though.

Lavender locks would billow around with the wind- it’s harsh and feels like it’s slapping right against his soft skin for the actions he committed too.

“I’ll..I promise I’ll make it up to you..” his voice barely audible even those from SavanaClaw wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

The wind comes bearing news of truth, beauty, and hatred across the silent world..

“They don’t need to waste their time with someone like that! I can’t believe the audacity of this human! I will announce this to Malleus-Sama immediately!”Sebek would grunt lowly pacing around the wooden flooring his boots smacking with every step of going back and forth.

“Crocy we are not doing that! You trying to get the whole school turned into frogs or something!” Ace would grunt lowly “I’m all in for beating up someone but hey we can do it ourselves..” a shudder running down his spine though at the thought of the Housewarden towards Diasomnia.

“For once I’m going to agree with Ace on this - a good idea and probably the last one he’ll ever have.” Deuce would speak calmly coming down the stairs holding a bowl under his arm.

“Shut up Juice. How are they doing-“ Ace would narrow his sharp red hues eyes darting at the navy haired male then towards the stairs again.

“Ugh-They..wouldn’t say anything to me only thing I could get from them was for them to change their clothes. I’m surprised you even got them to speak Sebek-“

The green haired male would grunt lowly “I saw them running back here and they told me what happened in their little rush. It’s been two days and people are starting to ask questions about where they are..” to be burdened with hearing the prefect cry and over someone else..they shouldn’t have to be crying at all.

“Well- least they changed clothes and they did eat a bit.” Deuce would shake his head slowly “The ghost here seem to be taking care of them along with Grim. Though the ghost definitely seem a bit more active and angry..”

Ace’s hand would move to rub the back of his own head “we can’t keep up the sick card for them forever. Think I can say for all of us that if Riddle finds out we are screwed along with Epel!”

Riddle seemed to take a liking towards the Ramshackle prefect. Treating them more like a sibling along with someone to teach the rules too- he had offered for a dorm transfer but the prefect he politely declined this. Saying they were happy at the broken down dorm.

“I say we find Epel and-“ grunting in dismay as his mouth was covered

“Nope I know where that was going and no way we are doing that you trying to get us expelled Sebek?!” Deuce would scowl gesturing with his free hand in a sort of ‘why’ gesture.

“Come on we have to go- much as I hate going to class we made sure they had lunch at least we can come back later for dinner-“ the fact that even Ace is concerned could be saying too much.

One song, I have but one song for you, one song, only for you, one heart…

Maybe..maybe this would be considered illegal- breaking and entering but the back door of Ramshackle was completely broken from its hinges.

Really this place needed to be fixed up.

“Nya?! What are you doing here showing your face like a creep-!”

Of course the annoying little cat..if it could even be called a cat.

“I’m here..to apologize-“

“Pa-! You gotta go I don’t wanna hear it from-Nyah- that wasn’t an invitation to walk in-!” Grim would growl lowly moving to suck in a breath going for a blow of blue flames- not expecting to be soaked in water? Yes water but..so fast too.

“Please..” his voice is so low and it looks like he hasn’t slept in day’s at all. Dark circles under normal bright blue hues. Lavender locks messy and all over the place even when he’s wearing his school uniform you can tell the Pomefiore student is out of it.

“I..” even Grim couldn’t say anything because Epel looks so pathetic. ”go..they are upstairs last room on the right hall-“

“Thank you..” it’s normal to hear him so soft spoken but hearing him talk at all..seemed rare. The monster would watch the boy for a moment noticing the basket- what was even in there?

Tenderly beating, Ever entering, Constant and true

“Prefect..there’s someone at the door..” Lou would speak lowly the sunken eyed ghost would float over to the figure beneath the sheets

“Who is it..” their voice was sunken like they had been in a marathon and no one had given them water.

“The boy-“ Rue would grunt lowly his larger figure hovering near the ceiling- he had poked his head between the walls too check.

