#hmm. yeah this is too doodle-y to tag all of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geekfanficwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Caught Somewhere in Time- Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Part 4/?

Summary: You end up in the 80s, 20 years earlier than it should be luckily a certain metalhead is about to make your time in the 80s much easier. Words: 2.8k Warnings: Suggestive themes, drug use

Part 3 Part 5

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I wasn’t able to tag some people in the taglist so please make sure you’re visible if you want to be tagged! Also if you want to be added, let me know.

April 12th, 1984

You had hung out with Eddie a few times in the past few weeks. You guys mostly spent your time in his trailer, smoking weed and listening to music. It had been fun. You enjoyed spending time with Eddie and the more time you did, the more you fell for him. There was only one problem. Since that first time you guys had hung out, nothing had happened between the two of you. You wanted it to but every time something nearly did Eddie pulled away from you. You started to think that what had happened the first time was an accident, he was high and acted on instinct. He definitely flirted with you and the two of you cuddled a lot but other than that you felt like he just viewed you as a friend. You liked being his friend but it was hard to spend time with him when all you wanted to do was kiss him. You walked over to Eddie’s trailer and knocked on his door. Steve had just called to let you know he was sick so you were going to ask Eddie for a ride. You heard movement from inside the trailer and the door was thrown open. ‘Oh Hi Mr Munson, is Eddie there?’ You asked Wayne. You had only met Wayne once or twice, but he seemed like a genuinely kind guy who cared about his nephew. ‘Yeah I’ll go get him.’ He said, walking back into the trailer. Soon enough Eddie appeared looking like he had just woken up. ‘You know we have school in half an hour?’ You said, looking at his pyjama pants. ‘That’s plenty of time. Why are you here?’ ‘I need a ride. Steve is sick.’ ‘Give me 5 minutes, you can come in and sit.’ He made a sweeping gesture and you walked into the trailer, sitting down on the couch. Eddie walked through to his room, coming out a few moments later wearing his Hellfire tee and ripped jeans. ‘Are you not going to shower?’ You said making a grossed out face. ‘Nah don’t need it.’ He sat down next to you pulling on his shoes. ‘Eww, don’t come near me. You’re gross.’ You went to move away from him but he wrapped his arms around you. ‘Take that back or you can walk to school.’ ‘No, you smell. Get off me.’ You laugh, pushing him. In truth he didn’t smell that bad, maybe he did need a shower but not too badly. ‘Well looks like you're walking to school.’ He said pulling away from you. ‘No, I’m sorry. Don’t make me walk.’ You pouted. ‘You don’t smell that bad.’ ‘Well, I guess I could still take you but you owe me.’ ‘And what exactly do I owe you?’ ‘Hmm… I think I’ll cash it in later. Now come on let’s get going.’ He stood up and held his hand out for you. You took his hand in yours as he pulled you up off the couch and out towards the car.

The rest of the day until lunch went by fairly quickly. You had found class boring as per usual, it wasn’t that you didn’t like learning but sitting in class for hours straight just didn’t keep your attention so by the time lunch rolled around your arms were covered in small doodles. You walked into the cafeteria and realised you were going to have to sit alone. Jonathan and Nancy were at yearbook during this lunch period and with Steve off, you had no one else to sit with. You looked over at Eddie but you didn’t know any of his friends and you two didn’t really talk during school. ‘Y/N!’ Eddie yelled waving you over. Well, that was that decision made for you. You walked over to his table and went to go sit in the only empty seat at the opposite end of the table from Eddie. ‘Gareth, move.’ Eddie said to the guy sitting on his right. ‘What?’ ‘Get up and give the lady your seat.’ Eddie commanded him. He got up, grumbling under his breath. You sat down next to Eddie and laughed. ‘You didn’t have to do that, you know?’ ‘Couldn’t have you sitting with this group of weirdos without my protection.’ ‘Aww such a gentleman.’ You quipped placing your hand over your heart in a gesture of mock appreciation. ‘Are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend, Munson, or keep flirting?’ One of the guys spoke up. ‘Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is the Hellfire Club.’ You noticed that Eddie ignored the girlfriend comment. Why wouldn’t he correct them? You gave a small wave in response. ‘So how did the two of you meet?’ Gareth asked. ‘Y/N lives nearby and has similar interests so we hang out occasionally.’ He shrugged. ‘Speaking of which, Y/N likes DnD so I was thinking she could join in on one of our campaigns sometime soon?’ ‘You play DnD? What class do you play?’ One of the guys asked looking like he didn’t believe a girl could actually play DnD. ‘Oh yeah, I love Dragons and Demons but what’s a class?’ You said, pretending like you had no idea about anything to do with DnD. If he was going to quiz you, you were going to play a game. ‘You don’t know what a class is.’ He laughed. ‘Clearly a big fan of the game.’ ‘Leave her alone, David.’ Eddie spoke, clearly pissed off. ‘What? She clearly lied about knowing anything about DnD.’ ‘I usually play a half-elf assassin as I prefer playing classes that aren’t heavily magic-based, however, I do enjoy playing as a ranger occasionally. And some life advice, if you want women to actually fuck you don’t act like they don’t know shit about nerdy stuff just because you think women can’t like this stuff because the reason they don’t go anywhere near you is because you’re repulsive not because you’re a nerd.’ After finishing you stood up and walked away. You admit you probably overreacted but you had played this game before. You had had a group of friends that you’d played DnD with back in 2001 but it took you a while to find this group because of guys exactly like David back there. ‘Y/N, wait up.’ You heard a voice yell from behind you. You turned around and saw Eddie jogging towards you. ‘You alright?’ ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ ‘He shouldn’t have done that.’ ‘Eddie, it’s fine. I’m a girl who likes nerdy stuff, I’m used to the whole what happens in panel 5 of page 12 of Superman issue 152.’ ‘Well, I would offer to beat the shit out of him but I’m pretty sure that no punch would hit as hard as what you just said.’ He said flinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘I don’t want to cause any problems with your friends Eddie.’ You knew that if Eddie did anything it would just make everything worse. If he picked some girl over his friends then they would hate you. ‘Hey look at me.’ Eddie grabbed your face and turned it to look at him. ‘You think I want to spend time with a guy who treats women like that?’ ‘You’re squishing my face.’ ‘Right, sorry.’ He said removing his hands from your face and stepping back. ‘But seriously, I won’t let anyone talk to you like that.’ ‘I appreciate that but I don’t need you to protect me.’ ‘I know you don’t. I thought I was going to have to hold you back from punching him.’ ‘Oh please, as if you could hold me back.’ You said, causing Eddie to laugh.

After school you met Eddie at his van and the two of your rode back, chatting about your day. ‘You coming in?’ Eddie asked, pulling up in front of his trailer. ‘Yeah sure. I only spend time with you for the free weed.’ You joked, hopping out and walking towards the trailer. ‘Wow and here I was thinking you enjoyed my company.’ ‘I guess you’re alright.’ He unlocked the trailer and you walked through to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed, pulling off your shoes. Eddie followed behind you grabbing his stash and sitting down next to you. He started rolling a joint and you watched his hands as he did so. ‘I really am sorry about lunch. My friends are assholes but I figure sitting with the freaks was better than sitting alone.’ You rolled over onto your stomach to look at him and smiled. ‘You’re not a freak. Well maybe a little bit, but so am I.’ He had finished rolling the joint and lit it. ‘Oh really? How much of a freak?’ He winked at you. ‘Shut up.’ You grabbed the joint out of his hand and took a drag out of it. ‘Is it always this hot in here?’ You fanned yourself with your empty hand. It wasn’t any warmer than it had been previously but you felt like you were overheating. ‘It’s just cause I’m here.’ ‘Yeah, no. I think it’s your busted AC unit.’ You would offer to hang out at yours but you liked Eddie’s a lot more. It actually felt like a home rather than a place to sleep. Your place was so empty. Just the basics, nothing that made it feel like it was yours whereas Eddie’s was full of personal belongings that embodied his personality. However, you were currently sweating. ‘It’s not that bad. You get used to it.’ ‘Well, right now it’s horrible. Like fuck this.’ You reached down and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You weren’t quite sure what was going through your head but you were just so warm. ‘What are you doing?’ He said covering his eyes. ‘I told you I’m hot. And relax, I’m wearing a bra, everything’s covered.’ You threw your shirt somewhere in the corner, not caring where it went. ‘How stoned are you?’ He laughed. ‘Same as usual.’ ‘Usually, you don’t pull off your shirt.’ ‘Aww come on. You never seen a woman without her shirt on?’ You teased him. Maybe you were acting this way because you were tired of the constant tension between the two of you and just wanted him to make a move. ‘Yes, I have but you’re different.’ At this point, the joint the two of you were sharing was finished and he extinguished it in the ashtray on the table next to his bed. ‘Different how?’ You asked, genuinely curious about what he meant. ‘Just different.’ He shrugged. ‘In a good way.’ He added seeing the frown on your face. You sat in silence for a few moments before you spoke up. ‘I’m going to put on some music.’ You jumped up off the bed and walked over to his stereo, looking through his cassettes. You heard Eddie get up as well and stand directly behind you. ‘Do you have anything more chill? I love this music but I’m not in the mood for something so loud.’ You asked trying to ignore how close he was to you. ‘I think there’s some more over on the desk if you want to have a look.’ You walked over to the desk and started to dig through all the paper littering his desk. You found a couple of cassettes but stopped looking when you felt a pair of hands on your waist. What was he doing? He moved your hair out of the way and leaned forward to kiss your neck. You closed your eyes and leaned back against him, placing your hands over his. You let out a small bone as he sucked at the skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ He whispered. You opened your eyes, about to turn your head to look at him but then your spotted something on the desk. ‘Oh my god, is that a copy of Hustler?’ You picked the magazine up off the table. ‘Wow, even some fans of Playboy say this shit is perverted.’ You laughed turning around to face him. ‘Oh yeah, cause you seem like a really puritan.’ He smirked at you. ‘Yeah definitely. I think we should prevent teens from seeing any sort of sexual content otherwise they’ll end up killed on a lover’s lane by a man with a hook for a hand-Ah!’ You yelled as Eddie pushed you down on the bed causing you to drop the magazine as you wrapped your arms around his neck for support. ‘I read it for the articles.’ He was hovering over you now, his hands on either side of your head. ‘The articles? Do the articles have massive tits?’ ‘Not as nice as these.’ He said moving one of his hands to fiddle with the cup on your bra. You looked up at him, staring into his big brown eyes. He leant down and stopped just before his lips met yours. ‘Is this okay?’ He whispered as you felt his breath on your face. You nodded slightly and as soon as you did, he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you heavily. You kissed back, tangling your hands into his hair. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you had thought that Eddie just viewed you as a friend but now he was kissing you. He pulled away moving the hand that was still on your chest to your hair, playing with the strands at the front. ‘You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that.’ He kissed the edge of your mouth lightly. ‘I think I can guess.’ You pulled yourself up to the pillow, dragging him over and pressing your lips to his. ‘Why didn’t you before?’ ‘Would you believe me if I said I was scared?’ ‘You, Eddie Munson, were scared of me?’ You smiled at him. You couldn’t believe for a second that he was afraid of making a move on you. That he felt the same anxiety that you felt when you looked at him. ‘Not scared of you. Scared that you’d think I was a freak. I wasn’t lying when I said you were different from anyone else I’ve been with. You’re funny, hot, you listen to good music, we have similar interests.’ ‘Eddie, shut up.’ You laughed, pulling him down to meet your lips. You felt like if you had listened to him talk anymore you would die from all compliments so you did the only reasonable thing you could think of which was kiss him. You felt his hand move up to grab your breast, moaning into his mouth as it slipped under your bra and squeezed. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You felt his other hand move to your hip, his thumb running back and forth before he stopped. ‘What’s this?’ He asked. You looked down and realised his hand had landed on the scar on your hip. It had happened during a test at the facility. They attempted to test your powers by throwing a knife at you, seeing if you could deflect it but instead it had lodged in your side, missing your kidney by two inches. It wasn’t the only scar you had but it was one of the more prominent ones and suddenly you were hyper-aware of every single scar on your torso, wanting your shirt so you could cover them up. ‘It’s nothing. No big deal.’ You mumbled. Although you had an entire cover story, it wasn’t like it involved how you gained every single little scar and you didn’t want to lie about this. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’ ‘No. I just- I can’t- I’m not ready to talk about it yet.’ You finally settled on. It was true, although there were people that knew the full truth you hadn’t told them the details of what had happened to you during your year and a half in the facility and you didn’t know if you ever would. And you certainly couldn’t tell Eddie the truth. Ever. ‘Well if you’re ever ready to talk about it, I’ll listen.’ He got off you and lay down on the bed next to you, pulling you over so your head was resting on his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You wished you could tell Eddie the truth about you. You wanted to. You really did, but you didn’t know him that well and even if you did get closer, as you hoped you did, the truth was so insane that you couldn’t even tell him. He wouldn’t believe you if you did anyway. It was best if you kept everything to yourself.

—————

Taglist: @michaelfuckinglangdon @taygra5shaon @eddiemunson4ever @little-diva-gurl @oxbunnehxo @fentyreligion @bellegirl16 @smol-book-nerd @pbeckn26

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #Eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

103 notes · View notes

emsvegetables · 4 years ago

Text

27th: you come across something at terushima’s house.

- you’re here to study and chill with him but you spot a little...something on his study table.

no. of words: 1.2k++

okay. i’ve never written much for terushima but i LOVE terushima so much i think he’s actually got much more than meets the eye!!! i hope this made sense and i hope that it’s okay pls forgive me if it isn’t!!!!!!!!!!!! well. this is the last one!!!! yay!

“i swear, your room only gets messier every single time i visit your house,” you wrinkle your nose in distaste when you enter terushima’s room, and you laugh when you spot something on his bed, “is that a hello kitty soft toy?”

terushima laughs from beside you, and shrugs nonchalantly, “my sister gave it to me, so i might as well keep it.”

“cute,” you smile, and nearly slap yourself when the word comes out of your mouth. maybe you were a bit too obvious in your feelings for him.

“thanks, i know,” terushima grins, before picking up some clothes strewn over his bed and throwing them into the laundry basket, and pulling a pillow and patting the bed, “you can sit here.”

“very comfortable,” you comment when you lower yourself onto the bed, and terushima grins at you, “you’re very welcome, only the best for my queen.”

“that’s gross,” you grimace, “and i’m not your queen.”

“of course, ma’am!” he laughs, saluting to you, “ you can scroll through netflix and choose whatever you want to watch. i’m going to get a drink. you want the one that you always get from the vending machine?”

you nod, smiling at him, “yeah, thank you.”

“no problem,” he winks at you, and even though your heart beats a little too fast at that, you stick out your tongue at him and pretend to vomit.

you settle on a studio ghibli movie, and set it to play as you look around the room.

the room was really like terushima.

random posters were pasted everywhere, clothes were strewn on one side of the room, his study table was messy as hell, and no one would’ve guessed that he was one of the top students in the school, but you know that all the assessment books stacked up on the table amount to it.

“i’m back! oh, we’re watching this? cool,” terushima grins at you and passes you the drink, before settling down beside you and resting his head comfortably on your shoulders.

you try to ignore the way your cheeks burn when he does that.

“i need to go to the toilet,” terushima announces, standing up to stretch after a while, “i need to shit.”

you scrunch your nose, “gross.”

terushima grins, and flicks your forehead lightly, “be right back!”

you pause the movie when he leaves, and stand up to stretch as well.

when you eye his study table, you wrinkle your nose again.

“i’m packing your study table!” you yell, and you hear terushima muffled “ok!”, and you smile.

you laugh when you see the doodles of the volleyball team on his math textbook, and you snort when you see how he drew your chemistry teacher on a random post-it pad. you’re almost done sorting out the books when something falls out of the biology journal.

you blink when you read what it says.

steps to get (Y/N) to like me / date me:

win her heart with my jokes (search for funny jokes online)

pickup lines? nevermind they don’t actually work i tried it once and (Y/N) laughed at me. it was a pity laugh. not funny. never trying that again.

help her carry things! (okay she smacked me for helping her carry her clipboard but thanked me and smiled at me for helping her carry the waterbottles. so there are certain things i can carry and certain things i cannot.)

tell her she’s beautiful! (she really is!!!! her smile is the prettiest i’ve ever seen and her laugh is the cutest and she’s just so nice to everyone fuck i like her so much)

ask her out? then admit my feelings to her? (i asked her out for lunch and she said sure!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i chickened out and i didn’t confess in the end. i’m such a loser fml)

FIND A WAY TO GET OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE!!! (search how to get out of the friendzone online)

just tell (Y/N) i like her alot, that i’ve liked her for a very long time. she’s just so nice and pretty and i think i love her. (and then she’ll slap me and reject me and hate me for life.)

think of more ideas!!!!!!!!

“hey! i’m back--”

you turn to look at terushima, who falls silent when he sees the note in your hands.

“fuck,” he swears, “okay, you weren’t supposed to see that. can we pretend you didn’t see that? but that probably made you uncomfortable. did that make you uncomfortable? do you hate me? it’s okay if you want to slap me. it’s really okay. do you hate me now? i understand if you hate me, it’s okay if you don’t want to speak to me ever again--”

“terushima,” you say, and he quietens instantly, “sorry, (Y/N).”

