#im gonna be a little grump in the corner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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harry would be such a soft dom with bloody hard kinks and he’d say things like “oh baby, i’m going to have to punish you for this and it’s going to hurt, but i’ll kiss you all better after i promise” iM MELTING/-?!?,?

I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT I WROTE BUT I JUST KNOW ITS FILTHY AND FLUFFY

Harry never knew he’d be such a kinky sneak.

He loved having sex. With consent, of both parties and he had quite an edge for exploring his own sexual desires and particular holes— if you know, you know.

With Y/N out of his picture (he wishes he’d have met her before). He never had emotional attachments with his fuck buddies, no-cuddling rule was very stony and staying after a nice fuck however was a fat chance.

He didn’t expect himself to be budded with flowers whose each petal blossomed gradually, when he met Y/N. She had all his firsts with him and he felt terribly cherished, that she gave her kind little heart to him and trusted him with it.

He has promised himself to never break it, whatever it takes him too.

When Y/N bugged him about kinks and rough sexual plays. He was hesitant to say least, walking on eggshells with easing her into it because she was just too delicate and precious for him to hurt her for getting out a blasting orgasm he could simply have by teasing her to tears and then having an amazing sex afterwards. (with Y/N he worries alot, hands diligent and tentative to her needs and limits, eyes conscious of her presence).

Y/N being a stubborn pesky menace wouldn’t leave him alone, pouting and grouching in his lap, not listening to him and rebelling just to get a reaction out of him; she just wanted him to roughen her a tad and choke and spank her peachy bum sore.

The first time. He lavished her to teary cheeks, swollen pink hued lips, and marked her body with purples and rosy lovebites—... it was heaven sent on earth for Y/N.

She felt small, secured and overly shy as Harry took pictures of her tangled in silk sheets of their bed mumbling a ‘mine.’ Under his breath and everytime she remembers the night it sends jitters down her thighs making them clench to shut down the throb in her core.

He fucked her rough and hard, holding onto her hips to leave guaranteed bruises of his grip on her when her limbs gave out sinking her into the pillows, he pounded inside her with deep strokes grinding his pelvis against her sensitive clitoris everytime he bottom out snug insid her, gritting with her face squished in his palm, “Yeah? Can’t take it babylove? Too bad,” He tutted, a knowing smirk adorned his sheeny features, “Gonna use ya however I want.” It was a last nibble to Y/N's sanity turning her into a massive puddle of loud needy moans, gushing on his cock and gasping out in surprise when he slid his fingers against her throbbing clit and circled it in calculated lazy pushes.

Riding his thigh. She’d always bury her face in his neck, palms pressed gently to his dense torso and always chase for his kisses when Harry’s fingers that once plays with the baby hair on the nape of her neck – spreads and slips into her hair and yanks her away from his chest and his palm draws and wraps around her throat— having his pressure known but never squeezing it too grimly.

“Choke me, please?” She’d pant, meek whines eliciting through her parted mouth when Harry thrusts his meaty thigh up into her cunt -- feeling her incredibly soaked and sticky panties gliding aside out of his little mindless action.

“My baby wan' me to choke her? Likes daddy’s hands too much, innit pet? Playing with yer soft pussy and yer pretty tits ... likes it when they mark your cute bum, mine?” He’d whisper, squeezing tightly and firmly enough to get her eyes rolling to the back of skull and her pace faster, nibbling onto her pouty lip suckling kisses and pecks on it while his hand helps her fuck herself onto his thigh.

Sometimes when they’re watching telly and she’s cradled in his lap, very sleepy and weary sucking onto his fingers – almost falling asleep when Harry pushes his thick digits deeply to nurse the back of his baby’s throat and she'd always whine like a disgruntled kitten, drooling down her chin with yawning whimpers and he’d always tend to her caringly, “Look at you. Sucha messy baby of mine. Lemme clean you up,” His magic cleaning tool always his tongue licking her chin and the corners of her lips until she’s a whimpering and whining mess demanding to have his cock warming her tummy.

He encouraged Y/N to be more familiar with her own body and needs, teaching her how to make herself feel good and not cry out of frustration when he’s away.

It started when he ordered her to play with herself and it was an absolute fruitless insistence because she got caught up into chasing the pleasure and that cloudy trip instead of relaxing and enjoying herself -- which melted her into a squirmy huffy mess, only to whine more needily when Harry reached to her rescue. “Lemme show my Angel how to fuck oneself . . . these dainty fingers of yours might not snuggle too deep in, like daddy’s does, tha’s why y'gotta learn to play with yer toys pet. Stuffs y'nice and good.” He crawled atop hers, making his presence known and pinned her hips down with his bicep while smothering kisses into the inside of her quivering thighs, her centre getting slicker and slicker with his warm daunting mouth reaching her swollen folds.

Instead of making her learn he ravished her into a proper crying mess with his tongue and his steady hand wrapped around her wrists guiding her fingers in and out of her with an abrupt speed.

Her punishments used to be nominal. He’d be damned if she ended up bruised awfully, because he’s very well aware how pudgy and baby like his lovie’s skin is.

She’s such a soft little peach.

Her punishment eased from getting her cummies denied, refused to be touched while Harry pounds into her cunt not empathising with her needy innocent crying (she’s getting better at her game), her wrists restrained to their bedhead with silk ties and he never forgets to make sure it’s not tight enough to stop the blood flow and make her dizzier than she already’s about to get. “Gonna tell me when ‘s too uncomfy, yeah baby?”, to getting vibrators slipped inside her hole when she acts bratty before going somewhere and all her mind could blur onto is harryharryharry, pushing her into such an intense and needy and clingy heads pace “Oh petal this ones going to hurt your poor bum, did this t'yourself. Good girls don’t get punished d'they now pet?” to getting her asscheeks spanked pink and blushy with whites imprints of his thick lengthy fingers and large palm round the globes of her bum.

Taking care of her afterwards with clean gentle cool baby wipes, “Shhh. Shh moppet knows your little clit's too sensitive, but couldn’t let you go t’sleep all messy now could I?” He’d coo, shushing her whimpers and kissing her knees swiping the drip of gooey cum oozing down her slit, then takes care of her bum, coating a good amount of soothing creams and aloevera gels to calm the sting knowing she'd be very grump in morning and batty with him when all she did is wiggle and shift while taking her online classes and didn’t hear the single damn thing her professor said.

Things only Harry could do to Y/N.

She loves taking part in his kinks as much as he does.

#dom!h x sub!reader #dom!h x sub!y/n #dom harry x subby y/n #dom harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #harry styles #cute harry #fluff #hsh

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vennilavee · 4 years

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the soul of a flame - ch 1

the spark

pairing: levi x reader of color

summary: levi follows his squad to a new bar called the silver sapphire and finds you, a pretty girl with a knack for making drinks.

warnings: alcohol, cursing

word count: 2022

a/n: reader is a reader of color because that's how it's going to be. if i feel like i cant relate with some of the fics posted here/ao3 bc of obvious physical attributes assigned to reader, then im sure many others feel the same as well. ENJOY

***

Levi suspects that his squad is getting shitfaced. Again. It’s only the end of a grueling few weeks after they’ve been appointed to his squad and had to go through a stricter, more regimented version of Cadet training.

It was Levi’s version of training.

He had them training from early hours into the heat of the mid afternoon until the sun began to dip into the sky. They never outwardly complained, not to him at least. They knew better.

Levi had granted them an early evening, to which all four of them had been surprised by-

“What? You four earned it,” Levi says with his arms crossed, “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a tyrant.”

“Of course not, Captain Levi,” Petra chirps, an always sweet smile on her face.

Oluo elbows her, telling her to stop being such a kiss ass and Petra gapes at him.

“Me? Look at your hair! You can’t even pull off bangs the way Captain Levi can,” She scoffs, arms crossed over her chest.

Levi rolls his eyes, not bothering to conceal the fondness he has for his team.

“Get outta here,” He says not unkindly.

He didn’t think they would end up finding their way to a bar for two nights in a row. They’re getting ready for their third night at the same bar and Levi has to know.

What the hell has gotten into his team?

“Which one of you four idiots is gonna tell me where you’ve been sneaking off to?” Levi asks, appearing suddenly in front of Oluo and Gunther.

“We told you Captain! There’s a bar not too far from here,” Eld says enthusiastically, “There’s a rumor that they make their own alcohol with gold there.”

“Right,” Levi scoffs, “That has to be the only reason why you four come back shitfaced every night. Because of gold.”

“Not me, sir!” Petra protests, earning herself a glare from Oluo.

“Who are you lying to, Petra?” Oluo says, “And it’s not gold, Eld. I hear it’s diamonds and rubies. Sapphires, too.”

“How the fuck do you make alcohol out of diamonds, rubies and sapphires? Do you hear yourselves?” Levi says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s what it tastes like, Levi. That’s what her alcohol tastes like,” Gunther says dreamily.

“So which is it? You like the alcohol or you like her?” Levi says, a faint, uncharacteristic teasing in his tone.

“Doesn’t help that she’s very pretty, sir,” Petra says thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Levi rolls his eyes, turning his back on his team, “Enjoy. You’re expected to be ready for training at dawn.”

“Yes, sir,” They all chorus while saluting.

“Levi,” Gunther says, “You should come later, if you want. Hange and Mike will be coming later.”

“Tch,” Levi waves him off without another word and Gunther shrugs.