“Please..please let me in- don’t shut me out..” Epel would set his hand against the door a bit surprised when he would fall forward a tad- the door had been open?

Well ghost can’t lock doors that’s most likely why.

“Should we drag him down with us?” Teru would grin his smile growing wider.

The ghost would watch their prefect for a moment seeing the little shake of their head. Before turning to Epel and getting close “We will be watching.” It was a blink of the eye and they were gone.

Epel..felt a sort of..chill the sort of chill one gets when looking back at one’s own shadow.

Slowly moving his feet and setting the basket down on the nightstand.

“I..I know you probably don’t want to talk to me at all..but..I’m sorry. Please believe me I never meant to make you cry. But..but please please allow me to stay here until you stop crying..you don’t have to say anything at all..”

Hearing the shifting of the blankets his head turning quickly and locking onto the hues of the other.

“I wasn’t..for sure if you’d like anything but I..I got some apples from my home..” moving his hand to the basket and slowly taking one out “they are really sweet and kind of remind me of cotton candy..”

Slowly moving to rest it into the hands of the prefect’s hands.

Watching them as they would very hesitantly take a small bite out the apple.

One love, that has possessed me, one love thrilling me through one song

“It..it does taste like cotton candy..” hearing their voice. Was like a dream-

A good dream.

Epel could feel the tears in his eyes “I never meant to be so mean to you..hah..I’ve always wanted to be a bigger man you know but making you cry makes me feel like a weakling and I never want to see you that way again-“ his voice cracking with every single word.

Feeling the small grip on his hand “Don’t go..stay-“ they would speak softly really Epel could feel the melody of the Townsend Warbler slowly coming back.

“I won’t go..I’ll be here..”

My heart keeps singing, of one love, only for you..

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cult of Vagabonds MasterList

NAVIGATION

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

OVERALL WARNINGS: Familial trauma, PTSD, anxiety, trauma responses, angst, character deaths, gore & violence, kidnappings, interrogations, self-deprecating thoughts and actions, addictions, eventual smut, etc. (More specific warnings will be listed in every chapter)(18+).

DISCLAIMER: While not an OC, the Reader will be given a backstory that will be seen throughout the fic and intertwine with the plot. Taglist is full. All images found on Pinterest.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I: Landless Gull

CHAPTER II: Snail & Thrush 

CHAPTER III: Banshee Bluethroat

CHAPTER IV: Finch's Frenzy

CHAPTER V: Copper Talons

CHAPTER VI: Storm-Flying Petrels 

CHAPTER VII: Devil Birds

CHAPTER VIII: Polluted Marrow & Hollow Bones

CHAPTER IX: Talk To The Doves

CHAPTER X: A Crow's Carrion Comfort

CHAPTER XI: The Call of A Foreign Swan

CHAPTER XII: Owl-Eyes

CHAPTER XIII: Flight of the Warbler

CHAPTER XIV: Gray Grouse

CHAPTER XV: Sins of a Laughing Skylark

CHAPTER XVI: Vultures

CHAPTER XVII: Red-Wing Blackbirds And Dark Dahlias

CHAPTER XVIII:

CHAPTER XIX:

CHAPTER XX:

CHAPTER XXI:

CHAPTER XXII:

CHAPTER XXIII:

CHAPTER XXIV:

CHAPTER XXV:

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Your friends caused someone pain, while you threaten pain upon someone else... and your friends.

Word Count: 4,934

WARNINGS:  People doing shitty things, threats

(A/N): And we’re back baby!

-----

He was always over.

Finn.

Practically felt like he lived here half the time. Which only lead to many situations like this one.

"Hey, Rachel, do you have- Oh, for the love of God."

Your eyes quickly moved to be glued to her painted ceiling, after having caught your sister and her boyfriend making out in a compromising position on her bed.

"Y/N, I-"

"Nope. Don't want to hear it. Bye." Spinning on your heel, you hastily took your exit. "You owe me compensation! And for all that is good in this world, use protection!"