“is this true?” you bring up the note in your hands and wave it, and he winces and nods.

“you like me? why?” you ask, and you’re so confused, and terushima instantly straightens up and stares at you.

“what do you mean why?” he asks, sounding offended, “why would i not like you?”

“because i’m...this,” you gesture to yourself, and terushima narrows his eyes.

“what do you mean? (Y/N) you’re literally the sweetest person i know. you always offer to help other people even when you have things to do. you always check on everyone in the team to make sure they’re okay after practice. you always try your best to be nice to other people even when they talk shit about you. you’re literally so sweet, and you’re so pretty, and you’re this amazing person. what do you mean this? why would anyone not like you?” terushima says, and he frowns at you.

“oh,” you say, and terushima turns away from you and exhales out a deep breath.

“it’s okay if you don’t like me back, (Y/N), i just hope i didn’t destroy our friendship,” he finally says after a short pause, and you blink.

“no!” you exclaim, and terushima looks up, “no, yuuji—i like you too.”

terushima lets out a noise of surprise, “are you serious?”

“yeah,” you say, and a smile breaks out on his face immediately, and he runs forward to pull you into a hug.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, and you laugh, “why are you even asking? just do it.”

“i’m just making sure,” he says, and you laugh again, before leaning in to meet his lips.

“by the way, yuuji?” you say, while his head is resting on your shoulders and your fingers are laced with his.

“hmm?”

“i’m keeping the note.”

“why?” he looks at you, affronted, “is that for future blackmail purposes?”

you laugh, “that, and it’s cute.”

terushima pouts, “i don’t like you anymore.”

“you’re lying.”

“i’m lying,” he agrees, and grins at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

back to my fluffvember masterlist!

general taglist :)

send an ask to be added in :D

@mrs-kuroojinguji @galacticstxrdust @h0rny-m3ss @strawberriimilkshake @lexysclubhouse @alluringeternity @newfriendjen @aam1na @simpinghrs @boosyboo9206 @earl-mint-tea @sachirou-senpai @kuboyasuuu @cotton-hashira @kellesvt @mochipk @ohbois-biggay-bnha @deadontheinsidebut @atsumubabe @wisepandaslimeland @doodleniella @tttournesolll @millie-mint @the-moons-raes @chaosamu @flairlust @l3v1achan @bellesowl @wheeshllumi @karasimpno @sodasketches @dai-tsukki-desu @isentsworld @lavearchives

fluffvember taglist:

send an ask if you only want to be added to this instead of the general taglist!

@omigogames @unicorngluttony @thesecondapplepienation @tsukisemi @tamaguchi @omibaby @psycopath-satan @shibayamasbae @churochuu @crazyrichashea @let-me-have-my-own-name @fo-love @heykoutarou @lovelyrynn @neomuxuxi @haikyuuhopes @bluntkingkuroo @abswrites @ne-kuroo @yadane-bakabaka @song-of-storms162 @lady-snavely @hawksnumberoneuwu @rkives-keiji @llamakenma @mrslordexplosionmurder

i’ll tag those that i couldn’t tag later! this is a scheduled post.

#terushima x reader #terushima yuuji x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines

386 notes · View notes

hogarthwrites · 4 years ago

Text

just friends

pairing: young samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3,155

summary:

Sam's your best friend, and you're hopelessly in love with him. It's cliche and it's stupid, but you can't help it. Is it really okay to be in love with your best friend even though you know it might ruin things between you two?

note:

Hi! This is a two-part story. The first part takes place in the past, in 1989, while the second part will take place in the present day.

tags: unrequited love, best friends

1989

You stared at your notebook covered in doodles as your history teacher, Mr. Phelps, talked on and on. A 90 minute class felt like three hours and you couldn't wait to just get out to see Sam.

Your vision kept blacking out as you tried to stay awake, something Mr. Phelps noticed right away.

“It was ironic that the British Empire condemned pirates when they pillaged and stole more than those buccaneers ever have, isn't that right?” The old man was looking directly at you and you blinked yourself awake and nodded.

“Yup, I agree,” you tried to act like you were interested.

“Welcome back,” he laughed.

You sighed and slumped further into your chair. 3 o’clock couldn't come any sooner.

As soon as class ended, Mr. Phelps asked to talk to you and you gulped as you picked your backpack up and walked to his desk where he was looking through papers.

“I'm worried about you,” he slid a paper across to you and y ou picked it up and frowned at the F in red taunting you.

“I'm gonna have to ask for a guardian or parent’s signature on this.”

“Really?” You sighed.

“I'm sorry, but it's just school policy,” Mr. Phelps shrugged. “Look, don't be afraid to ask questions, alright? I'm here to help.”

“Sure,” you pursed your lips and shoved your test paper into your bag.

Sam was lying on the grass in the park and reading a book when you found him, and you tilted your head to see what the book was. Treasure Island . Again.

“You know grass stains your jeans?” You nudged him with your Nike Cortez sneakers.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Sam gave you a lopsided grin as his brown eyes met yours.

You felt your cheeks burn and you quickly sat down next to him so you wouldn't have to face him. It was something you didn't want to admit, but you had a budding crush on Samuel Morgan, your cocky, way too ambitious best friend who was probably deranged.

“Fuck my life,” you groaned as you plopped down on the grass.

“I thought grass stains your jeans,” Sam tugged at your denim skirt.

“Fuck you,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Oof, cranky.”

“Sorry, it's just been such a shit day.”

“What happened?”

You pulled your test and put it on his chest. “That happened. Uncle Arthur’s going to skin me alive.”

Sam looked at the paper, and you almost thought he was going to laugh because he looked so amused, but instead he sat up.

“Let me help you,” he simply said.

“Help me?”

“Yeah! Like those tutor people.”

“What makes you the history expert?”

“My mom taught me, and pirates are kind of my thing. You know that,” this time it was Sam who nudged you with his worn out Chuck Taylors. “Come on, let me help you.”

“Fine, but can you do me a favour?” You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Yeah, what is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Can you wait for me outside if Arthur decides to kick me out?”

It was a joke of course. Arthur wouldn't dare kick out his favourite -- and only -- niece. He did, however, lecture you about your priorities and banned TV for a month. As soon as you got to your room, you looked out your window and saw Sam smoking next to his red motorcycle.

You waved out a handkerchief to signify that things were good, and you could've sworn you heard Sam laugh before he drove away.

Sam’s apartment was actually a room he'd rented out in an older woman’s ( she’s just a friend , Sam had said) home near the city. It had a bed in the corner with an Indiana Jones poster above it and books piled on the wardrobe.

You sat on the floor, your back against the bed while you wrote the essay Mr. Phelps asked you to do while Sam read on his bed. Soft music played from somewhere outside and it was softly raining outside and all you wanted to do was lie down on the cool floor and take a nap.

“Done,” you announced as you finished your last sentence.

“Alright,” Sam plopped down in front of you, your knees touching. “Show me what you’ve done.”

Saying nothing, you held it out for him and buried your face between your knees.

“Hmm,” Sam grunted. “I mean, you’ve certainly memorised what you needed, but…”

“But?” You peeked up at him and saw that he was sucking in his cheek.

“But why was it important that pirates like Thomas Tew and Henry Avery pillaged the East India company?”

“For treasure?” You cocked your head to the side.

“Close, but you see, India’s economy dwarfed Europe’s at that time, and there weren’t any powerful navies in the Indian Ocean, which made a lot of the vessels there an easy target,” Sam explained, his hands flailing around as he talked. He did that a lot, and you thought it was kind of cute.

“Oh, alright,” you wrote what he was saying down on a piece of paper. “You make it a lot easier to understand than my stupid textbook.”

“Good to know,” Sam grinned. “If you get a good grade, I’ll take you out. My treat.”

Your face lit up. “Promise?”

“I promise. We’ll go anywhere… As long as I can afford it.”

“I’m holding you to that promise,” you stuck your tongue out.

It was quarter past nine when you were done rewriting your essay and Sam had fallen asleep. He was your ride home, but you figured if you walked fast enough you’d get home before 10 PM. You put your books away and looked at Sam who was gently snoring, his brown hair messy on his pillow.

He stirred when you covered him with a blanket, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t really make out.

“Good night, Sam,” you whispered as you turned off the light and stepped out.

Sam was waiting outside after school with a smug look on his face. You held up the paper as you approached him, doing a little victory dance before giving it to him.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m a wonderful tutor.”

“Oh please, you were asleep for most of it,” you jokingly punched him in the shoulder.

“I think the A on this piece of paper makes your point moot.”

“Fine,” you giggled as you took your paper back and stuffed it back into your bag. “Where are you taking me then?”

Sam hopped onto his motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “I dunno, it’s your choice.”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin. “I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Alright. But what about food? It’s not a picnic without food.”

You ended up buying burgers and a small cake at a local diner and without a picnic blanket, you laid out a little lace handkerchief on the grass where Sam meticulously set the food. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was the best you both could have done with what little budget Sam had and at short notice too.

It was a cool evening and you happily ate your burgers while Sam blabbered on about Henry Avery. When he leaned back, his pinky touched yours and you froze, unsure if you wanted to move away or not. It was funny how just the tip of his finger touching yours made you feel hot and all you wanted to do was take his hand in yours.

Sam kept talking, but you wondered if he noticed that you probably just stopped breathing. You read plenty of romance books, hell, you even ready Forever by Judy Blume, but you never knew what it felt like to actually be in love. No, you shook away the thoughts. I can’t be in love with Sam… This is just infatuation. Nothing else.

You practically memorised him, the way he’d run his fingers through his unkempt hair, how he’d talk with his hands, how he’d bite his lip when he was upset. You saw him fall in and out of love with a variety of people, and you were always there for him. It was almost pathetic how much you knew about Sam Morgan, and you wondered if he memorised you the same way you did with him.

Something cold dripped on your cheek and you looked up as rain started pattering down.

“Oh shit,” you frantically picked the mostly eaten cake up while Sam picked up whatever was left of the burgers and the handkerchief and followed you to a gazebo nearby.

“Well, that ruined a perfectly good picnic,” Sam had his hands on his hips. “Is the cake alright?”

You looked down at the soggy cake. “It had better days.”

Sam laughed before he stuck his paper cup into the cake to get another slice.

“Really?” You looked up at him.

“What?” He shrugged between bites. “It’s still a cake. It’s not like the rain is dirty or anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged again. “Thanks for the picnic, by the way.”

“Nah, you paid for it.”

“But it was your idea. I haven’t been on a picnic since…”

Since his mom passed away. He suddenly looked forlorn.

“I know, Sam,” you reached out and touched his arm.

“Do you mind if I steal this picnic idea? Nathan might like this too,” he forced himself to smile.

“Not at all. Tell him I say hi, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

The rain lasted long enough for Sam to mostly finish what was left of the cake and once the sky cleared up, he drove you home.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” you smiled as you stood by his motorcycle. You could hear the sound of a TV blaring inside and you knew Arthur was probably waiting up.

“That’s just what friends do, right?” Sam grinned. Right. We’re just friends . “I’ll see you on Monday?”

You nodded and watched him drive away. Arthur was fast asleep on the sofa while an old western played. You were always grateful he took you in when your mother ran off to Europe and your dad felt you were too much responsibility, but it made you sad Sam and Nathan didn’t have the same privilege.

You turned the TV off and placed your somewhat damp essay on the coffee table before going to your room.

I don’t love him . It was a lie you constantly told yourself. Believing it was getting harder every time you were with Sam and you could barely look him in the eyes without butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to make yourself stop, but you just ended up thinking about him more.

Your grades improved, much to Arthur’s delight and you hoped you could keep it up until after graduation at least. You applied to some colleges, but you were nervous with your mediocre grades and lack of extracurricular activities.

“And I can’t escape / I’m a slave to love…” Sam sang as he tossed a baseball up and down. He didn’t seem like it, but he was a pretty good singer. You were on the floor again doing your homework while he sang along to the song that was playing outside.

“Is there a bar here or something?” You asked.

“Nah,” his brown eyes followed the baseball. “There’s this old man who plays music on his roof. The lady says it’s because he misses his wife or something.” He shrugged. “It’s not too bothersome. He has good taste.”

“I guess it’s better than Arthur’s loud westerns at home,” you muttered. “That’s sad though. He must have really loved his wife.”

“Yeah,” Sam simply shrugged.

“What? You don’t think you’ll be an old man yearning for his spouse someday?”

“I don’t even think I’ll fall in love, to be honest,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

You laughed. God, I hope you’re wrong .

“What about you?” He nudged you with a socked foot.

“Gross, get your nasty socks away from me!” You shrieked, which made him push his foot against your back more. “Sam, stop, I swear you’re disgusting.”

“Come on,” he teased. “I bet you have a little crush. Was it Vicky? Whatever her name was? The one with the…” He gestured at his chest.

“No!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Don’t be rude. Vix is just a good friend, and she’s dating some guy anyway.”

Sam gave you a smug grin. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

It was quiet again while you went back to your homework, your heart pounding from the interaction. What a bastard, you thought. If he knew… If he knew I had a crush on him, this would all be over. You didn’t want to think about what it would be like without Sam.

“I got this fancy letter for you from the University of Texas at San Antonio,” Arthur strolled into your room and handed you a letter. “You really wanna move that far away from your ol’ Uncle Arthur?”

“It’s a good university,” you stuck your tongue out as you tore open the envelope. “Please, please, please,” you whispered.

You barely read past the “Congratulations!” when you squealed and jumped out of bed. “I made it!”

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Arthur embraced you. He looked at the letter then frowned. “Biology?”

“Yeah, I think I kinda wanna be a doctor someday,” you bit your nail.

“And someday you will be,” he ruffled your hair. “Promise you’ll phone as much as you can, alright?”

“I’m still here, Uncle Arthur.”

“You’ve just grown up so fast,” he sighed. “What am I gonna do when you’ve gone off to be a doctor?”

“You could get a dog?”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe.”

A week later, he came home with a puppy named John.

As graduation loomed closer, you felt excited, but you were left with a melancholy feeling of having to leave Sam behind. He was his usual, oblivious self, but you wanted to do it. You wanted to tell him before you left.

It was getting warmer again, so it was different to see Sam without a jacket on as he squatted on the pier, skipping rocks in the river. It seemed like there was something on his mind and he didn’t even notice you coming up to squat next to him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a rock skipping far.

“Nice,” you said and he looked at you in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” he gave a weak grin. “Didn’t know you were here already.”

“Yeah, you seem busy.”

“Nah, just got a new job out of state.”

“You're leaving?” You felt your heart drop.

“In the fall, yeah, but not for long I hope.”

Sam fell silent, and you felt your heart beat quickly in your chest. Was this the right time? You were graduating in a few weeks, then you were off to San Antonio, unsure when you were ever going to see Sam again.

“Sam,” your voice was weak and he hummed in response. “I–I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah? What's that?” He looked worried when he turned to you.

“I could tell you anything, right? Promise you won't laugh?” Your cheeks flushed and you felt like your heart was gonna leap out of your chest. What am I doing?

“I won't laugh.”

At three, you took a deep breath. One... two…

“Sam, I like you,” you blurted out. “No, I think I'm in love with you.”

His expression softened at your words.

“I'm sorry, I tried my best not to let it get to me, but we're parting soon and I just thought–”

“I've always known,” Sam interrupted.

“What?”

“That you have a crush on me.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't wanna say anything because this is the best friendship I've ever had, and I don't wanna ruin what we have. We're great like this.”

Oh .

Best friendship.

The butterflies in your stomach turned into moths and you wanted to vomit. A lump in your throat grew and you held your breath. The last thing you wanted to do was to cry in front of Sam.

“I'm sorry,” you looked down at your feet.

“Hey,” he lightly nudged you. “We'll always be close. I'll write to wherever you are in the world. I promise.”

“Alright,” you nodded weakly. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Bring it in,” he held out his arms and you leaned into his embrace, trying not to sob into his shoulder.

You spent the night crying while you packed your bags, deciding not to bring anything that reminded you of Sam to college with you. You had to get over him.

Your chest felt heavy as you felt your heart break with every stupid lovesong that came on the radio. Why did you even bother confessing, of course Sam wouldn't be into you. Why would you even want to ruin your friendship like that?

The day you had to leave for the airport, Sam was at your window early in the morning.

“Mornin’, college student,” he smiled as he climbed into your room.

“I thought you were going to see me off at the airport,” you yawned.

“Just thought we could spend a bit more time together,” he looked around your now empty room. “Wow. You're really leaving.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “San Antonio, here I come.”

Sam didn't react, instead he turned back to look at you, his brown eyes scanning your face. “Hey listen, uh, a few weeks ago… I'm sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you sat on your bed. “No, it's fine. You're right, we're great friends.”

“I didn't mean to break your heart or anything.”

“I completely understand, Sam.”

He reached into his pocket and asked for your hand. There he placed a little medallion with a star engraved on it. It looked more like a little coin with a chain pierced through it.

“Here, it's a late graduation gift. I couldn't get out of work to buy it early enough, but I made it just in time last night.”

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you gasped. You made your way to the vanity and put the necklace on.

