bug eyed shit

Periscope

I was watching brendon urie periscopes on youtube and got this idea. You’re welcome. It was also requested.

Request: Can you do a poly imagine with brendon urie x reader x sarah urie
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“‘You’re a dick’, why thank you,” Brendon said, reading off the chat on periscope, “'my mom’s phone corrected your name to breadbin,’ that’s sweet.”

I laughed at that from seat next to him,“'her glasses need jesus’,” I read, “fuck you, I love my glasses.”

“Oh look, more people asking about my dick,” Brendon pointed out on the screen.

“His dick is very nice,” I laughed, Brendon  laughed really hard at that.

“Well, you heard it here folks,” He laughed, resting his head on my shoulder.

“'What does she look like without glasses?’ You’ll never know,” I chuckled.

“She looks very nice without glasses,” Brendon sighed.

“'Where’s Sarah?’ I have no clue,” I said, looking around. Brendon lifted his head off my shoulder and looked too.

“Probably up stairs or something,” Brendon suggested.

I shrugged and read out more comments, “'You’re a slut,’ aw, that’s not nice.”

“Fuck you,” Brendon said, getting a bit defensive, “You’re a douche for even suggesting she’s a slut.”

“Brendon, it’s ok,” I said, patting his back.

“'Why is Bren getting so defensive?’ Because one of you just called my lovely girlfriend a slut.”

“’(Y/n) is sweet, fuck off,’ that’s nice, but it doesn’t bother me,” I said. Sarah stalked down stairs, but neither of us heard her.

“’(Y/n) and Bren should wear eachothers glasses,’ I don’t know, she’s pretty blind,” Brendon laughed.

“Just shush and hand me your glasses,” I laughed, handing him my glasses.

Once the were on his face, he squinted. Sarah had to stifle a giggle when I went bug eyed.

“Holy shit you’re blind,” Brendon said, “this is too clear, it makes my eyes hurt.”

“Wooow, it’s so blurry,” I said, trying to read another comment, “’(y/n) is pretty with glaciers?’ I think I read that wrong,” Sarah snuck behind us.

“’(Y/n) is pretty with glasses,’ I agree,” when she said it both Brendon and I jumped. Brendon jumped so hard he dropped his phone.

“Jesus fucking christ Sarah! Don’t do that!” Brendon cried as I tried to even out my breathing. We switched glasses back as Sarah laughed at us.

“Don’t do that again,” I said, picking up Brens phone, “Sorry about that, guys.” There was a flood of ‘lol’ 'lmao’ and 'it’s ok’ in the comments.

“I think I just shit myself,’ don’t do that, go change,” I read.

“'Jesus fucking christ,’ I don’t think jesus wants to fuck christ,” Sarah read.

“I guess that’s our queue to go, some of you were nice, and some of you were bastards-”

“Brendon,” Sarah warned.

“Bye!” I waved, ending the broadcast.

“Jesus christ,” Brendon sighed, locking his phone and putting it up.

“Could have been worse,” I said, kissing his cheek, “Sarah only scared us once and I only got called a slut twice.”

“They shouldn’t call you that to begin with,” Sarah said, “You’re not a slut.”

“Thanks, babe.” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

“So, food?” Brendon asked. Sarah and I shared a look.

“Taco bell?” She asked.

“Taco bell.” I affirmed.

“Not again!” Brendon exclaimed, a giant smile on his face, nonetheless.

I kissed Brendon on the lips, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Fine, let’s go to taco bell,” He sighed. Sarah and I wooed in celebration, “jeez, my girls are spoiled.”

“You love us,” Sarah said, holding his keys out to him.

“That I do,” He sighed, “that I do.”

anonymous asked:

Can I still ask you to write an AU?? (I forgot to ask yesterday) >.>... Ereri AU, frozen yogurt shop? Just maybe..? :D

Levi doesn’t know why he didn’t go to college. Maybe it was his pride. Maybe it was his attitude. But, in reality, it was probably the fact that he’d been struggling to afford the dollar menu ever since he was unceremoniously kicked out from his parents’ house with nothing but a celebratory kick to the ass. He wants to call them assholes, curse their names to whatever god is sitting cozy up in those clouds. But, it’s not like his parents weren’t within their rights to toss him out high and dry. Levi took the only rule they set out for him and fucked it over like it was a cheap hooker. Go to college. Too bad he preferred riding in the back of cop cars to sitting in some pretentious asshole’s history class. Well, not necessarily preferred, but Levi did have to admit those fuckers became pretty good chauffeurs after the sixth time. Given, his wrists were always cramping by the end of the trip, but he guessed that’s what a free ride costs now-a-days.