The intense need to bleach your eyes was strong after witnessing that for the third time that week.

All you wanted was the textbook she had borrowed.

Things had slowly been getting better between you and the couple. Starting to get back to how they were. The playful, happy atmosphere it used to be.

However, there was the fact that you still had to talk about the situation, and what had led to it. Instead of just sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it.

Just... not now.

You wanted to ignore it for as long as humanly possible. Even if you knew that would be the worst option in the long run.

Finn and Rachel were still confused, and rightfully so.

They understood that what they did hurt you. They expected you to be hurt if you ever found out the truth. They just didn't comprehend why you were so betrayed by it. To the couple, it seemed almost idiotic the way you were reacting, though they would never admit that in fear that your anger would flare, and things would only be worse.

And at the same time, you were never gonna spill the beans about why you felt the way you did.

Even if your sister had an inclination that was on the right path.

After all. Rachel still believed she was psychic.

---

"All right, guys! Let's get down to business," Mr Schuester began the Glee Club lesson, when he spotted your two missing members, Kurt and Tina, walk in, "First, let's welcome back, Noah Puckerman."

Scattered applause sounded, mainly from Santana, Brittany, and Mike, for the boy who scared Artie, causing him to flinch away in reaction.

"Puck. I hope your time in juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Puck asked the teacher. "I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Wow, what a catch. Can't believe I ever let you go," Quinn remarked sarcastically from her seat behind Kurt as she played with a pen between her fingers.

You laughed loudly at the blonde's words, throwing your head back, arms tightening in their place folded across your chest with every chuckle.

"And now, drumroll, Finn," your teacher began his announcement, sounding like a game show host, "Because I have in my hand the other competition for Sectionals next month." The club cheered excitedly, as Rachel prepared to write the names down. "First, the acapella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers."

"Okay. Hold up. Like a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head," Santana spoke, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Mr Schuester ignored her words, instead carrying on with reading your next competition, "And the other team to beat, the hipsters, a first-year club from the Warren Township continuing education program. Now, they are a Glee Club composed entirely of elderly people getting their high school GEDs."

"Is that legal?" Rachel asked sceptically.

"I don't see why it's not." You shrugged. "They're the same as us, just in a different part of life. If we can compete with the same education as them, then so should they."

"How are we supposed to compete against a bunch of adorable old people, though?" Mercedes asked.

"Are you kidding? Brittle bones," Puck pointed out, "Give one of those old ladies a good luck pat on the rear, and it'll shatter her pelvis."

"Maybe let's not assault the elderly, huh?" You squinted over to the boy now glaring at you. "Unless you really do want to go back to juvie."

"Moving on," Mr Schuester continued, "Since it seemed to get you guys jazzed about Sectionals last year, I wanna make this week our second-annual boys versus girls tournament." More celebration from the club. But you only rolled your eyes, knowing how these things tended to go for you and Kurt. "So, split up onto two groups and figure out what songs you're gonna sing," the man finished, pointing in either direction of the choir room, before turning his back on the club.

"Okay, I have mashup ideas in my emergency mashup list," your sister called out to the girls as the group moved to their designated sides of the room. With you remaining seated, letting the others come to you.

"You have an 'emergency mashup list'?" you questioned, but before your sister could answer, the voice of your teacher sounded.

"Kurt, gonna say it again. Boys' team."

"You know, you really should start taking your student's comfort into account," you said as Kurt walked off to the boys' side, disappointed.

"Don't tell me how to teach my lesson, Y/N."

"Well, I apologise for giving you advice on how to make your students happier," you sassed.

This was gonna be a long week.

---

"Look, I'm not tossing the baby out with the bathwater."

"I've totally done that," Brittany said.

Slowly, you turned to face her, with one word on your tongue, "What?"