He has better things to do than drink shitty alcohol from a shitty bar with his friends and fellow soldiers.

***

It turns out that Levi in fact, does not have better things to do than drink shitty alcohol from a shitty bar with his friends and fellow soldiers. Hange had convinced him to join them. And her version of convincing had been blackmailing him into holding his most favorite tea leaves hostage and loudly telling him that he needed to get out more often otherwise he’d turn shrivel up and turn into a grump-

“If we hurry and go, we can reverse the process before it’s too late.”

Which is how he found himself walking to the bar that Hange coerced him into going to. It’s called the Silver Sapphire, and honestly, he can’t think of a shittier name for a bar. Sapphires aren’t even silver.

Levi hates any amount of attention on him, and the way the bar goes silent for a moment when all eyes land on him makes his skin crawl. He sits at his own table, away from the ruckus of the other squad leaders and his own team as the noise around him resumes. He fully expects his team to see him and surround him soon.

At least none of the shitty kids were here.

“Captain Levi! You caaaame,” Oluo says, as Petra sits across from him.

“Came to see what all the fuss was about,” Levi shrugs, “And Shitty Glasses decided to hold my tea leaves hostage if I didn’t show up.”

“Orrrr Captain Levi wants to see the pretty bartender,” Petra says in a singsong voice, eyeing him curiously.

Levi lets her have her fun. It puts a smile on her face, so he lets her have it.

“Try some of my earthwater, Captain,” Oluo says, pushing his glass towards Levi.

“I’d rather die by the hands of my own blades than drink anything you’ve put your shitty tongue in, Oluo,” Levi says tonelessly, “Earthwater? What the hell is that?”

“The stuff made of diamonds,” Hange appears from around the corner and sits next to Petra, “You were right, Oluo.”

“Hange,” Levi says curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. Hange lets out a peal of delighted laughter at his irritation.

“Shorty’s upset with me because I told him to get out of his office for the first time all week,” Hange whispers to Petra.

Levi rolls his eyes so far back he’s certain he sees his own skull.

Suddenly, Petra elbows Hange, discreetly looking at the bar and whispering to her with a tipsy giggle. Levi hears Gunther and Oluo sigh like lovestruck fools, even Petra and before he can ask them whether they are soldiers of the Survey Corps or whether they’re idiots in high school-

He sees you making your way to them from behind the bar and can kind of understand why they have hearts in their eyes, and why they’re behaving the way that they are. His own throat is a little dry but he clears it subtly, eyes not leaving you.

“Third night, huh? To what do I owe this pleasure?” You murmur, all smiles and warm, dark eyes. You have a notebook and a pen in your hand to take their orders.

Levi is aware of the intensity of his gaze over you. Your dark green silk shirt is neatly tucked into your black pants that hug your hips and your legs. It’s loose and yet sits on your torso like it was made for you. The dark green is a shade or two darker than the Survey Corps capes, but you wear the color much better than anyone in the Corps ever could. Levi catches a glint of gold at the base of your throat attached to a thread of gold wrapping around the column of your neck. The top two buttons of your shirt unbuttoned carelessly, allowing him a peek of your deep skin glowing with the lights of the bar.

He swallows.

“These four idiots have been raving about your drink, what is it dirtwater?” Levi says tonelessly, “Must be pretty shitty if it’s called dirtwater.”

“It’s called earthwater, actually,” You reply easily but Levi catches the bite in your tone, “You should have one. On the house. It’s my own recipe and maybe it’ll loosen the stick up Captain Levi’s ass a little bit.”

His teammates, all traitors apparently, snicker at your comment.

“Fine,” Levi scoffs, “I’ll have your shitty drink. And what happens when I decide that I don’t like it?”

“That won’t happen,” You wave him away with a smirk across your painted lips, “After all. I made it.”

And with that, you saunter away with the rest of their orders and Levi sinks into his seat imperceptibly.

You look over your shoulder and toss him a reckless wink and a rogue smile. It takes a second for Levi to realize that you’re looking in his direction. He turns his gaze away from you, ignoring the heat creeping up in his neck.

***

The minute you see Levi of the Survey Corps walk into your bar, you know you had to see him up close. You’ve only heard stories about him, rumors mostly. That he’s a well oiled Titan killing machine. That he’d climbed the ranks of the Corps quickly, too quickly. You’ve heard that he’s an Underground kid, and that has your interest piqued.

The entire bar goes silent when he pushes the doors open. Clearly, Captain Levi doesn’t just walk into bars very often. Your eyes immediately shift to the rest of the Corps, in a separate corner of the bar.

He looks disinterested as he observes the bar around him. You have an eye on him, as you do with all your new and high profile customers. You notice how he relaxes in his seat, but he has a watchful eye on his surroundings, too.

Maybe it comes from being from the Underground. Always trying to be five steps ahead of any perceived threats. Maybe it comes from his Corps training. Maybe both.

You can’t help your eyes from wandering as you watch him subtly from the bar. He’s handsome, somehow both rough and effortless at the same time. The planes of his face are lined with cues of life and loss and you wonder how close you can get to him to see more.

You prepare five mugs of earthwater, adding a little extra mint to their drinks to spruce it up. You strive to impress, and Captain Levi is no exception. Carrying all five drinks on a tray with one hand, you head back over to their table, ignoring the hollering of your patrons around you. You turn your head towards them while you’re still walking, and flash them a gratuitous wink to quell them. They sigh happily and you roll your eyes fondly.

They’re just drunk and happy.

“I’m back,” You announce, “One earthwater for each of you.”

You hand a mug to each of them, careful not to slosh the liquid over the rim. Levi eyes the mugs impassively- they’re made of shiny brass and have a thin handle on the side. And they’re clean, he realizes as he inspects the mug.

“I’m curious to hear your thoughts, Captain,” You say with a smile, your right hand on the table and your left hand on your hip. You lean on your right hand and Levi tries to ignore the way the collar of your shirt slips to the side, the hollow between your neck and shoulder exposed. He catches the glint of something shiny on your left hand before taking a sip in front of six pairs of waiting eyes.

They all lean in close to hear the verdict.

“It’s not shitty,” Levi says, pleasantly surprised. Not that you’d be able to tell. It’s a little sweet but not overwhelmingly so. He can taste richness in the aftertaste of the drink and the combination of it with mint is unlike anything he’s ever tasted. What exactly is in this drink? No wonder Oluo says it’s filled with diamonds and sapphires.

“Ha! I’ll take it,” You say triumphantly, “Well, enjoy. You know where to find me.”

Your dark eyes linger on Levi for a second longer, searching for the hidden roughness that only an Underground kid can have. But he’s no kid, and he hides it well.

So do you.

Levi is no stranger to pretty women, and he knows beauty when he sees it. At first glance, you look like you’ve been born and raised inside of Wall Rose. Your brown skin glows despite the absence of sun, you smile so boldly that your cheeks must hurt, your eyes are mischievous.

And yet. It only takes one sweeping glance at you, at your confidence and the twinkle in his eyes for Levi to see how much of yourself you’ve given to be here. To have something called your own. Your hands were rough when you had handed him his mug and he saw faint, old scars on your forehead and your neck when you had leaned in.

He can admire from afar, can’t he? No harm, no foul. It’s not like he’ll be coming back here anyway, right? He’ll probably be dead before he can.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #aot imagines #snk imagines

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chaotic-noceur · 4 years

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if you love something, let it go

[ day 2 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: Javier is familiar with the concept of love, but it is not something he’ll allow himself to indulge in.

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, degradation (DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT IN A GOOD MENTAL SPACE)

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm for beta reading and letting me hurt them at too-early-in-the-morning o’clock! Some dialogue was prompted by this shadowhunters clip.

a/n: I AM SORRY. I love every single one of you reading this but I’m an angry sad soul and it had to go somewhere 😬also, im a little all over the place rn so i might be a little slow on replies but im sending all of you virtual hugs!

Seriously, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT IN A GOOD HEAD SPACE.

gif by @pascvl

You lose your breath every time he walks into the room. Your heart beats faster when he passes by. Your skin tingles when his breath kisses your skin as he hovers over your shoulder. You think this is the feeling that they talk about in the movies. You think this is love. The thought makes your heart flutter.

His mind goes blank every time he sees you. His heart flares when he hears your laughter and he’s not the cause of it. His mind replays your conversations on an endless loop. He thinks this is the feeling that his father had told him about. He thinks this is love. The thought makes his stomach churn.

●●●●

The betting pool is started by a new trainee looking to make some quick cash. He bet that he could get a confession out of Javier Peña before the year was through. When word gets out that there’s a wager for the office’s resident grump to finally ‘get his head out of his ass and admit his feelings’, agents from every department are quick to place their bets. It didn’t take a trained agent to see that the pair of you were hopelessly in love.

The pool gets spread so far up the ranks that even Messina hears the whispers. She turns a blind eye to the childish game. She knows that the rumours of their infamous philanderer in love were only that: rumours, half truths, lies. A man with his history wouldn’t know what love was even if it was staring him in the face.

Days turn into weeks, which turn into months but no amount of meddling by the trainees is enough to draw out an admission of his affections. Steve watches you from his perch on Javier’s desk as his partner stabs at the typewriter keys. “You could just talk to 'em instead of destroying government assets.” There’s a smugness in his voice that tells Javier that his meddlesome partner is smirking.