“It's just so you won't forget me, the most amazing friend you could ever ask for,” he looked smug.

“And it was such a sweet moment too,” you shook your head. “Thanks, Sam. I don't think I can ever forget you.”

You hugged him, feeling his arms around you tightly. At the moment, you felt your heart break, suddenly missing someone who was right in front of you. Your tears flowed, and you buried your face into his shirt as he soothed you.

“Promise we'll see each other next summer?”

“Promise.”

“Promise you'll write and call?”

“I promise.”

But Samuel Morgan was gone by the next summer.

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #young sam drake #fluff #ig

113 notes · View notes

bangtanloverboys · 5 years ago

Text

thought trade (i) // jjk

summary - In a world where soulmate systems exist, you get one of the strangest ones you can think of. You speak your soulmates thoughts without any regard for context and that’s your only hint. At first it’s a bit strange, as you start blurting out random Korean phrases and stuff but one day you get so fed up that you start cursing at the world for giving you the most useless systems there is. It isn’t until you check twitter and see that a certain K-Pop Idol is trending for a random outburst in English that’s your words. . .

pairing - idol!jungkook x gender neutral!reader

genre - fluff; soulmate au

word count - 4.2k

warnings - none

author’s note - the reader in this fic in gender neutral and when there’s italics it means they’re talking in korean. also this is the first story i’ve published publicly in 6 years, if you’ve noticed anything about this fic grammarwise, please tell me and i’ll correct it.

part ii

You honestly don’t know what you expected when you turned 20 as you awaited for your soulmate system to show. Most common it was tattoos that showed up, your soulmates first words or birthdays. The lucky ones got to share thoughts or perhaps even see each other in dreams but none of that happened to you. No, soon as you turned 20 nothing really changed. It wasn’t until 2 weeks later when you were out having dinner with some friends and you just blurted out a random full sentence in full Korean.

You were confused. You didn’t speak Korean at all, you could barely speak Spanish from the 4 years you took it in high school. So how in the world did you say. . .whatever you said without any prior knowledge. The friend you were having dinner with suggested it was your soulmate system. But you’ve never heard of a system that would have you blurt out Korean. Keeping the soulmate system in mind though, you decided to seek out a sort of soulmate doctor.

With soulmate systems becoming more and more common, they were confusing to the people that had the system as well as the people around them, so some people have taken it upon themselves to study and record different types of soulmate systems to help understand. Very next day after your Korean dinner burst, you google the nearest one and book an appointment for the following week.

You still had no idea what you’re saying so you’ve started a habit of keeping a voice memo recorder on you at all times recording every single thing you say or hear throughout the day. You’ve gone through three so far and only caught one outburst. You managed to roughly translate a few words: Army, dance, and concert. You have no idea about any of the context behind those words but you’d have to wait before you’d get any answers.

Finally your appointment with the soulmate doctor rolls around and you explained your situation, how you randomly burst out in Korean and how you have no idea what to do with what’s going on or how to communicate with your soulmate. The doctor frowned upon hearing your description. Turning to her computer, she began to type in your system attributes.

“Well, your system is fairly unique, I’ll say that for sure.” She responded, as she turned back to face you. “What I mean is, there have only been about 3 or 4 other cases with systems similar to yours. It’s called thought trade. You’re speaking your soulmates thoughts or words. As for the Korean bit, your soulmate is Korean and that’s as much as I can tell.”

“Is there any way I can control it? To a point where I don’t randomly blurt out stuff in another language?” You asked, desperate for any sort of solution. The three times you burst out were very embarrassing and the looks you got made you feel weird and shameful.

“Hmm, soulmate systems have only been known to let up until after the fact you’ve met. As for controlling? The only record we have of that is pressing enough thought to a point where you can force them to say it. Other than that, no, I’m sorry.”

You left the soulmate doctor feeling a bit dejected. You honestly didn’t know what to do about this; soulmate systems were supposed to make finding your soulmate easier and this didn’t seem to help you get anywhere. The only logical thing you could think of was to start taking a Korean language class at your college. Before the first class had started, you were sure to explain to your professor your reasoning behind taking the course. Thankfully, he was very understanding and promised he’d help you personally with any translations if needed.

After a few classes you finally had an outburst in class. Everyone in your class turned to stare at you in confusion, clearly whatever you said wasn’t a part of class and you felt your face grow red. The looks of their faces made you want to curl up under your desk and hide until the end of class. Your professor took liberty to explain to the class that it was your soulmate system upon seeing your embarrassment; to which your fellow classmates were understanding.

“Y/N, if it’s alright with you, may I incorporate your outburst into the lesson.” You gave a small nod as he clasped his hands together. “Alright, can anyone guess or translate what Y/N, or moreso, what their soulmate said?” He asked the lecture class, a few people raised their hands. He pointed to one of the guys in the front row. “Yes, Jay?”

“They said ‘I don’t know why I’m speaking like I don’t know my own language, hyung!’” Jay responded, before turning to look at you at your desk. “Perhaps he caught on to you learning the language and you’re mispronouncing some things?”

“He?” You question, you’ve never known the gender of your soulmate, so with Jay using the male pronouns you were rightfully taken back.

“Yeah, he said hyung. That’s the honorific he used.” He responded. Once the professor confirmed that is in fact what your soulmate said, he resumed the class yet you barely paid attention. For as little as it was, you had something. A clue.

As the months passed, the outbursts became more and more common happening at least twice every other week. Fortunately, your Korean had improved enough for you to start translating your bursts on your own. Some of it was a bit difficult to understand as to what he was talking about as it varied from a bunch of things like fire being too hot, and leaves falling down. Other times it was stuff about body aches.

Your classmate Jay had slowly become a blessing in your life when it came to further trying to understand your outbursts and your soulmate system in general. After your first outburst in class, he approached you and asked you a couple more questions about your system. He admittedly was interested in the many vast different types that existed and had never heard of yours before. He had offered his help on translating and thus your friendship began.

The semester was finally drawing to a close and you had Jay over to help study for the Korean final when you had another burst about the army, something about purple, and food. If you were completely honest, you were getting fed up with it. “I’m honestly tired of it! Why the fuck does nothing he say make sense! I’m already learning another fucking language to understand whatever the fuck he’s talking about but what he says doesn’t make sense!” You shouted, completely frustrated with the entire situation. “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!”

Jay merely sat in silence as you sat back down, cooling down after your little meltdown. “Feel better after that?”

“Yes, a little bit.” You sighed, “Sorry you had to . . . witness that though.”

“No problem, honestly, I think you are being given hints they’re just too. . .vague to connect them.” He said in an attempt to reassure you.

“You on his side or mine here?” You retorted, eliciting a chuckle from your friend. “I just. . .want to strangle him sometimes.”

“I would too, if I had your system. I got lucky though, I just doodle on my arm and it shows up on her arm.” He smiled proudly as he looked at his forearm. He really was lucky when it came to having a soulmate system. Jay had been able to quickly locate his soulmate within a matter of hours after his system made itself apparent. His soulmate, Jenna, lived in Canada and he had plans on flying over to meet her for Hanukkah.

“Can we put a pin in this study session until tomorrow? After that, I’m exhausted and don’t think I can look at another sentence without getting angry at him.” You huffed as you leaned back on your couch.

“Yeah, final ain’t till next week. Call me if anything happens.” He assured you as he started collecting his things.

Once he was gone, you pulled out your phone and opened twitter. You barely use it unless to check up on some random celebrities tweets or check random news stuff. Upon opening the trending page, the top trend catches your eye:

JUNGKOOK SOULMATE

As someone with a weird soulmate system, you’re intrigued with what’s going on with this ‘Jungkook’. Upon opening the hashtag, you learned he is a sort of K-Pop idol, now you don’t know a lot about the music industry of the language of your soulmate so you decided to leave it, but before you close it you come across a video of said Jungkook from a livestream. He’s this cute guy that can’t be any older than you with brown hair that’s swept over his eyes and staring into the camera lovingly. He’s sitting in a hotel room and he’s just talking in Korean, and you vaguely understand what he’s talking about. He’s talking about his day, the food he’s tried lately, and addresses the viewers as ARMY. Then in the middle of a sentence about an interview he bursts out in full English “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!” before he slapped his hands over his mouth and scrambled to the camera to end the livestream.

Those were your words. He said your words.

He’s your soulmate?

You swipe more down the tag and you see a bunch of stuff about theories about what his system might be. You come across a thread of several times his voice was bleeped out in a bunch of videos, while fans assumed it was swearing they began theorizing it was his soulmate system and he didn’t want them to hear him talk about things that probably didn’t make any sense.

That didn’t help you on your part. Now you only have one piece of evidence that proves he’s your soulmate. Exiting the app, you moved to google and see if you could find anything else about this Jungkook and low and behold, more photos of the cute guy from the video clip was there and you frantically called Jay.

“I just left what’s up-”

“I found him.”

“You what? You found him?” Jay was astonished to say the least, especially since less than 10 minutes ago you were cursing him out over not knowing who he was.

“Either I found him or I’m having a nervous breakdown.” You chuckled nervously as you began pacing back and forth in your living room.

“Okay, I’m coming back over.” You heard him turn and make his way back over to your apartment. “Who is he?”

“This sounds. . . completely insane but like. . he’s a K-Pop Idol named Jungkook, whoever the fuck he is, he’s my soulmate and I have no fucking idea how to get to him now.”

“Wait wait wait, slow down. Jeon Jungkook, of BTS, is your soulmate?” Jay inquired, “How did you find that out?”

“Well apparently the universe heard me complaining about not having a clue and went BAM ‘Here’s your clue’.” You still couldn’t believe this was real. Of all people that had to be your soulmate, he was it. You opened your mouth to speak again but instead of English, Korean toppled over your lips. One word that mainly stuck out was ‘I’m sorry’. “I think he’s in trouble. Fuck, I got him in trouble.” You hadn’t even met the guy and you were already causing problems for him. Or maybe this wasn’t new at all, maybe you’d gotten him in trouble before?

“Open the door, I’m outside.” You ran to the door and wrapped your arms around your friend. To say you were overwhelmed and scared, didn’t cover half of it. You knew who he was now, but now had no idea who you were and now you were clueless as to how you can even get to see him!

The next day and a half, instead of studying for your Korean final, you made it your business to find out anytime you could on Jungkook. As you watched some of the music videos, slowly more and more of what you’ve said in the past made sense. The weird sayings that you thought were completely random were song lyrics, the complaints about muscle pains made more sense when you saw how intense and hard they all danced. The “army” you constantly burst about was the fanbase they had, ARMY. You were given clues, you were just too stupid to use google once in a while.

Meanwhile, your outbursts have gotten more and more frequent. Happening almost twice a day. You could almost feel Jungkook’s concern and fear behind his thoughts because apparently BigHit was really good at hiding their idols’ soulmate systems and with your one outburst you ruined it for him.

ARMY slowly became a concern for you on your side because apparently a site of soulmate systems crashed because so many people were frantically searching for what his system might be. Once people found out about the rare thought trade system, almost daily you saw on Twitter of people claiming to be his soulmate. Those were easily debunked as the impostors were either too young to even get their soulmate system or the phrases they said in Korean were badly pronounced. Usually one of those two or they didn’t speak English fluently. That was the only clue ARMY had about their Golden Maknae’s soulmate, you spoke English.

You thought quietly to yourself, trying to push a thought to Jungkook about being sorry about this happening and that you weren’t posting any videos on Twitter, because either way you wanted him to know you were you and not give him the wrong idea. You don’t know if he got the message until several hours later when you were getting out of the shower and in perfect English said, “I understand.” You smiled, happy he got the message and you were able to connect to him at least in some way.

A full month after the “live burst” as ARMY dubbed it, you (and Jungkook) were able to decipher with the fact that you could only get each other's thoughts when you were extremely emotional, which explained the live situation. Sometimes if you thought really long and hard you could push the message across but that was usually hit or miss. It was currently winter break and Jay was currently on his way back from Canada when he called you.

“Pack your bags.”

“Uh, nice to hear from you too, Jay. I’m doing great. Why should I pack my bags?” You rolled your eyes as his demand.

“Because my dear YN, for Christmas I got you tickets to go see BTS on Jimmy Fallon-”

“You fucking what!? First of all that’s all the way in fucking New York City! Second of all, fucking wHAT?!” You screamed into the phone, a bit flinching seeing how you probably just got Jungkook to yell at the top of his lungs.

“Listen to me, YN. This is crazy yeah, but it’s like, the only chance we can get for you two to meet. Hence why I got you a round trip ticket to New York. You’re welcome,” the smugness evident in his voice.

“Jay. . .I can’t believe you’d do this for me? All I got you was socks, you can’t just buy me a plane ticket!”

“Jenna helped pay for it if it makes you feel better, we both want you to get your man. It’s our gift to you. Now go pack, the show is in two days and you leave tomorrow morning. We also got you a hotel ticket. You’re going to be there at least 5 days at least. Have fun!”

Soon as the call ended, you felt like you were going to cry. Was this going to work? You had no idea. “New York City? You go?” You heard your voice speak.You quickly thought back a yes for him and scrambled to your room to pack. You threw together your best and nice clothes to wear at the show and as you were getting ready for bed you heard yourself say “See you maybe.” You smiled as you tucked yourself in, wanting to be asleep as soon as possible in order to leave.

You barely slept that night, to a degree was somewhat okay because you could always sleep on the plane. You left two hours before your flight with the information that Jay had forwarded to you, and soon enough you were seated outside your gate waiting for your flight to be called. Seconds seemed like hours as you waited, you just wanted to get to New York as soon as possible and see Jungkook. Live and in person, right in front of you. But then it came to you, Jungkook had no idea what you looked like. So you came up with a little plan for the opportunity to arise.

After you came up with a plan, you saw on your VLIVE app, after the live burst last time you decided to download the app to be sure you didn’t have another repeat, you would simply sit in silence as you watched your soulmate talk but after the outburst, it seems he was limited from going live. But he was allowed to go live with other members because there he was with Jimin, sitting and talking to ARMY. After a sudden lack of Jungkook, the chat was spammed with questions about his soulmate and his system but he avoided that entirely. You watched them as you waited for your flight to be called, they playfully bickered about some dumb little game they were playing.

After nearly an hour, your flight was called and you decided to leave one message in the chat. ‘See you maybe.’ You watched for a few seconds as Jungkook scanned the chat. He saw his eyes light up a bit and open his mouth but before he said anything you had already closed the app. You couldn’t reopen it now as you were steps away from boarding your plane. You made your way to your seat and put your phone on airplane mode. The flight attendants went over the safety precautions but you didn’t hear a word they said for you were so close to Jungkook now.

Soon enough the plane took off and you put in your earbuds and played some of your already downloaded music, including some of BTS and more specifically Jungkook’s solo songs and covers. While you did love and appreciate the other members and their talent, you obviously had to be biased to your literal soulmate. His soothing voice lulled you to sleep and sure enough you slept the entire flight to New York City.

Soon as you landed you made your way over to baggage claim and called an uber to your hotel. You were getting more and more antsy to the point you were giggling like a maniac. “You okay?” Your voice spoke up. Okay, maybe you were getting too excited by this. You laughed a bit and thought back that you were just excited. You unpacked your things and then decided to check through twitter, and of course, Jungkook was trending again. Clicking on it you see a clip of the live stream after you commented and left. Jungkook’s eyes lit up and he said “You too”, you chuckled and scrolled through and saw a bunch of people’s theories as to who his soulmate is and as his response to your comment was vague, no one pointed to you.

After a few hours of mindlessly scrolling and watching videos, getting to know what these people thought of Jungkook. He was very important to these people and you couldn’t help but be a little scared because they automatically assumed a lot about idols’ personal lives and you were possibly going to be added to that equation. You felt your stomach grumble and you decided to make a quick stop at a McDonald’s as it was cheap and easy food. Belly full, you fell asleep and happy to possibly see your soulmate within 24 hours.

You woke up a bit early to get ready, the dress code was smart casual so you dressed as such, only messing with your physical appearance very little as you didn’t bring much with you in your rush to pack. Once you noticed the time, you were on your way to the studio and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. After waiting for a few hours, you all filed into the audience and watched as the crew set up for filming. You couldn’t breathe as Jimmy stood in front and announced that BTS was here and you felt your heart stop when they came out.

They all came out looking very cute in their current concepts style, and they all look ethereal. Then your eyes landed on Jungkook and all of time seemed to stop. He looked so cute and you couldn’t believe it. There he was. So close yet so far. Every fiber of your being, every atom yelled at you to get up from your seat and run to him but you couldn’t, that was the stupidest thing you could ever do. No, you had to stick to your plan. Hopefully it will work. They danced their way to their seats as the band played, then they all sat down around and on the couch. You couldn’t register anything that was going on, all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. You watched them introduce themselves and you had to bite your tongue, because all you wanted to do was scream out to Jungkook that you were here. Just wait, you reminded yourself. Wait.

As they talked about their new music, you heard Jimmy ask about soulmates, more specifically Jungkook, with his system being exposed recently and if he found them.

He shook his head no. “Still looking.” he shyly admitted as the nearest member, Jimin, patted his thigh.

This was it. You shut your eyes and thought hard as possible trying to get him to hear you. Please please please.