"We're just making an adjustment," Mr Schuester explained, "Boys, you are doing songs traditionally sung by girl groups. And girls, try some classic rock. Uh, The Who, The Stones."

"Nirvana. Queen. Guns and Roses. AC/DC."

"Exactly." He pointed at you when you listed off some bands. "The more opposite your choice, the more points you get."

"Wait, there's a point system now?"

It took you a few moments to realise that all the girls were looking your way.

"What?" Realisation hit you. "Am I doing all the work now?"

"No," Mercedes said, "But you're the one that knows the most about this kind of music. We definitely need your input."

"And let's be honest, dwarf Berry wouldn't allow anyone but her to be in charge, anyway," Santana added.

"It's not my fault if I have natural leadership skills."

"I'm sure that could be called something else," you joked, getting your sister to glare your way.

---

"I gotta talk to you," Quinn said, walking up to you in the hallway, joining you in your stride.

"What?"

"I think Sam's into Beiste."

"What?"

That got you to stop in place, the girl following suit. People bumped into you thanks to your sudden halt, but you paid them no mind, just staring down at the blonde cheerleader in front of you.

"Are you okay? What's got you thinking this?"

"Do you find her attractive?"

"What?" you repeated, for the third time, only growing more and more confused by Quinn as the seconds ticked by.

"Just answer my question. I've got to know."

"No," you chuckled your answer, "I mean, Coach Beiste is nice and all, but I tend to like girls who I could bench press, not the other way around."

"So, you don't want to sleep with her?" Quinn tried to clarify, her eyebrows rising as she tilted her head forward, pressing for an answer.

"Where the hell is all of this coming from? Of course, I don't want to sleep with her. Let's just say she's not my type, as I said before. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, beginning to back away down the hall, "Just wanted to make sure."

"'Make sure' about what? Quinn, what's going on?" No answer, as you watched the girl walk away, her ponytail swaying with every step. "Blondie?!" Still nothing.

With furrowed brows and an open mouth, you were left alone in the middle of the hallway, eternally confused.

You had to find out what was going on.

You didn't have a single good feeling about this.

---

It confused you. The feelings that roared within your chest.

They were reactive and uncontrollable.

You were jealous of Sam's closeness to the girl you wished to call yours, watching from afar as their relationship blossomed into something you envied.

And yet. You still liked the boy. After all, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know. Not about your feelings nor the prior fling you had with the cheerleader. Yet, you were sure if he knew, he would step back, which only made you like him more. Causing those conflicted feelings within you to rage a war against the other.

Which is why you felt guilt, along with satisfaction, when you found the blossoming pair in the midst of some relationship drama, as you were on the hunt for Sam, to walk with him to your shared class.

"I won't get mad at you if you tell me the truth-"

"Oh, that's a lie." You barged into the blonde "couple's" conversation, turning to Sam. "You ready to go to class?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded. Thankful for the escape you gave him from the girl, he hoped to one day, soon call his girlfriend.

"Y/N, please butt out," Quinn said, keeping you and the boy from leaving, "Sam, if you tell me, I-I'll be relieved."

"Sam, welcome to 'Quinn 101'. You see when she does that little half-shrug thing and looks down?" You gestured to the blonde's body as she glared daggers at you. "That means she's lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Really?" the boy challenged, "Because it looks like you're gonna be mad no matter what I say."

"Truth," you called after him when he began walking away, Quinn and yourself moving to follow.

"Do you mind leaving us alone?"

"Hey, me and Sam have a pact. The classes we share, we go there together. And anyway, I think he may need back-up with the rampage you're predictably about to go on. No man left behind!"

Sam threw you a humoured but thankful smile over his shoulder.

"You said another woman's name while you were kissing me."

"Whoa!" you exclaimed, not a care in the world that you had drawn onlookers in the filled hallway to your outcry. Ignoring them entirely, "Okay, I take it back. I'm on her side." You pointed at Quinn, shaking your head at the girl you joked with a, "I would never do that to you." Only she heard the truth lining your tone.

