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mindswriters · 2 years ago

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stuck with me - eddie munson

summary: there's no way you're leaving eddie alone, not even when he's accused of murder and you're about to face monsters from another world.

pairing: eddie munson × female!reader (almost gn except for using the word girlfriend one single time)

warnings: established relationship but not public to everyone, you also didn't know about the upside down before (joined the gang when they were looking for eddie), half of it is basically a rewrite of s04e03 so yes, it has spoilers, probably typos and maybe grammar errors, suggestiveness towards the end but far from actual smut, curse words and I think that's it.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: another eddie fic because, well, i'm obsessed. wrote it last night while i should be studying for the test i'll have in a couple minutes, so please be kind and leave your note to supress my lack of intelligence and interest in physics! hope y'all like it!

“Delivery service!” opening the door, you and Dustin sing song with a smile, showing the amount of bags in your hands to a startled and breathy version of Eddie.

“Jesus H Christ, you scared the shit out of me, you pricks.” he says dropping his broken glass bottle and coming up to greet you.

“Hello for you too, my outlaw boyfriend!” you joke before giving a quick peck on his lips, hands too busy with bags to give him a proper hug.

“No funny in that but yes, hi, baby. What’s all this?” Eddie says peeking through the bags Robin and Steve had already dropped on the table.

“Junk food and beers.” Robin says in a breath, leaning against the door.

“That and a lot of unnecessary things that Y/n made us grab too.” Steve complains rolling his eyes to you, who was organizing your own things in a corner.

“Toilet paper is needed, Steve.” Max mumbles, taking a seat in an old cooler box that was around.

“Yes, it is. But mixtapes, D&D magazines, and super-secret polaroids are not.” now leaning against one of the walls, Steve keeps muttering.

“What? You brought my D&D magazines? And our super-secret polaroids?” Eddie stops his search for food around the bags to at once look at you.

“Yes, I did. God knows how much time you’re gonna be stuck here.” you smirk dropping your backpack carefully in the ground, going towards the boat to take a seat for you.

“Shit, when did you get them?” he asks excitedly, grabbing a Yoo-hoo bottle and a box of Honeycomb, before joining you in the boat.

“Probably when she made us wait a full round of 15 minutes outside her house, which wasn’t even in the same direction as the supermarket.” Dustin said arching his eyebrows in your direction, earning a roll of your eyes.

“Would you guys just stop complaining?” Max scoffs to the boys.

“Yeah, we have important stuff to talk about here.” Robin completes and you thank them with your eyes, because you knew that Eddie was about to ask why you made them stop by your house.

“Thanks, girls.” you murmur while forcing a smile to Steve and Dustin.

“Okay, hit me then, what you’ve got?” Eddie shrugs saying for them to continue.

“So, we got, uh, some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?” Dustin asks carefully.

“Bad news first, always.” Ed responds with his mouth full from eating desperately, making you frown to his gross attitude.

“Alright, bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you. Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced that you killed Chrissy.” Dustin explains, Eddie’s eyes almost popping out of his head.

“Like, 100% kind of convinced.” Max completes twitching her eyebrows.

“Which makes 0% kind of sense.” you add your own opinion, even though it’s not necessary since Eddie knows that you guys believe him.

“And the good news?” Ed asks, wondering if you could really bring something good at this point.

“Your name hasn't gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shadow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.” Robin said all at once, being the rational thinker in the situation.

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie says with a crack in his voice, due to his anxious trembling lips.

“Exactly.” Robin agrees but offering a concerning smile.

“Shit.” the metal head whispers, making you bring your body closer to his, arms brushing as a small signal of comfort.

“So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.” Dustin concludes the plan, which sounded easy if told in the voice tone he used.

“That’s all, Dustin, that’s all?” Eddie rhetorically asks, kind of incredulous that the kid was being serious with him.

“Yeah, uhm, that’s pretty much it.” the younger boy confirms shaking his head, supported by Steve who also nodded positively.

“Oh, you guys are being serious. Of course, you’re being serious.” you scoff, thinking about how crazy this plan sounds to you and Eddie.

“Listen, Eddie, I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kind of thing before.” Robin calmly says, trying to put some hope into you.

“I haven’t.” you state staring between her and Eddie.

“I mean, they have a… a few times, and I… I have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel like we got this.” she finishes with a positive smile. If you and Eddie were cartoon characters, you’d surely have question marks above your heads right now.

“Yes. We usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but, uh, those went bye-bye, so…” Steve finally says, still searching words to explain what’s on his mind.

“So, we’re technically in more of the…” Robin tries to help him but is not successfully also.

“Kinda…” both of them starts to mumble random words, making it hard for you and Eddie to follow.

“Brainstorming phase.” Max interrupts, catching everyone’s attention.

“Brainstorming.” Steve repeats snaping his fingers at her when she finds the perfect word.

“There’s… there’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin splutters followed by a thumbs up from Steve, making you and Eddie exchange shocked looks. Before you could say or question anything, you were all startled by sirens wailing on the street.

“Shit.” Steve runs quickly to one of the windows.

“Tarp. Tarp. Use the tarp.” Robin says before following Steve, you make quick work in getting out from the boat and helping Eddie hide under the tarp.

You all run towards the small windows of the cabin when the sirens increase, seeing two police cars and an ambulance fast crossing the road in the direction of the woods. Thank God they wouldn’t pay any attention to Rick’s house by the lake, or you’d be screwed.

“Holy shit, what now?” you say running your hands through your hair.

“Follow them. Let’s follow them and find out what happened, it must have a clue for Vecna or something.” Robin says, Steve searching in his pocket for the car keys in the next second.

“Eddie, stay there and keep it cool. We’ll come back as soon as possible.” Dustin says when leaving the cabin with the others.

You were about to follow them when it passes through your head, what if we don’t come back? The thought alone making you stop in your tracks and look above your shoulder, seeing how Eddie tried to peek discretely from under the tarp. With everything that happened on the last two days, you couldn’t leave him alone, not again. You just left the night before because you needed to get supplements, and you wouldn’t have asked for Steve to stop by your house if you hadn’t considered the possibility of sticking with Eddie before. His D&D magazines, mixtapes and super-secret polaroids weren’t the only thing you got from your house, but also some clothes and necessary items for you, you just didn’t want to tell it to the group because you knew they would question your risky decision.

“Hey, Dustin!” you yell, running towards the boy and directly grabbing his backpack.

“Come on, Y/n, what are you waiting for?” the boy huffs wondering why you’d stop him in the middle of a hurry.

“Where are your radio-receivers? The Walkie-Talkies?” you ask searching around his things.

“Here, but why do want them now?” he answers opening another compartment and handing you one of his radio-receivers.

“Come on, Y/l/n, we don’t have the whole day!” Steve calls from the car, Max being the only one who waited for you with the door open.

“I’m sticking with him.” you confess to Dustin while closing his backpack.

“You´re what? Y/n, that’s risky, you never dealt with this before, what if-“ the boy starts rambling, but you are quick to shut him down.

“I’m here for him, it makes no sense in leaving. It’s decided, I’m staying.” you say earning a warning look from Dustin “We’ll be ok. Teams, remember? If anything, we’ll call for you.” you offer an assuring smile.

“Shit, okay. Just be careful, and don’t do anything stupid.” the boy warns with a sigh before running alone towards the car.

“Good luck.” you wave your receiver in the air when you notice the confused faces from Robin, Steve and Max.

Besides understanding your message, they still hesitated for a second before listening to Dustin and starting the car, leaving you behind. Taking a deep breath, you watched the car slowly disappear within the road, already taking backward steps to come back into the cabin. When you turned in your feet to face it, you saw the tarp in the exact same position it was when you left, saying that Eddie was still there, sighing, you closed the metal door carefully, trying to make less noise possible and not startle him.

“You can uncover now. It’s clear.” you say approaching the boat again, and Eddie was fast to get up when he heard your voice.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you still doing here?” you can feel how worried he is by the mix between his tone and face expression.

“Uh, they thought it was better for one of us to stay?” you answer but in a doubting tone, you know Eddie, he’s stubborn and overprotective when it comes to you doing things because of him.

“Don’t bullshit me, I heard Steve calling for you.” he gave you a serious stare, making your eyes involuntary switch to the ground “Come on, baby, it’s fucking dangerous for you to stay here. The police are looking for me, and soon the whole town will be doing so. I’m innocent, yeah, but it’s kinda hard for me to prove it right now, but now you? You have nothing to do with that.”

“Yes, I do.” you firmly say, forcing yourself to look at him after being caught “I’m your girlfriend, best friend, and when we established that we agreed that we were stuck with each other for life. There’s no way I’m not sticking with you.” you protest getting closer to him inside the boat.

“We said that when we weren’t dealing with murders, haunts and supernatural shit.” he scoffs rolling his eyes.

“So what? It doesn’t change anything for me. And don’t act as if you would hesitate to do the same if I was the banished one.” you accidentally let your voice sound a little too irritated, gulping as soon as noticed it.

“Baby, it’s just… I don’t want anything bad to happen with you. If what Robin said about this another world is true, I believe that what I saw happening with Chrissy is just the top of the iceberg. I don’t want you to go through this.” he says looking back at you, his hand hesitantly gripping above your knee.

“I didn’t want you to either.” you shift closer in one motion, grabbing his cold hand in your small one “It’s decided Eddie, I’m not changing my mind. If something bad happens, it’s gonna be to the both of us, but I’m sure that if we stick together, like we always did, we’ll fucking kill it and have freaking amazing stories to tell our grandchildren in the future.” you assure him with teary eyes but also the shadow of a smile.

“Fuck, I love you.” he breaths out after a moment of silence from him just staring right into your eyes “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” he whispered between soft kisses, starting by your hand and tracing all the way up your arm.

“You don’t have to do anything. We’re made for loving each other, remember?” you smile caressing his left cheek with your delicate hand “I love you too, Eddie the Banished.” you softly laugh using the new nickname he gave to himself, before kissing him romantically.

“Hm, you know what?” he murmurs against your lips as soon as the kiss starts to become more passionate.

“Uh oh, here it comes. What is it, Eds?” you asked already knowing that he had something not so usual in his mind.

“I guess I won’t need those polaroids anymore, uh? Now that I have you here with me.” he smirks, while putting a strand of hair out of your face.

“For God’s sake, Edward!” you laugh playfully shoving his shoulder and calling him by his name “You really telling me that, even in the actual scenario, the first thing that comes to your mind is our carnal deeds, Munson?” you point around the cabin and the boat you’re in, arching one of your eyebrows when staring at your boyfriend.

“Hey, don’t shame me for that, Y/l/n. Or you’re gonna tell me that you weren’t thinking about our carnal deeds when you brought the blessed polaroids to me, uh?” he said cocking his eyebrows, his tongue lightly smothering his lips when he noticed you had nothing to say against him “Ha! See, I’m right. You dirty little thing.” he claps his palms startling you, but immediately jumping in your direction to cover you in ticklish kisses.

“Okay, okay, I surrender! Maybe I was, but it was me trying to help you!” you laugh defending yourself, trying not to fall out of the boat.

“Yeah, you can help me now, you know, up close and personal…” he whispers moving his messy kisses to your neck.

“Hold on there, Casanova.” you smile carefully stopping him “I’m not sure if I feel like doing it under a tarp at Reefer Rick’s dirty cabin.” you chuckle.

“Yep, kinda nasty, I’m sorry.” He grits his teeth, kissing your hand as an apology.

“It’s okay.” you smile widely back at him “Actually, I’m kinda hungry, and I bought noodles, cheese and bacon… So, how about we get to the house, put our mixtapes for good use and cook ourselves a decent meal, huh?” you suggest grinning.

“What if someone sees or hears us?” he gives you puppy eyes.

“They won’t. We can always keep the house closed, and I’m almost sure that Reefer Rick would totally listen to the same records as us.” you say while getting up from the boat.

“Maybe you do have a point.” he shrugs, grabbing his jacket from under him.

“Plus, up there he probably has a bed, or even a couch, which is much more comfortable than a boat and a tarp.” you smirk reaching your hand out for him.

“Hell yeah, they’re definitely hearing us.” he matches your expression before grabbing your fingers and getting up to follow you.

Deep down, you know that this is short-term joy, a way you easily found to forget about all the shit that’s happening to you both right now. But that’s why you’re here, to help Eddie unwind at the same time you keep growing this everlasting love for each other, because honestly, it doesn't matter if the world is ending out there, as long as you and Eddie are together, you’ll always be happy.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 #stranger things imagine #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene || Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈 Find your solemate!

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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promptprophet · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome back

I am not dead, although I am ready to throw down. Okay so there is a lot under the cut, but by every star in the sky I have been gone from all of my blogs for a while due to some roccuring issues. If any follow my main at @prophet-rebellion then you may have noticed that.

Some pro-tips:

1. Do not attend a gathering with family that does not believe in Covid. Because if they are anything like mine, someone will tell them they tested positive, your Uncle will encourage them to come anyways and not tell a single other person - and then, surprise surprise, everyone ends up with Covid.

2. Do not let your advisor plan your schedule entirely. Even if they are the Dean of your department. Because if they are still like mine, they will give you six classes. Which would not be an issue of 18 credit hours if it were not for the fact that 5 or the 6 are writing enriched. The only one that it not is math-based which is not my strong suite anyways.

But, in other news - I took a toll for the worst at one point. It has since gotten better. Granted, I had to be the biggest pain-in-the-ass to the campus physiatrist because he wanted to revoke some of my medication. Just because I am somehow making all As for the moment does NOT mean that I do not need my ADHD medication.

Speaking of! Yours truly got formally diagnosed with combination ADHD, depression, and anxiety. And after a lot of trial and error, we have found a medication and dosage that actually helps with the latter two! ADHD is still a work in progress because he is fighting me on it. He also doesn’t want me taking my meds unless I have a face-to-face class that day - as if it is some 9-5 weekdays only issue and I do not have class outside of those times, or online ones. But! A work in progress!

Also, Covid gave me the perfect chance to drop an incredibly toxic group of people in my life. One one hand, my mental health is so much better for it, and so is my own sense of self worth. On the other, it is definitely hard to do and hard to adjust to suddenly losing so many people. But I have reconnected with my 14 year old sister for the first time in 5 years - she wants to have lunch. Which is nice considering I have no spoken to my sisters in 5 years for her, 6 years for the older one (the middle). And I am also trying to reach out to my brothers more. It is interesting, because I did not know them until later. I am the oldest out of 5, 2 half-sisters of my mom’s side, 2 half-brothers on my dads, ironically enough.

I am also seeking out a competent doctor even with Medicaid, because I know need two more surgeries. This will make surgeries 4 and 5. It should have been 2 at most. But 5? And that is minimum, not counting if anything goes wrong again. It is taking longer, because I refuse to see my prior surgeon, and the only opening this past winter break as when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, so, that did not happen.

Given circumstance I have managed to find a place to stay during breaks. Which is great because as some of you may recall I was kicked out after I turned 18 in 2019, and the room I rented over that summer was terrible (maybe leaving a known alcoholic with no regard for privacy alone with a just then 18 year old girl is a bad idea - if the number of times he barged into my room unannounced to try and get me to drink with him was anything to go by), but it was so my parents could travel full-time. Which, they are doing now and I am happy for them because my mom has 10 years maximum if she is lucky before needing oxygen (Smokers Lung), and my dad is dealing with medical injuries he got while serving - they discharged him because they would never heal right.

I have also picked back up with my job on my college campus! So money! And have secured a much better paying job over break than my McDonalds job, meaning I am not so hard pressed for cash. Which is also great because the last week of summer I had to dish out $2500 for my truck after it broke down in Tennessee and we had to get towed back to North Carolina.