“It’s been difficult to find them as-” Namjoon started to explain when suddenly

“I’M HERE!” Jungkook blurted out, cutting him off. It worked! His eyes frantically searched the audience and suddenly a bunch of screaming people were claiming it was them, even people with the most obvious soulmate marks exposed on their bodies, desperate for the love of their bias.

“Wait, they’re here?!” Jimmy shouted over the growing screams of the crowd, Jungkook stood up and watched the crowd intently, unable to pin point you.

Namjoon said something in Korean to Jungkook, encouraging the younger member to do something. Listening to him, Jungkook closed his eyes and the entire audience went quiet. Waiting for his soulmate to show themselves.

You felt the similar pull, the need to speak. Opening your mouth and standing as you let the words tumble out of your mouth in a shout, shrieking something about raw eggs and Jimin. As random as the saying was, Jungkook’s eyes locked with you and suddenly you felt your legs move without your permission. You frantically pushed past all the people sitting around you and you ran down the stairs to your soulmate. Your Jungkook. As he saw you run down the stairs, he ran to meet you halfway across the stage. You leapt into his open arms and you felt him spin you around as you held on for dear life.

Soon as everything stopped spinning you could feel him cry into your shoulder. You pulled away to see his eyes starting to grow red from the amount of tears he let go. From that sight alone, you as well burst into tears. He pulled you back into the hug by your neck and you both openly wept into each other's arms. You felt the other members (and you think Jimmy as well), join in the hug as you all stood there. You heard Jimmy say they’re gonna have a quick break and you all were gestured to go backstage. You almost didn’t follow but Jungkook pulled you along, not letting go of you.

Once in a back room, you were surrounded by the 7 members of the biggest boyband in the world, one of which was your soulmate and you honestly? You were a bit starstruck because while you had hoped that the plan would work, you didn’t think this far ahead.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Namjoon broke you out of your trance and you felt your face flush, looking to the ground a bit.

“Uh, YN LN.” You said, continuing to stare at your toes.

“It’s perfect.” You heard Jungkook mutter as he pulled you into another hug from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Jimin lightly scolded the maknae in Korean, saying something along the lines of something about the conversation, the interrupted interview, and 'schedule mess up'.

“Sorry about that, didn't really. . .think of that. . .” You lightly chuckled as you dragged your fingertips up and down Jungkook’s arms that were still wrapped around you.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t care. I have my soulmate now. I have you.” Jungkook whispered into your ear.

“We have to go back to the interview. JK, they’ll be here when you get back, right?” Namjoon’s turned to you, putting you on the spot.

“Y-yes, of course.” You sputtered out, nodding your head.

You could feel Jungkook pouting as he looked up to face his members. Talking really fast, you managed to understand a bit of what he was saying to them. Asking them about missing the rest of the interview and something about Jin and his soulmate. A few of them went back and forth about whether or not it would be good with Jimmy or the staff. But it was when Hoseok spoke out that the other members agreed, Namjoon only sighed in response. Telling Jungkook he’d be excused from the rest of the schedule today. He then told him to get out of the outfit and get back into his normal clothes and take one of the cars back to their hotel. Jungkook agreed almost immediately as the rest of the members filled out of the room, leaving you and your soulmate alone for the first time.

“This why you excited for New York City? You seeing me?” Jungkook asked as he turned you to face him, you nodded. He laughed lightly. “You really surprised me, and you kept me on my toes the past two years.” Oh shit, he’s been voicing your thoughts way before you even started it because he’s two years older than you.

“Oh shit- I’m, I’m so sorry!” You laughed, you can’t imagine all the weird thoughts he got and not to mention in English so he was probably just as confused as you were.

“It made concerts difficult, but motivated me to learn English better.” He teased. He placed his hand on your face and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. He whispered a small plea. “Please don't let this be a dream.”

“It’s not. This is real.” You whispered back, opening your eyes and looking into his.

“Good, because then I can do this.” He gently pulled your face closer to his and met you halfway with a kiss. You’ll admit, you’ve never kissed anyone before but with Jungkook it all felt right. Granted it was a short and brief kiss, but you felt the emotion behind it all. He pulled away first and just looked at you. You could definitely see what all those comments were talking about with them saying Jungkook has the entire galaxy in his eyes. “I need to change now. Be right back?”

“I’ll be here.”

668 notes · View notes

zweiginator · 6 years ago

Text

I’m Gonna Crawl-John Deacon x Reader

Summary: Working at a failing clothing store doesn’t have many perks until you make a promise with a rock band too poor to afford the stage costumes of their dreams--which is how Roger and Deaky find themselves both smitten by you and in a silent competition to win your affections.

Word Count: 9.5k+

Warnings: Slow burn, frustration, Roger is a fucking cockblock, filthy sex, dirty talking

You squinted as you thumbed a paper tag woven through a silk sleeve of a shirt you were convinced was too flamboyant and too expensive for anybody to ever purchase. The sleeves were pleated, and the buttons on the back were sheathed in the same silk, pulled taut over them. The sleeves flared out, and hung much lower than the narrow bodice of the shirt did; you wondered who could even fit comfortably in such an awkwardly shaped garment.

But apparently someone thought they had a chance of fitting into and liking the shirt, (which you had to admit was pleasingly soft to the touch), because your quite authoritarian boss commanded you to put it on hold.

“We got a call for an item to be put on hold, Y/N.” He gave you a tight-lipped smile, a pen bobbing from in between crooked teeth as he punched numbers into a desk calculator, the buttons worn away from use in excess. You had offered to bring your own in, but he insisted that this one was a better model--whatever that meant. He was the quintessential model for a type A personality: controlling, neurotic, overly-aggressive. So gently lifting the velvety grey hanger from a hook in an abandoned dressing room, you noted how his personality was antithetical to this free-flowing shirt that you still couldn’t fathom the idea of somebody wanting.

“He’s coming around at three,” He said, jotting a number down onto a yellow legal pad, sighing as he capped the pen. You cringed, noting how the shaft of it was coated in his spit. “He said his name is Freddie, so remember that. I’ll be gone by two-thirty; I have a meeting with corporate about our sales.”

You nodded, looking at your chipped nail polish; the white varnish was almost shaped like a heart, jagged on the edges. “Alright.” You slipped behind the front counter and carefully hung some crisp button-ups on a metal clothing rack next to a cash-register, the pads of your fingers cold against the silver rod on the top. But he was silent, and when you looked up to meet his beady eyes, his eyebrows were raised, as if he were awaiting your prying response. You really didn’t want to feed into his belligerence; if you even mentioned something that faintly annoyed him, he’d spit in your ear for twenty minutes, complaining about lunch hours and corporate and his wage--which was almost double of yours. But you sighed, tongue-in-cheek, as you straightened up the pens that scattered the tabletop; for being so anal, he was awful at organization. “What’s up with the sales? Negative, I take it?” You mindlessly opened a small drawer in-between two cash-registers, pulling out a faded green nail file to distract yourself enough so you wouldn’t be forced to look at his face.

“They’ve absolutely tanked.” He slammed the tiny drawer of the cash-register, where the money was kept. And judging by the minuscule amount of large bills inside, you could admit his worry was warranted.

“Hmm.” You sighed, not caring about the future of the establishment whatsoever; in fact you hoped it went out of business. You had spent years overworking yourself: taking shifts when your coworkers were too drunk to come in, making a wage that had no business being called one. You had made this job an axis that you revolved around, and you wanted to start anew--to have something exciting, that made your throat tighten and your ears fizzle with scarlet blood, seemingly soaked through with adrenaline.

But instead, you listened--or really feigned listening--to him grumble and fuss about something that didn’t even affect his income like it did yours.

“I just don’t understand what changed within the month; we should be selling more. It’s spring!” He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes from beneath his well-worn and quite outdated tortoise shell glasses.

“You’re right.” You couldn’t repeat what he had said back to him if he had asked, in all honesty, but it seemed like the appropriate response to his one-sided bickering, so you said it, fixing your hair in a small compact mirror you held at your waist.

Soon enough, the store opened, and you were relieved to be forced to saunter away from the awful man and mingle with customers and your more pleasant coworkers--although there weren’t many of either category. You lifted your wrist, dragging your pointer finger down the leather strap of your watch, squinting to try and make out the time; the harsh instrumental music emanating from the speakers was much too distracting and sharp in your ears to focus. But your watch proved useless, as your boss gave you a small wave, gesturing to his own watch, which was an ugly style of a very expensive rolex he most definitely could not afford--not comfortably at least.

You stood behind the counter for the next hour, bored out of your mind but relieved to be; the customers at the store--no matter how rare--were always overly dramatic, haggling prices with you as if you worked at a yard sale instead of an upscale clothing shop in west London. You were mindlessly drawing flowers and meaningless doodles on an unspooled roll of receipts when the bell hung angled at the top of the door rung. Glancing at your watch, you noted it was three o’clock on the dot, and you hoped this was Freddie strolling through the door. And judging by a black pirate-esque hat adorned with a curled white feather atop his jet black hair, you assumed it was. Three other men walked behind him, much less flamboyant, but more apprehensive to balance out the act. The man you assumed was Freddie walked gracefully to the clothing rack that was squeaking with every pound of pressure on the wooden floors beneath it.

“She’s a beauty!” Freddie’s black nail varnish contrasted heavily with the almost angelic shirt as he thumbed the fabric gently. “We just need to talk about the price.” Freddie’s face fell a bit, sighing, sounding dramatically dejected. You rolled your eyes internally, painting on a fake smile as the blond of the posse leant forward, resting his elbows on the counter. His shirt was fully unbuttoned and his eyes were large and doe-like, a deep blue that glinted beautifully, bouncing off of the warm light which shone from above him.

“She is,” The blond added, looking at you confidently. “But the shirt’s alright too,” He gave you a wink and introduced himself fondly as Roger, making sure his voice was as buttery and sultry as humanly possible. You could tell he’d had practice with these sort of things.

The other two unintroduced men rolled their eyes in disgust as they looked at each other. They stood next to Roger, leaning on the counter in a more timid way, their eyes obscured by long locks, pointed downwards, waiting for this all-too-common archetype of an exchange to be over.

“Don’t be pervy, Rog.” The shorter of the two wiped some dust from the countertop and flitted his eyes to his friend momentarily, who nodded, his unruly curls bobbing about as he did.

“Gross?” Roger bit his bottom lip and crossed his arms, standing up to face the other two men. “I’m complimenting her, John.”

The shorter man--John--wearing a deep grey hoodie and dark jeans, shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled at you shyly, a blush creeping up his smooth, almost porcelain cheeks. His hair was a deep, ashy, brown and was slightly waved, barely damp from the misty rain outside. He wore a white baseball-style cap and a new, toothy grin. “She just wants to do her job, Rog. Can’t imagine she wants a random bloke to chat her up.”

“Yeah,” The curly-haired man--the tallest of the quartet--straightened his posture, yawning into the crinkled sleeve of his denim button-up. “Let’s just fit me in this bloody thing and get on with it.” He smiled sheepishly at you, his canines protruding slightly.

You spoke up for the first time since they entered, looking towards John, who had his eyes focused intently on the wall behind you, the mid-afternoon sun reflecting upon the exposed brick behind piles of returned garments, wrinkled on a small fold-up table. “I’d never want to do this job, John.” You looked at him, your eyes hooded as you averted your focus to the young man instead of the calculations your boss insisted on you finishing so rudely.

A blush pooled his cheeks, like a drop of deep red blood sinking into cold water and feathering out. It seeped over the bridge of his nose as his eyebrows lifted in sync with a light chuckle. You noticed a gap between his teeth as well, and mirrored a similar, toothy smile at him.

“The shirt’s for you?” You nodded towards the tallest one, taking in his sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose that accentuated his soft, lazy smile.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He rolled his eyes playfully, and they landed on Freddie, who was fiddling with a stack of documents by the cash-register, not caring about their importance or confidentiality--not that they had either of those characteristics.

“Hey!” Freddie snapped his head up, turning his attention to the conversation now that he was interested. “We need to put you in something daring, Brian. You’re the guitarist; you can’t just saunter around in blue jeans all of the damn time.” Freddie slid his sunglasses down his nose, and his huge personality made it conspicuous as to why he was still wearing them indoors.

“Isn’t this store bloody expensive, though?” John adjusted the hood on his sweatshirt and tilted his head upwards, looking at the complex light fixtures, the exposed wiring that attempted to make the store look rustic and incomplete, but really somehow made it seem even more high-end than it was.

“That’s why I’m going to negotiate, Deaky.” Freddie retorted, calmly. Roger changed his position so he was facing away from you and the conversation as a whole, resting his elbows on the counter as he looked upwards, following some dust, airborne, floating throughout glints of sunlight that came and went; it was just on the cusp of raining.

“This isn’t a yard sale.” You said. “This is a normal store, you know that right?” You lifted the tag of the shirt that Freddie was admiring dreamily. It cost almost one-hundred pounds, threaded with real silk and embroidered by hand, supposedly.

“You see, I know that. But we need this incredibly bad.” Freddie’s eyes widened and he clasped a hand on your shoulder; his touch was more firm than you expected it to be.

“Why do you need this shirt? A casual night out?” You laughed, shaking your head slightly. John’s stomach fluttered when he saw a few strands of your hair fall from behind your ear, obscuring your face, just enough to make him miss seeing the slope of your nose, the fluttering of your eyelashes as you focused on your work they were interrupting uncaringly.

“We’re a band, sweetheart. And I don’t mean to be patronizing with that name. And I’m not being facetious either. We just really, truly need this shirt to make a statement.”

You looked up from the paper you were writing on, cocking your eyebrows, doubtingly. But the other three members were agreeing, pleading with you with their eyes. And you couldn’t say no to them; they were all so endearing and attractive in their own way that you groaned and led them to the dressing room, pulling three hangers with the same, free-flowing shirt on them, all in varying sizes.

“Okay, fine.” You glanced around at your other coworkers, but they weren’t there; you assumed they were on break, even though lunch had passed hours ago. “I can’t haggle the price with you, or I’ll get fired.”

The band--really just Freddie and Roger--began to dispute with you; Roger batting his eyelashes and sticking his chest out just a little bit further in an attempt to get what he wanted--which you weren’t sure what that was, exactly.

“Let me finish.” You shushed them, shoving the smallest size of the shirt in Brian’s hands, which were large and agile, embellished with flat-topped silver rings. “I’ll let you borrow it for a week, okay?”

“Darling, our musical career will last beyond this week.” Freddie ushered Brian into the dressing room behind them, pulling the curtain shut so he and Brian were in the closet-sized room alone.

“You’re forgetting that this is my job, and that I have a boss to please.” You said towards the paisley-patterned curtain, seeing the hem of the shirt shine underneath the spotlight in the cramped dressing room. “If you get the money, then pay me later; he won’t count the revenue until next week. If you don’t, then you give it back. Either way, you’re getting the shirt today so I wouldn’t complain.”

Deaky crossed his arms and watched you intently, how your hair shone underneath the harsh, almost blue-white lights that would have made anybody else look awful. But he thought they made you glow, bouncing off of the high parts of your face; your lip which was tugged underneath your teeth, the tip of your nose which was doused in the tiniest amount of sweat--something which would have remained unnoticed to the fleeting eye.

You heard Brian sigh and mutter a small “Ow”, before his white-painted fingernails grasped at the curtain rod, throwing the shirt over it. You caught it and hung it back on a different clothing rack against the wall a few feet away, your shoes harshly clicking against the wooden panels of the floor.

“Surprisingly the smallest size is too small.” Freddie explained, reaching a hand out. You checked the tag of the next shirt on the rack and hooked the hanger on Freddie’s wrist. “Although Brian’s arms are massively long, so that makes a bit of a sense.” He said, seemingly to himself as he helped Brian button up the back of the shirt. “Now the sleeves are a tad too long, but it will do.” Freddie ripped open the curtain and pushed Brian out of the confined room, his hands gripping down on Brian’s shoulders, covered by the delicate white silk, almost creamy-- it was impossibly smooth. “What do we think? Your opinion is needed too--” He faltered, realizing he had never learned your name.

“Y/N,” You smiled at him widely, a little taken aback at how charming and charismatic he was; it felt like you had known him--and his friends--for a lifetime in the short twenty minutes you’d been in the stuffy store with them.

“Pretty name,” Roger noted, stepping closer to you. His smile was glowing, tempting. He had a natural allure about him, and you could tell he knew this too by his stature, the way he seemed to stand taller than Brian, who was more than a few inches taller than him. His shoulders were straight, his body emanating conviction like the glow upon his skin, and as natural as the beauty of his features.

“Thanks.” You straightened the rejected shirt on the hanger, even though it was perfectly leveled across, the silk shoulders taut against velvety fabric covering it. You felt awkward as Roger’s eyes flitted across your body unabashedly, watching your legs as the stale air being pumped through the dusty vents blew your skirt over your thighs enough to make Roger’s breath become choked in his throat; he coughed a bit before continuing his flirty banter with you.

“How would you like to see us tonight?” Roger cocked an eyebrow, acting as if his offer were one sent directly down upon earth from God himself; a bonafide gift from heaven. Your lip twitched upwards as you watched Freddie unbutton Brian’s temporary shirt, which would apparently be bringing them great fame and fortune.