She dramatically rolled her eyes at you, continuing to trail after Sam.

"Look. I get it. She's in a position of power over you, which can be exciting, and you clearly like women who give you a hard time."

"You have something you wanna share there, Quinnie?" your sassed words about her "getting it" was cut off by a realisation cutting into you, "Oh my, God. Is that my type?" you asked yourself from behind the ranting Cheerio, eyes widening as it dawned on you. 'Holy shit, I think that's my type'

Sam spun on his heel in reaction to her words, arms jutted out in front of him, voice masked in hopes other students wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm not cheating on you with my football coach."

"I'm sorry, what now, please?" you paused beside the two, looking between them. "You think he's fucking Beiste? Is this why you were asking me all those weird questions yesterday?"

"What questions?"

"Oh, about-"

"That's not important!" Quinn snapped.

"Look," the boy whispered, moving closer to the blonde so the onlooking students couldn't hear the potentially detrimental conversation.

"Dude, I would watch what you say," you stated, eyes wide and unblinking as you looked at Quinn.

With her head cocked slightly to the side, silently daring the boy to keep talking.

"She has murder in her eyes. She will cut your balls off and feed them to rabid dogs, if you say the wrong thing."

Did the boy heed your warning, though?

No. He did not.

"Can we talk about this in private?"

"Why am I embarrassing you?"

"I'd be embarrassed," you commented, looking around at the many students passing you by.

"It's not what you think."

"What I think is that I'm not putting out for you, so you're getting it wherever you can, including the locker room, with the Beiste."

You had lost count of the number of times your eyes had widened in the past five minutes. Peering past the cheerleader, you spotted the coach she was just ranting about.

Bringing your hand up to the side of your head, you pointed with a jutting finger towards Beiste, muttering to Quinn as you did, "Dude, she's right there."

"What's this?" the coach asked, turning to face your little group when she heard her name spoken, only further spurring on Quinn's anger.

"This is a lovers' quarrel, and it's your fault."

"Blondie, she will snap you over her knee without breaking a sweat. I'd watch what you say," you warned her in a whisper, leaning in close to her ear.

Quinn pushed you away from her, a huff of air leaving you when her elbow connected with your stomach.

"Watch your tone with me, missy. You crap on my led, I'll cut it off."

"What did you do?" you hissed over to Sam.

"I didn't do anything."

You gestured your hand out to the two women.

"Uh, I beg to fucking differ."

"I'll leave you two," Quinn said, backing up. And strutting past Mr Schue.

"Uh, I'm here too? Quinn?" Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb, you asked Sam, "The hell is up with her, with this shit?

"Everything okay?"

"God, don't sneak up on me like that," you said, jumping back at Mr Schuester's curious words. Moving aside to let the teacher in on the conversation.

Beiste was speechless in reaction to the man's question. More confusion for you and the two adults came not a second later in the form of your friend.

"Stay away from my woman." The boy glared at her before miming that he was watching his coach.

"Mikey? What-?"

"What the hell is going on around here?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing, coach."

---

Your curiosity on the whole Beiste thing wasn't sated, as Mr Schuester had sent you away in favour of talking with Sam and Mike alone. Considering you were in the dark about the situation, just as much as he was, and he wouldn't be able to get any answers out of you.

So, here you were, hours later, sitting in the choir room with the girls as you all prepared for the competition against the boys.

"The boys beat us the last time we competed against them. And we've gotta bring the noise hard this time."

"To be fair, they didn't officially beat us," Quinn countered Mercedes' point, "We got busted for vitamin D possession before the vote."

"Blondie's right," you said, mildly distracted by the patch you were sewing onto the back of your leather jacket, "Although, we can't really take any blame for that, 'cause we didn't take any. 'Cause, she was pregnant, and I'm... smart."

"Wait. Something's definitely wrong," Santana spoke suddenly, "Why isn't Rachel talking?"