So! Down to business! Now that I know what was wrong with me, and I no longer have issues with suicide, I’m on medication, and last semester I had a therapist that was a major help to me. I am actually in a better spot to be here. It has certainly taken a lot of work, and 2020-21 has thrown just about everything that it seems to have been able and hell, I am still looking for a third job.

Speaking of, god damn, the commissions! Jesus H. Christ, I wanted those done by January! And it’s March! Although I have been making progress on them, that is absolutely true - I am working on them a bit oddly though, switching between which ones I do to try and stop burn out and also because I was not drawing while mentally at my lowest. So to anyone who commissioned me who may not be looking at those messages, but sees this, I am sorry, they are being worked on. And I understand this is a ridiculous amount of time to wait for them and thank you all for being so patient.

I have also been considering if it is a good choice for me to come back to this page, and yes, I think that it is. Having something that I do every day has proven to be very helpful, and the amount of joy and love I have for these pages and the followers on them is immense. I was trying to clear out storage on my phone and I have an album just of prompts or asks that you guys have sent that continue to make my day. It really does mean the world to me.

I cannot be too sure if many have noticed my absence, if Prompt Guy did either. But I am stopping it now. I am finally in a good place. And yeah, I have a lot to do still - if all goes according to plan then I graduate next year. So after this I only have two more semesters before I graduate with my Bachelors in Business, with a focus on Entrepreneurship at the age of 20. And I better because I cannot afford to be in college much longer. I want to be back here, and return to my regular postings and interactions. I am getting those commissions done no matter what - that is a constant guilt over my head. Trust me, I know that it is there. I know. But I joined as an admin because I had followed this page the day it was created. And then I saw it had gone dead with no posts, so I applied as an admin. I got it. And things went very well. Well, I intend to hold back to what I wanted when I was first on this page, bringing it back to consistent postings for everyone.

I am here. I am back. And I am staying.

Also, I apologize if there are any typos, I have been doing a lot or writing for homework and personal work (trying to stop burn out and the threat of school ending my love to write) and my eyes have been strained the last few days, so everything is a bit fuzzy. Speaking of fuzzy! Turns out I needed glasses! So I have glasses now!

Yours truly, Prompt Prophet

#I lived bitch #but really I am back #Warning #Long post #Very long post #But god it has been so long since I have been back across ALL of my accounts #And I feel like I owe an explanation and a run down of what I plan to be doing

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freddiekluger · 4 years ago

Note

please drop the essay length analysis Judas and Jesus (extra gay Swedish edition), O great and knowledgeable monarch of our times

alright, you ask i deliver! please excuse any typos, my eyes aren't exactly working rn

welcome to my probably super subjective but correct analysis, aka

Judas Was Right and Jesus Was A Victim (At Least, In Swedish)

Before we get started, a couple points: i’ll try to avoid comparisons to other specific productions, i’ve only seen the other recorded 2012 british version which i didn’t like for reasons including but not limited to the amount of white people with dreadlocks. Also, my understanding of swedish is limited to a couple words and phrases, so most of the lyrics i reference will be english subtitles from Ola Salo’s swedish translation and therefore might not be the most accurate !

There’s so much i could cover in this, but for now i’m going to focus on how jesus and judas are portrayed in the 2014 swedish arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS) starring Ola Salo as Jesus and Peter Johansson as Judas, along with how this production more implicitly views god.

From the opening number, translated into swedish as En Dimmig Himmelsdröm (A Foggy Heaven’s Dream), Peter Johansson’s acting and semantic differences in the lyrics present us with a deeply sympathetic portrayal of Judas. Looking purely at language, the english equivalent Heaven On Their Minds instantly paints Judas as much more of a faithless doubter- lyrics exclusive to the english version like “all your followers have gone blind / too much heaven on their minds” and “they think you’re the new messiah / and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong” strongly enforce Judas’ main motivation for his actions being that he has less belief in Jesus and God’s plan than any of the other disciples with strong statements judging the other disciples for following him and claiming that Jesus ISN’T the messiah. The swedish translation doesn’t paint exactly the same picture- the focus of Judas’ number becomes his fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, not because he isn’t the messiah (the production remains fairly ambiguous on this point), but because Jesus can’t cope. The root of Judas’ concern comes from fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, and the disciples are referenced as regularly misunderstanding and wilfully twisting Jesus’ words. The swedish equivalent lyrics for the above examples are “they say, “jesus is god’s son” / but you know how people can change” (judas isn’t concerned with truth, just the danger that jesus will be in if the tide turns), and “the kingdom of heaven is within us, that’s what you said / bu they sew it, stitch by stich into some kind of foggy heaven’s dream”. Judas is showing that he HAS been listening and cares for Jesus’ teachings, but ‘they’ [his disciples] are turning them into something else entirely, and Judas’ worries that the support of the masses is fragile at best- the lines “and everything you say gets twisted by your lackeys / it will be anything but what you’ve said” and “you are being used by people who want you in their battle” reinforces this again. When combined with Peter Johansson’s tough but tender performance, in which he dances between disdain for Jesus, the institution, and affection for Jesus, the man (an important distinction), Judas is the harsh realist doing his best to look out for the man he loves. The way he takes Jesus hands and looks at him with love and urgency straight away establishes that his motivations are pure- Judas is doing what he thinks is best, even though it feels like no one will listen to him.

That was long, but En Dimmig Himmelsdröm is the perfect character introduction for Judas. He’s not totally unrecognisable, still delivering digs about ‘Jesus, the little carpenter’s son’, his manner is still rough and at this point we’re not sure whether or not the claims he makes about the disciples have any truth to them, BUT we can also see how much Jesus means to him, an important point that give context to the intensity of their future arguments and really makes the whole story much more heartbreaking.

This brings me to Ola Salo’s Jesus. Delightfully camp and queercoded, Judas describes him as being caught up in his own magic and mystery and buckling under the pressure, and he’s not entirely wrong. Throughout the first act, Jesus basks in the luxuries that being messiah can give him (the oils Mary paid for using disciple funds that were supposed to go towards helping the poor, him absolutely thriving in the shopping cart in What’s the Buzz?), and is shown actively avoiding any reminders of the seriousness of his position. He’s sick of the disciples asking him for a plan, he chooses the comforting Mary, who’s theme consists of telling Jesus everything is okay and he doesn’t need to think about anything, over Judas, who is less perhaps ‘cosy’ but is actively trying to warn and protect Jesus from an awful fate. During The Temple, he starts to crack as he’s overcome by the followers begging him to make him well, fear in his eyes as he raises his arms while frozen on the spot trying to avoid being devoured by the frenzy in desperate need of a messiah. Judas’ point about Jesus buckling under the pressure is starting to look more and more reasonable, and the dashes of showbiz campness add to the sense that much of Jesus is a persona constructed for the masses to give himself enough distance to prevent him from being crushed by the weight of God entirely. Jesus, the institution, prances around, lays his hands on his followers, and projects an air of easygoing calm. Jesus, the man, is scared and alone, and Jesus, the man, really comes out in Last Supper, but before we get there, I want to circle back to the Jesus/Mary/Judas thing.

Jesus, Mary, and Judas are presented as a love triangle: so much so, that Judas seeing Mary sing of her love for Jesus (I Don’t Know How To Love Him) is actually played as the inciting incident that sends him to the pharisees. Judas, the picture of the jealous lover, storms onto the scene, breaking them up and attempting to kiss Jesus, who instead shoves him to the ground in disdain. Judas, who is perhaps a little controlling, realises that any influence he had over Jesus has gone, and it’s likely a combination of jealousy and the knowledge that Jesus won’t stop that prompts him to head to the pharisees. In his meeting with the pharisees (known in english as Damned For All Time, although that phrase doesn’t appear once in the swedish), Judas’ expresses outright that “I’m the one who sees / Jesus, he can’t handle it anymore” “the truth is that this hysteria is making him lose control”, once he can get past explaining how much this plan of action feels like a last resort. He never even verbally or physically accept the pharisees’ offer of money, he denies it twice before it is eventually thrown over him after he reluctantly gives them the date and time to find Jesus- we never even see him pick it up, unlike other productions which show Judas grabbing for the cash and place a higher emphasis on Judas making sure he ‘won’t be damned for all time’, painting Judas as far more self serving. When it comes to Jesus, Judas is active- he’s running around trying to help, caressing him, embracing him, grabbing his hand, kissing him. They share countless moment of intimacy, especially at the start, establishing the fondness between them instead of instantly jumping to their conflict. When it comes to Mary (and admittedly, this is partially because she’s a secondary character- don’t get me wrong I still love her and Gunilla Backman does a brilliant job), she’s much more passive. Other than the much more gentle kisses in I Don’t Know How To Love Him and her penchant for dabbing Jesus’ forehead, she’s mostly just ‘there’. She cares for Jesus after the fact, and even when performing acts of intimacy like the oil and the kiss, she maintains a lot of physical distance- her songs touch on this as, much like Jesus (admittedly for different reasons), she actively distances herself from feelings to protect herself, so naturally she literally places distance between herself and the object of her love.

This brings me back to Last Supper, Gethsemane ( I Only Want to Say), and the kiss of death that broke all of our hearts. Throughout this segment, this is when Jesus, the man, really comes through, and it’s devastating. In Last Supper, he properly expresses the sheer amount of loneliness he feels, reiterating how he feels everyone will forget about him once he’s gone, and doesn’t really care about him as a man (”for you, my blood is not worth more than wine / for you, my body is not worth more than bread” “you will have forgotten me as soon as i give up my life”). This devolves into the disciples fighting each other and, you guessed it, ignoring him. For the first time, Jesus meaningfully lets out his anger, and as it turns to Judas, Judas does the same. Because of the set up of their complicated romantic relationship and the stakes involved, the amount of personal attacks and anger that comes out of Jesus and Judas’ repeated fights (which get physical) make complete sense- Jesus’ frustrations come from the fact that his entire fate has been predetermined and to him, Judas is just another instrument in the ways he’s been controlled (both with Judas being his betrayer, but also the way that Judas’ constant advice and interference with Jesus’ life (most obviously, the mary thing) are acted by Ola Salo as becoming increasingly frustrating to Jesus)- these frustrations are directed at their real cause, God, in Gethsemane. Judas’ frustrations come from the fact that no matter how hard he tries to help Jesus and keep him safe, Jesus keeps rejecting his efforts resulting in “all that we’ve built up [being] destroyed”- Judas’ heart hasn’t just been broken by Jesus rejecting him romantically, but on every level. Here, he’s actually shown to be the disciple most passionate about helping people practically and long term, being the only one concerned about Mary taking money which was supposed to help people, manipulated by the pharisees with the promise of doing good for the masses, and criticising Jesus for how they could be doing so much for people, ending his part of Last Supper with “every time i look at you i ask myself why you let all your things go so wrong? / all i ever wanted was to help you”.

This is also the point where Judas’ claims about the disciples are essentially confirmed, and this productions intent to portray Judas as more of a tragic hero become absolutely clear. In the english version, the disciples chorus remains virtually the same each time it appears, generally being far too calm considering their leader is about to die, revealing their aspirations to be apostles, and their intent to write the gospels to be remembered. the swedish translation still achieve this, but with variations from chorus to chorus it becomes much more poignant. i’m just going to stick to ttwo, which are choruses 1 and 3. In chorus 1, lines roughly translate to “i’ve always wanted to be an apostle / life is so nice when you’re saved/ then when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / then everything will be the way we want”- the apostles declaring that life is so good when you’re saved supports Judas’ opening statement that they care more about some idea of heaven than anything else, not to mention ignoring the absolute horrors that Jesus will have to go through to be saved, while the final line about the gospels introduces their intent to change whichever details they need to make ‘everything the way we want’: once again, exactly what Judas warned us of in En Dimmig Himmelsdröm. In chorus 3, taking place after Judas storms out for the last time, these lines change to “never really liked that judas / never saw what jesus saw in him / then, when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / and we’ll angle it so he gets all the blame”. Judas as a sympathetic character is confirmed here, as the disciples straight up admit how they don’t like Judas anyways and intend to write him as a villain (also inadvertently admitting that, since they have to write the gospels to make it look like only Judas’ fault, Judas isn’t really the sole one responsible for everything that is to come). It’s deeply unsettling, and for me was the point where I really began to question how good any of these disciples were, and by extension, how good is this production’s God if his truly sanctified followers are acting like this?

Jesus vents out all of his anger and desperation in Gethsemane. He acknowledges his own powerlessness and begs him to change the plan, but with the dark stage and no response (along with Ola Salo’s spectacular acting) it becomes clear that if anyone is there, they’re certainly not listening (”you, who have all the power / can you please change the plan / for i can already feel the pain burning in me”). It’s worth mentioning that a lot of the imagery in this swedish version is much more intense than the english, both in this song and the production as a whole. Jesus plainly calls god “thoughtless”, begging to understand, and it’s that this point we realise that he agrees with much more of what Judas has been saying than he’s been letting on- Jesus’ faith appears to be the only thing keeping him from listening to Judas and running away. Judas’ messages about people misunderstanding Jesus’ words also come out (”you care that everyone sees / but not that anyone understands”), and his eventual agreeing to die is played less as an inspiring act of faith, and more an act of desperation as he realises, he realise has no other choice. In this song, we see just how much of Judas Jesus has valued and taken on board, and that his air of carefree aloofness which frustrated Judas was, as we’ve already touched on, a complete act. The line “might as well finish what i’ve... what YOU’VE started” is absolutely miserable, reinforcing one of the major themes of this production: the idea that Jesus and Judas were both just ordinary men tormented by futures defined by forces out of their control. Just as Jesus has absorbed Judas’ logic, as an audience so we have, and it’s difficult to view the rest of the play’s events as anything other than an immense and unnecessary act of cruelty.

we’re almost done i promise!

Even knowing what Judas has/will do, Jesus still greets him with love. Judas, still under the impression that Jesus will be okay and that he’s doing what’s best, approaches him with the utmost tenderness, and the kiss is a beautiful signifier of two things. For Jesus, the return of his love for Judas shows his realisation in Gethsemane that Judas isn’t the one who’s sealed his fate and has only being trying to help, it’s god himself who has decided Jesus’ future. For Judas, the kiss shows that despite all of the anger and frustration that has been pouring out of him, he truly does love Jesus, and the way he cradles the scared and alone Jesus to his chest afterwards shows just how much he wishes he could be the one to help him and keep him close. Even with all their arguments and dysfunction, here Jesus and Judas find comfort in each other, and it almost seems like everything will end up alright. It’s in this moment that Judas and Jesus are most identifiable not as enemies, or as villain and hero, but as archetypal lovers from a Shakespearean tragedy. Neither of them set out to hurt each other, but through miscommunications, their own flaws, and external forces (both natural and supernatural), their love is simply never to be. Furthermore, in the following torture and spectacle, everything that Judas predicted for Jesus is about to come true. Another detail I find interesting is the way that Jesus and Judas both sport black nail polish, leather pants, and similar length hair: along with just looking cool as hell, the similarities really reinforce how close they are and how much they influence each other- it feels like a contemporary version of carrying a cameo or a lock of your lover's hair with you, a way for 'star crossed lovers' to keep a piece of their beloved no matter what.

The disaffected persona of Jesus, the institution, comes back as he’s taken by the authorities and subsequently insulted, degraded, and whipped. Also the swedish version of The Arrest, when the chorus starts singing questions, contains this dick joke and I think we all deserve it: “why were you dating a whore? / talk about a huge magic wand!”