“I’m already seeing you guys right now.” You found your eyes lingering on the curve of John’s jaw, the way his lips were in a perpetual pout, wet from licking them over and over again. The veins in his hands were pulsing, fresh blood rushing downwards, a gift from gravity to you; you had to admit his hands were beautiful. He mindlessly browsed through the racks, thumbing the tags. You watched his eyebrows lift in surprise, his aforementioned hands smoothing the fabrics like he had seen you doing before.

Roger positioned himself to block your view of John, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his chin up to elongate his lithe body that your eyes were seemingly disregarding as you eyed John from across the building. “The concert. You’ll regret it if you don’t come.” Roger had a habit of adding a snide hook--sharp and menacing--to cap off his statements, almost as a defense mechanism of his.

“What if I’m busy?” You bent down to pick up some trousers piled mindlessly across the floor, paving a path of grey linens and velvets to the corner dressing room. You shook your head, scolding your coworkers wordlessly, your under-the-breath cursing cushioned by the mellow jazz that was wafting through the air so Roger couldn’t hear you; he thought your mumbles were directed at him.

“Speak up, sweetie.” He strolled closer to you, handing you a pair of grey speckled trousers which you noticed were ripped cleanly on the inseam. Roger followed you like a duckling following the first thing it laid its beady little eyes on, pushing through oscillating racks of clothes where you led him. You pulled the tag off of the ruined pants and threw them in the trash--a company policy you would never understand. John padded quietly up to the register, hugging a pair of silk trousers to his chest, his fingers pulling ashy dust particles that were adhered harshly to the creamy fabric; his eyebrows were knitted in concentration.

“You want to try those on, John?” You nodded your head towards the vacant dressing rooms, folding a denim shirt over your arm, smoothing over the breast pockets that curled up, covering the opal buttons.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m sure they’ll fit just fine.” He handed them to you and you checked him out--admittedly in more ways than one. He was coquettish; his eyes flickered over your collarbones, watching how they lifted and dipped as you punched the eroded keys of the register to ring him up. His eyebrows were cocked up, and he rested his hands upon the counter, his fingers tapping against the raw wood, strong and rhythmic.

The price was a bit more than the shirt they attempted to haggle with you, which Brian now had tucked under his arm, buried in a thin plastic bag. “You have the money for these trousers but not the shirt?” You took the wad of cash from John’s fingers, feeling the deep callouses grooved into his fingertips momentarily.

“I get what I want.” He smiled at you toothily, and you admired the gap between his teeth which was quite endearing to you.

“So do you have everything you want then?” You challenged him, folding the pants neatly so the hems were aligned perfectly; you just wanted to elongate the time John would be there as long as possible. He was drawing you in with his coy lip bites and minuscule smiles. You somehow felt tethered to him by an invisible thread that once was as fragile as the silk of a spider’s web, but was becoming more resistant with every glance you shared.

“Not everything,” He gripped the edge of the counter and you watched his veins ripple and quiver under the soft skin of his hands. “There’s always room for more.” He tapped his thumbs against the waxy marble of the counter.

You grabbed a thick black marker from a wooden cup by the register, pulling the cap off with your teeth. You winced as you tasted the sour chemicals that leaked through onto the plastic tucked between your pearly whites. The tag was laid on top of the pants, by the zipper, and you wrote your phone number clearly on the cardboard square, tied tightly to the pants by a hemp string. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” You handed him the bag, your fingertips lingering together, magnetized.

Your shift ended promptly at 5:37 in the afternoon, after you decided that listening to jazzy elevator music alone in the store wasn’t how you were going to spend your Friday night. You were supposed to close the shop at 6:30, but you turned the rusting key in the front door an hour early, jiggling the cold doorknob to double-check the faulty locks. You were exhausted and had been in a dizzy haze, teetering on the brink of sleep for the entire day, so you found yourself in a coffee shop a block or two away from the shop. Warm lights dangled from the wooden-paneled ceilings and the afternoon bustle of London jolted you awake as your shoulders bumped with a plethora of strangers as they gestured wildly with wind-chapped hands, yelling their orders over the threshold of intertwined bantering and music which was much too harsh for a cafe.

You pushed your way through the clusters of friends and meetings and students, breathing a sigh of relief as you felt the cool air nip at your cheeks. It was teetering towards spring and you shrugged your thin jacket off, feeling the juxtaposition of the brisk air blowing through your hair and the hot coffee on your tongue, sweetened and splashed with a touch of cream.

Looking across the street of the shop, now desolate-looking, you noticed the grandeur of the massive building was being obscured, overpowered by the clanking of drums and thick, familiar voices weaving together into incoherent arguing. The four men from earlier were hauling instruments into the pub diagonal from the store, one you could have sworn had been out of business for years.

Roger was puffing at a cigarette, cupping a hand over the end so he could relight it after the wind howled hard enough to extinguish the tiny, smoldering flame. He directed Deaky and the rest of the band with the burning stick tucked between two cold fingers. “Be careful with the drums! Jesus, Deaky.” His voice was muffled as he held the cigarette between his lips, curled inwards. He grabbed the cymbals from John and kneed him in the ass, towards the door.

Deaky flipped Roger off, turning his head enough so he could see you watching them from across the street, leaning against a flickering light post with a coffee cup clasped in your hands. He quickly unfurled his fist, sending you a wave. Roger whipped his head around, almost dropping his beloved cymbals as he fumbled to wave as well.

“Hey, Y/N!” Roger gestured for you to come over, but you were mesmerized by John’s arms, his muscles were rippling as he held on tightly to Roger’s deconstructed drum kit, his own bass guitar slung over his shoulder. His sweatshirt was tied tightly around his waist, the t-shirt he was wearing even tighter around his torso. His hair was frizzier than earlier, curled at the ends from the humidity.

You didn’t cross the street until Deaky crooked a finger at you, straightening his back which was hunched from all the weight he was carrying.

“Work’s over?” John grinned as you took a sip of your coffee, your hands hugging the cup to warm them.

“Isn’t supposed to be.” You pushed a strand of hair that blew in front of Deaky’s eyes; you could tell it was bothering him. “I just decided to close up early.” You opened the door to the pub; it looked heavy, but it was made of a thin, porous wood, so it opened with ease. Deaky muttered thanks to you, taking a deep breath as he set the drum kit down by the entrance.

“Fuck, that’s heavy.” He rolled his shoulders back and pulled a chair at the bar out for you. Brian and Freddie were already inside, arguing with the owner about the lights; Brian was insisting they be brighter and Freddie pursed his lips, nodding enthusiastically at the middle-aged owner, who sighed and obliged, probably due to Brian’s quite persuasive puppy-dog eyes.

“I thought this bar closed?” You scooted your chair in as John sat across from you, crossing his legs politely.

“I think it was for a little.” He reached over the bar and poured himself some vodka, pointing to a second glass, a silent question for you. “Want one?”

You couldn’t imagine liking the mixture of stale coffee and pure vodka in your mouth, but there was something about Deaky’s glowing smile, the way his eyebrows lifted and dropped with every inflection of his voice. “Sure. Why not.”

He poured you a drink, sliding it across the small expanse of the bar between the two of you as Roger watched you jealously, pushing the drums up to the stage. “The owner was sick for awhile. He had cancer, I think. But he’s in remission now, and tonight’s the grand re-opening, as he calls it. He called us to do a show; we always played here before he got sick.” John took a sip, sighing as the sour alcohol soaked through his tongue.

You leaned forward, tilting your head back to finish the last of the glass, your eyes falling to watch John’s fingers tap against his own glass. “I’m glad he’s better. How long as the band been together?”

He pondered, setting his empty tumbler down. “Just a couple of years, really. I was the last to join. They went through quite a few bassists before I came along.”

You lit up. “So I guess that means you’re the best?”

He blushed; you could even tell underneath the dim red lights of the bar that cast a bloody glow over the expanse of the building. But you felt calm sitting across from John, listening to his breaths and short giggles as you flirted back and forth, and back and forth again.

“And the most charming I guess.” He ran a ringed finger through his hair and beamed. You could tell he wasn’t used to compliments by the way his voice became contrived and choked whenever you said something nice about him.

“Oh, I can definitely see that.” Your chair had inched closer to his and you swirled the thin black straw in your glass.

“I have my moments,” He said. “But I’m no Roger.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing.” You twirled the ring on his middle finger, lifting your head to watch his glance; it lingered on your lips, over your cupid’s bow.

“What about me?” Roger shoved himself in between you two, wrapping his arms tightly around Deaky’s shoulders, Roger opting to rest his chin upon one of them. “I heard my name.” He took a swig of Deaky’s drink, pouting when he realized it was only melted ice muddled with only a few droplets of vodka.

“Don’t worry about it, Rog. Don’t you have a drum kit to set up?” Deaky pried his glass from Roger’s grip, which was strengthened from years of playing those drums of his, which, as John noted, were completely deconstructed, strewn about the small stage at the front of the bar.

“This is your band too, Deacon. Maybe stop being a dick and led a hand?” He pointed a thumb to the stage, where Brian and Freddie were setting up stacked amps, plugging them in and adjusting the position of the wires so they wouldn’t trip--it had happened before to Brian, so he was utterly insistent on hiding them as much as possible.

“How am I being a dick?” Deaky’s fingertips brushed over your own and you flinched instincitvely, the lightning current of electricity pulsing down your spine unexpected yet so exhilarating.

“By not helping,” Roger ate some peanuts from a small china dish on the bar, brushing his hands together to rid them of the coat of salt they were veiled in. “By flirting with a girl you know I like.” He said it uncaringly, winking at you as his fingers trailed across your shoulder. “Speaking of,” He added, a spark of confidence igniting through his body visibly. “What do you say about coming to our concert?” His eye contact was unfaltering; his eyelashes fanned against his brow bone, his plump, perpetually kissed lips were parted as he leant into you more, standing in between you and John.

“What if I don’t want to come if you’re asking me?” You crossed your arms and moved away from his touch. Of course you thought he was attractive; his giant blue eyes framed by deep black, impossibly long eyelashes made it hard to look away. His hair was effortlessly wavy, a deep, rich, golden blond that looked so soft it was hard to resist running your fingers through his locks. But there was something about him that was turning you off; like the way he didn’t have a doubtful bone in his lean body--not even remotely. The way he was just a little patronizing at all times and completely entitled. It was obvious he had never really been rejected in his life--by girls, by anything, by anyone. But John’s mannerisms--the way he flicked his grey flecked eyes to focus on the napkin tucked between his dexterous fingers--had you smitten. The way his flirting was sweet and pure, while Roger’s was laden with innuendos and suggestive looks and unsubtle euphemisms that made your eyes roll almost involuntarily.

John sucked on his bottom lip, pushing his chair forward. His legs were touching yours just narrowly, but it felt lustful, forbidden almost. And you wanted more. You both did. John was going crazy at the way you aimed your attention--gilded and ever so valuable--at him. You leant forward into his every word, watching them tumble from between his lips as he did the same to you, your breaths meeting and mingling and exchanging with each other until they fleeted away. But you kept talking--about anything and everything--just to keep the conversation dynamic. “Would you like to come if I asked you?” He tilted his chair back to see you shrug your coat off, and then Roger taking it promptly, hanging it on the back of your chair.

“I’d love to come for you.” You wrapped your hand around the glass that was sitting in front of Deaky, still being loosely held by him. Then you lifted it to your lips and sucked the melting ice cubes into your mouth, letting them roll over your tongue as both men watched keenly, enraptured by a swirl of your tongue, a smack of your lips.

You sat on the bathroom floor, half on a shaggy rug and half on the tiled floor which was obscenely cold from the small window, half-cracked above the toilet. Why there would ever be a window in the bathroom you had no clue, but you were sweaty from the nerves pooling in your stomach, heating like white coals. You wanted to look good for the concert, so you swirled a brush in smokey shades of browns and blacks and painted your eyelids, coating your lashes with a veil of mascara that would surely run down your cheeks when it inevitably got hot at the bar. Thinking of the temperature inching up, the hundreds of bodies packed shoulder to shoulder like a massive unit, swaying side to side--made you slip on a thin tank and a short skirt. You found a fur coat of yours, the lapels lined with faux hair. It was too warm in your flat; your roommate was sick and insisted on blasting hot air through the old, dust-sheathed vents in your even older apartment to equilibrate her body temperature.

You bent down carefully to tie your sneakers, opting to wear comfortable shoes--your outfit was risky enough and you didn’t need calloused, blistered feet to surmount your peaking anxiety. You didn’t know what it was about John that made you weak in the knees and insurmountably nervous, your stomach feeling raw, as if your preoccupations had scratched away at its lining. You felt a sheen of sweat slide down your forehead and you blotted it with a crumpled tissue shoved in the breast pocket of your coat as you locked your flat and took a deep breath, tilting your chin up as the chilly wind seemed to filter through every pore in your goose bumped skin. You pulled your jacket over your body and walked towards the shop, thanking God himself that wasn’t your destination.

You were walking against the wind, almost marching through, as one of your hands kept your skirt pulled over your thighs, tingly from the air piercing at the sensitive skin. Your hair was surely fucked, more akin to a bird’s nest than the carefully styled tresses you had spent almost an hour on. You knew you were approaching the pub not by your location, but by the liveliness of the area that was contagious, jolting you to stand up a little straighter, to smile a little wider. There was a line wrapped tightly around the corner of the brick building; teenagers and adults alike leant against the establishment, puffing on hand rolled cigarettes and bonding over mutual excitement for the hours to come. A cloud of deep grey, ashy smoke seemed to pervade the stagnant, cold air, so you were surprised you could make out John and Roger motioning for you to come with them through the blight.

“Y/N, come inside.” Roger held his hand out for you to take. John’s sat in his skin tight pockets, his pinkies fiddling with his belt loops. You linked your arm with his instead, leaning on him for a needed post of support against the wind. Roger looked offended as you gripped onto Deaky’s bicep which was a lot more toned than you ever would have thought. He wore a button up, black and barely buttoned, paired with the silk trousers he had bought from you earlier. He was right--they fit him perfectly, accentuating his thighs, tight around the toned muscles of them that rippled with every step he took.

“You look breathtaking, Y/N.” John’s lips quirked into a smile that was almost cocky--but it looked good on him. His hand touched the small of your back, leading you into the pub, Roger following shortly behind, feeling cold, rejected.

“I could say the same for you, Deaky. Looking handsome as ever.” Your arm wrapped around his shoulder, your thumb flicking the corner of his shirt collar as he led you backstage. His arm was now snug against your waist and your coat felt suffocating, like the zipper was digging into your skin, the lapels choking you. But it was just his touch that lingered, right where it should be.

“So now I’m Deaky?” He asked, sitting down on a small couch. Brian was already there, a sixpence held tightly between his lips as he played with the delay of his cherry red guitar. You sat between them, curling your body into John’s, your legs almost intertwined with each other’s like a mass of vines tethered together by nature. “My friends call me that. Do you consider me a friend of yours now?”

“What else would you be?” You squeezed his shoulder, twirling a soft lock of his hair in your fingers. John trailed his hand over your knee and squeezed, his rings catching against your stockings, tearing the thinly weaved fabric-- but you couldn’t care less as you held your hand over his, pushing his fingers higher so they traced along your inner thighs.

“I’m not sure.” His eyes were blown with lust and you could see droplets of sweat cascading down his neck, over the thin chain of the necklace wrapped around it. The tendons by his collarbones spasmed as he turned to look at you.

“Are you all tuned up?” Roger asked, clasping his hands down on Deaky’s shoulder from behind the tattered plaid couch.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We go on in less than thirty.” John was obviously annoyed with Roger and he had a right to be. Deaky always helped Roger with girls, following him around putrid bars to be his wingman, fishing his wallet out to pay for cocktails that his tongue would never dip into. But now that he had a girl hanging onto him, onto his every word, Roger couldn’t take it.

You were opting to ignore him, hoping he would get the hint eventually. You ran your fingers up John’s silk clad thigh, feeling Roger’s eyes follow the trail your digits did. “I’m going to the ladies room.” You said it only loud enough for Deaky to hear, and he nodded as you stood up. You pulled your coat off, suddenly finding the heat concocting with stale cigarette smoke and whisky unbearable. “Where should I put this, Deaky?”

You felt all of their eyes concentrated on your body, your legs teasingly enveloped in semi-torn stockings, the tear that Deaky’s rings had ripped acting as a focal point, leading their eyes to your skirt, then your impossibly thin tank that was falling off the slope of your shoulders. Your hair was windswept and messy in a way that was oozing sex. John shifted in his seat and the four of them wore a deep blush on their cheeks as your coat slipped off of the edge of your fingertips.

“I’ll show you the coat rack.” He stood up so quickly he felt dizzy; but he didn’t know if he should attribute his lack of balance with that, or how gorgeous he thought you looked in front of him, your eyes wide and awaiting. He led you to a small bathroom, the doorknob completely missing; there was just a hole, the edges covered in splintered wood.