“Fuck off Murphy.” Your laughter cuts through the bustling office chatter. Javier looks up to see a fresh-faced trainee leaning against your desk, taking up too much of your personal space for his liking. He grits his teeth and once again the sound of his furious typing takes over the room. Steve throws his hands up in mock surrender.

●●●●

The clearing of a throat has you turning your head over your shoulder, coffee pot in hand. Steve is leaning against the door frame with one eyebrow raised. You roll your eyes at him as you return to your coffee making.

“What do you want, Murphy?” you call over your shoulder, feigned curiosity lacing your voice. You know what he wants. He has that look in his eye, the one that says ‘how many more times do we need to have this talk’.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he starts. You raise an unamused eyebrow at him in return. He puts his mug down beside you, leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms as he turns to you. “If I have to slap him out of his daydream one more time, he won’t have a face anymore.” You scoff.

“You have no proof that he daydreams about me.” He opens his mouth to speak but your finger strikes his chest before he can. Coffee splashes against the inside of the pot dangerously as you move. “And even if he does, that doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.” Steve snorts at your words.

“Oh, he’s in love with you alright. He talks about you so much that even Connie’s getting fed up.” You shake your head in mock disbelief, an attempt to hide the sheepish smile creeping its way onto your face. The blond man sees right through your charade. “Just, tell him for fucks sake. I need my partner back if we’re gonna take down Escobar.”

You open your mouth to counter him but he’s out of the room before you can organise your thoughts. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his empty cup sitting beside yours. You huff out a laugh, “idiot.”

●●●●

Two months and countless Steve-terventions later, you’d decided that enough was enough. You were getting tired of living in the ‘what ifs’. You wanted to love and be loved by Javier Peña.

The thought of planning some kind of grand extravagant gesture had crossed your mind but this was Javier you were talking about. He hated grand extravagant gestures. So you settled for just… telling him. No beating around the bush, no carefully-worded metaphors. Just you, your words and your heart. God, you hoped that was enough.

You’re getting ready to leave when the light reflecting off a nearby desk lamp catches your attention. Tracing it back to its source, you find Javier hunched over a heap of files. Spreads of paper are sprawled across every available surface. The corner of your lips turn upwards when he pulls a face at the document in front of him.

You purse your lips as you contemplate your options: talk to him now, with nowhere to hide from the consequences of your declaration or talk to him during official work hours, where you could be spared prolonged embarrassment. Dozens of scenarios play themselves out in your head, your familiar daydreams altering themselves to fit the scene before you. You let out a puff of air as you settle on talking to him now. Fewer witnesses, for good or for bad.

You dig around your drawer for your secret stash of snacks before making your way to him. He looks up when he hears the familiar rustling of the packet. A tired smile graces his face as you pull Steve’s chair around, dropping the packet onto his desk as you sit. You fall into the familiar routine and he hands you a nearby file. Occasionally, your elbows kiss and you exchange quiet apologies while pretending you don’t crave each other’s touch.

You’re sweeping stray sheets of paper into your hand when it dawns on you that the ‘right time’ will never come unless you make it. A determined exhale leaves you as you reach across his desk while he files the last of the paperwork. “I need to tell you something and I need you to listen to me.”

The way you’re looking at him sends a chill down his spine. There’s a fire behind your eyes that he’s never seen before and he doesn’t know what to expect. He nods solemnly instead. This is it, he thinks. She’s going to tell me that I’m a burden or that I’m a fuck up. He braces himself for the news.

“I…” his eyes are fixed on you and you glance away briefly as your confidence wavers. Just tell him. He loves you too. Steve assured you of it. The sheets of paper rustle in your hand as you tighten your grip. “I love you, Javi.”

Deep brown eyes widen in shock. His heart falters as the weight of your words sink in. He blinks at you hesitantly, wondering if he’d misheard. When you say nothing, fireworks explode in his belly as he searches for his words but- oh.

Why? Why him? Don’t you know of everything that he’s done? He left his high school sweetheart at the altar without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t even have the decency to send her an apology and he can barely bring himself to feel guilty. He’s lied, cheated, and killed without an ounce of remorse. Worst of all, he’d do it all again if it means getting Escobar. He was a monster and a killer. He doesn’t deserve love. Not after everything he’s done. Not after the way he treated his first one. So he does the logical thing. He pushes you away, puts up the barricades and lines them with barbed wire.

“You shouldn’t,” he replies. He jerks his arm away and turns his back to you, moving to store the file in the cabinet behind him.

“But I do. Javi, I-”

“No!” He slams the metal cabinet shut for emphasis. The scraping of rusty metal echoes through the room. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. But Steve had said!

“Just tell me you don’t love me too and I’ll stop. Tell me you don’t feel what I feel. Tell me that your heart doesn’t skip a beat when you make me laugh. Tell me that you don’t count the hours until you get to see me again. Tell me that you don’t wish it was me that you wake up next to instead of-” you choke on your words, instead of your ‘informants’.

He spins around sharply and you fix your gaze on him, desperately willing your heart to stop pounding in your ears. Fiery brown orbs stare back at you instead, void of their previous tenderness. He holds your gaze as he takes curt steps towards you. He’s close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face and your heart clenches in misplaced hope. Your breath hitches as he leans in.

“I don’t.”

With two words, you see your world shatter before your eyes. You flinch back in response but he keeps going, leaning closer as you draw away. “I don’t love you.” His voice is cold and deadly. It’s icier than you’ve ever heard it and you’ve seen him threaten the devil’s right-hand man. You bite the inside of your cheek in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from welling in your eyes. He doesn’t mean it, you lie to yourself. He can’t mean it. He-

“I never have and I never will. You are nothing but a distraction to me.” He slows his words as he speaks, as if needing to emphasise them. “Do you think you’re important? That you matter? I can’t even tell you what colour your eyes are without looking at them first.” It’s a lie. But you deserve better than a screw up like him. He can’t give you the life you deserve, the life he needs you to live. The life that he wants but can never have. He can’t drag you into the endless pit of darkness that he’s learnt to call home. He won’t.

He clenches his jaw and brings his lips to your ear, shoving down the urge to kiss you. “I could never love someone as pathetic and weak as you.” He whispers his words like a slow-acting venom, delivering his final blow. He knows he’s hit the mark when he hears the choked sob that leaves your body. He pulls away to see your fists balled at your side as tears glide down your face.

He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve just said no but he didn’t. Instead, he’d rubbed salt into unhealed wounds that you’d made the mistake of showing him. He wanted to hurt you and that made you angry. A quiet voice whispers that he’s hiding behind his words, that there’s more to the story. You silence the voice without a second thought because right now? You don’t care why he did it. All you feel is anger, and pain.

The fire from before morphs into something sinister and you let the flames grow. It licks at your heart, daring it to explode, to unleash everything you’ve been holding back. So you let him burn in your rage. You let him burn and you drown out the screams.

“Fuck you, Javier Peña!” Your finger stabs into his chest in time with each word. “Fuck you and everything you fight for!” You flail your arms out wide. He flinches but you don’t notice. “All you care about is Escobar. You don’t give a shit who you hurt along the way, as long as you get what you want.”

You scoff as you fold your arms across your chest. You’re breathing hard out of your nose and you hate the way Javier holds your gaze. You hate the way it challenges you to keep going, almost like he’s enjoying it.

You grind your teeth together as you calm the raging flames inside your chest. “No matter how you spin it Javier, whatever bullshit you tell yourself to get yourself to sleep at night... it’s just that. Bullshit.” You shake your head in frustration as you spin on your heels, turning to leave.

A picture of him and Murphy falls into your line of sight and something sparks within you. An ember in the dying flames. You drag all the emotion out of your voice before speaking. You need him to hear your words without them being clouded by your fury. “When Murphy walks away from it all, he’ll have someone to go home to. You?” you glance over your shoulder to look at him, “you’ll never have anyone.”

He stays frozen in place until the sound of your shoes tapping against the floor has long since faded. A single tear rolls down the left side of his cheek. I wish it could be you.

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @hillarymurray4 @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @cryptkeepersoul @agirllovespasta @wickedfrsgrl @dindisneydjarin @opheliaelysia @aeryntheofficial @adikaofmandalore @goldafterglow @yespolkadotkitty @chibi-liz05 @scarlettvonsass @rpcvliz @cinewhore @basura2319 @theravenreads @mxndoscyarika @jaime1110 @f0rever15elf @pancakepike @phoenixhalliwell

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #angstageddon #kay writes

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tobirama-says-fuck-the-uchihas · 4 years

Text

Hashirama & Tobirama With a Little Sister Headcanons

HASHIRAMA

( as children )

♡ butsuma was never really a good father. he was constantly pushing his children into war one way or the other, so i headcanon him as being, to put it bluntly, a very abusive father.

♡ i imagine butsuma being absolutely infuriated when he finds out that his youngest child is a girl

♡ "what am i going to do with this? she won't ever be as strong as my sons!"

♡ with this being mentioned, hashi and tobi's little sister grows up constantly being called a 'total misfire'

♡ so, with that in mind...

♡ get ready for a whole lot of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

♡ GOD, hashi just loves her SO MUCH

♡ when she was little, hashirama would play with her in her room like, all the time. no buts. all the time.

♡ "wanna play with the blocks? you want the green one? here you go!! i love you so much!!!"