Levi scoffs as he brings his face to rest against his palms. What good did his delinquency actually get him? The shitty indie music blaring through the cheap speakers politely reminds him like a swift kick in the face. Out of all the places Levi could have applied for, he had to choose the place that was a hypothetical feeding ground for hipsters and pot heads. Christ, if one more half-baked teen asked him where the ice cream was, Levi swears he will be serving a pretty 10 to 15 in the state penitentiary. But, maybe his mind is just overreacting. Yeah, maybe this theoretical imprisonment he calls a job won’t force him over into the dark side of homicidal mania. As he watches two teens carelessly toss their trash on the ground below, Levi begins to highly doubt that.

Fucking teenagers.

He swears that he wasn’t this careless when he was their age. Given, Levi did like to paint a few obscene words on some of the underpasses here and there, but that hardly comes close to the depravity of today’s youth. Throwing garbage onto the ground? Fucking savages. He was much more artistic in his day. Of course, his ‘art’ was considered vandalism, but those fat pigs wouldn’t know art if it was shoved down their throats along with a cheap, 99 cent doughnut.

Levi thinks that he should probably stop grouping himself out of the teenage realm since he’s only nineteen, himself. But, he grew up fast; so it’s only fair that he’s allowed to tack on a couple of nonexistent years. Hell, the man at the liquor store always buys it; but then again, that same man is usually shit-faced by ten in the morning.

Tch, maybe he should be more optimistic. Actually, fuck that notion before it spreads, because he already has Hanji. And if he knows anything about that maniac, it’s that she is the fucking poster child for raw enthusiasm. A shudder travels down Levi’s spine as he pictures himself adopting Hanji’s insanity. Hell will freeze the day it happens. Or maybe more appropriately, this shit people call yogurt; because he’s ninety-nine percent sure the stuff is supposed to be solid. He’s also sure that the new hire probably fucked with the freezer settings. But, they don’t pay him enough to run maintenance. So, for now, he’ll be satisfied with letting this shitstain of a business crash and burn… well, melt.   

Maybe he should just go back to his parent’s house and grovel for their forgiveness. Wait, no. Levi Ackerman does not grovel. This place must really be getting to his head. He blames the sickly, bright neon pink and green walls for his slow running hysteria. Yes, because accusing inanimate objects for your declining insanity is totally normal. Groaning, Levi pushes himself off from the counter. If there is one thing that will get his mind off this shitty situation called ‘life’, it’s cleaning. To be honest, his ability to make this place shine is probably the only reason the owners haven’t fired him yet. But, then again, he supposes an employee can only receive so many complaints before it’s au revoir. And, lucky number twenty-three really doesn’t sound all that lucky in his head.

Pulling out his yellow, rubber gloves, he marches over to the pigsty left by those fucking teenagers. He’s fuming by the time he finds the fifth napkin laying in a pile of melted strawberry banana. Suddenly, the bell attached to the door rings, effectively sounding over the teenage angst droning through the speakers. Levi was told that the music enticed the younger crowd. But, realistically, he is part of that group; and this shit would drive him away faster than a bunch of toddlers with their fingers halfway up their damn noses. He is convinced it is the free wi-fi that brings them in, because it sure as shit can’t be the fucking yogurt. Unless all of the brats are partially geriatric and enjoy drinking solids through a straw.

He’s supposed to greet all of the customers with some cheesy as fuck saying. Something that obviously is never going to pass through his lips; and if the owners have a problem with it, they haven’t let him know. So, until then, Levi is going to continue ignoring the shitty customer base.

“Uh, are you open?” Fuck. He turns around, ready to tell the ignorant shit to read the obnoxiously bright ‘open’ sign plastered on the front window. But, the sarcastic reply catches in his throat as he takes in the customer. Bright-eyed and clueless, the brat is standing in the open doorway like this isn’t a fucking yogurt shop that needs to conserve its cool air. But, wait. Levi doesn’t give two shits about the condition of this place. Yeah, let the little shit waste the shop’s last reserves, because he’s certain it was the newbie that fucked with the freezers.

And, god, this brat looks like the kind of ostentatious little fuck that carries a Starbucks gift card in one hand and an iPhone in the other; all the while bragging about some world problem that he secretly couldn’t give two shits about. But, maybe Levi is being too judgmental. Maybe the kid just likes looking like an arrogant asshole. Yeah, and maybe one day Levi will go frolicking through the fucking daisies.   