“This is the coat rack?” You slung the coat over Deaky’s shoulder, running your nails over the nape of his neck, your back now flush against the bathroom door. John’s knee found its way between your legs, the silk of his lower thigh finding your soaked center. He leaned in, resting his hands against the door on either side of your head. You were in a daze, watching him suck on his lower lip as you moved your arms to pull his face into your own. The tips of your noses were grazing together and you felt his shaky, choked breath blow over your lips. You flitted your eyes up, meeting Deaky’s ardent gaze, his eyes just pupils barely laden with the oceanic grey of his irises. You sighed, parting your lips to close the gap that seemed to become more immense the smaller it got.

“Deaky! showtime!” Roger clapped his hands and twirled a beaten drumstick between his fingers. John’s fingers left your waist, his knee from your core. Your bottom lip tickled as his own caressed it just enough for you to want more-- so much more.

“This isn’t over.” He whispered against your neck, his teeth coming up as he lifted his head, grazing against your earlobe.

You shook your head, pulling his collar so his lips were back to being against yours, the very edges of your bottom lips stimulating your senses, heightening them impossibly so. “You’re right.” You didn’t care that Roger was still watching, intently and angrily waiting for John to get on with it. He was ineffably jealous that you wanted John, that you were so blatant with your attraction to him. That Deaky’s hands rested on your waist, that his touches made a blush creep up your chest, a veil of sweat cover the expanse of your collarbones.

John’s touch lingered on your fingertips as he walked on stage, slinging his bass over his body, his hand splayed across the body as he looked at you one last time. You were only able to leave from your spot against the bathroom door when a bartender told you he needed to go, his features and stature laden with desperation.

You walked through a narrow corridor, the sides lined with stacked wooden chairs. You could feel the bass in your feet, every riff of the warm tones complimenting the red and orange and yellow lights bouncing off the walls as you made your way to the main pit. You pushed your way to the front of the crowd, becoming engulfed in a sea of people, all swaying in unison in tune with the inflections in Freddie’s voice. They were all commanding, but Deaky was the raft keeping everything afloat, keeping the fluidity constant with every flick of the strings, every bob of his head. His profile was illuminated as the warm lights bounced off the high points of his nose, his protruding lips. His rings that shone a smoldering glow as his eyes watched his movements, lips parting enough for you to see his tongue darting out. His hand that wasn’t fingering the strings was stroking up and down the fretboard, teasing you as his digits--long and dexterous--rubbed over the ridged frets. He looked up momentarily, raising his eyebrows, shaking his head with just enough force so his shorter strands of hair would fall away from his eyes, blown wide with adrenaline, lust.

This pattern continued for the next hour; watching each other with dreamy eyes, lust-filled, a deadly concoction that had John covering the front of his trousers with his bass guitar. But his eyes couldn’t seem to leave yours no matter how hard he tried to focus on the music or Freddie, who would be pissed that Deaky had yet again “dozed off while playing!” like he always complained about. And as Freddie parted ways with the crowd through snarky goodbyes and kisses blown to the mass of sweaty bodies, Deaky couldn’t get off stage fast enough. You passed through the same corridor as earlier, that was blocked off by a velvet rope but you didn’t care; you climbed over it and found Deaky leaning against the wall, his chest heaving, exposed and soaked with hot sweat. His hair was a bit frizzy from the humidity and you were feeling feverish yourself, your ears burning with a shivering sense of anticipation that was so burning hot it almost made you cold. You traced your finger down the delicate chain hung around his neck, the metal conducting his body heat so it felt scorching against your fingertips. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you in enough so you could feel his cock straining through the thin layer of silk between your neediest areas. He poked his tongue out, swiping it over your bottom lip as his hands trailed to your ass, squeezing it as your hand felt his dick, tracing your nails over his shaft through the fabric. He closed the gap between your mouths, deprived of each other’s kisses. His tongue slipped into your mouth harshly, rubbing against your own as his lips left swollen, bruised kisses onto your mouth, your lipstick transferring onto his, his cheeks, his chin. You pulled at his hair, making him kiss you deeper, moaning into your mouth as you did in his. You fumbled with the button of his trousers as he kissed your jaw, licking over the marks he left in his insatiable path. You had your fingers pulling at the waistband of his underwear when Roger walked behind you both, clearing his throat.

“Come on, we gotta go.” He held his coat over his shoulder and a cigarette between his lips, the lid of a lighter being flipped up and down by his thumb.

“Why?” John zipped his pants back up, leaning his head back against the wall as you wiped your mouth with your arm. “Since when do we have a bloody bedtime?” He mirrored you, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he shifted in his pants.

“We already packed the van up. Brian feels sick and Freddie and I just drank so put two and two together.” He lit the cigarette and puffed, averting his eyes from you and John, almost protestingly.

“Jesus. I thought Brian felt better last week.” Deaky apologized to you with his eyes, touching your wrist firmly as Roger handed him the keys.

“I think he just ate something, I’m not sure how his body works John.” He opened the back door where the van was parked, the back open. Freddie and Brian were laid across a thin blanket, half asleep even though it was freezing and beginning to storm, the clouds yellow and purple and leaking acidic rain.

“Gimme a bloody smoke Rog.” He reached a hand out and Roger sighed handing him his last cigarette, the heavy door swinging shut behind them, leaving you alone in the pub, against the wall and unsatisfied for the second time that night.

John didn’t call the rest of the week and you were convinced it just wasn’t meant to happen between you two, no matter how much you were aching for it after he left you waiting on two separate occasions, your hair awry, your skirt wrinkled and lips bruised. You had been distracted by him pervading your thoughts for the entirety of the six days since you had known him; your boss had had to snap you out of it on multiple occasions.

You were folding a pair of white silk trousers, similar to the ones Deaky was wearing the Friday before, when your boss snapped his fingers at you, pointing the pen he was holding at the door. “Sell him something.” He commanded you, pushing his ugly glasses up his nose as he continued his paperwork, sprawled about the counter.

You turned around, the trousers still tucked underneath your chin. “Can I help you?” You pulled the leg of the pants so it wasn’t so wrinkled at the edges, looking up to meet his eyes, grey and greens speckled with hues of warm brown.

“If I’m not mistaken, we have business left unfinished.” He quirked an eyebrow, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, a faded light blue. He pulled out a wad of cash. “For the shirt.” He closed your fingers around the money. “But that’s not it, now is it?” He bit the inside of his cheek as you smoothed the pants that you had set on the table in front of you.

“No, it’s not.” You looked at your watch, stifling a smile that was creeping up your cheeks as you realized your lunch break was supposed to begin a few minutes ago. You left without saying a word; you just grabbed your coat from a small shelf and held it over your arm as John’s own arm found its way around your waist, squeezing your hip. He took your coat from you, holding it by the collar as he opened the door for you.

“I’m parked in that alley.” He stroked his fingers over your hip bone and turned the corner with you, the wind much less piercing than it was a week ago--possibly because it had just grown warmer, whether that was in general or just you, you had no idea. The alley was dim; two brick buildings sheathed in tangled vines sat parallel to each other, sheltering Deaky’s small sedan that was parked to the side. He unlocked the back door, allowing you to get in as he started the engine and cranked the heat up, the radio distilling rock songs through tinny speakers. John then opened the other door, climbing into the back from the other side. His face was obscured by shadows that danced long his profile, his lips parted as he leant forward, resting on his palms.

“Sorry for leaving you hanging last week.” He touched his thumb to your bottom lip, tracing along the soft skin, the pad of his finger painted red from your lipstick. He sucked the thumb into his mouth, cleaning it off with his tongue. “I’ll make it up to you.” He clasped his hands together upon your lower back, lifting you onto his lap as his lips pecked yours once, before he was delving his tongue in between your lips, stroking along your own tongue with his as he bit and sucked at your lips, rocking you against his cock, his jeans rough against your clothed clit.

“Will you now?” You questioned, holding the back of his head to deepen the kiss, your noses flush against each other’s cheeks as you rocked against him, relishing in his soft gasps as your pussy rubbed against the ridges of his tip, the veins that were pulsing with fresh blood.

“Fuck, Y/N. Rub your clit against me, yeah.” He nodded, thumbing the bundle of nerves through your soaked underwear. Your arms were still thrown around his neck, the tips of your noses touching as you grabbed his wrist, pushing his fingers so they touched the waistband of your underwear.

“Take them off.” You breathed into his ear and he did so immediately, shoving them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles.

“Pretty little pussy.” He nibbled your earlobe and rubbed your clit in lazy circles with his thumb as his middle two fingers pumped in and out of your hole. You whimpered as he curled his fingers, the callouses on the pads of them rough along your velvety walls, making you clench around his digits.

“Fuck, Johnny.” You scratched your nails down his wrist, feeling his pulse quiver as his muscles did the same, his cock rocking against your thigh. It was impossibly hot in the car; he had put the heat on the highest setting, and you felt your hair sticking to your forehead, your perspiration meddling with his as you touched foreheads, arms, legs, mouths.

“Call me that again, fuck.” He whimpered as he began to rub your clit in harder, more certain circles, drawing you closer to the edge you had seemed to be teetering on and off of for the past week. “Tell me how good it feels for me to be touching you like this.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your throat and you gasped, rocking against his fingers more and more. “Dirty girl, riding my fingers in the car.”

You were unable to mutter anything but a choked moan intermingled with the occasional whimper; it felt too good, his fingers rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of you. You captured his mouth with yours, suckling on his bottom lip enough to make his head tilt back, but he pulled away, stopping his fingers. His knuckles were sharp and bony against your entrance as he kept you on the cusp of your orgasm.

“What did I say, sweetie?” He grabbed your chin, tilting it down so you were looking straight at him. The windows were being beaten by a cold rain, rushing down the street, puddling into the sewers as your chests heaved against each other’s, exchanging breaths.

“Fuck it feels good Johnny. You’re so deep inside of me.” You lifted your hips just to sink back down on his digits, his thumb still circling around your pulsing clit. “I’m gonna cum don’t stop,” You gasped, egging him on as he curled his fingers one last time, using his free hand to pull your shirt off, swirling his tongue along one nipple before licking a trail to the other, watching you as you came around his fingers, arching into his touches, his licks and sucks. Your legs shook as your eyes rolled back, hooded by heavy eyelids as you gripped harshly onto John’s hair, running your nails along his scalp.

You had barely recovered from your orgasm before you had unbuttoned Deaky’s faded jeans, peeling them off his legs until the only thing that separated your over-sensitive sex from his cock was a pair of thin briefs, hugging his thighs tightly, his member even tighter. “You’re so hard for me,” You reciprocated the dirty talking, kissing the corner of his parted mouth as you stroked his cock, massaging the underside of the head with your thumb. “I can feel the precum pulsing out of you.” You pushed his underwear down so you could touch him fully. Dribbles of precum were spurting from his slit and falling down the veins that your fingers were tracing long, just lightly enough to make him thrust up into your touch.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you baby.” He threw his head back, his hair fanning against the headrest as he groaned into the fiery air around you. You were both sheathed in a blanket of red, blushing profusely.

“What have you been thinking about?” You whispered against his neck before sucking a dark mark by the junction of his jaw and neck.

“My fingers fucking you.” He listed. “My tongue fucking you.”

“Anything else?” You squeezed harder along his shaft, stroking slower, your fingertips lingering against his reddened tip.

“Fuck that feels so good.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought of my cock buried inside of you most of all.”

You jerked him off with more fervor, using both hands to fondle his balls, then to run up the shaft, circling around the sensitive head. You could tell he really liked when you massaged the tip; his breath hitched completely whenever your thumb pressed against the velvety skin. “More, fuck that feels so good. I’m gonna cum--a lot.” He warned you, whimpering as he heard a crowd of tourists sloshing through the rain, crossing the street directly in front of the car. But you stopped your rubbing, watching how he huffed in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. But before he could protest, you sunk down on him until you were completely full.

“Jesus Christ, fuck.” He bit his lip as you moved up and down his shaft, hugging him so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised if he passed out and died right there. You rolled your hips agonizingly slow, grinding against him as he was sheathed completely inside of you, watching as the flush that spread across his chest deepened to a deeper, almost purply red. You ran your hands up and down his chest, your palms brushing against the buttons of his shirt. You leaned forward and left open-mouthed, hungry kisses on his throat then down onto his collarbones, dragging your teeth along his sternum. He bucked his hips, groaning as you continued to circle your hips, your ridged walls squeezing his tip but doing nothing to extinguish the wildfire ignited in his stomach, smoldering throughout his limbs. Your clit was rubbing against his pelvis, the pleasure tingling up your spine as John wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you still. “I’m gonna fuck you now.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his mouth parted desperately as he began to fuck into you, thrusting hard and deep inside of you as you braced yourself against his chest.

“Johnny fuck, harder!” You gasped. He wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, flipping you around so he was hovering on top of you, thrusting deep, his hips angling upwards in a way that made your orgasm begin to fizzle and twitch throughout your entire body. You could feel his bare cock pulsing, hot inside of you as you pulled him in, kissing him frantically, your tongues heavy against each other as they explored each other’s mouth.

“Harder?” He challenged, panting on top of you. “Or should I pull out all the way,” He did just that, his lips moving against yours as he did. “And fuck right back into you?” He slammed back in, twitching inside of you when you let out a yell, clenching around him so hard he thought he would cum right then. “You’re so tight, I’m not gonna last.” He watched as he pulled out again, rubbing his cock against your folds, his tip throbbing when it rubbed against your aching clit.

“Keep doing that John, fuck!” You writhed underneath him and he pinned your hands above your head, sliding his dick along your pussy, watching you squirm, chasing your orgasm which was germinating in the very pit of your stomach and blooming outwards into a garden of pleasure dragging down your legs and arms, causing them to shake as you came. You chanted his name like a prayer, feeding into the cockiness you didn’t know he had in him.

“I’m so close, sweetheart” He was still lazily grinding against your bare pussy, watching the precum becoming increasingly more opaque as he got closer and closer to finishing. “God--” He stuttered. “Can I please--cum inside of you?” His eyes rolled back when he slid against your soaked entrance, begging you with his eyes to let him do what he wanted most.

“What do you say, Johnny?” You teased him, rocking against him harder, still breathing heavily from your second orgasm. “Beg for it.”

He moaned from deep in his throat, raw from the strained moans he had tried to keep shoved down his throat. “Please?” His tip nudged against your entrance. “Can I please cum inside you?”

You didn’t say another word; you just pulled his face in as he pushed inside of you, inching deeper and then deeper--even when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any further. He pulled your chest flush to his and you pushed his ass with your heels, a bid for him to cum. “I--” He croaked, fucking you more erratically. He didn’t say anything else before he spilled inside of you, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls; his heartbeat was pounding in his cock that was still buried inside of you as he caught his breath, his head tucked into the junction of your neck and shoulder. Eventually, he pulled out, his hands shaking as he saw more cum pulse out of him at the sight of it leaking down your trembling legs.

“Fuck,” He shuffled to grab a napkin from the center console, grinning at you as he found three tucked into the cupholders in the front seat. He quickly wiped you and him down. “This is Roger’s car, I forgot.”

“You forgot, did you?” You rolled your eyes, pulling your shirt back on before doing the same to your skirt that was rumpled on the carpeted floor, littered with receipts and guitar picks.

“What about your knickers?” He picked them off the floor, handing them to you as he pulled his own underwear over his legs.

“Keep them. Let Roger know I’m yours.”

John grinned at you toothily, his lips red and taut in smile that could only be characterized as his own. He shoved the panties in his jeans and kissed your cheek innocently. “If you’re mine, I’ll need your phone number.” He grabbed a clean napkin from the pile and a ballpoint pen from the floor, thrusting them both in your awaiting hands.

“I gave it to you at the store that day, you know?” You scribbled your number down, capping the pen as you finished. “It was on the tag of your pants.”

“How clever.” He admired the napkin when you gave it to him, complete with a blotted lipstick kiss at the bottom. “Roger must’ve taken it. Prick.”

__________

taglist:

@mercurys-bike @alexfayer @ledger-kaos @ma-ntequilla @discodeakky@richiethotzierz @thisloveisreal1 @heartsarecompatible @thelondondreamer5@brian-may-brian-may @okqueenie @gailymlee @trickster-may @bubblypenguin123 @queensdarlingg @soloosunflower @dvndermifflinassociate @fredthelegend @miez-lakatz @arrowswithwifi@mouse507 @mespetitestortues @yourstateofdreaming @pamoreno@helenathe3rd @allie-of-asgard @deacytits @hystericallyqueen@missqueeniewrites @mxzzello @bulsarahutton @paper-queer-plane @xilann@silvver-rose @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @blushy-monkey@ladycataztrophe @rprpprprprppr @myfairybrian @deakysgurl

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohrap #john deacon #john deacon smut #deaky #deaky smut #Brian May #roger taylor #freddie mercury

1K notes · View notes

fillianore-moved · 5 years ago

Text

this is just a very long and unfortunate list of incorrect quotes i’ve compiled for the fe3h squad + my oc (aka cassia montal, who’s the assistant teacher at the monastery and is romancing jeritza)! i just needed a way to develop her and all the relationships there more, and this is the result, so it’s completely self-indulgent, lazy and frankly pretty silly, but still i had fun and developed her and her relationships a lot during this process! @highoverseer and @koroleyva i’m tagging you two because idk anyone else who’d care at all for this flaming pile of trash packed into a fe3h package uwu 🌷🌼🌸

-------------

byleth: how long have you been sleeping with cassia?

jeritza: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get… why would... i…i’ve never had sex with anyone, anywhere. it’s none of your… you have… the nerve, the audacity… cassia is my colleague, technically. and she is terrible, face-wise. and how… how... do i know, frankly, that you’re not sleeping with her? maybe you are. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? hmm? check and mate.