♡ he can't believe he has a little sister! three brothers it took to get him here and now all he wants is to play with her constantly

♡ when kawarama and itama become fatalities to the uchiha clan, hashirama has a newfound drive to protect his youngest sibling. he vows to never, ever let anything happen to her, may god help him.

♡ stands up for her against their father. butsuma is furious, but hashi's little sister never forgets that. hashi made a vow to protect her, and that's exactly what he's gonna do.

♡ whenever she has nightmares, he's always there to comfort her, no matter what. if he has a curfew and has to be in his room and stay in there at a certain time, he'll sneak out and crawl through the halls just to get to her room. #goodfam

♡ during the colder months he likes to wrap a long scarf around his sister and throw one of the ends over her head, just for shits and giggles

♡ she doesn't mind, she's giggling too

( as teenagers )

♡ when things get a little more rocky in their lives now that hashirama is older, he finds he doesn't have enough time for his baby sister anymore. right around the corner he'll be in his twenties, and his baby sister is still only barely past the age of ten. now that he's much more stronger and able to provide more for his family, he's willing to do anything it takes, even if it means he won't always physically be there for his sister.

♡ when butsuma passes away and hashirama becomes the head of the senju clan, there's a lot of strain on him, but he manages to pull through

♡ his baby sister is always getting noogies or having her hair ruffled by him

♡ once she was complaining about her hair getting too long and how she didn't like it, so hashi sat her down and cut her hair for her. he was like "OMG KSJGFSHGBJRGH IM GONNA CUT YOUR HAIR ARE YOU READY? im not the best at cutting hair. like, TERRIBLE. im TERRIBLE at it. but i hope it'll look good on u!! cus ur so cute!! look at those squishy cheeks!!!!"

♡ his little sister is like "uhh, on second thought???"

♡ he does a terrible job

♡ he cuts it at about a few inches above her shoulders but it's so UNEVEN

♡ he tried his best

♡ she cries because it looks so bad but can't get mad at poor hashi

♡ his little sister enjoys practicing being a homemaker before fighting other clans, so that's what she does. while hashi and tobi are out, she stays at home and sweeps, scrubs the floors on her hands and knees, does the dishes, washes the laundry as best she can, etc

♡ by the time hashi and tobi get home she's fallen asleep on the floor

♡ "HEY (NAME) WANNA HEAR ABOUT THIS CRAZY THING THAT HAPPENED TODAY"

♡ when she woke up nothing went well.

♡ if his little sister wants to dabble in some medical ninjutsu, hashi complies immediately. 3 seconds after the words are out of her mouth hashi is dashing out of the house towards the medical quarters to see if he can find a nurse nin to teach his lil sis

♡ oh, btw, lots of "sis"'s

♡ and hugs

♡ and cheek kisses

♡ he can't resist he loves his baby sister SO much. like, 100/10 would fr die for her

TOBIRAMA

( as children )

♡ he comes off as a bit cold and distant sometimes, but he really does care about his little sister, especially after itama and kawarama.

♡ whenever she'd come up to him wanting to play he shrugged her off and made her cry quite a handful of times, but every time he'd cringe at her sniffling and would be guilt-tripped into stacking blocks with her or some shit like that lmfao

♡ tobi definitely would not go to hashirama's level of affection for their little sister. it's just... it's just kinda nasty to him

♡ he hates the idea of receiving such affection and wouldn't "obsessively" kiss or hug his baby sister like SOMEONE he knows

♡ although once in a while he'll lay a hand on the top of her head

♡ she doesn't really know what's happening but he takes it off after .2 seconds

♡ he just aint that kinda brutha

♡ one time his sister started uncontrollably crying in the garden outside of their house and when he came to see what was wrong she pointed at a dead lizard on the ground and "i stepped on him!" poor babey

♡ tobirama honestly doesn't see how that's a problem. big deal, how many, i dunno, ants has he stepped on before? he never cried about that. he just cant understand what the big deal is. it's a lizard. there's billions of them.

♡ "so what? he was bound to be caught by a bird sometime or the other."

♡ in which the crying ensues, again, and tobirama begrudgingly places a hand on his sister's shoulder in some way to console her, but that's the best he can do. if his sister jumps at him while she's crying for comfort, he may lay a hand on the back of her neck while cries on him. that's it though

( as teenagers )

♡ when he's in his late teens, he's constantly out of the house preparing battle strategies just in case. he's virtually never at home except for when he gets off from his strategizing earlier than normal. when he's out late, he doesn't come home till past midnight probably or he'll be pulling an all-nighter. it's just who he is, and battle strategizing in case of a uchiha attack is necessary. someone's gotta do it

♡ now that his sister is older, she now has a bit of knowledge in the kitchen, and sometimes makes a little, small snack for her brother if he gets home late. it's not much, but it's the best she can do. probably something like a little tiny cupcake or a small dish of sliced fruit for him

♡ he appreciates it, but will never ever say that to her. his pride wouldn't be able to take it, showing thanks to a little girl when at the very least it should be him cooking for her. but we all know he doesn't have time for that

♡ once hashirama switched around the salt and sugar jars by accident since he just. he just doesn't know anything that goes on in the kitchen. it was a mistake. their little sister decided to make a little treat for tobirama when he got home, and she put salt in the cupcake instead of sugar. made it all nice and as neat as an eleven-year-old could, even put only a very small amount of icing on the top, just how tobi likes it

♡ when tobi got home he found it sitting out on the kotatsu in the dining room and decided to take only a bite before getting ready for a much-needed hot bath

♡ and promptly spat it out on the floor

♡ he was SO angry. ???????? like??????? did she do this on purpose??? was she messing with him?? was she angry that tobirama couldn't stay home the other night to eat dinner with her???? she knew that he had a busy schedule, so her giving him this garbage was unacceptable and selfish

♡ he's just a big grump

♡ when he confronts her about it the next day, shes like ??????? huh??? i didn't put salt in the food, get your mouth checked

♡ and then hashirama, amidst the loud arguing, is rubbing his neck like ...... hey guys, i have a confession to make

♡ when konoha is formed, tobirama is old enough to have his own home, and hashirama is arranged for a marriage with a woman named mito uzumaki. so tobirama moves out, and brings his little sister with him

♡ she runs the house while he's out being hashi's right-hand-man and whatnot

♡ y'know, slaving away, but now, thanks to hashi, pretty good at medical ninjutsu

♡ now that they're living alone together, tobirama has a bit more time for her. when he's free, he takes his sister out to a secluded spot to practice battle moves with her, pretty much trying to show her everything he knows, as much as he can. if his sister has an affinity for water like him, then all the more convenient. this gives him a much larger platform to teach her on

♡ she lowkey hates his style of teaching though

♡ "i can't be hitting you that hard" headass

♡ tobi she's like, thirteen, with barely any battle experience. you're a grown adult male whom has literally wasted some people, including that spikey-haired angry man's brother, ok

#hashirama #hashirama senju #tobirama #tobirama senju #hashirama x reader #hashirama senju x reader #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto headcanons #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden headcanons #founders trio #founders trio headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto shippuden scenarios #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden imagines

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bellarkefanfiction · 7 years

Text

suddenly i see (this is what i wanna be)

*click through to read on ao3

written by: Mel | @mellamymake

prompt: "You stepped on my glasses and now I'm pretty much blinded and you have to accompany me everywhere till I can get my new glasses" for anonymous

word count: 5178

"I can't believe you've managed to hide this for so long."

"To be fair, I wasn't hiding," Bellamy points out, a touch of colour rising in his cheeks. "I just don't like to wear them when I'm out. That's not hiding."

Or, the one where Clarke moves in with Bellamy and is shocked to discover that he wears glasses.

In Clarke's honest defence, she wasn't even aware that Bellamy wore glasses.

"What about beach week two years ago?" she demands, staring at the black frames balanced across his nose. "Did you have glasses then?"

He adjusts them with two fingers, peering at her through the lenses. "I think it's pretty safe to say I've had them ever since I got them, Clarke. Which is, oh, about fifteen years ago."

"But did you wear them?" she persists, her frown deepening. "I'm really sure I would have remembered you wearing them."

He pauses then, his brow furrowing. "Well. I always wear them at the end of the day. Like, right before going to bed. So..."

"So only in your room, then." At his nonchalant shrug, she throws her hands up into the air, huffing exasperatedly. "I can't believe you've managed to hide this for so long."

"To be fair, I wasn't hiding," he points out, a touch of colour rising in his cheeks. "I just don't like to wear them when I'm out. That's not hiding."

"You've been wearing contacts all these years," she mutters, shaking her head. "Those are contacts I've been looking at, all these years."

"It's not like I've been wearing a wig or something," he points out, looking vaguely offended. He pauses, looking at her. "Although, if you happen to come across a face mask made of something that looks a little like human skin—"

"Fuck you," she says easily, stretching her leg across the couch to kick lightly at his knee. Of all the jokes they've cracked between them over the last couple of weeks about moving in together to save on rent, this one definitely ranks near the bottom. "Okay, so why are you wearing the glasses now? Are you going to bed at—" she spares a quick glance at the clock in the corner of the news channel they're watching, "—eight forty-nine P.M.?"

He shifts, the flush returning to his cheeks. "Cute. And no, I'm not going to bed at eight forty-nine P.M. I ran out of contacts."

She raises a brow. "You what?"

He shrugs. "I ran out. I gotta get some more."

She stares at him, forehead crinkled with disbelief. "You've been successfully hiding behind your contacts for the last fifteen years, and all of a sudden you just… ran out?"