“Does it look like we are open?” Hand on his hip, Levi probably looks as approachable as ever. But, that’s sort of what he is going for, and the sooner the brat leaves the sooner he can descend back into his cleaning mantra.

“Well, to be honest, no. That’s why I asked you.” Levi’s sure the brat didn’t mean for the reply to make him come off like a snarky little asshole. But, unfortunately, Levi’s patience isn’t feeling ready to accommodate the possibly snippy comments from a little bug-eyed shit. Pulling off his gloves, in what he hopes looks intimidating, he shoots the brat the most annoyed glare he can pull with a neon pink shirt on.

“We’re closed.” Hopefully, those two words will ward off any more of the shit’s questioning; because obviously Levi’s death stare has had no effect. Instead of the trembling knees and stuttering apologies Levi is expecting, he gets something completely different.

“Your sign said you were open. I was just trying to be nice and ask, you dick.” This kid cannot be mentally together. Or maybe he is, and he is just some descendant from Hanji’s family line. Because that is the only person Levi can think would be crazy enough to sass him like this. His hand has fallen from his hip, opting to form a threatening fist, which draws the attention of the bastard who is still standing in the open doorway. Christ, this kid either has no brains or no concern. Levi thinks it’s a little of both.

Letting out a silent huff, he marches over to the counter, fingers impatiently tapping on the glass. The little shit is lucky Levi has to make his food in public or else he might just be tempted to add his own secret ingredient to the yogurt. A smirk crawls onto the brat’s face as he meanders over to the counter. And, the little shit would be crazy if he thinks he’s won this war. Maybe a battle, but not the war. After his ‘victory’ walk, the bastard finally makes his way to Levi, peering at him through those fake glasses that Levi could literally burn; because only Lucifer could have come up with an idea so implausibly stupid. Fucking hipsters.

The kid wouldn’t even look half bad if he attempted to dress like a normal human being. Yeah, take away the stupid glasses, the dumbass beanie, and the brat’s actually quite the looker. But, maybe this place has been harder on his brain than he thought. Because, he is pretty certain that the ‘old Levi’ would never call anything that swaggered up to a yogurt counter attractive. But, maybe times have changed, and this is just his mind telling him to pull the stick out of his ass.

Either way, Levi is giving this kid about thirty more seconds before he decides that this job is officially not worth it. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty- “Do you have chocolate?” And, fuck everything Levi said about that thirty second countdown, because the flavor is literally right in front of this piece of shit. The grin the bastard is wearing does nothing but push him further over the edge, and he is sincerely hoping this brat has good medical insurance. No, wait. This is what the little shit wants to happen. He’s probably just some masochist who gets off by having the shit beat out of him. So, Levi isn’t going to fall for it. This shitty job covers his rent, and honestly, he is not too keen on going back to his parent’s house to tell them he got fired for pummeling a fucking hipster. A fucking hipster who is now staring eagerly at him with some big-ass, green eyes. Some big-ass, green eyes that would be gorgeous if not for the mischievous glint inside them.

“Yes.” Levi grits out, because one word sentences are probably the only thing he can manage without also including a life-threatening remark or two.

“Really?” The brat leans over the counter in a wild display, chest falling across the glass. The glass that Levi just wiped down not twenty minutes ago. “I don’t see it.” Levi is silently thanking whatever deity exists that he was blessed with the most impassive face known to man. Because seriously, fuck this little shit and his stupid ass glasses.

Pushing his forefinger into the glass above the flavor, Levi starts, “Right. Here.” Each word is enunciated with enough aggravation that even an idiot like this kid would be able to tell that Levi was pissed.

The brat glances up at him again, this time with much less enthusiasm. “You’re not very friendly for someone working in customer service.” Holy shit, call the fucking press. The brat’s made a break through, and suddenly, Levi wants to start clapping. Because, further convincing the bastard of his friendliness seems like the right thing to do.

“Maybe it’s because I work in customer service that I’m not friendly.” Levi doesn’t know exactly why he is continuing a conversation with the little shit. Maybe it’s because he’s the first customer to challenge him without asking for a manager. Or, maybe it’s because he’s just lonely. And, shit, that got depressing really quick. But, fuck, when Levi thinks about it, that probably is the reason, isn’t it? Because, his only friend is now states away in some marine biology program that he probably should have been more concerned about. Instead, he let Hanji fly away across the country without so much as a ‘good luck, don’t get eaten by Jaws’. He’s a shitty friend, and it’s sort of strange that it’s taken a brat’s sass for him to realize it. And, Christ, when did this turn into some internal counseling?