------------

cassia dies.

annette is sobbing

dimitri is heartbroken

edelgard is trying to do a satanic ritual with hubert to bring her back

claude is stapling memes to her coffin

-----------

byleth: you dropped your dyn- dy- dyna… mite…

byleth: uh… what else have you got in there?

cassia: oh… gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue, and… paperclips. big ones.

cassia: uou know. just office supplies.

-----------

cassia to annette: when you turn 18, people are gonna try and tell you to buy drugs or cigarettes because you can. no. you know what else is legal to buy at 18? blades. get yourself a damn sword. a big knife is also okay.

----------

cassia: we both look very beautiful tonight.

jeritza: you know, if you- if you’d just said I look beautiful, I would’ve said “so do you”.

cassia: i couldn’t take that chance.

-----------

dorothea: you need a hobby.

cassia: i have a hobby.

dorothea: staring at jeritza’s face isn’t a hobby.

cassia: you’re right. it’s a profession and i excel at my job.

-----------

cassia, looking in the mirror at 3am trying to practice self love: you’re doing great you stupid bitch..

-----------

manuela: i didn’t want to do this, but i know one way we can get the money.

cassia: you’d make a decent prostitute.

manuela: i’d make an amazing prostitute, but i was actually talking about this guy I know.

----------

byleth: admit it! you like cassia!

jeritza: oh, come on. i mean, am i attracted to cassia? sure. do my days feel better when I’m around her? yeah. does she get me in ways no person ever has? indubitably. do i fantasize about her? sure, of course, but only in two positions. but do I like her? the answer is no.

-----------

cassia: when have i done anything rash or irresponsible?

claude: i keep a list if you wanna see. it’s alphabetized.

-----------

byleth: whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

cassia: (sighing) felix’s…

felix: fuck shit up out there, but don’t die.

------------

annette: is anyone else scared?

cassia: not really. i’ve already lived longer than i expected.

------------

flayn: what is the best way to kill someone?

byleth: kindness.

cassia: If we’re being stealthy, potassium cynaite. otherwise, anything from a knife to a bazooka works...

-----------

cassia: *crying*

byleth: i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life

cassia: you are the WORST at this comfort thing

----------

claude: if edelgard, dimitri and i were drowning, who would you save?

cassia: you morons can’t even swim?

edelgard: teacher, it’s a hypothetical question.

dimitri: yeah, who would you save?

cassia: my time and effort.

----------

annette: The cookie isn’t sweet enough, and the texture is runny because it’s not fully baked. if I have to rate this, i would give it three points.

cassia: i made it myself…

annette: it’s out of three points.

----------

edelgard: if I ask you a boy question, will you promise not to be weird?

cassia: i promise.

edelgard: so, there’s this guy-

cassia: you can do better.

-----------

cassia, torturing a prisioner: we have ways of making you talk…

cassia: flayn, what are you doing here? you’re not allowed in here

flayn: (hands her a drawing)

cassia: did you draw this? this is so good! i promise we’ll hang it in the entrance of the dungeon so everyone can see it before they get tortured!

----------

sylvain: i rarely give compliments, teacher, but that shirt looks great. i bet it would look even better on byleth’s assistant’s bedroom floor.

jeritza: …

cassia: sylvain, are you … hitting on jeritza for me?

-----------

cassia: it’s hard being byleth’s assistant teacher sometimes, but i love the my students and that’s all that-

caspar, in the background: teacher cassia! I tried to make spaghetti in the coffee pot and accidentally broke it!

cassia: *inhales*

-----------

post time-skip, black eagles route

cassia: i need some peace and quiet...

edelgard: i’ll be quiet!

hubert: and i’ll be peace!

-----------

jeritza: everything’s going to be fine. it’s just a crush.

cassia: hey, jeritza!

jeritza: i love you.

-------------

post time-skip, blue lions route

dimitri, talking about cassia: i know you think my judgment’s clouded because i like her a little bit.

dedue: you doodled your wedding invitation

dimitri: no, that’s our joint tombstone.

dedue: ... my mistake.

------------

post time-skip, hubert’s support

edelgard: (whispering to hubert) start with a compliment! tell her she looks thin.

hubert: (to cassia) you seem malnourished.

------------

post time-skip, edelgard’s support

ferdinand, watching cassia train: she can’t be good at everything. maybe she’s a bad kisser.

edelgard: no, she’s good at that too.

ferdinand: what?

edelgard: what?

------------

sylvain: I'm grounded?

cassia: yes, you're grounded.

byleth: you disobeyed an order.

dimitri: and now we're going to bury you until you learn your lesson.

cassia:

byleth: dimitri, that's not how grounding works.

-----------

dorothea: i promised byleth we wouldn’t do anything illegal.

cassia:

cassia: Why would you lie to our resident parental figure like that?

------------

linhardt: i slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

cassia: linhardt that’s a coma

linhardt: sounds festive

------------

cassia: don’t worry, i have a permit.

seteth: …this just says ‘i do what i want.’

------------

cassia: there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents

cassia: ... and lorenz

------------

post time-skip, golden deer route

cassia: this is it

cassia: this is the darkest timeline

hilda: we just ran out of alcohol you dramatic little bitch

-----------

post time-skip, blue lions route

felix: cassia?

cassia, sighing: jeritza used to call me cassia…

felix: because it’s your fucking name

----------

cassia: WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL MY MACAROONS?! IM GOING TO KI-

annette: it was me.

cassia: KISS YOUR HEAD SO SOFT BABY, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU THE MOST RIGHT?

---------

post time-skip, black eagles route

edelgard: so what are we gonna do?

cassia: i don’t know... pizza maybe?

edelgard:

hubert:

ferdinand:

edelgard: about the war, cassia

----------

during a mock battle

ferdinand: start waving your white flag!

hilda: THE ONLY THING I WILL BE WAVING IS YOUR DECAPITATED HEAD ON A STICK IN FRONT OF YOUR WEEPING MOTHER.

cassia: ... Yikes...

----------

cassia: hey flayn, do you think I could fit fifteen macarons into my mouth?

seteth: you're a hazard to society.

flayn: and a coward. do twenty!

----------

byleth: your trainee said a swear word in class.

cassia: i’ll talk to them about it..

cassia, to lysithea: what the fuck, dude...

----------

rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

byleth: we lost cassia.

rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

----------

sylvain, flirting with a girl: so, are you from heaven?

cassia: yes, she's a ghost...

cassia: she died fifteen years ago...

cassia: like that pick-up line of yours.

----------

dedue: felix lost cassia…

dimitri: how do you lose a woman?!

ashe: you forget to cherish her.

-----------

cassia: you like me? you like my personality?

byleth: i was surprised too.

----------

lysithea: [covers cassia’s eyes] guess who? she’s sweet, she’s adorable~

lysithea: and she’s gonna be really mad if you get it wrong!

----------

ignatz: i lose at everything. i even lost my glasses.

cassia, staring at the glasses on top of his head: i’ll help you find them for five gold...

-----------

jeritza: what are you, a cop? fuck off!

cassia: jeritza...

jeritza: okay, sorry, one more time.

priest:

priest: do you take this woman to be y--

-----------

rhea: cassia, can we speak privately for a minute?

cassia: ooooh, someone’s in trouble!

cassia : no, wait.

cassia : it’s me.

----------

cassia: wait, stop, think!

caspar: no, no, and no.

----------

bernadetta: i’m just worried about hurting their feelings!

cassia: hurting their feelings…? you just walk around all day caring about peoples’ feelings?

bernadetta: yes, of course. don’t you?

cassia: no.

-----------

byleth: you’re smiling, did something good happen?

cassia: can’t I just smile because I feel like it?

dorothea: seteth tripped and fell in the courtyard.

------------

claude: i trust cassia.

hilda: you think she knows what she’s doing?

claude: ... i wouldn’t go that far.

-----------

cassia: oh, yes, i’ll live.

cassia: but i won’t enjoy it.

-----------

cassia: you piss me off so much.

rhea: i literally just said “hello.“

cassia: yet here i am, boiling with rage.

----------

cassia: don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

marianne: the power to believe in myself?

cassia: no, a knife.

cassia: stab them.

----------

petra: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life

cassia: i know this and i love you

----------

ignatz: *trips on nothing*

cassia: ha, you’re so clumsy.

(5mins later)

cassia: *aggressively punching the air* what’s your–fucking problem huh?? what–did he ever–do to you??

-----------

byleth: now we’re going to compliment the person to our right.

cassia: *looks at seteth fondly*

cassia: nothing brightens up a room like your absence.

------------

shady guy, coming up to cassia: if you care about your student you’ll come with me..

cassia: which student?

shady guy: lorenz hellman gloucester

cassia:

cassia: *turns around and walks away*

-----------

cassia: did it hurt?

jeritza: *rolls eyes* let me guess, when i fell from heaven?

cassia: no

jeritza: what?

cassia, grinning: did it hurt when you fell for me?

jeritza: ...

------------

marianne: does this make me a bad person?

cassia: marianne, there is not a force in history that could make you a bad person...

-----------

cassia: you and me? we both want the same thing.

cassia: but we’re gonna have to work... near each other.

seteth: you mean together, cassia?

cassia, turning around angrily: did you hear me say together??

-----------

cassia: annette’s at that very special age where she has only one thing on her mind.

manuela: boys?

cassia: murder.

----------

cassia: *hugs dimitri*

dimitri: what's this? what's happening?

cassia: it's going to be alright.

dimitri: why are you squeezing me with your body?

cassia: it's a hug, dimitri. i'm hugging you.

-----------

cassia: claude, can we talk, one ten to another?

claude: i’m an eleven, teacher, but continue.

-----------

mercedes: oh fiddlesticks.

cassia: look, i understand this is a tense situation but let's watch the fucking language.

-----------

linhardt: i’m busy.

cassia: do you think drinking 36 glasses of wine consecutively would make my battle senses and crest powers even more heightened or would I just die?

linhardt:

linhardt: i’m on my way.

------------

cassia: we’re engaged

jeritza: IN COMBAT

jeritza: *pulls out his sword*

------------

manuela: why does everybody always assume I'm having a stroke?

cassia: age.

dorothea: diet.

------------

leonie: i sort of did something and i need your advice. but i don’t want a lot of judgment and criticism.

cassia: ... and you came to me?

------------

cassia: what do we say when life disappoints us?

dimitri: called it.

cassia: NO--

------------

cassia: *sees someone do something stupid*

cassia: what an idiot.

cassia: *realizes it’s sylvain*

cassia: oh, that’s my idiot.

------------

cassia: ferdinand, we tried things your way.

ferdinand: no, we didn't.

cassia: i did it in my head and it didn't work.

------------

manuela: between claude, ignatz, lorenz, and raphael - if you had to - who would you punch?

cassia: no one! they are my golden deer! my students! i wouldn't punch any of them.

manuela: lorenz?

cassia: ... yeah.

------------

cassia: you need them to think that you are stronger than you actually are.

ashe: that’s what you do, right?

cassia: oh, no. my power is no illusion. i can fucking demolish you.

------------

cassia: before i do anything, i ask myself, would rhea do that? and if the answer is yes, i do not do that thing.

------------

flayn: do you really think we should stay outside or do you just not want to deal with this right now?

cassia: two things can be true...

------------

cassia: name a way to be nice to others.

dimitri: don't kill them.

cassia:

cassia: setting the bar a little low, dima, but I'll allow it.

-----------

cassia: remember that time you made me lick the swing set?

dorothea: no, i said "cassia don't lick the swing set!" then you said "don't tell me what to do!" and then you licked the swing set.

-----------

cassia: what are the signs of depression?

byleth: why are you asking?

cassia: manuela was doing laundry earlier and she dropped a sock and i heard her say “why has the goddess forsaken me?”

-------------

cassia: i just realized. i had a terrible childhood.

manuela: yeah, i know.

cassia: what do you mean, “you know”?

manuela: look at the way you stand... people who had good childhoods don’t stand like that.

--------------

cassia: you have to learn to love yourself.

marianne: but don’t you hate yourself?

cassia: yes, but this is about you, stay focused.

--------------

hilda (with lysithea probably): REMEMBER THE PACTS FORGED BETWEEN OUR PEOPLES LONG AGO.

cassia: stop it, it's 4 in the morning.

hilda: YOU PLEDGED ETERNAL SERVITUDE.

cassia: i did not.

hilda: IN EXCHANGE WE WOULD COME TO YOUR AID IN YOUR HOUR OF NEED.

cassia: i'm not feeding you.

hilda: REMEMBER THE PACTS.

--------------

annette: hey, can you do me a favor?

cassia: i’d kill for you, but go on.

-------------

in the garden

mercedes: annette, can you grab that hoe?

annette: *grabs cassia’s arm*

mercedes: wait, that's not what I meant...

------------

flayn: hey cassia, can i go get some candy?

cassia: what did seteth say?

flayn: no.

cassia: then why do you think i’ll let you?

flayn: because seteth’s not the boss of you.

cassia, internally: it’s a trap it’s a trap it’s a trap

-----------

dorothea: if I die, my ghost is gonna haunt you!

cassia: then your ghost is going to see some disgusting stuff.

------------

hubert’s support in a nutshell

hubert, in the margins of his notebook: mywife is soft nd ilikeher

hubert: my wiwwwfie wife is visiting a noble family with the empress and i miss her

hubert: MY EWFIE IS HOME MY WIFE

------------

felix: see? this is my “i don’t care” face.

cassia: that’s your normal face.

-------------

cassia: of course, i care about everyone in this house equally!

claude: we were attacked while you were away.

cassia: is marianne okay???

-------------

cassia: if edelgard jumped off a cliff, would you?

hubert: *stares into the distance with a blank expression*

cassia: hubert!

hubert: well- er- i mean, it depends.

cassia: DON’T JUMP OFF A CLIFF!

hubert: well, i wasn’t planning on it.

cassia: but if edelgard did, you would!?

hubert: *stares into the distance yet again*

cassia: HUBERT!

-------------

lysithea: if i run and leap at cassia, she will almost certainly catch me in her arms.

lysithea: COMING IN! *runs at cassia*

cassia: NO! I’M HOLDING COFFEE!

cassia: *drops the cup and catches her*

------------

leonie: why are you helping me so much?

cassia: because my life is a mess right now and i compulsively take care of other people when i don’t know how to take care of myself.

------------

hubert’s support, post time-skip

dorothea, barging into the library: you two ARE having sex!

hubert: really? cassia, why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve put my book down.

------------

cassia: we have fun, don’t we?

ashe: i have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

------------

cassia: why are we laying on the ground?

sylvain: you got knocked down so i laid next to you so everyone would just think we were chillin’.

------------

petra: i did something terrible.

cassia: it’s okay, i have a shovel.

petra: wait, what do you think i did?

cassia: it doesn’t matter, no one will ever know.

------------

seteth: time for bed.

flayn: cassia says that I can stay up as long as I want, and YOU need to die.

seteth:

seteth: what the heck, cassia-

------------

ingrid: i think rhea is in trouble!

cassia: alright... struggling to give a fuck, if i’m honest.

------------

marianne: i made a friendship bracelet for you!

cassia: i’m not really a jewelry person.

marianne: oh, you don’t have to wear it.

cassia: no, back off, i’m gonna wear it forever.

-----------

manuela: i’m playing a new drinking game. it’s called “Every time i’m depressed, i take a drink.”

dorothea: that game exists. that’s called alcoholism.

manuela and cassia: *take a swig simultaneously*

--------------

during hubert’s support

cassia: i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

hubert: i’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you?

cassia: yes.

hubert: … now i’m starting to feel a little sorry for you.

--------------

cassia: alright, listen up you little shits.

cassia: not you, bernadetta. you’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

--------------

cassia: do you ever wanna talk about your emotions, felix?

felix: no.

sylvain: i do!

cassia: we know, sylvain.

sylvain: i’m sad...

cassia: we know, sylvain.

--------------

cassia: since when is babysitting them my—

cassia: oh, my god, that’s exactly my job.

#i'm trying to pinpoint her personality and i finally think i've got it #so like... just a completely self indulgent long list of convos that never took place #obv these are from various different tv shows/movies/books/etc #also if anyone already used these in a similar manner - sorry also we've ascended #for everyone who knows anything about the game - i have like 10 s support routes prepared for her akljdkksj because no control thot life #THIS IS A WIP and i'll add more of these from time to time~#oc: cassia montal

7 notes · View notes

spellshite · 4 years ago

Text

OKAY BUDDIES, TIME TO CHECK THE RESULTS.

Hmm... So majority of Rhys with an hint of Vaughn?

ALSO LOOK AT WHAT TUMBLR DID (AGAIN) IN MY REC FEED! It always slaps one or two Rhys tags, I never seen a day without them in months!

Looks like I am...

...Assigned Rhys (and Vaughn) By Tumblr.