A thread covered Brittany was next to voice her remark on your sister's silence.

"Yeah, she should totally be bossing us around right now."

"The idea of the assignment was to do the opposite of what we normally do," Rachel pointed out as she tried to thread cotton through the small hole of the needle.

After the debacle of an outfit, she wore during 'Theatricality' week last year had led you into teaching your sister how to sew.

Which you regretted as soon as you started.

But she got a grasp on the basics, so you would consider that a mission successful.

"I'm just trying to stick to the lesson plan, which is proving nearly impossible since you're glueing those sequins on backwards."

Slowly, Santana turned to glare past your seat behind Quinn and Brittany's chairs and right at your sister. Watching as she pointed and yelled.

"Spies!"

Looking up, you spotted Puck and Artie.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Rach. Maybe Artie a little. Definitely not Puck."

"Lighten up," the mohican man told your sister, ignoring your dig at him, "We're here to talk to Santana and Brittany."

Santanna hummed when the boys drew close, "So, how does it feel to be a free man?"

"He misses his cellmate," you spoke dryly, "They had a torrid love affair." Gaining small chuckles from some of the girls in the room.

"All I can say is that I don't want a long-term relationship with either of you," Artie stated randomly, "Especially Brittany, since I'm not in love with her."

"Smooth man," you mumbled.

"Do you guys wanna like, go out to dinner tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Not really."

"Oh," Santana spoke sadly to Puckerman's flat-out denial.

"Tell you what. You two show up at Breadstix tomorrow night at around seven. and if we don't find hotter chicks to date tonight, we might show up."

"I'm gonna punch him," you told Quinn.

"You are totally cool."

"Awesome," Santana and Brittany said. Drawing everyone's attention to them. Looking at the two Cheerios like they were out of their minds.

"What?" you asked as the boys made their way from the room, "Are you high-? Oh my, God. They're on vitamin D again."

"We're not on vitamin D, dumbass," Santana said.

"Then what the fuck was that?!" you asked, pointing a hand to the door Artie and Puck left through.

"It was arranging a double date."

"It was insanity. Is what it was."

---

"Thanks for this, Y/N."

"What happened?" you asked the boy, with arms outstretched, only adding to your question.

You had been walking to your car after a tiring day at work, fitting in some planters and benches at a local care facility. When your phone vibrated in your pocket.

It was Artie, and he needed your help.

So, you made a detour to Breadstix on your way back home.

The sky was almost black as you walked through the restaurant parking lot towards the boy waiting for you by the entrance.

"Puck and I took Santana and Brittany out on a double date."

"Yeah, I gathered from that act a few days ago in the choir room. But, why'd they leave you here?" you asked, beginning to push him towards your parked car.

"Puck wanted to 'dine and dash', but I wussed out and paid for the meal."

"So, they left you here because you have a soul?" you clarified, before sighing, "You did the right thing, Artie. There's a reason why Puckerman isn't really liked around town. You keep doing the right thing, wheels."

"Thanks, Y/N."

"Anything, buddy. Anytime."

---

Applause and cheers filled the room after your performance with the girls.

"Very, very, impressive," Mr Schuester complimented, "But Y/N, I wish you were more involved in the performance."

"What you on about? I was playing the guitar the whole time," you replied, "That guitar solo wasn't easy, you know."

"I think I, along with the guys, would have liked to see you up there on the platform with the girls."

"Listen, Mr Schue, This is the best you're gonna get. Considering this makes me uncomfortable, and you know that."

"Well, anyway," the teacher moved on awkwardly, "What was it that made you guys choose these songs?"

"Well-"

You cut your sister off as you place the guitar back on its stand, stepping towards the girls, "Me. It was all me."

Before anything else could be said, Becky Jackson entered the room, running to the Spanish teacher with a note in her hand.

Brittany moved from under your arm to go speak with Santana, leaving you with the other blonde you had thrown your arm over.