“Try working retail.” The brat makes a face that looks like it’s seen some shit. And, for once, Levi is thinking that his job might not be that bad. “Anyway, you really should try to improve on the whole ‘I hate the world look’. Unless you really do hate the world. In that case, good fucking job.” Levi’s not even sure if the shit is being serious anymore. Either way, he’s still fighting that underlying annoyance that those quips are throwing at him. Pair that with the ugly glasses, and Levi could pour this entire canister of chocolate yogurt over the brat’s head. “Where was the chocolate again?” That stupid grin has wormed its way back onto the brat’s face. Eyes narrowed, Levi decides that he was due for a home-coming anyway.

Pulling out the canister of chocolate yogurt, he questions if he should make this look like an accident. Nah. All it takes is one upheaval before the brat is dripping in melted yogurt, chocolate running down his red button-up and clashing with the hem of his criminally tight skinny jeans. Levi’s expecting a sense of guilt to wash over him, but the only thing he feels is satisfaction in the look of pure shock radiating from the chocolate covered brat. And, he probably should feel bad- no, he should feel worried, because there is no way he is still going to have a job after this gets out. But, the only thing he can resonate with is an overpowering sense of pride. Because this kid had it fucking coming.

The brat’s mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water, shock still plaguing his reactions. And, it suddenly hits him that he is currently doused in shitty, overpriced yogurt. “Fucking asshole!” Pulling off his drenched beanie, he promptly shoots the thing in Levi’s direction. And either Levi’s reaction time has slowed or the brat has really good aim; because the beanie nails Levi directly between the eyes, chocolate smacking against his pale face. And, if there is one thing Levi has grown accustomed to, it’s not touching the fucking yogurt. Because, this stuff is the spawn of Satan’s asshole, being so sticky that you can literally feel it on your skin days later. And, now it’s running down his face like some sort of impromptu shower. Maybe karma exists, and this is his retribution. And, he deserves it, because his victim is obviously a lot worse off. But, that still doesn’t stop him from pulling out a case of ‘very berry blueberry’ and dumping the shit all over the fucking brat.

Except this time, the kid knows exactly what’s happening, the shock long since dead and fucking gone. Within seconds of becoming familiar with the taste of artificial blueberry, the little shit has jumped the counter, pulling himself into Levi’s territory. And, this was definitely not what Levi was expecting. A string of poorly put together curse words? Maybe. A threat that he would never work in this town again? Perhaps. A demand for the manager? Probably. But, for the bastard to jump over his counter, grab his yogurt, and proceed to dump it over his head is definitely surprising in the least. But, now it hits him that he, too, is covered in fucking yogurt. And, not even the good kind. Fucking peach.

‘Here’s looking at you, kid, because you successfully chose the worst flavor to dump on my head.’

Levi’s already dreading the multitude of cold showers that it’s probably going to take to get this shit off. Fuck, he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to afford his water bill this month. And, shit, he underestimated this little bastard, because the asshole is already in the process of adding strawberry banana to further his layers of yogurt hell. He can’t even get out the words to tell the fucker to stop before the cheap substance is smacking him in the face like an offended white girl.

“Stop, you fucking shit!” The words are mumbled through the stale mess of a liquidized solid, but they are clear enough to give the brat pause in his current ‘war on yogurt’. Or, more accurately, ‘war on asshole’. “Christ, who do you think you fucking are?” Levi repositions his hands on his hips, because yes, he can still be sassy even covered in yogurt. The brat is looking at Levi like he’s just told him that he’s the father of his child, a canister of vanilla still in his hand. “Are you going to answer me, or just keep acting stupid? Because, I can tell that’s obviously something you’re good at.”

Well, that gets the kid’s attention, the shock on his face forming into an aggravated grimace. “You fucking started it!” The little shit still hasn’t released his hold on the container, and in hindsight, Levi thinks that he probably should have ran a little recon before firing up the brat again. “So, fuck you, you short asshole.” Okay, fuck the consequences. He’s already sticky anyway.   

“Take it back.”

A look of amusement begins to seep onto the brat’s face. “What? That you started it or that you’re a fucking midget?” And, holy shit, the gods must be fucking testing Levi today. There’s no other explanation. They must be using this as some sort of redemption for all of his misdeeds. And, as long as he doesn’t draw and quarter this fucking arrogant asshole, he will have a fine spot up in the clouds above. But, looking at the smug grin plastered against the shit’s face, makes Levi question if being comrades with Beelzebub would really be all that bad.