"Okay, again, I wasn't hiding," he says, pointing at her. "And, well, sometimes shit happens." At her questioning frown, he gives her another shrug. "Shit like, I don't know, when you accidentally throw out the contacts that were supposed to last you the rest of the year before you get a chance to pick up a new pair."

"You what?!"

He rolls his eyes, but the hue of his skin still looks distinctly redder than it usually does, even under the warmth of their living room lights. "I'll put in an order for new contacts tomorrow. Anyway, it's no big deal. They're just glasses."

Except it is kind of a big deal, for some inexplicable reason she can't quite put her finger on. Something the way those black frames sit squarely across his face just makes her stare, the angle of his jawline and the soft arch of his dark brows all suddenly ramped up to an eleven. Even his lips look fuller than usual, plumper and ever so slightly redder than she can remember them being.

It's like he's wearing the glasses, but she's the one seeing several times clearer all of a sudden.

"Yeah, okay," she mutters as nonchalantly as she can, settling back into the couch to pretend she's watching the news, instead of watching her roommate out of the corner of her eye.

She's just not accustomed to seeing him in glasses. That's all. It’s brand new information; she’s allowed an adjustment period.

Once she gets used to it, everything will go right back to normal.

“Coffee’s on the table,” is the first thing she hears when she flies into the kitchen, bag hanging off her arm and shirt still only half-buttoned.

She blows out a harried sigh of relief before flinging her bag into the table to free up her hands, one going straight for the steaming mug of coffee waiting for her, the other swiping up the piece of toast sitting beside it, already slathered with butter. "Have I told you you're my favourite roommate yet?" she says, trying to get in a sip of coffee through a mouthful of toast.

"Not lately, no," Bellamy says idly, squinting at her iPad as he flicks through Netflix. "You’ve got about twelve minutes to get to your meeting, by the way. Checked out traffic while you were in the shower — you're gonna wanna avoid 5th today."

"Fuck," she announces, not bothering to cover her toast-filled mouth. As quickly as she can without spilling everything down her front, she demolishes the rest of her toast within three bites and gulps down half her coffee.

"See you later!" she says, grabbing her bag off the table and dashing out of the kitchen.

"Shoes," he calls from the kitchen.

"I didn't forget," she calls back petulantly, even as she wheels around from the door to grab a pair of flats, stuffing her feet into them and whirling back to wrench the door open.

"Keys!" is all he says in response.

She does an abrupt double take, holding the door open with one foot as she twists round to snatch her keys off the side table. “Bye!” she yells, before slamming the door shut behind her.

meetings finally over! think i just booked 2 jobs :D

u eaten yet? want me to

pick up lunch omw home?

???

hello?????

[voice note from Bellamy]

uhhh all i hear is u sayin 'fuck. Fuck, shit' over

and over.. is that supposed to happen

why are u using voice notes that’s so weird

[1 image from Bellamy]

???????

i ask u if u want lunch and all i get is a

screenshot of oppenheimer's wiki page??

Om sajht def

ok u know what im just gonna

get ur usual from the diner

home in 20

Clarke kicks the apartment door shut with her foot, working her shoes off with her toes. "Okay, the diner was all out of chicken, so I got you beef instead," she calls, padding into the kitchen to set the large bag of food on the table. "You don't mind, do you?"

She sniggers to herself as she heads over to the tap for a drink of water, catching movement at the kitchen threshold as she turns. "Well, I don't actually care if you mind because beef is what you're getting." She swallows her first hasty gulp of cool water, swiping her hand across her mouth as she turns back around, glass in hand. "Hey, what was with the weird—"

She breaks off, taking in the way Bellamy's standing in the doorway, face all scrunched up as he blinks against the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen. "What's going on with your face?"

His expression turns wry. "My face? Nothing. My eyes are a whole different story, though."

She frowns, taking two steps forward. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

He pauses, blinking hard. "Well. Actually, nothing. It's, uh— it's my glasses."

At first she's completely lost, brows furrowed in confusion. But then Bellamy extends a hand, his thick black frames sitting neatly in the flat of his large palm, and—

"Holy shit," she says, both brows shooting up high. "What did you do to it?"

One of the lenses is slightly cracked, a hairline fracture running along the side of it. The other one is practically shattered.

"I didn't do anything," Bellamy says dryly, stepping forward carefully. "Your bag, on the other hand..."

"My what? What are you—" All of a sudden, the memory of the way she'd all but slammed her bag onto the kitchen table earlier flashes up in her mind, including the stark realisation that she had been in far too much of a rush to bother checking that the coast was clear. "Oh. Oh, fuck. Did I do that? Shit, I'm sorry!"

Bellamy waves a dismissive hand, and she really shouldn't want to laugh, but the way he's focusing on her chin instead of her eyes is oddly endearing. "No, it's okay. About time I got a new pair, anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you weren't planning to smash up this pair before you got a new one." She watches as he reaches for the bag holding their lunch, fumbling slightly with pulling out the containers. "That explains the weird replies to my texts."

He pauses, looking up at her (well, sort of). "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was trying to tell you that I can't see, but I don't know how successful those attempts were."

"You sent me a voice note. Along with what I think is the last photo saved in your camera roll," she informs him with a dry smile, fetching another glass of water for him.

He grimaces, sliding one of the containers across the table to her. "Fuck. How incriminating was it?"

"It was a screenshot of Oppenheimer's wiki page," she says, switching the containers so they're getting the right meals. "Very racy stuff."

"Juicy," he agrees, stabbing a plastic knife into his side salad.

She tries to smother the snigger that bubbles up, but it's a half-hearted attempt at best. "Fork's on your left," she offers helpfully, popping the plastic top off her own container.

"Don't laugh," he grumps good-naturedly, waving his knife at her. "I'm blind."

For the most part, Bellamy doesn't seem all that bothered by his temporary handicap.

All the same, Clarke feels too responsible for his predicament to just leave him be. She spends the rest of the afternoon reading his texts and emails to him, and narrating her way through their Netflix queue when he wants to change shows (he can't quite see what's going on, but his sense of hearing is sharp as ever. Plus, he can almost sort of make out what's going on when he squints at the TV, especially once she turns the screen brightness up).

At five o'clock, she drives them both to the mall so he can order a new set of glasses, taking his arm in hers so he doesn't walk into a pillar or a glass door.

Upon reaching the optical store, she halts in her tracks, groaning in dismay. "They're closed."

Bellamy stops obediently when she does, turning slightly towards her with her arm still looped around his. "I thought it looked a little dark, but then again, I figured I'm probably not the best judge of that right now. Does it say if they're open tomorrow?"

She peers at the notice on the glass front, shaking her head ruefully. "Nope, closed on Sundays. Can you call your order in, or email or something?"

He cocks his head thoughtfully. "I can try. But I'd still have to come in to show my prescription."

"Shit," she groans, squeezing at his bicep. "Fuck, I really am sorry."

His other hand comes up to cover hers. "It's okay, princess. It was an accident. You don't have to keep apologising for it."

She starts them towards the Dairy Queen kiosk that's just around the corner. "I feel like I have to. If I didn't totally crush your glasses, you wouldn't have walked right into the bathroom doorframe earlier."

"True," he agrees easily. She jabs her elbow into his ribs, and he laughs, tightening his arm against his side so that she's pressed even closer, her mobility limited. "It's fine, Clarke. Seriously. Plus, I've never had an escort before. S'kinda cool."

"For you," she pretends to grouch, digging into her bag with her free hand. "All right, come on. DQ Blizzards on me."

"This is new," Miller observes when they arrive at the bar three hours later, arm in arm.

"This is a necessary precaution," Clarke corrects wryly, guiding Bellamy into one side of the booth with a hand on his arm and one on his back before sliding in after him. "We've got some news, guys. Bellamy's blind."

Jasper practically spews beer nut fragments all over the table. "Bellamy's blind?!"

"I'm not blind," Bellamy says loudly, as a tidal chorus of what's and Oh my God's start surging up around the table. "I'm not— Jasper, I'm not blind! I just don't have any contacts in right now. Or glasses. Or any sort of seeing aides that, uh, you know. Aid me with seeing."

Raven frowns, raising an arched brow at him. "You wear glasses?"

Clarke throws out an exasperated hand at her, turning towards Bellamy. "Thank you! See how well you've hidden this little factoid?"

"Okay, again," Bellamy says, blinking hazily at her forehead, "not hiding."

"Wait," Monty interrupts, face pinched with confusion. "I don't get it. What happened to your glasses?"

Bellamy heaves a melodramatic sigh. "They put up a valiant fight, but ultimately, even they couldn't stand up to the weight of having Clarke for a roommate."

"It was an accident," Clarke says with a roll of her eyes, grinning despite herself. "There was a thing with my bag. Anyway, the point is that Bellamy's blind now."

"Not blind," he argues lightly. "Just very, very myopic."

Clarke ignores him, deliberately elbowing him aside as she leans forward. "So if you've ever wanted to make a rude face or gesture at him," she continues, "now would be the time, people."

Raven and Miller instantly both hold up two completely different hand signs, each one just as vulgar.

"I don't know what that is," Bellamy says warningly, pointing vaguely in their direction, "but I can tell exactly who it is that's doing that."

Jasper somehow produces a Sharpie out of thin air, already breathless with excitement. "When do we get to draw on his face?"

"He's blind, Jasper," Monty reminds helpfully. "Not passed out."