Skipping forward to Judas’ Death, this is where both his character and the production’s conception of god beautifully (and miserably) align. When Judas runs to the pharisees, minor semantic changes (along with the genuine concern and great acting from Peter Johansson) reinforce that this Judas genuinely didn’t know that Jesus would be beaten and sentenced to death the way he has been, and Judas’ concern regarding how things look is played less as ‘oh no people will hate ME!’, but how having sentenced the man you love to death is one nightmarish thing, but for everyone to think you did it knowingly and willingly and then congratulate you for it is unthinkable. Where the english shows Judas’ attempting to evade responsibility for Jesus death, the swedish is more focused on Judas’ guilt, horror, and regret. The english “I’d save him all the suffering if I could / don’t believe our good / save him if I could” is swapped in swedish for “If anyone should die here I should / don’t say I’m good / better if I died”. While the english statements are somewhat empty (sure, Judas says he’d save Jesus’ suffering if he could, but he can’t so we’ll never truly know) and are still focused on Judas’ attempt to construct himself as a good guy, the swedish translation has Judas admit his guilt (even if it’s not really his fault), and make the promise of “better if i died” which, given the name of this sequence, he later delivers on. When english Judas sings “Christ, I’d sell out the nation / For I have been saddled with the murder of you”, swedish Judas sings “Jesus, I’ve been deceived / because of my act your blood’s now being spilt”, and instead of ending this first section with “I should be dragged through the slime and the mud”, swedish jesus returns to the theme of character assasination with “i will be cursed as the one behind your murder”.

The swedish translation of the next rework of I Don’t Know How to Love Him also places much more emphasis on Judas’ genuine romantic love for Jesus- we’d be here for hours if i listed everything but here are a few key contrasts. The english has Judas sing “I don’t know how to love him / I don’t know why he moves me”, whereas the swedish has Judas crying while singing “how do I show my love / all I want is to be close to you”. Along with acknowledging Judas already loves Jesus, the entirety of this segment is shifted from Judas singing about Jesus in the third person ‘he’, to a direct address. Judas isn’t performing his sadness, or venting his emotions, he’s emitting one last desperate cry to the man he loves as he sobs on a stage completely shrouded in darkness, and it’s devastating. Peter Johansson lets his voice run raw as he’s belting, and interrupts lines with sobs, and this Judas answers the question of “do you love me too? do you care for me?” with a quiet “no”- Judas is about to go to his death convinced Jesus must hate him, just as Jesus will face his knowing his love inadvertently put him there.

We finally reach Judas’ actual death, and the production’s far more ambiguous (if not negatively geared) depiction of god comes to a head. Judas’ screaming at god the moment he realises that his god essentially forced Judas to be the one to kill Jesus (an act of ultimate cruelty given their love) comes across as horrifying in it’s validity, unlike in other english language productions where it follows the more common characterisation of Judas being an unbeliever who can’t take responsibility for his own actions. When he spits on the ground, screaming “you have murdered me!”, we can’t help but agree- Judas was trying everything he could to stop Jesus from dying, and yet here he is. Most notably, Judas doesn’t set up his own suicide- a noose literally descends from the heavens, already tied, and Judas is literally trapped between the edge of the stage, and the symbol of death behind him. Much like he didn’t choose to kill Jesus, Judas has no choice in his own suicide- it’s suggested to merely be another part of the plan god has for him, and Judas raising his arms to form a crucifixion pose before he finally turns and jumps, disappearing into the depths of the theatre as the rope trails down (somewhat evocative of a leap to hell), highlight the sick joke. Much like Jesus begging in Gethsemane, a plea with god that in anyway implies fault or cruelty is met with silence followed by a death sentence.

When Judas reappears to the broken and bloodied Jesus in Superstar, he appears as more of a twisted hallucination than the literal spirit of Judas. He’s the opposite of everything he was in life, draped in colour, surrounded by red lighting instead of the signature blue, his hair quite literally let down, joking and dancing. Despite singing about him, Judas virtually ignores Jesus for the whole song except when he’s taunting him, snatching his hand away after a broken and desperate Jesus reaches out for the image of his beloved (refuting Judas’ belief that Jesus would die hating him), along with the swedish additions of Judas repeatedly addressing him as “little Jesus”. Where the living Judas was serious, sometimes harsh but always well intention, often paying more attention to Jesus than he received, this Judas is the opposite: light hearted but cruel, not caring about Jesus one bit. It’s somewhat an inversion of the beginning of JCS, where the tormented Judas was constantly reaching out to Jesus, and often met with scorn and insult (see: most of their arguments, this line from Everything’s Alright: “the thought is beautiful but quite unrealistic / yes, even quite stupid”). As the song goes on, and even as Jesus is crucified, the victorious scoring of the Superstar theme ends up reinforcing the cruelty and questioning of god distinctive of this production: Ola Salo’s Jesus is one of the bloodiest Jesus’s (Jesii?) I’ve been able to find, with blood covering his torso, his arms, and all over his face, not in passive dribbles, but violent ‘swooshes’ spreading out from his eyes, emphasising the fear and pain contained within them. As the music suggests how great and wonderful Jesus’ death is, the images straight out of a horror movie before us don’t seem to match up: as both Judas and Jesus question, if no one is understanding what Jesus is saying, why kill him? instead of making a point, you’re ensuring that the falsehoods continue to circulate, unless spreading the true message isn’t really the intent at all. or, simply that Jesus was wrong: his interpretation and teachings of god were far too kind and practical, and the true god really is the one that he briefly saw in the garden of Gethsemane, and that Judas saw before his death- a cruel and vindictive god using them for his own sick purposes. If you're a strong Christian, I'm sure you could watch this production and still believe that God was right (although I think Jesus and Judas being in love counts as blasphemy), but I think in doing so you'd lose part of what makes this production so hard hitting and, as i keep saying, devastating.

that’s pretty much it for this one! i feel like jesus and judas as a queer couple is less significant to this production than the fact that it’s specifically jesus and judas that are in love - they don’t face explicit homophobia as such, although i do think the paratextual and historical associations of queerness (both with them each looking visibly queer, and them as a couple) adds a beautiful dimension by subverting the standard christian teaching of Jesus’ sacrifice as “a love that changed the world” and making the love that truly could have been transformative (and was, to a degree) the love between Jesus and another man, not to mention the way in which queerness is often viewed as radical perfectly upholding the ‘radical’ views of god and the story of Jesus shown in the production. Why wouldn’t the love between two men be the love which has us questioning god, faith, and that which many of us have been taught since birth? Ola Salo has talked about how he’s able to be positive and negative towards christianity, along with how he wanted Jesus and Judas to really represent two sides of the same coin (’faith and intelligence’), and being bisexual along with having alluded to being raised christian (not to mention Breaking Up With God, a song by his band The Ark), it’s not surprising he’s managed to present such a nuanced and layered interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar that even me, a trans exvangelical, can fall in love with.

UPDATE: @bands-and-hobbits has just let me know that Ola's dad was a priest! Apparently he's said that he liked the organs and the music, but that was all when it comes to christianity, which (when combined with Ola stating in interviews that the JCS soundtrack has been one of his favourite albums since he was 14) makes a lot of sense about the level of familiarity he had with the text giving him confidence to go in and make changes to really capitalised off of some of the themes that are hinted at in the english version- you have enough information to understand how everything works together, but aren't so dedicated to preserving belief that you feel you can't improve/change things (and my god are we glad he did)

#thank you if you made it this far!#also the inherent rhythm in swedish as a language just makes all of the songs sound better i'm gonna say it #english is really hit and miss when it comes to music and can get especially clunky with musicals requiring exposition #also sorry there's so much i've left out !#anyways enjoy #jesus christ superstar #jesus christ superstar swedish arena tour 2014 #jcs #peter johansson #ola salo #also i have barely edited this so i hope it's coherent

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hotpinkhoshi · 4 years ago

Text

long hot summer (m) | jinyoung

as part of the pleasure chest: a got7 cringe collaboration

pairing: jinyoung x f reader genre: smut warnings: terrible innuendos, second hand embarrassment, explicit sex, light choking word count: 4.8k

summary: it’s been a long, hot summer, and you’ve got your eye on jinyoung, the sexy gardener your dad hired back in june - and when you’re left alone with the house to yourself for a whole week, you devise a plan to finally get what you want. when daddy’s away, his darling daughter will play…

a/n: hehe hi guys! this was super fun to write, even though i played myself by waiting until the very last minute to write it. for that reason, it is mostly unedited so cut me some slack if you see any weird typos hahaha. anyway, thank you to the other writers in the collab for such a fun experience! i’m so glad i got to be a part of this! enjoy!

You awoke on Thursday morning with the same excitement that you’d had on Christmas morning when you were ten.

Today’s the day!

For weeks, you’d schemed and planned, researched and daydreamed. And now it was time to put all of your preparation to good use and get yourself the one thing you’d been wanting for the last two months.

Today, you were going to seduce your gardener.

Well, your father’s gardener, to be specific. You’d had your eye on him since the first day he pulled up in that forest green, beat up pickup truck with the giant lawnmower in the bed.

He was young, maybe a year or two older than you, but you weren’t sure. Your dad told you his name was Jinyoung and he’d started his own business after graduating high school, mostly just maintaining the massive yards of the upper middle class citizens of your neighborhood.

That was all fine and dandy, but most importantly, Jinyoung was hot.

He always wore the same thing—a plain white t-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans, and you didn’t even care that they were light wash and could use a tailor’s touch. The way he rolled the sleeves up to his shoulders, showing off the corded muscles from years of manual labor, made you forget all about his hideous jeans.

Every Thursday, Jinyoung rolled up in his truck and took care of your dad’s lawn while you stood in the kitchen staring out the window like a peeping Tom. You were completely aware that you were objectifying him, but it had been quite a while since anyone had watered your buds, and you had become shameless.

But this week, this week you’d decided to make a move.

Your dad was away on business for five days, leaving you with the house completely to yourself. You had put your time to good use, clicking away and devising a plan to get into Jinyoung’s pants.

Your research began on Monday when your best friend, Jongin, had come over. You had a strange relationship, but that was to be expected when you had known him since diapers. He also happened to have taken your virginity, but it wasn’t as awkward as one would think.

“Guys like it when a girl takes charge,” Jongin told you, reaching for a slice of pizza off the coffee table. You laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling while taking mental notes of everything he told you.

“Take charge how?”

“I don’t know, like, make the first move. Just get on top of him and…” Jongin gestured vaguely with his hands, squeezing the air.

“And what? Grab his boobs?” You pursed your lips together, tossing a spare chunk of crust at him.

“If that’s what he’s into,” Jongin defended with a playful smirk on his lips. “Look, I’m just saying, it’s hot when you know a girl is into you and you don’t have to guess.”

Chewing your lip, you stored the information away for later. “What should I wear? Like, should I just walk outside in my bikini?”

Jongin snorted. “You could, yeah. Some guys are simple like that.”

“Hmm…” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “He doesn’t seem simple. He’s like, mysterious and quiet.”

“Doesn’t matter, I bet he’ll still stare at your ass while you walk away.”

You smirked. Luckily, you had stayed committed to your squats this summer.

“Okay, so I make a move. Then what?”

Jongin looked at you like you had two heads. “What do you mean, then what? Then you guys do the deed.”

Sighing dramatically, you flopped back onto the floor. You wanted more than that—you wanted him to end the day thinking about how sexy you were, how it had been his hottest experience ever. You wanted him to tell his friends about it at parties.

The next night, you continued your quest for knowledge with some visual aids. You got yourself all comfy and tucked in bed, laptop resting on your lap while you scrolled through Pornhub.

Jongin was right—it was hot when the girls took charge. Sure, there was something to be said for the submissive, meek girl that dropped to her knees on command, but you wanted control.

As you got deeper into the black hole of XXX websites, you found yourself becoming more and more nervous. You didn’t look like the girls in these videos, with their perfectly trimmed pubic hair and their toned physiques. Your boobs were less than half the size of some of these women.

You also didn’t find yourself naturally sexy, comfortable approaching a man and throwing yourself at him. But you wanted Jinyoung, and all of that trumped any kind of insecurity you could feel. Soon, you’d be back at college and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let the opportunity pass you by.

Cut to now—standing in the kitchen in your teeny tiny workout shorts and an equally revealing tank top, your yoga mat rolled up and tucked under your arm. You saw Jinyoung outside, kneeling in front of one of the flower beds and giving you the perfect view of his side profile.

When you were just about to slide open the glass door and put your plan into action, your phone vibrated on the kitchen table. You jumped and went to answer it promptly after you saw who was calling.

“Hi Daddy,” you said, setting your yoga mat on the floor.

“Hi love, how’s it going?”

“Good,” you answered, eyes still locked on the back yard. Jinyoung sat back on his heels, bringing his forearm up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. God, he was the finest man you’d ever seen.

“Hey, I forgot to tell you, make sure you give Jinyoung the check I left on the counter for the week. And be nice to him, it’s hot outside today—invite him in for a glass of water or something.”

Your lips curled into a devious smile. “I’ll be nice to him. Don’t worry.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your dad talked your ear off for a bit longer, telling you all about his flight and something about conference calls, blah blah. All the while, you were entirely focused on something else.

Jinyoung had lifted the front of his shirt up to his face, wiping his sweat once more and revealing his washboard abs. It was only a few seconds, but you felt yourself come close to flatlining right there in the kitchen.

Your phone beeped against your ear, the alert tone signaling that you had a missed call. You glanced at the screen to find Jongin’s name on the notification.

“I have to go, Jongie called,” you told him.

“Oh alright, tell him I said hello. And be good,” your dad said.

“I will. Bye, Daddy.” You took the phone from your ear, returning Jongin’s call with a few taps.

“Hey ugly, how’s it going?”

“I’m going to fuck his brains out,” you answered simply.

Jongin choked on the other end. “Like, right now?”

“No,” you answered, going over to the fridge to pull open the door. “But I’m about to go out and start seducing him. He’s here and he’s so hot. I’m gonna go out, do some yoga, and see if he needs help… with his hose.”

Your best friend snorted. “Don’t say that.”

You grabbed two water bottles, both ice cold, and tucked them between your arm and your chest. “I want him to know that I want him.”

“Okay, well, if a girl referred to my dick as a hose I’m pretty sure it would shrivel up. Just go flash your tits and call it a day.”

Sighing, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you, letting the fridge door shut behind you as you turned away. “No, that’s not sexy. Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I’ve been watching porn for two days straight.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Fine, just… look, just one little word of advice. Don’t make that face you made with me, the one when you came.”

You stopped in your tracks on your way back over to the door. “What face?”

Jongin cleared his throat. Your first time had been a long time ago just before graduation after a bottle of tequila and your confession that you didn’t want to go to college a virgin. He’d taken one for the team, giving you exactly six minutes of pleasure before finishing on your bedspread.

You hadn’t come, then, you’d simply faked it for his benefit. But still, you hadn’t realized anything you’d done had been unattractive. What if you did make a weird face when you came?

“You know what, nevermind. I don’t want to know. Goodbye, asshole.”

“Good luck, slut.”

With a sigh, you hung up and placed your phone back on the table. When you glanced outside, Jinyoung had moved further down the flower bed, giving you a nice view of his broad back, his shoulder muscles moving under his shirt with every move he made.

Be sexy. Don’t be weird.

You grabbed your mat by its strap and pushed open the glass door, walking out onto the concrete of your back patio and onto the grass. Your yard wasn’t as big as some of your neighbors’, but there was still a good amount of distance between you and Jinyoung. It wasn’t too awkward for you to lay your mat down across the freshly mowed grass, in direct sunlight.