And do you want to see what the heck I did on ps until almost half past 1am and completed this morning bc otherwise I wouldn't have stopped thinking about it?

This crap: myself in work clothes and then I swapped my color palette with Rhys and Vaughn’s palettes.

Lemme just add that the hexagons are the freaking reason photoshop kept freezing.

I may have rewrote here the commentary near every doodle since I had to shrink down the image because it was like 2k+ pixels wide LOL

Yeah, if you want my blabbering just look under the cut.

Original (?)

How I looked this summer at work lol

Can’t draw face or hands LOL

May go back to black frame glasses. Rectangle red = everyday; round blue = computer

Since I’m young they allowed me to not use a tie or bowtie. Neat.

Socks w/ dancing avocadoes. I also used: rainbows, hamburgers, cookies, Pringles logo, Nasa logo, Pac-man ghosts, doggos, rainbow-coloured.

Always perched on the stool bc I’m too short to properly sit on it.

Color Swap: Rhys (TftBL)

HEXAGONS & DOTS?! Ew!

y collar and wrists are white?

only half pinstripes? WTH 2/10

SO ASYMMETRICAL THAT I ALMOST GOT A STROKE! 0/10

FUCK TIES

Left glasses bc I always wear them

Nice socks bud, 10/10

SRSLY REPTILE LEATHER?!

THESE SHOES ARE EFFIN’ UGLY! 0/10

Color Swap: Vaughn (TftBL)

HEXAGONS?! AGAIN?!

Less asymmetrical 6/10

Used to have glasses w/ similar frame, in purple (obv transp. lens)

Brown & lime accents are meh. 5/10

FUCK TIES AGAIN!

Tbh I’d wear bowties. Bowties are cool. Also they aren’t too long on me like ties.

Tbh brown pants look like sh*t on me irl

Shoes/boots looks nice, 7/10 would wear

[this meme down here]

And since I’m already shitposting like a fuckton, lemme add another doodle I made after I finished all the other stuff over there:

I was the only celiac in there and they always ate the only bag of snacks that was gluten-free. Also the hotel bar didn’t have gluten-free stuff.

[sad trombone playing]

Another shitpost because fuck yes. I want to shitpost because I can and because I’m fucking bored, okay?

So, to whomever will stumble upon this:

Which Borderlands character vibes I give off?

Or from whatever other game or stuff ya want, I’m not picky. I just want to have an idea of how others perceive me.

#queerzubat #shitpost #look it's me!#borderlands #rhys the company man #vaughn the money man #i've been assigned rhys vibes by ppl and tumblr #but also vaughn bc vaughn needs love too #why everyone forgets about him?#it's a bit like when my friends forget about me #the irl ones #the tumblr ones are cool af

17 notes · View notes

opaleyedprince · 6 years ago

Text

soo uhh i was tagged by @ninja-lanternshark and i just found the post in my likes s o figured better do it y eehaw

Rules: answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people who you want to get to know better. except im t ired and big anxiety so imma just answer th questions hhehehe

Nickname: uhhh i respond to eli, but opal also works, and a bunch of petnames too. basically anything so long as someone makes it clear they’re speaking to me

Zodiac: libra / tiger

Height: 5′6″, 5′7″ on a good day

Last movie I saw: spider-verse heck yeah! in general? lilo and stitch

Last thing I googled: orchid mantis

Favorite musician: idk?? i don’t have any favorites per se? but i enjoy florence + the machine, mika, and darren korb

Song stuck in my head: crab rave but slightly edited w/megalovania

Other blogs: well tbh i have two sideblogs b ut neither of them are active rn so :3cc

Do I get asks: more often than i used to kdjcnb

Following: 224

Amount of sleep: usually anywhere between 4 and 9 hours hhh eheheheh

Lucky number: 13 or 17

What I’m wearing: jeans, flannel, big jacket bc the heat hasn’t kicked in yet

Dream job: hhhhhh making video games. or an animated series

Dream trip: somewhere in the mountains? japan? or just to see my s/o now that is the dream right there-

Favorite food: curry, just in general d on’t make me pick one. also my pa’s french toast

Play any instruments: flute

Languages: english and a bit of french

Favorite songs: hmm all of dw spirit’s ost, we all become by darren korb, glass heart hymn by paper route, the entirety of tchaikovsky's swan lake and nutcracker ballets

Random fact: d id you know that in some old vampire lore putting a rose on the vamp’s coffin could trap them inside?

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: overcast skies that threaten rain but don’t follow through, precariously-balanced piles of unread books, blasting cheesy romance songs and dancing alone while dessert bakes in the oven, running through the woods in hiking boots and an unzipped rain jacket, partly-filled sketchbooks and doodles done on the back of old school papers

#eli makes things #about me #ty for tagging!#also for the aesthetic: going 'is there fall damage in this game' and then saying 'yeah there is' after jumping and dying

0 notes

lexxfics · 8 years ago

Text

Don’t Forget Me

Chapter 2 - Promise

New to the series? Or need a recap? Click HERE

Hakyeon's P.OV

*Imagine Hakyeon and Y/N as little six-year olds*

Y/N and I were at the playground near our houses. We went all over the equipment: climbing the steps, pushing each other down the slides, playing tag. We were tired, so we had decided to go and rest on the swings, swaying slowly back and forth.

"Hey Hakyeon?" Y/N asked me.

"Hmm?" I replied, holding on to both of the bars on my swing.

"Are we going to be best friends forever?"

"Of course! Why would you ask that?" I responded, looking at her to see that she on the verge of tears.

"I-I heard your parents say that you were moving, far far away," she muttered, the tears falling from her eyes.

I got up from my swing and stood in front of her.

"I am sorry Y/N. I should have told you. But just because I am moving doesn't mean that we can't be friends right?" She looked up at me, her nose a mess and her cheeks stained.

"N-No," she states, sniffling. "But what if you n-never come back?"

I looked at her, confused at what to do to make her smile again. I searched around the parking lot when I noticed the broken swing next to us – the chain scattered around the sand.

I walked over and started searching.

"H-Hakyeon?" she asked, watching me.

When I found what I was looking for, I put it behind my back, and went to stand in front of her again.

She looked confused, as I had a huge smile on my face.

"Ta-da!" I said, holding out two of the silver chains in my hand.

"W-What is this?"

"A ring, pabo!" I yelled at her. I took one from my hand and placed it on her tiny pinky finger and did the same to my pinky with the other.

"There!"

She stared at me blank.

"This is a promise that I will come back. A promise that I will come back to marry you!" I told her.

"Marry me?"

"Of course! My parents won't keep me from my bride!" I said, confidently.

She started to smile and laugh, causing me to laugh with her.

"Promise?" she said, holding out her pinky.

"Promise." I replied, wrapping my pinky around hers.

I smiled as I stared down at the same ring from that day, only now wrapped around a chain on my neck, as my finger came to outgrow it.

I twirled it in my hands, remembering that day, like it was just yesterday.

I wonder if she still has it.

I don't know if I was being courteous that day or I just didn't want to see her sad, but I was definitely honest on coming back and marrying her.

I sighed.

Of course, now the Y/N I knew it either long gone, or doesn't remember me.

Aish, I really hope I find out what happened to her soon.

My alarm suddenly went off, signaling that it was time to leave the house to start walking to school.

I gathered my books and items in my backpack, and headed down the stairs.

I walked out my front door, locking it behind me, when I heard yelling from next door.

I glanced over to see Y/N running out her door, with a piece of toast in her mouth, heading towards the gate.

I also watched her almost trip and fall over, causing me to laugh a little.

What a klutz.

"Y/N!" I yelled out, causing her to turn towards me.

"Hhi," she said.

"Running late?" I asked.

"Ahlways," she responded, motioning me to follow her out.

I closed my gate behind me and started to walk beside her.

I glanced over to see her eating her piece of toast, almost stuffing it all inside her mouth in one bite.

"Daebak," I whispered quietly.

"Hmm?" she responded while looking at her phone.

"Nothing," I said.

"Oh, okay."

The silence between us continued until she stopped.

"Uh-I-Uh got to go! I will see you in class Hakyeon!" she yelled, going ahead of me.

Taken back, I stood there as she ran off towards the school.

What a unique person to have for a class president.

Y/N's P.O.V

As I was walking with Hakyeon, I got a text.

I looked down to see that it was from Ken.

Eager to see what he had sent, I opened and read it.

"School. Now"

What?

Ding,

"If you don't get here in the next 10 minutes, I will end our relationship."

I stopped and stared at what he sent.

WHAT. THIS GUY IS CRAZY.

"Uh-I-Uh got to go! I will see you in class Hakyeon!" I unconsciously said, my legs taking me towards the school.

After running full-speed, I made it to the front of the school, panting heavily.

I looked around to see him standing at the front, girls surrounding him.

I made my way over to him, making eye contact.

"I-I m-made i-it," I stuttered, still trying to catch my breath.

Wow, am I out of shape.

"With two minutes to spare. I am impressed," he responded.

I stared at him.

He is very strange.

"So what did you need me-"

At this time, he pulled my hand into his, causing the crowd of girls around him to be quiet.

I started to get embarrassed.

W-What is he doing?!

As I attempted to break away, his grip increased, making me give up any chance of unlocking my hand from his.

"W-What are you-"

"I am showing the school my girlfriend," he stated.

The girls gasped around us, and I could feel the piercing glares from them as my face turned a bright shade of red.

He then started walking, pulling me along with him, as we walked into the school.

I kept my head down as we walked because the commotion stopped all around us and I felt the looks of everyone.

I glanced over at Ken, to see him smiling brightly.

Aish, how could he do this to me? This is so embarrassing.

He dragged me to my classroom and stood outside the door with me.

"What are you doing?!" I whispered.

"What, I can't let people know that you are my girlfriend? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"Ani! It's just...I..." I trailed off.

"Well, get used to it, because for the next month you are going to be getting a lot of looks from people as you are not the student body president's girlfriend," he said, smiling to the people walking by us.

"But-"

"You also need to meet the other members of the council and eat lunch with us, so people think this is real." He stated. I froze at his last word.

'So this is real'?

What is this, a game?

"O-Okay," I quietly whispered.

The bell than rang, signaling that homeroom was about to begin.

He then let go of my hand.

"I will see you later, Y/N," he whispered, as he walked off.

I looked down at my hand that was once warm, that had suddenly turned cold.

I felt mixed feelings about all of this.

On one hand, I am dating the guy I like. But on the other, he said that people need to think this is real, like this is a contract or something.

I am very confused right now.

Conflicted, I walked into my classroom, to be met with the stares of the other students.

"W-What?" I responded, intimidated.

"Are you dating Ken?" One of my classmates asked.

I started to turn red again at the sudden question.

"Omo!" Another student yelled.

"So it is true!"

"Amazing!"

"You are so lucky!"

"Stop it!" I yelled out, walking to my seat embarrassed from the accusations of the other students.

"So secrets out already huh?" Hongbin asked.

"I guess so," I sighed. "He texted me this morning telling me to come to the school and then he made me walk around with him so that he could show that he has a 'girlfriend'."

"'Girlfriend'?" He repeated, noticing my emphasis on the word.

"Yeah, he said that we have to make this relationship look real - like our relationship is a deal or contract or something."

"That is confusing. Did you ask him about it?"

"No. I was going to but the bell rang. I wanted to talk with him about it later."

"You should," He agreed. "Otherwise, there could be a misunderstanding or something. Maybe you just heard it wrong, you know? It is better to ask him."

"You are right. Okay. I will! I will ask him about!" I said, convincing myself that things would get better as soon as I talked to him.

The teacher suddenly walked in. I quickly reacted, bringing the class to attention to greet for the morning.

She then went straight to the lecture of the morning. It was hard for me to concentrate but to my credit, I did try my best before I started to doodle Ken's and my name in my notebook – making little drawings of us while giggling like a little schoolgirl.

I was surprised she didn't find out, considering that I was not giggling all too softly.

Homeroom quickly ended and the other classes leading up to lunch also seemed to fly by.

Right after my last class before lunch, I grabbed my phone to notice that I had a text from Ken.

"Student council room. Meet for lunch. I will introduce you to the others."

Man, this boy and his demands.

"Are you coming Y/N?" Hongbin asked as he and Hakyeon were headed to our lunch table.

"No, sorry. I have to meet Ken and the other council members for lunch. I promise I will see you guys later though, okay?" I said, apologizing with my eyes.

"Okay. See you later," Hongbin said, giving a firm smile.

I waved as I turned on my heel and headed in the direction of the council room.

I stopped right in front of the door telling myself that everything will be fine, when the door suddenly opened before I got the chance to knock.

It was Ravi who had opened the door.

He didn't say anything and just decided to stare at me.

I slightly bowed, managing to greet with a small hi, before his glare started to make me more nervous.

"Who's there?" I heard someone call out from inside the room.

"Some girl."

"Let her in." The voice commanded.

He moved slightly out of the way, signaling me that it was okay to walk by him.

His suspicious glare haunted me to the core but I tried to ignore as I was meet with the other council members.

I quickly bowed a 90 degree angle, embarrassed from the looks of the four members.

"H-Hello."

"Omo! Who is this adorable girl!" Hyuk said, coming closer to me. "Have I seen you before? Because if so, I wouldn't have let you slip away," he flirted, giving me a wink.

Flustered and not knowing how to respond, I was thankful when I heard Ken clear his throat, bringing Hyuk back to stand by him.

He rised from his seat.

"Everyone, this is Y/N," he introduced. "My girlfriend for the time being."

The other members seemed shocked at the news.

As I looked at everyone's expressions, Ravi's was one of suspicion, Leo seemed like he was studying me – as if trying to figure me out, and Hyuk's was one of amusement.

"Oh, so this is the girl that has created an uproar in the school?" Hyuk asked, a sly smile appearing on his face.

"Well, nice to meet you...Y/N was it?" He questioned, holding his hand out for me to shake.

I returned the gestured and nodded to his question.

"Don't mind the other two, they don't really talk much," he reassured. "Leo has always been quiet and Ravi is just...well...Ravi."

Leo slightly bowed his head, acknowledging my presence while Ravi continued to stare.

Well, isn't this just the most comfortable situation I have been in.

"Shall we eat lunch?" Hyuk suggested, motioning for me to take a seat by Ken. I nodded, sitting down.

I glanced over at Ken to see that he was eating and that the other members were as well.

I thought that there would be more talking but to my surprise, Hyuk was the only one that talked the whole lunch.

He was very charming and nice to be around. He will probably be the council member I talk to the most out of the three.

Lunch quickly ended and we all started to rise from our seats to get to class when Ken stopped me.

"Y/N. Stay back for a second." He said. I looked at the other members to see them hesitate for a bit, but they quickly left after Ken gave them a quick nod.

"Y-Yes?" I asked, nervous to now be alone with him.

"So what do you think?"

"About what?" I answered, confused.

"About all of this: me, the student council members, the sudden popularity from our relationship."

"Um, I don't know."

"Isn't it what you wanted?" He questioned.

I stared at him blankly.

"W-What?"

"The popularity. Isn't that why you confessed to me? So you could be popular and become part of the in-crowd." He said, giving a smug look as if he had figured me out.

"N-No. I told you why I liked you. Why would you think that was the reason?"

"It's what all the past girls have wanted in the relationship. I thought you wanted the same," he said, looking a little less confident from before.

Wow, okay.

"That isn't why I wanted to-" I started, frustrated by the sudden situation.

"Okay, look. I like you Ken. I really do. Not because of your popularity or because I wanted to be in the 'in-crowd'. The more I watched you and how you treated people, I began to admire you and it turned into feelings for you. If this is how you see me, then I think you have the wrong idea about me. Maybe this was a bad idea." I said, starting to tear up.

He looked flustered at what I said.

I waited for a second to see if he would say something but he stayed silent and just stared at me.

"I-I am going to go now." I said, walking through the door and closing it behind me.

As I kept on walking, I glanced back once to see if he followed me and to no surprise, I didn't see him.

Against my will, the tears started to fall.

I can't believe he thought that about me.

What. I only want to date him because he is popular?

I am starting to think that he is not the Ken I thought I liked.

Trying to calm myself down before going back to class, I bumped head first into someone.

I didn't look up to see who it was but I quickly apologized.

I tried to walk away until they grabbed me, making me turn around.

"Y/N?" the voice said.

I looked up to see that it was Hakyeon.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his face full of worry.

"N-No," I replied, honestly.

"Are you hurt? Do I need to-"

"I-It's okay, Hakyeon. I just want to be alone for a little bit. Thank you though," I said, trying to give him a smile to show that I was making an effort.

I tried to walk away when I realized that he hadn't let go yet.

"Hakyeon, you can let go now," I said. I looked at him to see him staring at me.

"Hak-"

In an instant, I was in his arms.

Startled by the sudden gesture I froze.

I felt his arms slowly wrap around me, engulfing me in him.

I found myself to start crying even harder at his sudden movement.

I hugged him back unconsciously and started to cry into his shoulder, the tears leaving a stain on his shirt, as he rubbed my back.

"It's okay, Y/N." he said, reassuring me. "I am here for you."

And at that, I cried, letting the tears fall as I fell into his comforting embrace, not realizing the whole time, that someone had been watching us.

3 notes · View notes