"I'm not—"

"You're not blind!" Miller finishes mockingly. "As for 'passed out', well. The night has only just begun, my friend."

"You're not passing out," Clarke tells him once Miller and Monty head off to the bar to fetch the first round of drinks. She turns in the booth to face him, leaning in so he can hear over the buzz of the bar and the sound of Jasper and Raven fighting over the last of the beer nuts across the table. "I can make sure you don't walk into lampposts. I cannot carry you home all by myself."

Bellamy grins, and just for a moment or two, they're close enough that he can focus in on her eyes properly, their gazes firmly locking on each other. "What a good escort."

She rolls her eyes, punching him lightly in the shoulder. There's practically no force to it at all, so she just ends up pressing her knuckles into his arm, their faces mere inches apart. "Yeah, well," she manages to say, "don't get used to it."

She hopes that the way her throat goes dry at the end isn't audible in her voice.

Bellamy merely smirks, his mouth curving in that crooked way that used to piss her off like nothing else back when they'd first met. "Wouldn't dream of it, princess."

The thing is, someone does get used to it.

Funnily enough, that someone is her.

For some reason, it feels far too natural to be this close to Bellamy, looping her arm in his every time they're on the move, leading him over to the bar, or the pool table (to trash talk Miller from the sidelines), or the darts corner (so he can squint at the board and pretend like his vision's 'not that bad, I think I can make out the general bull's-eye area' and then proceed to punch three tiny holes into the wall before hastily giving up).

When his friend Harper from work stops by the booth to say hi, it feels far too natural to get up with Bellamy and walk together over to the table where three more of their co-workers are situated, her arm staying loosely interlocked with his even as they come to a stop. (There's a slight snafu when he introduces her to his colleagues. One of the group — Murphy, she thinks it was — raises his brows before saying "Oh, so you're Clarke." She's about to ask exactly what he means, but then Harper interrupts to ask Bellamy something about a meeting on Monday, and the statement just kind of gets buried under the ensuing conversation.)

She even feels disappointed by the couple of times she's not able to walk with him to the bathroom, watching Miller and then Jasper guide him off with a faint but distinct throb of envy.

She's never enjoyed the walk home as much as she does later that night, one hand neatly tucked into the crook of his elbow, the other wrapped lightly around his forearm in what's practically an embrace.

It's just to be safe, of course. They've both had a few beers. They're not unsteady by any means, but she doesn't see any harm maintaining a little closer contact than usual, especially with his shortsightedness exacerbated by the darkness of night.

He's familiar enough with their apartment that he can handle a shower without supervision (not that she was expecting otherwise), but she can't resist checking in on him one last time before going to bed.

He's already under the covers, but he props himself up on his elbows, smiling tiredly at her. "Thanks for looking out for me today." A soft snort. "Literally."

"Funny," she deadpans, smiling back despite herself. "Goodnight, Bellamy."

"'Night, princess."

Clearly, being (almost) blind isn't enough to convince Bellamy to stay within the comfortable confines of home, because by lunchtime they're heading towards their favourite taco stand that's two streets over from their apartment, arm in arm once again.

"I mean, it's Sunday," Clarke pretends to grumble, pushing slightly into his side to avoid an oncoming passerby, a large German shepherd loping before him on a leash. "That should be more than enough reason to, you know. Stay home."

Bellamy steps slightly to his right and away from the dog-walker, pressing his arm in against his body to pull her even closer. "Exactly, it's Sunday.A.K.A., the best day for tacos." He shrugs, not bothering to relax his arms outward even after the dog and his owner are well behind them, keeping them pressed flush against each other from shoulder to elbow. "It's just science, okay? Why are you trying to argue with science?"

She snorts. "Science, right. More like your greedy gut." Twisting her arm slightly in his grip, she pokes her index finger at his middle through the soft cotton shirt he's wearing.

He laughs, releasing her arm completely to grab at her hand with his. "No, it's science. Trust me, I'm a teacher. I would know."

"You're a history teacher, " she says in disbelief, letting her fingers curl around his.

"Who's friends with science teachers," he says, slowly and clearly as if for her benefit. "Hence."

She shakes her head, shifting a little closer as they let their still-joined hands drop down to their sides. "Ridiculous."

Well. It's a nice change from having her arm half-raised like that, she supposes. Probably better for her blood circulation, or something.

He eventually caves into her nagging and calls in sick to work on Monday.

"Even though this really doesn't count as a sickness," he grouches for the twelfth time, getting up to pour himself more coffee.

She's already in front of him, grabbing the empty mug out of his hands as she pushes at his shoulder in a silent command to sit back down. "Yeah, because not being able to see definitely doesn't affect your job. Not like you need that to write on the board, or grade homework. Or, you know.Teach."

"All right, all right," he says as she sets his refilled mug in front of him. "Point taken."

Later that afternoon, they're at the mall putting in an order for Bellamy's new glasses when they run into Monty.

"What are you doing here!" Clarke says, surprised. "You're not at work today?"

For some reason, Monty seems a little… off. Fidgety, almost.

"Had a late lunch meeting with a client," he says. After a beat, he lifts his thumb, jabbing it over his shoulder in the direction of the food court. "We just… had lunch."

Bellamy seems completely unperturbed by the way Monty's shoulders are rigid, the shorter man practically bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. (Then again, his nonchalance probably has a lot to do with the fact that he can't actually see Monty.) "Oh, okay. Good meeting?"

"Yeah. Yeah, good." Monty seems downright on edge at this point, his gaze constantly shifting between them. "I should go!" he finally blurts out after an awkward pause. "See you guys!"

"What was that about?" she wonders aloud, tugging on Bellamy's hand to get him to start walking again.

He shifts his grip slightly so that their fingers are more comfortably entwined with each other's. "What was what about?"

"Monty. He was all… weird."

"Maybe he's just late getting back to the office or something."

"Yeah, maybe," Clarke says as she leads them into the optical store. "Okay, where's your prescription?"

On Tuesday, Bellamy goes back to work, but only after Clarke makes him promise he's not going to try to write or read anything.

"You heard the optician," she lectures on the drive to his workplace. "No straining your eyes. You're only going to make them worse."

"Yes, I know," he says dryly. "Might have slipped your mind, but I've been going to eye doctors for slightly longer than you have, princess." He pats his messenger bag, balanced securely on his lap. "Besides, I've got a good six or seven documentaries in here to keep all my students occupied for the day. Don't worry about it."

"Easier said than done," she mutters, but she can't help smiling when he laughs at that.

She arrives to pick him up at exactly ten minutes past two, undoing her seatbelt and dashing out of the car when she spots him and Murphy emerge from the front doors.

She shoves down on the surge of protective concern, swallowing down the barrage of worried questions already on the tip of her tongue. "No visible bruises, I see," she says instead, taking his arm in hers.

Murphy rocks lazily on his heels. "Wait till you get his shirt off tonight."

"He's kidding," Bellamy says, mistaking her arrested flinch for distress. "I only hit, like, one thing today. It was the trash can. And I only sort of hit it. With my foot."

"So you… kicked a trash can," she supplies dryly. "Well done."

"Yeah," Murphy intones. "Usually, it's a kid."

They drive straight to the mall to pick up his glasses and a small box of disposable contact lenses, for him to use while he's waiting on his regular soft contacts to arrive.

"Does anyone ever work here," she grumbles when they arrive at the optical store to find the lights off and a sign taped to the door, with the words 'Back in five!' scrawled across in thick blue marker.

He shrugs, tugging on her hand as if to stretch out the rigid set of her shoulders. "That's okay. We can go grab lunch first."

They end up choosing a small Thai restaurant that serves up a mean green curry, splitting a small dish of mango sticky rice for dessert. They linger for far longer than is really necessary, sharing an extra glass of iced sweet milk tea between them as they enjoy the easy conversation and the relative emptiness of the restaurant, given the awkward post-lunch, pre-dinner timing of their meal.

"This is it," he says when they're back in the store, waiting on the optician to fetch his order from the back room. "As soon as those glasses get on my face, this prince turns back into a frog."

"Joke's on you," she deadpans, elbowing him lightly. "You've been a frog all along."

He laughs, his hand tightening reflexively on hers. "Harsh, princess."

It's really not that big a deal, or any notable size of a deal at all, but she finds herself holding her breath when the glasses come out of their shiny new case. There's an extra minute or so where the optician gives them a last polish, prattling on and on about all the lens fit and the design of the frame, but then finally, he's handing them over to Bellamy, and—

"Whoa." Bellamy blinks, the dark brown of his eyes looking even glossier through the clear lenses. "Let there be light." He spreads both hands slightly, his inky black curls curling against the top of the thick frames. "Well? What do you think?"

There's a lump in her throat, and she has no idea how it got there. She swallows hard.

"Oh, yeah," she says, a little weakly. "Definitely still a frog."

They walk back to the car like they always do; separately, hands at their sides.

The next three days are oddly uncomfortable.

Everything goes right back to normal. She holes up in her home office to work on her projects, Bellamy goes to school, they have dinner on the couch every night, with a bubbly sitcom or a quirky dramedy playing on the TV.

Even though nothing's really changed, she can't help feeling like everything's been knocked slightly out of alignment. Like the lines and shapes and colours that make up the world around her suddenly aren't quite as clear or bright as they used to be.