When Jinyoung glanced back at you, you felt your heart jump in your chest, warm from the sun and his gaze. Fuck. Words, what were words?!

“Need some water?” you asked, holding one of the full bottles out in his direction. “You’re hot. I mean, it’s hot.” You gulped and prayed he hadn’t noticed the slip of your tongue.

Jinyoung stood from his knees, utterly silent, as he seemed to look you up and down. It was hard to tell with the sun in your eyes, but it almost looked like he had been checking you out.

He was quiet, still, even as he began walking towards you. As he got closer, you were desperately trying to keep your drool inside of your mouth. He reached out to grab the water bottle from you, surprising you with a dimpled half smile.

“Thanks.”

And then he walked away.

Fine, then you’d have to resort to plan B.

— x —

Plan B was a bust.

You’d laid out there for half an hour, sprawled out on your yoga mat as you contorted your body into several positions and stretches that had you aching in the worst of ways. Every time you looked at Jinyoung, he was focused on his job, pulling weeds or planting soil or whatever it was that he got paid to do.

With an exasperated sigh, you slammed the glass door shut behind you once you were back in the kitchen. Stupid boys. No, he wasn’t a boy. He was a man, and maybe that was the problem.

Grabbing your phone, you opened Jongin’s text thread.

You [12:07pm]: UGH. fuck this. Jongin [12:08pm]: no dick yet? You [12:08pm]: no. i basically turned myself into a pretzel and he couldn’t have cared less. my rose petals were in plain sight and he didn’t even look once Jongin [12:10pm]: LOL show him ur boobs

You groaned and furrowed your brows, fully prepared to explain to Jongin that you didn’t think anything would work at this point, when you heard the glass kitchen door slide open.

Jinyoung walked through, sweat dripping deliciously down his temples and down the vein lining his neck. “Hey, just need to wash my hands. I’ll just be a minute.”

Then he was so close to you, you could smell his cologne, mixed with the earthy scent of the garden he’d just had his hands buried into. He stared down at you, licking his lips while his gaze bored into you like he wanted something. No, needed something.

Maybe the tables had turned.

“Can you move?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Jinyoung tipped his chin. “I need to wash my hands.”

You hadn’t realized it, but in your angry pacing while texting Jongin, you’d ended up standing right in front of the kitchen sink.

“Oh,” you breathed, and still didn’t move for another moment until annoyance flashed in Jinyoung’s eyes. You side stepped and watched as Jinyoung took your place, reaching to pump some soap onto his hands.

“So…” you started. All you needed to do was strike up a conversation, and it would be easy from there. “Do you need any help?”

Jinyoung glanced at you. “...Washing my hands?”

“No, like…” You used your shoulder to nudge towards the back yard. “Out there. I could help you, um, empty your hose.”

Oh, god. Jongin was right. It wasn’t sexy at all.

“I mean,” you tried again. “I could lend you a hand. If you know what I mean.”

If Jinyoung knew what you meant, he didn’t show any interest. He just shrugged and focused on scrubbing the dirt from his fingernails. You gulped at the way the veins on the back of his hands flexed. You wanted those hands on you, ASAP.

“Jinyoung,” you said, scooting an inch closer as you leaned back against the counter. “What I’m trying to say is…”

“I’ll stop you there,” he said, turning off the faucet. “I know where this is going. You’ve been staring at me all summer, and I know you’ve been trying to get my attention all afternoon.”

You blinked in surprise. Had you been that obvious? Well, of course you had. That was the goal, anyway. Jongin had told you it was sexy when a girl was obvious…

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Jinyoung said, reaching for a kitchen towel to wipe his hands. “Not looking to get murdered by your dad for defiling his perfectly innocent daughter.”

It took you a minute for his words to sink in, for you to realize that he hadn’t said he wasn’t interested. He wanted to defile you.

Just as Jinyoung went to leave, you grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”

Jinyoung sighed, turning back to you with dark eyes. “Let it go. Don’t test my patience.”

Something about the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, images flashing through your mind of other ways that he could look at you, how you could get him to do more to you.

“Don’t you want to…” you bit your lip, emulating those girls you’d seen in videos, trailing your fingertips up his chest. “Touch me? I’ve prettied my flower up, just for you…”

Jinyoung gave you a look somewhere between uncomfortable and turned on. His hand came up to wrap around your wrist, his thumb pressed to your pulse point. “I said let it go.”

Warmth spread your entire body as Jinyoung gazed down at you, his callused fingers gripping tightly onto your wrist, stopping your fingers on their path up his chest. Something told you he wanted you, maybe just as bad as you wanted him, and it had quickly turned from a fantasy into a reality.

“Make me,” you told him.

When he didn’t respond, just swallowed hard and tensed his jaw, you reached with your free hand for his tool belt. You hooked your finger into the loop of the belt, pulling his body closer to you.

“Touch me, Jinyoung.”

“Don’t,” he growled, the sound shooting straight to your core.

“I’ll be a good girl. My dad never has to know,” you tried once more, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing had gotten heavier and his eyes narrowed as they locked on yours. It felt like a bomb was about to go off, just tick-ticking away until he exploded.

“You have three seconds.”

Three.

You closed the gap between your bodies, sliding your hand from Jinyoung’s belt to find his free hand.

Two.

Wrapping your fingers around his hand, you led it to rest on your lower back.

One.

His hand, entirely on its own, slid from your lower back down along the curve of your backside to grip your ass. You swallowed, running your tongue across your lips. You felt like a woman starved and Jinyoung was your only source of a meal.

Finally, Jinyoung let go of your wrist and instead gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling you close until he could slam his lips upon yours. You whimpered at the rough contact, but your whimper quickly turned to a moan as soon as he brought your bodies together.

It was a blur after that.

You found the clasp to Jinyoung’s belt and quickly unbuckled it, letting it fall to the ground. You ignored the sound of the tools clanking against your kitchen floor, making a mental note that you’d have to sweep the dirt off the tiles before your dad got home.

Jinyoung made no move to take your clothes off--it seemed he was more than satisfied with kissing you and squeezing your ass. But you wanted more, you had been thirsting after him for so long, you wanted to cut to the chase.

What would those girls have done? They would take charge.

So you pulled back from the kiss and grabbed Jinyoung’s forearm, leading him without a word out of the kitchen and into the living room. The cleaning lady had already been here earlier, so you didn’t have to worry about Jinyoung catching sight of your half eaten bag of pretzels or the many issues of Cosmo you’d flipped through in these last few days.

You shoved him down to sit on the chair and knelt between his legs, shoving them apart so that you could occupy the space instead. Your fingers practically tore open the button and zipper of his jeans and you reached into his underwear, freeing his erection.

“Whoa, whoa, slow do-” Jinyoung started, but the words died on his tongue as soon as you got your mouth on him.

You bobbed your head, relishing in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth, the tip easily reaching the back of your throat each time you went down. You gagged and coughed, knowing how much guys loved that. You’d been told once, by Jongin of course, that all you needed to do to give a good blowjob was to be sloppy and enthusiastic.

“Mm,” you mumbled as your lips wrapped around the head, opening your eyes to stare up at Jinyoung. He was breathing hard, hands gripping the leather arm rests. You pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand as you jerked him off. “You like that? You like… my mouth around your dick?”

Jinyoung groaned but reached for your hand, halting your efforts. He slid his other hand into your hair, pulling you away from his cock and making you look at him.

“Slow down, slow down.” He guided you with his own hand, creating a slow pace with your fingers wrapped around his length, his eyes still locked onto yours. “Fuck. Yeah, like that.”

“I wanna…” you thought for a moment, trying to recall all the dirty things you’d heard in all those videos. “Wanna fuck your cock. Want you to fuck me. Right here, just let you, uh, make me scream.”

You found yourself stuttering through it, not sure if you sounded so awkward because you’d never talked dirty in your life, or because you were just that turned on.

Jinyoung’s brows furrowed as he stared down at you, his expression getting less aroused and more confused as you continued to tell him all the things you wanted him to do to you.

“Hold on,” Jinyoung said, hand halting your movements once more. “I’m sorry, but what’s with the dirty talk? You sound like you stepped out of a sex hotline commercial.”

“Um,” you replied and felt your cheeks flush as you looked away, pursing your lips together. “I thought you’d like that. Guys like it when a girl takes charge, right?”

“Sure,” he answered. “But we aren’t in a porno. And something tells me you’ve seen a few too many of those.”

He had caught you red handed. Oh, maybe that was a poor choice of words when you currently had both hands gripped around his cock, steadily jerking him off.

“I-” You swallowed, lifting your eyes up to lock back onto Jinyoung’s. “Maybe I watched a few… to prepare for this.”

Then Jinyoung smiled. You stared up at him, confused, before he started to laugh. Not the best reaction you wanted while you were on your knees in front of a man, but this day was ending up a lot more uncomfortable than you had imagined.

“I see what happened here. Stand up,” he told you, and you obeyed, dropping your hands off of him down to rest at your sides. He pulled you down onto his lap as you rested your thighs on either side of his hips, his hands immediately sliding up the back of your shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s no reason we can’t take it slow, enjoy it. And trust me,” he said, his fingers gripping your sides as his thumbs grazed your rib cage. “I want to enjoy this.”

Jinyoung lifted your shirt above your head and tossed it to the side, revealing the baby blue sports bra that offered no support whatsoever, and you’d been grateful to finally have an excuse to wear it.

“Wait, watch this,” you told him, leaning back with an excited smile. You reached with one hand to the center of your chest, taking hold of the zipper that went straight down the middle of the bra. You pulled it down, freeing your breasts from the bra. “Surprise.”

Once again, Jinyoung laughed at you, but this time he had this fond look in his eyes that gave you a different type of goosebumps. He had a cute laugh, and an even cuter smile--you liked the little whiskers that formed next to his eyes.

You didn’t have much time to think about that before Jinyoung was leaning forward, trailing kisses across your chest, lips making a pathway to one breast. You moaned as soon as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, arching your back towards him.

Your hands slid into his hair, needing something to hold onto while he flicked his tongue back and forth. He pinched and squeezed the neglected nipple between his index finger and his thumb, earning a squeak out of you at his ministrations.

Out of all the guys you’d been with, you had never had one pay this much attention to you right off the bat. They’d all been immature college boys, ones that didn’t bother taking your bra off before fucking you. You’d only ever reached an orgasm during sex once or twice, and you’d only been half as turned on as you were now.

You moaned his name, grinding your hips down against his lap. You felt his hardened length pressing against your thigh, and all you wanted was to feel him inside of you. You were soaking through your underwear with arousal, core clenching around nothing in desperation.

He pulled away from your chest, kissing a line up to your collarbone and along your neck, nipping your jawline before he was kissing you again. You couldn’t get enough of him, wanting to feel and touch every inch of his body.

The fantasy idea you’d had in your mind was nothing compared to this. Jinyoung was an incredible kisser, his lips perfectly plump and surprisingly skilled. He was intense, licking into your mouth and nipping at your tongue, but you loved it. You wouldn’t have minded if he swallowed you whole, at this point.

For a few minutes, you just kissed, your hands roaming each other’s bodies. Jinyoung showed his appreciation for every curve of your body, no matter how different they were from the women you’d been imitating all afternoon. He seemed to like you just as you were.

You pulled away, briefly, to yank his shirt over his head and tossed it behind you. Your eyes widened as they traveled over his skin, mouth watering with desire. He was absolutely perfect.

“Stand up,” Jinyoung told you, hands gripping your hips. He slid his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, waiting until you stood up to slide them down your legs along with your underwear.

“Condom?” you asked, trying to ignore just how bare you felt under his gaze.

Jinyoung’s eyes snapped from your body up to your face, an expression full of regret. “Shit. I don’t have one. Do you-”

You’d already scurried off, hurrying over to the closet where you kept your jackets, purses, and extra shoes. After some shuffling around and shoving your hands into the pockets of all the jackets, you finally found the small foil square you’d been praying for.

“Yes!” you squealed with happiness, practically running back over to where Jinyoung was waiting for you. You held up the condom as you climbed back on top of him. “I was a girl scout, you know. Always be prepared.”

Jinyoung shook his head with a chuckle as he took the condom from you, ripping it open. You watched as he slid the condom over his length, licking your lips. It was happening, really happening.

“You wet enough for me?” he asked, licking his thumb before he slid it down between your legs, circling your clit. You gasped, hips bucking towards him for more.

“Please,” you whimpered, placing your hands on his shoulders for balance. “I need you.”

With an easy movement, Jinyoung took his hand from your clit and gripped your hips, lifting you up to hover over his length. You reached down, lining the tip up with your entrance. You let out one long sigh as you lowered yourself down, feeling him fill you up completely.

“Fuck,” Jinyoung ground out and tipped his head back against the chair. “Good girl.”

You kept your eyes on him as you began moving your hips, tiny gasps and moans filling the room each time you came down on him again. You quickened your pace bit by bit, reaching for one of Jinyoung’s hands and guiding it to your throat.

You were no longer trying to replicate any videos you’d seen or follow any advice from your idiotic best friend, you simply wanted Jinyoung and were completely acting upon your own desires.

Jinyoung opened his eyes, previously closed in bliss, and stared up at you. He licked his lips and clenched his teeth, adjusting his hand to wrap around your neck. He kept a gentle grip as you bounced on top of him, the volume of your moans reaching higher and higher.

“Oh, oh,” you cried out, breathless, as Jinyoung squeezed your throat. “Don’t stop.”

Your pace began to slow out of pure fatigue, but Jinyoung didn’t miss a beat. He planted his feet on the floor and thrusted into you, the tip of his cock hitting even deeper inside of you than he had before.

Now, you were practically screaming as Jinyoung fucked you, your entire body bouncing and jolting up and down from the sheer power behind his thrusts. All you could do was hold onto his forearm as he pounded into you.

It didn’t take much longer for the heat to build inside of you, the intense pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You felt hot all over, as if flames were licking at your whole body the closer you got to your peak.

“That’s it,” he told you, his other hand sliding to your ass to grip the flesh as he drove into you as if determined to completely unravel you. “Come for me. Let go.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body tensing. You were completely helpless to him, loving the way his skin slapped yours each time he thrusted inside of you. With one final cry, your body began to jerk as waves of hot pleasure washed over you in an unending hurricane.

Vaguely, you registered the sound of Jinyoung groaning through his teeth, his fingers tightening around your neck for a few short seconds before he emptied inside the condom. He thrusted inside of you a few more times, panting from underneath of you.

You finally opened your eyes after you’d come down from your orgasm, finding Jinyoung looking equally exhausted after his own climax. You sighed as he dropped his hand from your neck and you took a gulp of air.

“Holy honeysuckle,” you said, body falling forward to rest against him.

A few quiet moments later, Jinyoung was stroking his hands up and down your back, a surprisingly tender action for someone that had just fucked all your brain cells out. He was so warm, and it felt so natural to have his arms wrapped around you like this.

You lifted your head from his chest and stared down at him, searching for the words to say to break the silence.

“Well,” you started, lifting one side of your mouth into a smile. “Your hose is empty.”

Jinyoung grimaced and groaned, playfully nudging you away from him. “Aaaand now you’ve ruined it.”