"You look really cute like this, you know?" you complimented her.

"Do I?"

A few nods. "Yeah."

"You look pretty good yourself."

"If my bike was ready, I'd offer to take you for a ride on it. We are both dressed for it."

"You won't catch me dead on one of those things." Quinn pointed at you.

"Still too scared?"

"Too dangerous."

"You know I'd be safe." You smiled. "Especially if you were on the back."

"You're not gonna convince me otherwise," she said with a laugh, shaking her head.

While you and the blonde were talking, making your way out of the room, neither of you noticed the look Kurt and Mercedes shared at your closeness.

The next time you were in the choir room wasn't as pleasant.

"Well, I genuinely hope you guys are happy, because Coach Beiste has quit."

"Hold up. What?"

"Wait. What?" Finn asked, just as confused as you, "That's terrible."

"Yeah, that's not what we want," Sam added.

"That's the opposite of what we want," Artie was next to speak from beside you, "The football team was actually winning."

"Well, you better put your heads together and find a way to get her back, fast, because I am actually ashamed of you," Mr Schuester's tone turned angered now, "You really hurt someone who is a great addition to this school."

"Whoa." You held up your hand. "I don't appreciate somebody being ashamed of me and telling me that I hurt someone when I didn't even do anything, to begin with."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. What exactly did we do?" your sister asked, not appreciating the teacher's words nor tone either.

"No, no. It's us," her boyfriend cleared it up for everyone who was confused. "The boys."

"And Tina," Mike added.

"Tina?" you asked, confused, looking behind you at the girl.

Finn started to explain what was going on, his words and movements uncomfortable during his admittance.

"We sort of figured out that picturing the Beiste while making out was even better than a cold shower." Then he rushed to save himself from embarrassment, in front of his girlfriend, "Uh- I mean, I-I don't... ever."

In a cough, you said, "The mail." Gaining a glare from the tall boy.

Then his words registered with you.

"Wait. You do what?! Do you know how insulting that is to someone? And then you expect them not to feel bad about it when they find out? The hell is wrong with you guys?"

"Can I just say, this is what happens when people don't put out," Santana said, "If everyone put out, we would have a winning football team."

"Shut up, San. People can have sex if they do or don't want to."

"Do you have this problem that the guys do?" she asked you.

'We have sex enough for you to full-well know that answer'

"I really don't want to hear this," Rachel protested, from her seat.

Smirking at your sister's distress, you answered the question, "No. Strangely enough, I can control myself. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter because I can do it multiple times. And if I had to "cool down" I would be normal and think of my grandma, or dead puppies, or something."

Mr Schuester had grown uncomfortable with your words, but before he could speak, Principal Figgins entered the choir room.

"William. I need to see you and Noah Puckerman in my office, please."

"Oh, God, Puckerman's going back to juvie. There is a God!"

"Shut up, Berry," the boy grumbled as he walked down the platforms.

"Send me a postcard!"

---

You were calm.

Everything was fine.

Seriously. Everything was truly fine.

That was until you spotted Karofsky being his douchebag of a self, pushing a kid up against the metal fence lining the outdoor staircase, as Kurt watched on, on the way to your next class.

Putting two and two together, you quickly sprung into action and rushed down the stairs to help the boys out.

"You have to stop this!" Kurt yelled, trying to push Karofsky off of the random boy.

The bully was surprised when suddenly he was the one pressed up against the chain wall, with you bearing down on him.

Unknown to the blonde onlooker, who followed behind you on the stairs.

"You leave them alone, you hear me?" you told him, pointing in his face, "You leave Kurt and-" A glance up and down at the stranger wearing a black and red school uniform. "This kid, I don't know alone, or else I'll pull a Sue Sylvester and push you down these stairs."

"No, you won't," a voice suddenly sounded behind you.

A voice you knew.