"What?" Bellamy says when he notices her staring one night. He lifts a hand, touching his fingertips to his thick black frames. "Look that bad?"

He'd originally planned to wear the disposable ones for the rest of the week, but on the first day wearing them, he'd popped them out within the hour, complaining that they just don't fit like his usual pair.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Nowhere near as pretty as your other pair," she says with a grin. They're both fully aware that these new frames are more or less identical to his old ones.

He shakes his head, mouth curved with a wide smile. "Well, you can quit worrying about it. My contacts should get here tomorrow." He taps at his glasses. "Say bye to these."

She's struck by the sudden realisation that she doesn't want to do that. She likes the glasses. She likes how much softer they make his structured cheeks and jaw look, how much fluffier his hair seems to grow, how much more relaxed his entire body seems to become.

"We're having dinner with Raven and Miller tomorrow," she says instead. "Don't forget."

Dinner is a loud affair, even with Jasper and Monty passing so they can attend a mutual friend's housewarming party.

Clarke's not sure what it is exactly about the night that makes it so enjoyable, but something about Raven's sharp snark and Miller's lazy sarcasm just seems to turn everything about twelve shades funnier than usual. The little Mexican bistro Miller's chosen for dinner is relaxed and comfortable, with great food and even better drinks, and for the first time in three days, she feels herself loosening up, smiling easier and laughing harder than she has in a while.

She drinks slightly more sangria than she'd originally planned to, but the light giddiness that seeps into her system is definitely borne of genuine joy rather than any hint of drunkenness.

"Raven's funny," she says as she and Bellamy start on the walk back home. "Miller's funny, too. We should hang out with them more often."

He chuckles, his head tilting sideways as he looks over at her. "We hang out with them all the time."

"No, I mean, like, just them," she insists, grinning helplessly. "Without Jonty and Masper."

He squints at her, expression teasing. "You drunk, Clarke?"

She laughs, shaking her head. She really isn't. It just feels like an invisible weight's been lifted from her shoulders. It feels good. "No. Just… happy."

He nods, seeming to consider her answer more seriously than she'd expected. "Good. That's good, princess."

Now she's the one cocking her head, squinting at him. "Are you happy?"

He laughs, but there's an unfamiliar edge to the sound that rings distinctly bittersweet to her ears. "With you? Always."

On sheer impulse, she reaches out, slipping her hand into his. "Good."

It's only when his hand curls around hers, big and warm, that she really, properly gets what it is that she's doing. It's all fine and dandy to hold her roommate's hand for the purpose of guiding him about while his vision's impaired, but—

"Oh." Forcing herself to loosen her grip, she works up a tense laugh. "Sorry. Force of habit, I guess."

Never mind that it's been three whole days since she'd last held his hand. Never mind that they'd really only spent three days before that even holding hands at all, which is nowhere near long enough to form a legitimate habit.

Bellamy blinks, making no moves to let her hand slip from his. "No, it's— it's okay. I mean, I don't mind."

It's fucking embarrassing to admit, but her breath hitches in her throat — actually hitches. Like she's a character in a cheesy romance novel. "Oh. Okay. As long as you're sure."

She's expecting some sort of wry crack, or maybe a dry, deadpanned reassurance that 'I've survived Jasper and Monty's homemade moonshine, princess. Holding hands with you is hardly going to kill me'.

The last thing she's expecting is for Bellamy come to an abrupt stop, tug firmly on her hand to turn her towards him, bring his free hand up to cup her face and kiss her.

She's kissing him right back before she can even quite grasp what's happening, her free hand twisting into his shirt, the other shifting slightly in his to pull him even closer.

After a long, glorious minute, he pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. She can't quite tell that fiery warmth blazing between the point of their contact is coming from his skin or hers.

"I'm sure, Clarke," he says, smiling against her lips. "I'm absolutely, completely sure."

"See, I told you I was sure!" Monty cries when they walk into the bar the next day, one of his fingers pointed right at their joined hands.

"Holy shit," Jasper says, eyes wide. "Are you guys for real dating now?!"

Clarke pauses, frowning slightly. "Well, we weren't— this is new, it didn't happen till—" She sighs, giving up as the entire table predictably erupts into cheers. "Yeah, okay," she says, grinning at Bellamy. "We are, all right?"

"Told you love was blind," Miller says, sloshing his beer dangerously when Jasper shoves him in excitement.

Bellamy groans. "For the last time, I'm not blind!"

#bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #bffwritingteam #a: mellamymake #wt: mel #title: suddenly i see (this is what i wanna be)#oneshots #modern au #roommates #friends to lovers #teacher!bellamy #fluff #humor

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overdrivels · 7 years

Text

Playful Observation (Drabble)

“I don’t get it,” you say loudly. “It’s a stick, why does it move like a noodle?”

Hanzo heaves a frustrated sigh, gnashing his teeth. “I have explained this to you several times now, I grow tired of this.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t get it. Why’s it vibrating and turning?” The arrow in your hand is certainly flexible, but Hanzo’s complicated explanation and crude drawings did little to explain its strange movements that you saw through the slow-motion capture of his shot earlier that morning. Hanzo snatches it from your hands, and you almost nick yourself on the head.

“Cease that! It is difficult to find the proper spine for these arrows.” A moment of hesitation. “If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for our mission.”

“Mm’kay, Hanny. Thanks for the lesson.” You give him a goofy smile and a wave, and he bristles, leaving in a hurry.

Jesse had watched Hanzo get fed up with multiple explanations of the physics of an arrow’s trajectory and the specifics of the Archer’s Paradox from his corner in the room. Granted, anyone would be annoyed if you asked them to explain something over and over with little results to show for it. Hanzo should’ve known better. But no one can blame him, he hasn’t had any experience handling you yet. It was entertaining, but someone’s gotta keep the peace around here.

Jesse strides over and slides into the spot next to you (“Jess! My favorite cowboy!”), he chuckles when you immediately twist yourself around and lay your back against his lap, stretching up like a cat.

“Hanzo’s gonna hate ya, sweet'art. Y'should know better than t'tease ‘im." His voice is full of mirth, but his gaze is weighty, warning.

You reach up, and it’s only because he knows you that he lets you run your fingers through his beard. Anyone else would’ve gotten to know Peacekeeper a little better. "I’m not teasing. He’s just using hard-to-understand words.”

Jesse snorts. “That’s th'greatest load'a horse manure I ever heard.” Again, he knows you and he knows Hanzo well enough by now. “What game are you playing this time?”

An exaggerated pout renders your face younger and much more childish than any agent (other than Efi and Hana) had any right to be and he attempts to remedy that with a stern warning look. But you remain undeterred, tugging his beard wickedly. “Horse mature better not be what I think it is…”

Jesse is stoic, unwavering in his attempt to make you break (and shows great patience in your purposeful--he hoped--mistake of words). Your pout becomes deeper instead, and he sighs, pinching your cheeks. He endures your struggles and tugs–half-hearted and mild. “How long do you want to play this game, sweet'art? Til you drive th'whole place mad or til you’ve had your fill?”

“Wha’ makeshhu think I’m playing a game?” you ask innocently, face stretched.

This is the point where most people give up and either begin to berate you or disengage entirely. But Jesse wasn’t 'most people’.

“Hanzo’s new t'all this. If y'keep pushin’ him like a payload, he’s gonna snap at ya. He ain’t the type'o guy to tolerate your shit if he feel you’re jus’ yankin’ his chain,” he says patiently, stretching your cheeks just a bit more.

“Yoo shound rike yoo know from experiansh.”

“I’ve been ‘round the block a few times.” He chuckles, remembering their exchange about their choice of drink fondly. “He’ll stick an arrow through ya, don’t think he won’t.”

Jesse gives one final warning pinch (“Ow! Jess!”) before he lets go of your face, and your hands immediately fly to your cheeks to protect them from further assault.

“He won’t,” you say matter-of-factly, much more serious than he’s seen you all day. “It’s not in his character.”

Oh, so was that your game?

Jesse leans back into the couch, folding his arms over his chest. “So, y’getting a feel for the guy, huh? Wanna get t’know him before your mission t’gether, that it?”

He didn’t miss the mischievous grin that creeps its way onto your face no matter how quickly you tried to cover it.

“He has a like-hate relationship with smart people, you know,” you whisper almost gleefully, turning onto your side and facing his stomach. “They’re dangerous to him, so he keeps his guard up. But he has a soft spot for idiots, I mean, he tolerated my fun for longer than most people would. Seems like he had someone like that in his life that he really cared about.”

Jesse can take a gander at who that may have been.

“He’s hard on himself, and takes responsibility for things that are outside his own control. If something goes wrong, he blames himself for not preparing enough and tries to fix it on his own, but he’s not very open to new ideas. He’s scared of them.”

The last part is whispered almost to yourself. Jesse has half a mind to comment on that and ask you if you also know that from experience. But the bitter smile you suddenly don is enough to keep him off the topic.

“So y’sayin’ you have second thoughts ‘bout the mission then?”

He almost gets knocked in the chin with how fast you shoot up off his lap. Thank the heavens for fast reflexes. You stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Do you?”

Jesse holds up both hands. “Hey, I’m not th’one goin’ on this here mission. It’s just you ‘nd archer.”

You draw a thoughtful finger to your chin, humming and pretending to think. Jesse knows you’re pretending. He knows from experience, hell, even without the experience, he would know. After all, you two are almost playing the same con.