#got7 #got7 smut #park jinyoung #jinyoung smut #jinyoung imagine #got7 imagine #got7 fanfic #writing

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thefoxandthetypewriter · 4 years ago

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HUSH WE WEREN'T TALKING ABOUT ME

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO YOU WON'T BECAUSE I'M ONLINE AND GET TO SLEEP IN AND DO HOMEWORK ALL DAY

so anyway enjoy flashmob-ing and annoying the boys with renditions of You Belong With Me

@seems-fine11

DO YOU SERIOUSLY HAVE ASKS TURNED OFF

I WAS GOING TO DROP A NICE “thats not sugar” IN YOUR INBOX BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#Jesus Christ the amount of typo's in this that I had to fix #I'm very tired I think

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crazycookiemaniac · 4 years ago

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Omg why are you losing so many followers youve been drawing gay shit for forever??? (Or maybe i as a gay was just interpreting it that way)

Because I literally spammed people every day for one week lmao. And also, a lot of people follow others for specific content. The moment I stop drawing that exact thing they followed me for, they unfollow me. There are also accounts that follow just to make you follow them & if you don’t, they unfollow you after a while. There’s people who followed me for haikyuu & weren’t interested in BC content, and there were people who followed me for BC content but got showered in gay art instead and that was not their cuppa tea.

But mostly, i start appearing on people’s feed the more I post. So having me post incessantly for one week made me show up on feeds that I hadn’t shown up for a good while, so there were probably people who forgot they had followed me in the first place & me posting was a reminder to unfollow.

Truthfully, follower counts are dumb. Yes, it is important for you to have a high follower count for you to get attention, but the amount of people actually following you if you don’t have a consistent art style & rarely ever post something with different vibes than your usual ones, is equal or less than 1% of your total amount of following.

My instagram tells me I have 43k. I do not have 43k people following me. I’ve had 43k that once saw my account & pressed the follow button, but their feeds are filled up with other people’s accs that interest them more than mine (as well as my own feed does not show all the content of the 200+ something people I follow, unless I scroll down till the depths of hell to find every single post on that day and then do so on the next day as well).

Essentially, 95% of your followers are there because of content. They want to see what entertains them. Most of them don’t care about the artist and don’t interact with them at all. Many of them are scared to, given the high follower count. Social media & big accounts make people forget that there are other, real, living & breathing people that are behind them all.

So, to many, I was just a random artist they found and “lol”ed at one of my comics & pressed follow without thinking about it. Most of them don’t go to my account and see all other art I’ve posted to see if they actually like what I do, or me as a person and as an artist at all.

People who don’t know this get really discouraged when they don’t earn a lot of followers, or when they lose a lot (like I did). And some people think you gotta have hundreds of thousands to be famous. I’ve seen accs going around that paid for ads, that had over 150k followers and less than 1k likes on their posts.

Truly famous, loved, growing and/or steady accounts have an amount of likes per post proportional to their follower count. For example, if someone has 150k followers, most of their posts will vary from 20k to 100k likes.

When I was growing my account because I hopped in the fandom bandwagon and stupid little me didn’t know that would only make me crash later, I had like 20~30k and some of my posts reached more than 20k likes (because people liked my stupid comics). Nowadays, I’m not part of the fandom that made me grow anymore. I’m part of a very underrated one (Black Clover), as well a I am drawing a very underrated ship (LuGna) that above all else is getting hated on. I have everything against me in this, so it’s no wonder I lost so many followers.

They didn’t wanna see gay art. They didn’t wanna see Black Clover. They didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. Not everyone paid attention or kept up with my warnings. Despite me explaining multiple times in multiple posts what the Thunder Flames project was about, a lot of people still didn’t know what I was doing that for.

The thing about being a big follower count is that, unless you’re actually loved for what you do (and to do that, once again, I need to emphasize that you need to keep a steady rhythm, a steady vibe, a steady you. Because people follow you for your first impression on them, and you gotta keep up to that first impression if you wanna keep your followers.

I’m unsteady. One look at my gallery and you’ll see how disorganized everything is. Oh, lookit, a 1 min speedpaint of a random drawing I did on an old piece of paper! And right on the left there’s a stupid random comic I did–on the right there’s this super detailed, shaded drawing I’ve done that actually looks terrible to me and I will 100% archive it later, and then there’s B&W mixed with gray shaded, flat colored and fully shaded characters of different fandoms + OCs from commissions and whatever else.

The thing is, I made my follower count based on a fandom, and now that I’m not there most of that follower count does not have me on their feed. And most of them do not want me on their feed. Now, I’m trying to build a follower count for who I am as an artist, because the few people who have actually stayed and followed me throughout the years know how inconsistent I am in terms of art style, fandoms and everything else.

A solution to this would me either keep creating/posting the same thing all over again (just in different patterns), or creating original content (which I do plan on doing at some point). But for now? Since my follower count does absolutely not reflect on how many people actually like me and/or my art, I’m going to be as chaotic as fucking ever and do whatever the fuck I want.

So yes, I do find it comical that I lost 1k followers over this and am not fazed in the very least, especially because I literally foreshadowed losing 1k and hit the fucking jackpot.

The only reason I’m talking about this at all is because 1- it’s impossible not to notice my follower count decreasing, especially because every new 1k I thank people publicly through stories; 2- some people were actually worried I was upset over it and I have to 3- show that I am not, while simultaneously trying to show people that just because you’re losing followers doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what you want to create content to please people. It doesn’t mean you should be upset, and it doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is bad or wrong.

It means you’re fucking renewing your followers & you’ll now grow for what you’re trying to grow for, bitch. That’s what it’s all about.

Obviously, people do take a great risk doing this. I am taking a great risk doing this. I could’ve lost 5k, I could’ve lost 10k. But I only lost 1k! And that’s because I believe in the project I worked on; I knew there were people out there who enjoyed what I was doing and it’s on them that I was focused on. On the people who supported me AND my art, not just that one single funny comic post I did 3 years ago.

This answer is 100% a lot longer than what you could’ve possibly expected for and I am typing this while being awake for more than 24h so I’m sure that I’ve repeated myself a lot and that there are a lotta typos or w/e and I apologize for that!! But I’m too lazy to go back to read everything over & turn this into a neat post & I’m pretty sure I could answer your question in the first paragraph.

Oh and also. Yes. Yes I have been drawing gay shit ever since I’ve become an artist because I’m so fucking pissed at the lack of canon gay content in a way that it’s depicted as a normal fucking romantic couple instead of having eeeeeeeeveryone point their finger to the gay couple and scream “HEY THAT’S GAY!!! THIS CAN’T BE PART OF THIS VERY HETEROSEXUAL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS OBVIOUSLY HETEROSEXUAL EVEN THOUGH NONE OF THE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER SAID THAT EXPLICITLY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT THE CREATORS ARE EITHER HETEROSEXUAL OR TOO AFRAID TO LOSE AUDIENCE IF THEY TREAT GAY PEOPLE AS NORMAL PEOPLE!??!! WHAT SORT OF ABSURD NONSENSE IS THAT??!! GAY PEOPLE AREN’T NORMAL!! THEY’RE GAY AND THEY SHOULD HAVE A GAY SHOW JUST FOR THEM IF THEY WANNA GET SCREENTIME” and yadda yadda yadda.

I’m tired of this bullshit. Ever since I was an artist I’ve been rooting for gay ships in shonen manga while knowing they would never happen just because they were gay, and now that we are in our Blessed-By-Satan, Pandemic-Chaotic, What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On, We-Don’t-Know-If-We-Wanna-Go-Back-Or-To-The-Future-Or-Just-IDK-Fucking-Die year 2020, in which the LGBT community is thriving and being louder than ever to fight for our rights, Me, in my twenty four years of fucking age, having gone through several fucking disappointments ONLY regarding this matter, am sitting here on my ass, hopeful as all galactic, glittery shit that for some fucking reason, my new OTP formed by very underrated characters from this very underrated franchise in the southern and western communities, becomes canon because my stupid eyes can see chemistry between them even though those stupid haters’ can’t. But that’s because they’re stupid and homophobic, and they really should just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna dream, I want to believe. Let a bitch pray in peace.

But even if I’m getting ready for disappointment, I’m gonna make this project happen and I’m gonna have a shit ton of artbooks from this Thunder Flames project inside my fucking garage if no one wants to buy them. But I am going to invest a shit ton of money in it and I am going to have these artbooks come to life. Because I am spiteful and petty and homophobes should shut the fuck up, and I wanna do what I wanna do bc as an independent artist, I’m building my future with my own two, very toned and buff by now from all the drawing I did, hands.

God fucking damn it.

Jesus christ I’m just rambling at this point, I’m so sorry. If anyone ever reads this out of context people are going to be so confused.

But that’s fine. They won’t. You know why? Cuz I got almost 11k followers here on tumblr but less than 0.5% gives a shit that I’m here, so I’m safe.

Have a nice day, drink your water and fuck homophobes. Peace

#Anonymous

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clouds-of-wings · 4 years ago

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Drinking spiced cherry wine from the discounter and actually reading the lyrics of Beloved Antichrist for once - Part 2 (Act 1)

Narrator: At this point, Seth is still with his parish and has no idea he’s the Antichrist Seth, speaking for the first time: WOE TO YOU, EARTH AND SEA!

PArish not pErish! Learn English! The mistake comes twice in a row, so I know it’s not just a typo.

“Lift from me infant smiles”, wut? Does that mean that he’s being reborn into maturity? Huh... alright.

Actually if I’m going to comment every time they use an expression that’s like a square peg in a round hole I’ll be typing until 4am, so let’s just say WUT really loudly ONCE and let it cover the whole opera.

I’m gonna stop commenting on the bad English too. I say this with all the affection available to me (like 9 affections) but bad English is a job requirement if you’re gonna write lyrics for Therion. This is how it has always been. If you can reliably create a present tense verb form and remember the s behind the third person singular - don’t apply. And the singers always go along with it. I’ll drink some more wine and say it adds to the charm.

The opera passes the Bechdel test in the second song.

Cmon, “United States of Europe”? Is that the best name you guys could come up with? How bout Eurotopia? Eurotzania? Jesus Christ Superstate? Greater Berlin Area? European Union Rules Oll People Everywhere?

There’s actually a lot going on here story-wise. I wouldn’t have thought it since all the songs kiiinda sound very similar to me. I mean I like the opera very much, musically, but the songs kinda merge into one another. They could have been one 3 hour long song. Land of Canaan has more different styles in it to my ear, and that’s “only” 10 minutes. Actually it has more styles to my eyes. My synaesthesia sees all of BA very similarly. Same colours, same textures, same sense of space. How much so? Enough that I kept abbreviating the name of the opera to “BC” instead of “BA” because the colours of the letters fit better and I didn’t even realize my mistake for a while.

I REALLY have questions about the logistics. In a steampunk post-apocalyptic world they have a continent-wide election..? Just, how long does that take? How do they communicate the results? Did they lay new phone lines? Are the old ones still functional? Do they send letters or send a messenger to inform of the regional results? What are the ballots made of? Did they build new paper processing plants? How did they get mass production back on its feet anyway? Whom did they force into the mines?

More problems that the anime adaptation will sort out, I guess.

Johanna does her duty as big sister in warning Helena not to believe every random man who acts like he’s the second coming of Christ & God’s gift to the world, a touch of realism

Seth needs only the barest of friendly pokes to fall from faith, This is Most Concerning. And understandable if you read the notes to the piece in question, but in the actual text of the opera it isn’t even mentioned before that he can’t hear God anymore. A bit rushed. Maybe they cut out a song? IIRC the original version of the opera was half an hour longer.

Also I love how meta “The Solid Black Beyond” is. “Hey WHY do you worship Jesus, I made you, you’re my son, do what I want you to do instead and, uhhh trust me it will TOTALLY work out fine!” - spoken by Satan, who is voiced by - the composer.

The president of Europe reads a brilliant insightful book and immediately realizes how misguided he has been. Hahaha. Ohh bless your hearts, guys. If only.

Garden of Peace needs to be much MUCH longer. None of the stuff mentioned in the summary actually happens in the text. Helena tells Seth her life story? BITCH WHERE!

It really bothers me that the text - not just here - focuses almost exclusively on the emotional content of the scenes and doesn’t tell us much about the story, which is explained only in the summaries. This might work for an album, but watching an opera like this would be very confusing. If you don’t read along with the notes (which afaik the non-limited edition of the CD release doesn’t even have), you’ll be ??? the whole time. I tried to read the lyrics once on some lyrics site, without these summaries, and they made no sense to me without context. A lot goes on in the story summaries. Very little goes on in what the characters actually say. And with many of these things I can’t think of a nonverbal way to communicate them.

I remember Christofer saying in an interview that he can’t write recitatives. Maybe that’s the problem. It’s like reading a text with many nouns but too few verbs. I don’t know though. I’m not too much of an opera buff. I did try to get into them but I find them boring. The only ones I watched the whole way through were Mefistofele (largely a waste of time but with one VERY good scene), and Orlando, thanks to Marijana Mijanovic playing the main character. It made me question my sexuality when she had murder in her eyes and an axe in her hands, but I do remember the story making sense.

I feel like I need to listen to the entire opera WHILE reading the text WHILE high enough that I can hallucinate the stage production in order to really judge the quality of the writing tbh.

I like the amount of characterization the characters get (mostly in the summaries). Helena has a special star she always sees, that’s sweet. Also foreshadowing. She has always loved the morning star, and then she marries the Antichrist.

Also, do Johanna and Helena symbolize the duality of humankind? QUESTIONS! The Two Daughters of Wisdom.

“Lots of stylish guests are strolling around” 8)

The mortal enemies DANCE AT A PALACE BALL. Oh this is SO anime material!

Okay this one line in “The Palace Ball” pisses me off every time I listen to BA. It’s such a small detail but it irritates me to no end. “May I have the pleasure to offer you a dance.” An Old-fashioned Gentleman(TM) would never say this to an Old-fashioned Lady(TM). It implies that he’s doing her a favour. He should ASK her for a dance, not OFFER her one, because (the polite fiction is that) she’s doing him a favour by accepting. This is just basic etiquette! You penguins!

Narrator: Seth finds himself politely rebuffed by Johanna. Johanna: Your powers ain’t shit, plus you’re evil, now fuck off.

I do want to know Seth’s brilliant philosophy that makes the world a perfect place, but it was definitely smart of the people behind this work not to try to come up with one.

Wow this takes a lot longer than I thought. I have acid reflux from the alcohol, which I’m not used to, and it’s late. I’ll do the rest some other time.

#therion #symphonic metal #opera metal #rock opera #music stuff #beloved antichrist

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liliah39 · 5 years ago

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Crazy Little Game of Love: Chapter 6a

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: none, just angst :(

Liliah39 Masterlist

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I used a BoRhap gif because it goes with the general mood of the end of the chapter a lot even though I usually envision the OG Queen boys, but of course you can picture whoever you want; CLGOL works both ways.This chapter is very important so I rewrote it a lot. Lots of foreshadowing! See if you can find it!! I tried to do an even amount of time with each of the guys to make all of ya happy. Also, this is supposed to show how the love of singing and Y/N’s unknown ability to sing starts to make itself present. As usual, plz excuse typos. Love y’all. ♥️

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

Where we left off:

He pulled up to the dorm to find a vision of an angel outside. Your pink, sheer robe flowed effortlessly behind you as you walked between the trees and bushes out front of your dorm. Your hair cascaded down your back, still wavy from the salt water; the full harvest moon illuminated your face as you concentrated on the leaves in front of you as you kept occupied waiting for the recipient of your phone call.

He stepped out of the car, quietly walking closer to you until he paused about four feet behind you, just appreciating your moonlit beauty. The rustling of leaves behind you made you whip your head around in fear, only to find him gazing at you lovingly.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry I made you come here right now.” You said, running to him as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair to get the scent of you in.