A hand wrapped into the worn denim of the jacket you wore, using that to tug you away from the boy you had pressed up against the makeshift wall and down the stairs, you had just threatened to push him down.

Peering over your shoulder, you spotted Quinn Fabray.

"What are you doing?" you almost sneered, pulling away from the hold she had on you, straightening out your jacket.

Yet she still pulled you along, directing you to walk away from where you could potentially do some serious damage to the boy.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was stopping Karofsky from bullying Kurt and some random kid."

"By threatening to push him down the stairs?" she came closer to hiss at you.

"Did you really think I was gonna do that?"

"No, of course not. But he doesn't know that, does he?"

"So, what? Is this you trying to tell me that you care if he's scared or not?"

"No. I don't care about Karofsky." Quinn rolled her eyes at you. "I care about you. I care about you going to juvie because he tells someone about it."

Things were silent for a few seconds until you finally spoke, "I wouldn't go to juvie for that."

With a sigh, the blonde moved to stop in front of you, with a hand pressed against your abdomen.

"Y/N, contrary to what you may sometimes believe, I do care about you. You can't go around threatening people. I don't want you to get into trouble. You're worth so much more than that."

You scoffed in reaction to her words. Shaking your head lightly and turning your face away from her. Not believing that she thought of you that way, thanks to your complicated relationship with her.

"Hey." A hand gripped the sides of your jaw, pulling you back to face her, it dropping to your chest as she continued, "You believe in me. That I can obtain my dreams. You told me so yourself. I believe the same for you. So, don't let a jerk like Karofsky mess up your future. Because he's not worth it. Okay?"

Quinn waited for you to say something.

However, you only gave her a relinquished nod of agreement. Unable to meet her eyes as you did.

"Good," she stated with a smile. Hand on your chest, moving to wrap around the collar of your jacket, "Now, come on. Let's get to class."

"God. What is it with you and dragging me around, Fabray?"

---

"I don't get it. It's boys against the girls, but... what does the winner get?"

"Money," you joked from where you stood, leaning against the stacks of books beside your teacher.

"Actually," Finn clarified, "We were hoping for your forgiveness."

"The girls and I don't need that." A shrug. "Except for Tina. You should really be up there with them," you called over to the girl.

Sam cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the tuxed boys

"Yeah. We just wanted to apologise for hurting your feelings."

"Coach Beiste, we think you're awesome," Finn told the woman, "And even though you're all hard and tough on the outside, it doesn't mean you're not the opposite on the inside."

"Like a chocolate turtle," Sam said.

"Totally. You're nougatty. We totally get that now."

"Stop comparing her to food, dude," you told Finn. Mr Schue nodded beside you, "Plus, you're making me hungry."

"You're like a mashup," the boy said.

"Why don't you guys just get to the song?" the Spanish teacher prompted before the dopey boy could compare the coach to anything else.

"Totally." Artie's eyes were screaming his thanks to the man. "This mashup is dedicated to you, coach. hard and badass on one hand and soft and girlie on the other."

"Yeah, and we hope it makes you smile, 'cause when you smile, you're pretty, and it lights up the room," Puckerman added, "Seriously."

"Also, if you don't like it and don't accept our apology, we're afraid that Y/N may kick our asses," Arte continued, turning all of the attention to you as you cracked your knuckles in preparation, glare upon your face at the boys- And Tina.

"Music, guys!" Mr Schue rushed.

The performance ended with panting boys and cheers.

The football coach nodded her head with a big smile across her face.

"It was really good. I liked it." Beiste rose to her feet. "Thank you."

Artie waved the boys and their coach into a group hug, gaining another round of applause from the group.

"So, are we forgiven?" Sam asked once they pulled away.

"You're forgiven."

"So, no punching?"

Beiste turned you, shaking her head. "No punching.

"Damn it," you hissed to yourself, moving your arm in a 'rats!' motion.

"You really wanted to beat up your friends that badly?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"Sometimes they annoy me!"

-----

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