“Hm, I think he’d be a big grump. No fun at all, so of course I’d have second thoughts,” you say decisively, pointing at the air. Jesse smirks. Of course ‘fun’ would be the first thing on your mind. “But! We’ll be back safe. He’s good like that, so this mission should be a no problemo.”

Jesse doesn’t know what you mean by ‘good’, but whatever it is, he’s sure you’re right.

This was supposed to be a very different piece about how the reader hides the fact that they’re intelligent in order to get information out of people and to just avoid work in general (but the heart of the matter is that they’re doing it because they’re afraid of their intelligence and the wasted potential that comes with it. /shrugs. It just somehow turned into a weird character study about Hanzo?)

#jesse mccree #reader #hanzo shimada #drabble #my writing

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sadiiomane10 · 7 years

Text

headcannons that i wrote with sej but never posted :( but anyway here ya go (1)

when hendo scores that screamer, marko cant believe what he’s seeing,

“WAS THAT GOAL REAL LORIS WAS IT REAL” “YES MARKO IT WAS REAL

okay loris being like hendo’s gonna score and when he does loris like OH YESSSS I WAS RIGHT and Marko is like….holy shit you genius….

so now marko is totally in awe of loris and they start taking about random shit with interruptions of OO HES GONNA SCORE not, and crying on each other when we conceded,

marko and loris are #total bros, they are like the same type of person its weird

i can imagine loris being so outraged when we conceded NO NO WHY HIM NOT HIM THIS IS ANNOYING

, AND MARKO IS ALL NOOOO, and getting a little scared at loris’ non chill but hes kinda the same, and there both swearing or something and klopp looks back and grins cus these are his sons, and they totally learnt from him,

zeljko smacks him on the arm and tells he shouldnt be proud that his footballers are swearing

okay but klopp jumpping to his feet and opens his mouth to scream and then he just hears this massive FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!! and turns around to see loris and marko on their feet and klopp is like….well ok…did my job for me then

and they see klopp looking at them and they get all shy and embarrassed and sit down and klopp laughs but there back on their feet the next minute,

LORIS AND MARKO TOTALLY GO ON ROAD TRIPS AROUND ENGLAND TOGETHER, marko has totally found the buddy who’s willing to travel england with him

BECAUSE MARKO HAS THE NICEST CARS IN THE WORLD AND LO CHERISHES THEM SO MARKO MAKES HIM HIS ROAD TRIP BUDDY

and its totally like ok like the most lit thing ever and they take so many pics and they have the same taste in music and they take turns driving and stuff,

they totally #bond on there road trips and marko snapchats the whole thing and loris sends emre and sham cool pics, and they come to training with so many stories

and dejan and emre are ultimate bantz bros and dejan is like why didnt u congratulate me on my goal emre

and emre being all like pssshhh anyone coulda scored that. hendo had the beauty and dejan scoffing and smiling bye

dejan totally ruffles emre’s hair and everyone else is like how hasnt dejan lost a hand yet.

cus dont touch the hair dude

klopp worked out that the third kit is a curse and he got sick of loris and emre whining about the disgusting colour, which klopp doesnt get why lo does it cus the dude has to where it all the time,

but he still moans, and well klopp cant be bothered liistening to it, and he put them away in storage, anything for his fave german sons

Pleeeease klopp the toxic green is horrible to wear 😩😩😩 klopp: loris your kit is grey??? Loris: yeah but emre won’t shut up so I’m suffering too

klopp shakes his head cus he dealt with mario and marco at bvb but these two are wORSE

And hes like FINE, and tells the kitmen to hide them or something cus he aint putting up with this,and emre is so pleased now he doesnt have to wear it but he teases the fuck outta loris and lo is like im telling klopp to bring them backkkk just for you,

and emre is proper fiesty on the pitch and loris is like

“really emre picking another fight really”“do I have to fucking babysit u or what. whats ur problem emre”. “he fuckin tried to touch my hair”. “the bitch ill fight him for u”

GIVE ME MY PHONE LORIS, Wait up em , emre tries to grab it, LAST ONE EMRE COME ON

que the slap round the head from emre

and lo does it AGAIN but emre doesnt know and for ages emre isnt getting messages everyone thinks he’s giving them the cold shoulder and he’s like??? wtf???? then sees all the pictures which are like different angles of lo’s hair

cue emre storming into the dressing room everyone like oh shit its going down and emre just glares at lo and is like “YOU!!!!”

and everyone is like trying not to laugh cus oooo serious shit, and then loris just fucking bursts out laughing and every1 is like ……what and they start giggling too and emre is like USE UR OWN PHONE LORIS , and hes like but ur camera is better, WE HAVE EXACTLY THE SAME PHONE, …….idk man i like ur camera better,

but really he only does it to make emres life hell

snapchat videos of the game from his angle asdfgh"emre takin out a guy no. 2958"“hey emre say hi!!!” “what are you DOING?…..hey guys [smolder]

LORIS PUT THAT PHONE BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME

emre totes said that him

“WHAT YA GONNA DO? FOUL ME? oh no shit wait i take that back”

loris following emre thru anfield with his camera like “hey guys emre looks good, zooms in super close to his hair, look at that perfection”, emre being affectionatly annoyed

emre chasing him, loris being like EMRE NO IM SORRY COME ON, emre getting lo in a headlock and screwing up loris hair

a lot of people have been asking whats in your bagpack” “no they havent” “ok no they havent but im asking” loris rooting thru like heres emres gel, ‘its wax’ whatever same thing emre, and heres his wallet, ‘leave that aloneee loris’ and heres…… 'LORIS LEAAVE MY THINGS ALONEEE’, loris running off with the bag down the hallway, and the sc vid just full of frantic running and giggling and shouts of LORIS YOU FUCKING SHIT GET BACK HERE,

LORISSSSSSSSS

AND LORIS TRIPS OR SOMETHING AND THE STUFF GOES EVERYWHERE AND EMRE IS LIKE LOOK WHATS YOU’VE DONE but lo is too high on life and the video ends with p much just having a laughing fitl

and he looks at camera just in tears and like this grumps is angry with me but I DONT CARE and emre trying to grab his things and some of the other lads coming round the corner like whats going and seeing lo pissing himself laughing on the fall makes them laugh and soon there all laughing and emre wacks lo on the arm and laughs to

and before you know everyone is liking posting videos and pictures of what just happened and the rest of the world is just like???? eh????and they have really cryptic captions like “WAX [crying laughing

and like some time later they peel themselves off the floor still giggling some and emre is like u alright and lo is like yh and its like nice and not bantery and its all good and so much love

and yesss everyone is hella confused on social media but this team just full on loves on each so much and its amazing

everyone loves lo, i cry, 3 months at the club and everyone is already in love with him every1 fave goalie, i bet they randomly turn up at his house and just crash and chill out, cus well he lets them all in and hes super chill and everything

he got his hair cut everyone was fighting to touch it

poor dude has noo food left in his fridge, but hendo goes shopping and brings him things when he comes over cus hes a good captain and he takes care of our baby goalie and loris was swooning in the love and they literally made a line the fricking idiots

and just like at really quiet moments when someone’s stood next to him they’ll just reach up and stroke his hair and he’s just like….what you dooooin…

bet u a million dollors adz did that him, i bet u anything that really happened one time, and lo gave him a look like wtf and adz is like ur hair is so nice and soft and lo is ???……..ok then and adz is like u have the best hair on the team

and hendo screams over ACTUALLY EMRE HAS THE BEST HAIR ON THE TEAM, que arguments between #married couple no.1 and #married couple no.2

emre being all smug like hah i have the best hair and loris being like nah bitch i do and hendo being lke emre has the best hair and adz being like have u felt lo’s hair its amazing and klopp being like im going back to bvb, where things were normal and my players didnt fight over other peopls hair

god can you imagine like everybody filing in on these four full blown fighting and Milly and studge are like BREAK IT UP cos it sounds so serious and then they hear hendo scream ADMIT EMRE HAS SILKY SMOOTH HAIR!!!!

klopp walks away ashamed with his head in his hands, zelkjo is considering leaving, ads is close to tears, studge is in hysterics, lo pissing himself laughing, emre being like hah bitch i win, and loris walking away like whatev’s dude im still better than u and emre following him cus they need to continue arguing, its their thing,

hendo being like alright ok dont cry ads and then he cuddles him,

mils being exasperated and considering a move away from all this hectic mess ,

they all go back to training but klopp is missing and everyone is like ……..what happened to him and zeljko being like hes prolly packing his bags cus u lot are idiots,

que scared looks and extra hard commitment to training,

cus kloppo is more important than hair and loris being like see emre u scared off our mananger, and em being like MEEEE u started it , their bickering never stops ,

and hendo goes to find kloppo like a good captain and he’s just in his office ruining a stress balll

really hendo are we fighting about hair in training, hendo blushes and is like …….sorry…..but emre /does/ have the best hair.

klopp shaking his head like i expect this from the baby germans but u and adam, come on hendo,

but kloppo he does, yh he does but we dont fight about it in training and dont make adz cry, hes my fave son leave him alone,

hendo- so ur not running away, klopp shakes his head and laughs cus zeljko honestly, but hendo feels proud cus klopp agrees that emre has the best hair and thats all he wants,

adz can stick it, but hes not gonna make him cry again, klopp might kill him

#been in my drafts for centuries #umm yh #lfcheadcannons #hc #lfc #these are super long but oh well

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