“Don’t be, Love. Told you I’d do anything to make you happy.” He smiled.

My Roger.

“Even coming picking me up at 3:30 in the morning?”

“Yup, anything for you, Love.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “God, you’re freezing, Y/N. How long have you been out here?”

“Since I got off the phone with you.” You lied, yawning as you closed your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Love. We’re back to normal October weather now. You’ve gotta be more careful.” He smiled, noticing how sleepy you were. “Alright,” he started, scooping you up into his arms as he started back to his car. “Let’s get you home so you can get a proper rest.”

Home.

You loved how he called it home.

“Thank you for coming to get me.” You shivered, cuddling into his grasp a little more.

“You’re welcome, Baby.” he said, his voice lulling you to sleep. “And now that I’ve got you again, as long as you let me, I’m never letting you go.” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he set you in his car. Once he got in the drivers side, you drifted off to sleep with your head on his shoulder and your hands intertwined.

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

15 Minutes Before:

After you hung up the phone, you walked in the dorm to return Freddie’s phone book to his desk, noticing your friend angled toward the edge of your bed with one arm hanging off. You quietly walked to him, sitting at the side of your bed as you pulled the blanket over him, tilting your head and resting it so it was only inches away from his.

“Freddie,” You whispered, putting a piece of his hair behind his ear.

His eyes fluttered open to see you sitting on the side of the bed, moonlight illuminating your features as it shone through the window, your long robe fanned out around you. You looked ethereal. “Yes, Dear?” He yawned, only just coming to his senses.

“I’m a horrible person.” You quietly spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“I just called Roger; he’s coming to get me.”

“Well, that’s alright, Love.” He said caressing your cheek. “As long as you’ve decided what makes you happy.”

“But last night, before John and I made plans to have a day together today, I kissed him.”

“You what?” he said, sitting straight up.

“I know.” You grimaced. “And now I’m going to Roger’s, and I’m just an awful person.”

“You’re not an awful person, Y/N. You’re just indecisive.” He yawned.

“But I'm supposed to have a day with John, and I told him I was over Roger, and-”

“Darling, you’re obviously not over Roger. You complained until you fell asleep last night, and cried every five minutes once you laid down to go to bed. Don’t deny it to yourself. See how tonight goes with Roger and how tomorrow goes with John, and believe me: you’ll know.”

You smiled at him, nodding that you understood.

“Now let me sleep, and get back to me later about how it all went.” He said with a huff as he rolled away from you.

“I don’t mind, but you’re not going back to your bed?”

“Well yours is much more comfortable than my pull out couch and you’re not going to be using it, so…”

You laughed at his candidacy. “Alright, goodnight Freddie.” You said, walking out the door.

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

You were fast asleep once arriving at Roger’s apartment, so he carried you inside in hopes to just let you sleep. Once inside and taking off his shoes without setting you down, your head stirred a little before cuddling into Roger’s chest as he shushed you back to sleep, heading down the hallway to his room. The desk lamp in Brian’s room was on, door wide open. His head turned at the sound of Roger’s footsteps, forced to take in a peaceful, lifeless, you, completely content in Roger’s arms.

“So you went and got her?” He said, getting up from his desk and walking to the doorframe opposite Roger.

“Yeah,” Roger nodded awkwardly. “Had to. She needed me, I love her Bri.” He said earnestly, hoping to ease the tension between him and his best friend.

“Right.”

“How’d you know I was going to get her?”

“Been up since she called; the phone woke me up. Not two minutes later after you answered it, you were out the door, Roger. There isn’t anyone else you’d do that for.”

“Well… I would for you.” Roger timidly admitted. “You’re my best mate.”

“Yeah,” Brian added with a small chuckle and soft smile. “But we live together, Rog. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Brian took a step closer to the two of you, now slightly hovering over you both. “She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” He whispered, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Brian nodded in agreement. “You guys got close awfully fast.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess sometimes people are just right for each other. Don’t think everyone is that lucky to find that person though. I just know we were.”

Brian found full validity in Roger’s statement, apparent by the actions you both exhibited; how co-dependent you’d become in a matter of days; but he didn’t want to believe a single word of it. Each thing he said was a stab in his heart.

“Well I’m sure we’re all tired, so go on to bed, mate. Just take good care of her. It’ll be easier for me if it’s clear she’s happy.” Brian stated, about to close the door.

“Thanks Brian. I know how you feel. You don’t know how much what you just said means to me. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of my girl.” He smiled. “Night.” He stated, closing his door behind you two.

His girl.

Brian’s face saddened at the thought, closing the door behind him as he turned out the lamp and laid back down to bed. He was happy for Roger; yet had never felt sadder in his life. He was just happy that if you couldn’t have been with him, you were with his best friend.

In the next room over, your eyes fluttered open as Roger set you into his bed, walking to his dresser to strip into his underwear; what he usually slept in.

He didn’t know you were awake, and you quietly got up, walking behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso as you pressed your face into his back with a yawn. He jumped a little from the surprise of your contact, but then smiled at the sight of you in the mirror in front of him. He turned to face you with your arms still wrapped around him, face now firmly pressed into his chest.

“Come back to bed.” You whined, rubbing his back with your hands. “I’m cold.”

Roger chuckled, “I’m just getting comfortable, Love. You look gorgeous. My little princess.”

“I’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty uncomfortable.” You yawned. You weren’t even completely awake. There was no way you’d remember this in the morning.

“Hold on, I can fix that.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as he picked you up and set you on the edge of the bed. You instinctively laid down immediately on contact with the mattress as he backed away to his closet for a moment; grabbing a shirt and coming back laughing since you were almost asleep already. “Come on, Love. Sit up so you can get more comfortable clothes on.”

He helped you sit up, handing you a long sleeve shirt of his. Your eyes were half way open as he kneeled in front of you, untying your ornate robe and throwing it on his dresser. He laughed as your tried to put the shirt on backwards, with your “uncomfortable” dressy tank top still on.

“Hold on, hold on. Let me help.” He smiled, kissing your cheek as he took the shirt from you, pulling your tank top over your head. No bra, he noticed. That’d be interesting in the morning when you didn’t have any of your clothes with you. He tossed your tank top on the dresser too, pulling his long sleeve T-shirt over your head and opted to keep your silk shorts on you. “You ready for bed now, Baby?”

You barely nodded, almost completely asleep and unaware of the situation before you as you instantly laid back down; Roger walking to the other side and laying next to you.

“Still cold?”

“Mhm.”

“Come ‘ere, Love.” He said with a huge grin, pulling you into him as he enveloped you in his arms and kissed your forehead before laying his head down and closing his eyes as well. He knew you were asleep, but decided to say it anyways. “I love you, Y/N. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything before. Please don’t make me leave you again.”

And with that, you both fell into a deep sleep, completely content just to be with one another.

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

The first time you two woke up, it was about 6 in the morning. Your shared sleepiness was consumed by passionate morning kisses, and eventually you fell back asleep. When you awoke for the second time, it was about 9:30 and Roger surprisingly wasn’t awake yet. You carefully removed his arm from around your middle and rolled out of bed, changing back into your tank top and ornate robe, opened the door, and decided to make breakfast with what you could find. You had to admit you were sick of scrambled eggs. With what you could find it seemed like you could make hard boiled eggs and chocolate banana pancakes, so you buckled down and got to work, making sure you’d have enough time for your get together with John in a couple hours.

Brian awoke to the smell of food which pulled him out of bed against his will to go investigate. He was curious; food never smelled that good in his and Roger’s household. He walked into the kitchen to see you happily humming as you flipped a pancake. It was an image he knew he could get used to - wished he could get used to. He leaned against the wall, for a moment, pretending he was in another universe where you were his and not Roger’s.

“Good morning, Cinderella.” He smiled, remembering your afternoon in the pumpkin patch as he sat at the table.

You turned around, surprised, yet knew exactly who was standing across from you. “Morning, Bri.” You giggled. “Want some pancakes?”

“Course. I’ll take a couple please. That is, if you have enough?”

“Oh sure,” you said, hurriedly putting the plate of the four finished pancakes in front of him. “Roger’s not up yet, so please help yourself. I can always make more.” You said with a pat on his shoulders, turning back to the stove.

Your touch sent a jolt through his body. He was immediately confused emotionally. Enamored by your beauty and personality, yet turned off at the mention of Roger’s name.

“Your nightgown is lovely.” He smiled as he cut his stack of pancakes.

“Oh this?” You said, pausing to re-tie the bow at your waist. “It’s just a robe.”

“Well, it flatters you.”

“Why thank you, Mr. May.” You said with a blush.

Why am I blushing? Didn’t I chose Roger?

After making a couple more pancakes for yourself in awkward silence you sat next to him at the table with some pancakes for yourself. You started to eat, the tension still building, and it finally broke as he finished his second pancake.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Roger?”

He nodded, unable to verbally confirm.

“Yeah, I think so? It hasn’t been long, but I feel happy when I’m with him, if that counts for anything.”

He silently nodded, observing the information.

“What about Spain?”

You paused. “You know about that?”

He nodded, looking at Roger’s door, silently divulging who spilled your secret.

“He came home crushed last night, Y/N. I’ve never seen him so defeated. You know Roger; depressed isn’t usually one of his modes. He’d been out drinking for a little bit; not that he wasn’t coherent, he just went to drink away his sorrows for a bit. You crushed him. I don’t think he slept at all until you guys got back here. That’s how I knew he was going to get you when you called at 3:30 in the morning. You’re the only person in this whole world who could have gotten him to leave his room last night.”

“Oh.”

“So? What about Spain, then?”

“I don’t know. I just was lonely last night and-”

”So you’re using him?”

“No. I didn’t say that.” You said, getting up to get more pancakes as he grabbed your arm.

“Then why, Y/N?”

You took a deep breath. “Because I guess I’m afraid to let him go. Afraid of what will happen if I don’t give this a chance.”

A look of shock came across his face. “Has he hurt you? Is that why you feel like you can’t leave? Because if he has, I swear to god I’ll kill him.” Brian said enraged.

“Oh no! Oh god, no. Roger’s been nothing less than a perfect gentleman. I guess that’s what’s making it so hard. I love him.”

“Oh… good. Well then I guess we both have our answers.” He said, getting up to put his plate in the sink.

“Brian please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well that’s the second time you’ve confessed it in front of me, and from what I’ve heard you said it multiple times in the last couple days. When are you going to admit to yourself that you’re in love with him?” He said, throwing his hands up in the air as he put his plate in the sink.

You were at a loss for words, and your eyes welled with tears.

“I’m sorry, Love. I didn’t mean to yell- I just, I don’t know.” He says, head hanging in shame.

“It’s okay.” You whispered.

It was silent for a moment, your hand on his bicep as he leaned against the counter top, you facing him as he leaned against the sink, gazing into his hazel eyes.

“I don’t know what I want yet,” you quietly admitted. “I’ll know soon though, I owe that to him and myself. I just need time.”

He nodded understandingly.

“Well, um, thanks for breakfast. It was re-” He said awkwardly as you cut him off, wiggling out of your grasp.

“Brian?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go do something soon? Whatever really; I’m not picky. I feel like I know you the least of the guys after this weekend with Roger, and you’re always so kind to me; always so full of advice. I’d like our friendship to grow.” You smiled as he stepped back your way.

“Uh, yeah, yes!” He stuttered smiling as he swiped under his lip. “Yeah, Y/N. I’d like that a lot. That’d be great.” He smiled, rubbing your arms and kissing the top of your head in a friendly way before backing to the fridge to get some juice. “We’ll be in touch?”

“We’ll be in touch.” You smiled, patting his arm as you backed to make more pancakes, content with the silence between you two.

“I think I know how you feel about me.” You blurted out.

A look of shock fled across his face. “You do?”

You nodded. “But it doesn’t bother me; doesn’t change anything I mean. I’m okay as long as you’re okay.”

He laughed. “I’m quite fine, Love.” He said, faking a smile. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, no matter who you’re with.”

“Thanks, Bri.”

“Well as long as he’s not a complete and total dick.” He said, making you two laugh.

“I’ll take that into account.” You joked.

“But really, I’m okay with you and Roger. It makes me feel good to see how happy the two of you are together. Don’t think you have to act differently with Roger around me; I don’t mind it. I just want to see you both happy.”

“Really?”

“Really. Roger’s my best friend. I’m an only child, so he’s like the brother I always wanted and never had. We just happen to like the same girl, and that’s alright. What matters is who she chooses. Whatever she decides, we’ve gotta be happy with, because that’s what brothers do. Go wake him up, Y/N. He’ll be so excited to see you.” He smiled.

“You’re such an admirable person, Brian Harold May. Most people never mature as much as you have. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Love. Now, go on.” He encouraged as you walked to Roger’s door.

“Oh,” you started, hand on Roger’s doorknob. “Please don’t tell John I was here.”

“Alright. Why?”

“Well, that’s not important right now. I have to talk to him later, I’ll weave it in somehow. I just want him to hear it from me; nowhere else.”

He nodded understandably. “You’ve got my word.” He winked, going back to his juice as you walked into Roger’s room as you closed the door behind you.

The room was still kind of dark; the sun was peeking through Roger’s drapes, just quietly illuminating the room. He laid facing the window, so you quietly walked to his side of the bed, softly climbing on the bed to lay directly next to him, chest pressed flush against his. His eyes flickered open, instantly smiling at the sight of you. He pressed a kiss to your lips tightly wrapping his arms around you as he rolled into his back so you were laying on top of him. You pressed kisses all over his face, running your fingers through his hair as he giggled.

“Have I died and gone to Heaven, Y/N?”

“No?” You laughed as he rubbed your back. “Why?”

“Because you look so beautiful, like a bloody angel.”

“Oh stop,” you said laughing as your lips rejoined again. “I made you breakfast, my Love. Figured it’d be nice for a little change of routine around here, and that you could use the sleep after driving so long.” You said, pulling on his arm to try to get him to stand up. It only earned you a whine of unwant to move from Roger.

“Come on Roger,” you playfully scolded. “Get up to eat breakfast.”

“But I could eat breakfast in bed?” He suggested.

You laughed out loud. “Breakfast in bed? I made this beautiful breakfast and you want to eat it in bed? Nope. Not happening.”

“Well I could eat something else,” he seductively implied, flipping you over so you were laying on the bed as he attatched his lips to your neck.

“Roger,” you giggled as his kisses got more intense. “Roger! Roger!!” You said laughing as he nipped under your chin on your left side. “Stop!” You quietly yelled. “We’re not alone!”

“Okay, okay.” He resigned, getting off the top of you as you still laughed. “Just let me get some pants on.”

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

Your morning with Brian and Roger was spent happily laughing between the three of you. Sometimes Roger would pull you into his lap, kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms tightly around you. As much as you enjoyed it, you couldn’t help but notice Brian slightly look away as soon as the slightest bit of affection was displayed between the two of you, but he quickly recomposed himself and laughed at how Roger was acting like a typical boyfriend, or by commenting on how happy the two of you were. Roger let you take the car home, and you walked in around noon to see Freddie painting his fingernails black; a typical thing for him to do.

“So? How’d it go?”

“He’s perfect.” You grumbled.

“Then why is that a bad thing, Y/N?” Freddie said, annoyed with your antics.

“Because! There’s also John, and Brian, and the whole Spain thing?!”

“So John and Brian are candidates too?”

“I- um… well, yeah. I guess so. I don’t know. I gotta be around them more.” You resigned, sitting next to him on the pull out couch.

“Then why even do that to yourself, Darling? If you love Roger, why are you not dating him?”

“Because I feel like the others deserve a chance. They all deserve a chance.”