“Fuck you.” Because any other words would probably lead to Levi punching this shit right in his stupidly, attractive face that really shouldn’t still be attractive. But, hey, maybe Levi is just drawn to assholes. He did date that one guy from that brand name thrift store. Deciding that it’s really just not worth it, Levi proposes a truce in the form of walking to the closet and pulling out a mop. He is ready to just ignore the little shit and attempt to clean up this mess before his manager gets back from lunch, when the bastard opens his fat mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Well, those weren’t the words Levi was expecting. But, if the brat thinks for one moment that Levi is going to apologize, then he has another thing coming. Yeah, fuck this bastard and his apologies. It’s his fault that Levi is going to be spending two to three hours scrubbing his skin raw in the shower tonight. “I’m sorry.” And, Levi’s not positive if the little shit ever heard of quitting while he’s ahead, because if he keeps this up, Levi is going to tell him exactly where he can shove his apologies. “Let me make it up to you.” Well, that catches his attention. Levi pauses, mop still in a white knuckled grip. “I’ll pay for all of this… and, I’ll take you out.”

A look of amazement spreads to Levi’s features, because the little shit can’t be serious. “Are you honestly propositioning the man you just threw two tubs of yogurt on?” Levi’s expecting the kid to shy away, maybe apologize for the third time; but instead, he is met with another grin, this one looking a lot less mischievous and tad more hopeful.

“And, a beanie.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head as he continues mopping up the mess. “You’re really not helping your case, brat.”

“Well, is it working?” Levi stops, shooting the brat a look that tries to be a lot more volatile than it actually is. And, it’s effective, causing the kid to start running his hands through yogurt soaked hair. Maybe, he should cut the brat a break, and free food isn’t really something that he wants to turn down. Even so, Levi shouldn’t give in so easy. This little shit did dump yogurt on him after all. He’s ready to tell the brat no, and make him beg for forgiveness; but the light in the bastard’s eyes makes every spiteful quip scurry back down into his vocal storage bin. The only thing that comes out is a defeated ‘hmph’, but that’s all the brat needs. “So, can I just meet you here after you get off?”

And, for the second time, Levi is questioning whether the kid is being serious. “I’m not going anywhere with your dumbass covered in this shit. And, I don’t get off until nine o’clock.” The plan seems to be slowly unraveling before Levi’s eyes; and now, he is just silently hoping that the kid will still keep good on his word to pay for the destroyed tubs of yogurt. But, instead of the disappointed shrug Levi’s expecting, the brat just gives him a knowing smile.

“That’s fine. How about movie night at my place? You bring your winning personality and I’ll supply the popcorn.” And, Levi shouldn’t find that funny, considering the brat just inadvertently teased him; but for some reason, a playful smirk begins to rise from the corners of his lips.

“Okay,” the kid’s face lights up, but Levi’s nowhere near done, “but you are staying here to explain to my manager why I am currently covered in two of our flavors.” The grin quickly fades from the brat’s face, turning into an ugly pout. “Hey, I’m not losing my job, because of some little shit who couldn’t control his temper.”

The words aren’t even fully out of Levi’s mouth before the brat is retaliating, “You started it!” Levi lets out a silent chuckle, because technically the kid is right, but he’d never openly admit that.

“And, you still need to pay for all this shit you wasted.” A groan spills from the brat’s mouth, and Levi is wondering how badly the little bastard really wants his company if he is willing to put up with all of this. The kid hands him a card with the name ‘Eren Jaeger’ printed in bold, blocky letters along the side. “Eren, huh?” The kid, Eren, gives him an annoyed grunt, acknowledging his question in the most passive aggressive way possible.

Handing his card back, Eren’s fingers gently brush against his own. “Thank you, Levi. And, before you ask, it’s on your nametag.” He wasn’t going to ask.

Suddenly, the doorbell is ringing, followed by a loud gasp. “What the hell happened here? Levi, I swear you better have a good explanation for… this!” Standing in the doorway is no one other than his manager, who is back ten minutes early. Hands waving in the air like a madwoman, her eyes are trained on Levi. And he can tell right away that no excuse he gives will be sufficient.

Levi continues mopping, not even sparing his manager a second glance, “Take it away, Eren.” He hears an audible gulp before the brat starts to explain what happened, all the while completely leaving out the fact that Levi started the fight. One ban and chastising later, Levi still has his job and Eren is prohibited from the delicacy that is frozen yogurt.

Which doesn’t seem to bother the brat in the slightest as he nuzzles up to Levi on the squeaky, old couch.