“All of us?” Freddie questioned.

“Yes?” You hesitantly replied.

“Alright then.” he sighed. “Then I’ve been wondering, would you ever date me? Where do I stand?” He joked with a tad of seriousness.

“Well I don’t know, Freddie. You’d have to ask me out, then.” You joked back.

“And that right there is why we’d never happen. I’d never ask you out because I know what I’d be getting myself into; those poor bastards have no fucking clue.” He said sarcastically.

“Hey!”

“Remember dear, they don’t live with you, I do!”

You playfully punched him on the shoulder as he pulled you into his lap. To outsiders it seemed extremely affectionate, but things between you and Freddie always remained platonic. The two of you were just exceptionally close. But to everyone else, it’d seem like you were dating.

“But really, Darling. Would you ever date me?”

“Freddie.” You said seriously, wrapping your arms around his neck to make him look at you.‍‍‍ “Why are you asking me this?”

“Well, look at us. We live together. We’re best friends. I don’t know.” A part of him was jealous of the others, even though he had no romantic attraction to you. He didn’t want to lose you. He just felt given your circumstance, he should have some attraction to you. Why didn’t he? Wouldn’t most people think there was something wrong with him for not trying to pursue his beautiful best friend?

You were silent.

“We act like this all the time. Couple-ey I mean. I don’t know. Forget I said something.” He tried to push you off his lap.

“Farrokh. I’m not going to just get up and cause a problem between us. We can’t have any tension in our friendship, Fred. We live in one room together.” You laughed. “Well, I guess I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of us together. But I just don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, do you?”

“Well, I have feelings for you, but-”

“Not like that.” You said in unison.

“Exactly. That’s how I feel too.” You smiled.

“Then we’ll just wait, Y/N. We’ll just be friends like we’ve always been.” He joked.

“Wait for what?”

“Well,” he tentatively started. “I know all four of you; you, Roger, Brian, and John, fairly well. If what I think is going to happen happens, then you’ll… y‘know. You’ll need me.”

“Need you for what?”

“Oh hush, Darling.” He spat out. “If you haven’t realized it now, you’re not going to until it happens. Could happen next week, could happen in a year.”

“Can you tell me now?”

“No. Go get ready for your day with John. It’s 11:30 and you’re still in your pajamas for crying out loud!” He said, brushing you off laughing.

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

John arrived promptly at one, just as you were finishing your makeup. You opted for a white , long sleeve shirt, layering it with your light blue pinafore dress, but you still hadn’t put on your shoes.

“Looking for your ruby slippers?” John said in the doorway, hands full of a bouquet for roses.

“Ha-ha. Very funny Deaky.” You smiled as you took the flowers, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“These are gorgeous, you really didn’t have to get me flowers.” You smiled.

His face filled with a blush as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Well I know how much you like them, so I had to get you some.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you, but you strategically dodged it as you sat to put on your shoes.

“Do you have plans for us today?” He asked.

“Nope. Just wanted to be with you.” You smiled.

“Then I was thinking we could go for a picnic, I packed a basket in my car. We always liked to go for picnics back home.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You said, grabbing your coat to walk out. “Bye Freddie!”

“Bye, Love.”

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

The car ride with John felt completely normal, like the two of you had never stopped talking. You sang along to the songs in the car, heard things about his family, really just enjoying the time you had lost over the past year with your best friend. As he pulled into a parking spot at the park, he looked at you smiling.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He smiled.

“For what?”

“For doing something with me today. You have no idea how much I’ve needed this. How much I need you.” He blushed. “Oh, and I didn’t mean that sexually.” He laughed awkwardly. “I just meant that I’ve missed spending time with you.”

“I know, Deaky. I’ve missed you too.” You smiled back.

The two of you got out of the car, John taking the blanket as you hooked the basket on your arm, casually laughing and joking as you followed the paved path to get to the pond at the center of the park.

“Lovely,” John laughed. “You look just like Dorothy.”

“Well, then you know what we have to do.” You smiled, hooking your arm with his, much like you and Freddie had the first night you met. The Wizard of Oz was yours and John's favourite movie growing up, the two of you constantly pretending you were Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion, and always choosing to watch it on movie nights.

The two of you started to skip down the pathway as you sang the title song, once again pretending you were skipping your way to Oz. You quickly reached an open clearing of grass to the side of the pond, turning there with your arms still hooked together as John dropped the blanket on the ground, scooping you in his arms and spinning you around as you ended the song, leaving the two of you laughing as he promptly sat on the ground, your head in his lap.

He smiled down at you, fanning your hair out on his lap as he said, “Just like old times.”

Not long after, the blanket was laid out and the food divided between the two of you as you comfortably ate your lunch in silence.

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

After you left that morning with the car, Roger knew he didn’t have many options of what to do that day, so he decided to take the path through the woods behind his apartment building to the park. As he emerged from the woods, he started to walk around the pond, stopped in his tracks by the musical laughter across the pond from where he stood.

And then he saw it.

Saw you.

Being spun around by John, your head in his lap as the two of you enjoyed an afternoon together. He finally understood why John had erupted two times now at the mention of you with someone else; it made his blood boil. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being with you.

Love certainly did crazy things to people.

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

After you John finished eating your sandwiches and catching up, John looked at you with an immense amount of sincerity in his eyes.

“Lovely?”

“Hm?”

“Are we going to talk about last night?”

You sighed, knowing exactly what he was getting at. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

“So, like. You kissed me, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Pause.

“You kissed me back.” You said.

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d been waiting for that to happen for quite some time now, Lovely.” He admitted. “So are we, you know, together?”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to beak his heart again.

“I can’t right now, John. I want to, but I- you know,”

He rolled his eyes, “I know. You’re in love with Roger and once again I’m second best.”

“No, John, it’s not like that.”

“Then what kind of bullshit excuse do you have this time, Y/N?”

You were taken back by his harshness. It appalled you how forceful he became when the two of you discussed your love life.

“I’m going abroad, John.” It was silent. “But I don’t want to lose you again. Or Roger, or Brian, or Freddie. I’ll call every day; I have a lot to make up for considering how awful of a friend I was, but I’ve got to make it up to you. I promise I will.”

He seemed to process the information. “Where are you going, Lovely?”

“Spain. An area on the coast called Valencia. It’s a beautiful place filled with opportunities. I’ll leave there a part of a symphony. It was too good to pass up, you know?”

“So that’s why you don’t want a boyfriend right now?”

You nodded. “I think it’d just be too hard, you know, being in another country and all?”

He nodded a sad smile. “So it had nothing to do with me?”

“No, Deaky. Nothing to do with you at all.” You giggled.

“Oh.” He trailed off for a moment, looking around as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry I got mad I just- I, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay”

“So, even though you’re going away, can I still get my best friend back?”

“Of course.” You smiled. The two of you laughed and caught up as you ate your lunch, purely just happy to be getting your friendship back. However, in the back of your mind you couldn’t help but think about how he reacted when you discussed your love life of it didn’t involve him. Would he ever be okay with you daring anyone else?

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

You walked into your dorm smiling, completely content as to how your day with John went, to find Freddie doing some homework at his desk.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Good,” You cooed, drawing out the “o’s” in “cooed”.

“How was John?”

“Good,”

“Brian called,” he started. “You’ve got to bring the car back.”

“Mhm,” You said, only half listening to him as you started to organize.

“Have you decided, Y/N?”

“Decided who you like, Roger or John, or if you aren’t going to date one of them at all.”

“No, I will. You know me Fred. I’m not good at decisions. Just gotta make sure I make the right one, you know?”

“Y/N,” Freddie scolded, the harshness in his voice catching your attention. “Did you hear me? I said Brian called. You have to bring the car back. Roger wants his car back.”

“Okay? What’s up with you! I just walked in the door, I’ll bring back the car after I’ve gotten settled for a bit, alright?!”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath. “Alright,” he sighed, clearly annoyed, “I wasn’t going to tell you because it isn’t my place to tell you, and I don’t even know if he wants you to know, but Roger saw you and John in the park today. It broke him. He wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone, that’s when Brian called me.”

“What?!” you exclaimed. “No! He wasn’t supposed to see that!”

“Well, he did, Y/N. Were you even going to decide to date him anyways, or just fuck around with him like you have been?”

“Freddie-”

“Be honest.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath of air to gather your feelings. “I don’t know. I care for Roger, just as I care for John, but there’s everything with Spain and I consciously can’t make a decision like that right now, Fred.”

“Okay, then let’s pretend there’s no Spain. Who would you choose?”

“Roger,” You quietly admitted.

“Then fix this bloody mess you’ve made, and just enjoy your time left in London.”

“You’re no good for me. That’s what I want to do, but you know I can’t, Fred.”

“No, you know you can, but your scared.” He corrected.

“I just, I know John won’t be happy.” You admitted.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Freddie sighed. “For once in your life, would you please just fucking let yourself be happy!”

You winced at his words. “Freddie,” you said, voice trembling, “I can’t when I know it’ll just hurt other people.”

He let out a groan of frustration. “Y/N! You don’t think I’m a little hurt that you’re going to Spain?! You don’t think Roger’s hurt right now because he thinks you’re using him? You don’t think Brian’s hurt because he doesn’t even think you consider him as an option? It happens, Y/N. People get hurt, and sometimes it’s because of you, but you have to learn to be strong enough to trust that they’ll deal with it themselves. Worry about yourself, Y/N. Make yourself happy and everything else will fall into place.”

You silently pulled him in for a tight embrace, signaling you understood, and in all honesty you really did.

It was time to clear this all up, starting with the one who would take the news the worst.

John.

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

“You can do this,” Freddie encouraged, squeezing your hand as you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

Breathe in.

Breathe out. “Hi Deaky.”

“Oh, hello Lovely. What’s up?”

“I’ve got to talk to you about something.”

“Okay?”

“You know how earlier I said I couldn’t handle a relationship right now with Spain and all?”

“Mhm?”

“I, um. I think I changed my mind?”

“Really?”

His optimism killed you.

“Yeah, and if things were different, maybe we could try things, but you know,”

“So you’re calling me to tell me you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that John, I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“Unbelievable. It’s Roger, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t say that, I just-”

“Then who is it now, Y/N?”

You paused. “You know John, I had a hard time deciding who I was going to choose, because yes, I genuinely have feelings for you, but this is exactly why I’ve chosen someone else. Every time there’s mention of me with another guy, you close up, you become rude, assertive, and basically start attacking me. Your jealousy is appalling, John, and with the stress of everything else I just didn’t think I could handle that in a relationship right now.”

It was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t realize.”

“I know.”

“If you could just give me another chance-“

“I wish I could. But John, I don’t have too much longer before I leave, and I just want to enjoy them. You were right, earlier. I’m in love with Roger. And I love you too, but I’m in love with him, and I’m sorry, but there’s just nothing I can do to change that right now. I wish I could.”

You didn’t actually wish you could; you were just saying that to console him.

“I understand, Lovely.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t a no forever for us, John. You never know what’ll happen when I come back, but we’ve just reconnected again, I think we have some rebuilding of our friendship to do before we could have a relationship. We’ve lost the trust, you know? And it’s creating a lot of hurt feelings. You and I both know that isn’t healthy for a relationship.”

“I know. So, why are you calling.”

“I dunno,” you sighed. “I guess I just wanted to be honest with you with how I was feeling. Wanted to be honest with Roger, too, but I couldn’t do that without telling you first.”

“Well, thanks I guess.” He awkwardly laughed.

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure, bye Y/N.”

You hung up the phone, looking at Freddie for approval.

“Good job,” he nodded. “So what now?”

“I’m gonna go get my boyfriend back.”

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

You parked the car at Roger and Brian’s shared apartment, shocked to the door opening in your face before you could even knock.

“Oh, hi Bri,” you laughed. “Rog home?”

“Yeah.” He said monotone, his body in the doorframe blocking you from entering.

“Could I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“W-why?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Y/N.” He laughed in disbelief.

“Brian, it wasn’t what it looked like, I just want to clear things up with Rog.”

“You sure about that? Because this morning you asked me to not tell John you were here. You trying to date both of my mates at the same time?”

“Seriously? I can’t believe you. I’d never, Brian. Like I said, it wasn’t what it looked like with John. I love Roger, that’s why I’m here, to make things right.”

“I think it’s too late, Y/N. I’m sorry. He stormed in earlier saying he was done taking your shit when all he had done was shone you love, and honestly, I can’t blame him. You know how I feel for you, so this is hard for me right now, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Roger’s my best mate, and he’s always going to come before any girl. I’m sorry, Love.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you wrapped yourself in your own arms for some form of consolidation.

“If what you’re saying is true, Love, just give him time. Roger’s, a hot head; he’s very impulsive. Give him a little time to mull it all over, show some effort. He’ll come around.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, unable to say more through your tears as you turned away to start your walk home.

In ending things with John? I’ve lost Roger?

What have I done?

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

Three Weeks Later:

You’d been calling Brian and Roger’s every day, sometimes twice a day, your effort going seemingly unnoticed. November had just started, and you’re really feeling absolutely defeated. You’d gone to a couple of rehearsals with Freddie, but Roger had just ignored you. Pretended as if you didn’t even exist. You knew you deserved it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You and John grew a bit closer, your friendship mending as you frequently went for drinks or walks together, which was exactly where you wanted it to be. You explained everything that had happened with Roger, and he could see in your eyes how much it upset you, so decided it’d be in his best interest not to press the matter, instead just working on rekindling his relationship with you.

As you sat in your dorm with Freddie on a cold November night, tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you tapped your pencil, looking out the window in intense concentration, trying (and failing) to think of anything other than Roger.

“You’re doing it again, Darling.”

“I’m gonna call again.”

“You just called ten minutes ago, Y/N.”

“I know, but I just feel like I could maybe get through this time. Brian didn’t pick up last time.”

“You say that every time.”

“I know.” You said staring at him, both of you knowing fully well what was coming next.

“Alright, get on with it then.” He said rolling his eyes and stealing back to the novel in his hands.

You approached the phone in the hallway with a deep breath, hurriedly typing in the numbers you memorized weeks ago.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Just as you were about to hang up, someone picked up the phone.

“Hell-”

“Roger?”

“Nope, Love. It’s Brian.”

“Oh. Hi Bri.”

“Gosh, don’t sound so disappointed to hear me, Y/N.” He laughed. As loyal as he was to Roger, Brian didn’t want to admit that he’d become closer with you over the phone in the last month or so, always picking it up in Rogers absence. There was an unspoken camaraderie between the two of you now; Brian secretly trying to help you weave your way back into Roger’s heart.

One time, about two weeks ago, you mistakenly ran into Brian at a bar, the two of you sitting and taking for a while, your friendship really budding from there. As you stared into his hazel eyes that night, he assured you that you’d never left Roger’s mind for a second, and that you completely owned his heart, he was just letting his own pride get in the way, which given the situation was completely understandable. You couldn’t help but think that there could possibly be something there with Brian in the future, but if you even dared pursue it now with all the drama surrounding Roger, you were pretty sure both Freddie and Roger would rip your head off. And besides, you had chosen Roger. That was your main focus.

“You there, Y/N?” He laughed.

“Oh yeah, yeah, just thinking. You know, Bri, even though this isn’t the way I wanted to get closer, I’m glad that our daily phone calls have created a friendship between the two of us. It’s nice.”

You could feel his smile through the phone. “Oh me too, Sweetheart. But I actually have an insight. Rog was talking about you earlier, saying something along the lines of “his mind won’t let him stop talking to you, so one of these days he was going to have to get the courage to talk to you again,” but I don’t think you should wait anymore. It’s been long enough. So, uh, yeah, what I’m saying, Love, is that you should really talk to Roger tonight. I’m going out with some old friends from high school. Rog is just in his room moping per usual. I was thinking I could leave my key under the doormat for you, and you could just come in and see how it goes from there?”

“You don’t think he’ll be mad?”

“Eh, he might be at first. But he’ll get over it. I know he’s been dying to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “Alright then, what time are you leaving?”

“In ‘bout an hour. I’d say get here in an hour and a half so we can make sure he doesn’t leave. Don’t think he will though, but again, just to make sure.”

“Thanks Bri, it really means a lot.”

“Of course, anything to help.” He smiled.

“Wish me luck.”

You rushed back to your room, putting on the outfit, the fur coat, and necklace Roger have you, curling the bottoms of your hair and doing your makeup. As you scrambled around the room to find shoes, since you still had the fifteen minute walk to their apartment, Freddie screamed, “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing?!?”

“I’m going to get Roger back!” You exclaimed.

“Oh lord, help us.”

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

On your walk over you gathered your thoughts.

What do I say?

How do I say it?

Ultimately, you decided to just be authentic, convey what you truly mean and feel. Then it’ll all work itself out. You shakily approached the door, fumbling under the doormat as you grasped Brian’s key, quietly sticking it into the doorknob.

Here goes nothing.

You walked into the dimly lit apartment, setting your bag and shoes on the shoe rack as you quietly made your way to Roger’s room, the door almost completely shut. You peeled inside to find him turned away from you, and it appeared that he was asleep in his bed, the only light being provided from the moon in the window across from his face. You quietly pushed the door open, unsure of how to approach the situation.

Do I check if he’s awake?

Just start talking?

“Y/N,” an internal voice told you. “Just convey your thoughts and emotions.”

And like a light bulb if hit you, and so you started singing.

“Are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight

Are you sorry we drifted apart

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I held you and called you sweetheart?”

You saw him stir; he’d been awake the whole time. He knew it was you. With your heart racing you walked to the other side of the bed to see his face as you continued your song.

“Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again

Tell me dear are you lonesome tonight?”

You crouched down to the side of the bed as you finished, Roger sitting up and taking your hand in his. A couple of tears ran down your cheeks, partially from nerves, also from the expression of what you just had conveyed to him.

How you conveyed it to him.

In a way you never had before.

It almost felt natural, but it scared you. You were just proud that you shared that vulnerability with him.

“I told you you could sing.” He softly said, very little tone to his voice.

“That’s really the first thing you say to me, after all these weeks?” you laughed, tears still flowing down your face.

“I didn’t know what to say, Y/N.” He admitted. “I’m sorry. Can -can I hug you? Don’t wanna make it awkward or anything, but you’re crying and all, and that was so beautiful-” he rambled from his nerves.

“You can always hug me, Roger.” You smiled, and he pulled you in for a warm embrace. You smelled his musky, almost vanilla like smell, it engulfed him just as it did you as soon as you were wrapped in his arms.

It smelled like home.

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

A/N- FINALLY ITS OUT!!!! Alright guys, so the next discussion is SUPER IMPORTANT, so next chapter is gonna probably be released soon and be like maybe a 6b, just cuz it’s short, but is necessary to the plot. I hope you liked this!!! Lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist. Thank you for being patient. ♥️-C

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @bismillahnah , @deakysmisfire , @queer-heart-attack , @everything-you-dont-wanna-be , @mercurycrowley , @ikbenplant , @xcdelilahxc , @chekovs-davy-jones-wig , @laedymoon , @manicpixydreamgirl , @jaylikesguavass , @brianskindofcheese , @anincurablefangirl , @jennyggggrrr , @delightfullynlove , @johndeaconshands , @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels ,

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niallsfoolsgold · 6 years ago

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Thin Walls and Fireworks

it’s been months since i last posted any work and i’m really sorry for that, i just haven’t been feeling my writing. this story is probably filled with typos because i haven’t edited it yet, and i have really mixed feeling about the whole thing (mainly the ending). thanks for reading at your own risk!

(not my gif!)

There are three things you should know about Emery before you really start reading this: 1. She wakes up at exactly 7:13 am every morning (she has literally timed how long it takes her to get ready and get to uni so that she can get a maximum amount of sleep every night while still having five extra minutes in case a traffic jam happens). 2. She listens to her spotify playlist specifically made for her morning showers everyday and she sings along because it helps her wake herself up faster. 3. The walls in her apartment are extremely thin. She quickly found the third thing out when she consistently heard music—different guitars and pianos mainly—blasting throughout her home at 1 a.m. within the first month she lived there. She tossed and turned on the frigid December night, and prayed to whatever god there was that the music would quiet down. Yeah... her prayers went unanswered.

She was annoyed to say the least. Her boss had called about an hour ago and said that she would have to work the next day after she had asked for one day off after working every day for the past three weeks. So she had pulled her thick grey comforter over her shoulders to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose, and took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure that she didn’t look too hideous. After that, she trudged her way out her door and down the carpeted hall, hoping that whoever lived next door wasn’t a complete asshole—her old neighbors in her previous apartment were which was one of the contending reasons for her moving elsewhere. She raised her hand to knock on the door, and mentally stopped herself, taking a deep breath and wondering what the fuck she was going to say. She hadn’t mentally prepared enough to meet someone new, especially not if they were rude, but she knocked on the door anyways; softly, but hard enough that it would be heard even through the music. When the door opened up, it was not what she expected, not at fucking all. Standing there was a tall, decently-muscular-well-built, gorgeous, greek god of a looking guy. He looked like the type of person she would allow to stab her twenty times if he asked nicely; hell, she would let him stab her even if he was rude. And if she wasn’t already ashamed of how messy she looked before she had seen this guy—it didn’t help that she remembered her landlord mentioning that he was famous—she really was now. “Can I help you with something?” She’s pretty sure he has the most angelic speaking voice she’s ever heard. He literally seems like he could possibly be a walking angel, coming second in the “perfection” genre only to Jesus Christ himself (she only thinks that because she’s almost certain that Jesus must’ve been decently perfect... being the son of God and all). She feels like she’s almost lost her voice, like she’s all choked up and unable to breathe just at the sight of this guy. Her eyebrows are raised only in the slightest before her lips begin moving and words are created. “Um—yes actually,” she speaks softly, “I really don’t mean to be rude or come off as pushy in any rude way, b—“ She’s cut off before she can even finish, but she doesn’t even care because she’s cut off by a breath of laughter from him before he looks back up at her. “It’s the loud music mixed with the thin walls, yeah? I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been gone since you moved in I guess so I’m not used to having a neighbor,” he spoke. She nods her head lightly at him. “That’s exactly it, actually. I’m sorry for asking,” she begins, “it’s just that I’ve got a early shift in the morning and rest is needed, ya know?” “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he offers another polite smile, and fuck, she nearly melts like a popsicle on the Fourth of July. She mutters “goodnight” to him and he does the same back as she’s turning to speed walk back to her apartment down the hall. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. *** Emery had a long day so far. That’s really all she wanted to say about it; it had just been a really fucking long day. It started out by thinking she overslept, and therefore freaking out about being late for work, only to find out that her boss had forgotten to tell her that her shift had changed to a night shift and she didn’t have to be in until five this evening. That threw her incredibly off track for the days activities. She went from there to get some last minute things from the store that she forgot when she had done her grocery shopping, but she realized in the checkout isle that she had left her wallet at her place and all she had was about $7 in her pocket. She decided to use that money to buy some coffee to wake her up, but then some asshole bumped into her in the shop and spilled her coffee all over her white shirt, and then proceeded to yell at her like it was her fault. And fuck, by the end of all this happening, it was only ten in the morning. So yes, she was absolutely batshit pissed at how fucking terribly her day had been going. She had finally managed to make it back to her apartment and wanted nothing more than a hot shower to relax her, and then maybe take a nap before going to work later on. She slings her jacket onto the dining table and kicked her shoes off by the front door. She really didn’t even bother to get clothing to change into in the bathroom (living alone really had its perks; she could walk around naked if she pleased, just not on the balcony, and not with the curtains opened). Stripping herself from her clothes and making sure the water was the right temperature beforehand, she hopped into the shower with her bad day playlist that’s titled “for your stressed-out-bitchy days”. She hummed along softly, singing the words softly as she got farther into the song. She was really confused when she started hearing singing from the other side of the wall; singing the exact words at the same time she was. Shawn—her devilishly handsome neighbor—was someone that she had only talked to a few times since she had asked him to turn his music down a couple of weeks earlier. He was nice, literally almost always. She had never seen him in a bad mood, and he often talked to her if they happened to get into the elevator at the same time, or if they passed each other in the hallway. He asked simple questions about her, like how old she was, how long she had lived here, stuff like that. In some cases it could have been weird, but he seemed nice enough and simply a friendly person. There was no doubt in her mind that her greek god of a neighbor could actually hear her, but it made her giggle just a bit when he had even joined to sing along (although it wasn’t that surprising since she had recently learned from her landlord that the reason he was famous was for singing). It was dumb that something as stupid as her next door neighbor singing along to her music—who we can’t forget is absolutely gorgeous—made her day seem a little bit better than it was before. She dries the wet drips of water off of her body with the white, fluffy, hotel-like towels that she loves more than her own life. Everything was quiet when the music was off. No more singing through the thin walls with Shawn, just quiet. In all honesty, she was kind of happy for the quiet, even though his voice was still kind of angelic. It had been such a long ass day, she was just ready to lie down before going to work. So after drying her body off and changing into her most comfortable items of clothing—her favorite pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that was much too large for her—she crawled into her bed, turned on her most relaxing music, and drifted off to sleep. *** Words are unable to describe how much she dreaded to go to work later on that evening after she woke up. It was still a bit rushed getting ready for work, but thank fuck that the owner of the bar was chill and her work attire consisted of jeans and a black shirt (of any kind, just no graphics), and having her hair up. After changing and slipping on her favorite coat, she put her hair up, put on one of the best faces of makeup she probably ever had in a short amount of time—honestly though, her eyeliner is on fucking point—and left with her keys and purse in hand. The backdoor to the bar squeaked a little bit when Y/N opened it up, setting her things in her designated shelf that the manager had bought so that the employees things wouldn’t be unorganized and disheveled everywhere. Her name tag was on the same shelf and she pinned it onto her shirt after taking her coat off. “Hey darlin’,” one of the workers, Tess, spoke to her, Tess’ sweet southern accent dripping from her lips. Tess was a twenty-something year old girl that had moved from Georgia in order to try be closer with her dad (her parents had divorced when she was young, and she had always described her mother as “a backstabbing, no good, pussy-ass-bitch, who deserves to choke on her boy toy’s dick”... she really has a way with words, okay?-). Tess had been there for Y/N since they had started working together, the both of them becoming close friends quickly due to not knowing another soul within a hundred miles. They weren’t necessarily sisters, more like each other’s favorite cousins at family reunions; they gossiped about other people, shared problems, and talked about the cutest guys and girls (because honestly fuck people who say you can’t love who you want to) that came in and spilled all the tea about each interaction with said guys. (Tess actually has a girlfriend named Margot, but honestly the two in the relationship knew that Tess was a natural flirt and couldn’t stop herself even if she tried, despite the both of them being very in love with one another.) “Hey love,” she responded, giving a small grin to the girl that she adored. Tess gave a small wink in return, making Emery’s grin grow wider. The bar wasn’t very busy right now, but that was mainly because it was only five o’clock and most people were just now getting off work while Emery was just getting started. It was weird to have a working schedule like that, and it sucked ass when it came to studying during the school year. But once again, her manager, Mark, was pretty chill—besides the times when it was obvious that the place was going to be busy, just like on Friday nights like this one—and allowed her to get off in time or come in late, just so that she could get some of her school work done. The first two hours of her seven hour shift were brought as hell. People shuffled in and out, maybe buying a drink or two, and then leaving immediately after paying. It annoyed her that people did that sometimes. If people were only going to buy one drink, then why not just buy a bottle of whatever they wanted from the store? Then they would be able to have one drink every night for a long time. She was certainly surprised when Shawn walked in the bar, a couple of guys following him in and she assumed they were probably his friends. They were all laughing about something that must have been said outside and cracking more jokes to go along with it. She did her best to ignore all of it—more specifically just all of them in general because she refused to get internally flustered with Shawn like she had when they first met—and went back to combining some of the partly used alcohol bottles with others. It was boring but it would also maybe get her out of socializing with someone that made her really fucking nervous for no reason. She almost did it too, almost got away with pretending to be distracted until— “Hey, neighbor.” She looked up from the two bottle in hand and nearly choked on thin air. There he was, Shawn, looking fine as hell and all he was doing was standing there. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he commented again. She placed she bottles on the bar and leaned against it, fake confidence taking over he features. “If you come here often then I’m not sure how. But then again, I’ve worked here for seven months this and this is the first time I can remember seeing you around,” she replies. Her cold hands were so close to shaking but she did her best to still them. “Hmm,” he hummed, “Well this is the first time I’ve been home for more than a couple days in about seven months, and I didn’t know about this place up until one of my friends,” he paused, turning around and pointing to one of the guys in the group that walked in with him, “told us all about it last month.” She raised her eyes at his comment, slowly nodding her head once, letting him know that he must’ve been correct. He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at her for a minute and now she’s really fucking nervous with her fake confidence fading away into a imaginary black hole. “Oka—Uh, well do you guys want anything to drink, or are you just really wanting some conversation?” she’s freaking the hell out inside. She wonders how she got those eighteen words out of her mouth. He nods, looking back at his group and does a quick count of how many people were in it before turning back. “Just 6 beers is all.” When she takes the tray of beers to the table he and his friends are sitting at, she can her them laughing again, and the doubt makes her wonder if they’re laughing at her or at something else, but she hopes it’s the latter. She gives a quick smile as she places the dark glass bottles in the table before turning around and going back to behind the bar. *** The night didn’t seem to last long enough. Contrary to what she had assumed, the shift she worked tonight wasn’t that bad. It was filled, but not overcrowded—despite it being New Year’s eve, but then again, most people were at clubs instead of actual bars—which made her job eighty-five percent easier than usual. Plus, most of the people didn’t care how long they waited; they were just waiting for the year of suffering to be over with. Shawn and his friends ended up moving to the actual bar counter and made conversation with her while she made drinks. They had all been curious to know what it was like living next to Shawn, to which she responded with “fine, besides him blasting music late at night when I have to work the next morning.” He had playfully rolled his eyes at that, to which she winked at him when no one else was paying attention (and fuck when that happened she was so confused because where the hell did that little bit of confidence come from?). That’s what the entire night consisted of; laughter, questions, and subtle flirting between Shawn and Emery. A pang if disappointment came inside her when they announced they were leaving after only about an hour and half of staying, but it felt a little better when they had promised to come back, and even better when Shawn winked at her on his way out the front door. She did her best to clean up as fast as fucking possible in order to get back to her apartment, promising Tess that she would do everything in her power to stay awake long enough tonight to call her and tell her why and how she knew the “super hot famous dude that looks like he could be a fuck boy but is most hopefully not” (a.k.a. Shawn). She knew she drove fast on the way back; and it wasn’t to see Shawn even though she almost hoped that he would blast his music loudly again so that she could go over and just see his face again, but he didn’t. He was pretty quiet, actually, and she almost thought there was a possibility that he wasn’t even home until she heard faint humming from the other side of the wall. She smiled, rolling her eyes at the fact that he seemed to love music so much that he couldn’t go without listening to some for of it (even if it was himself) for more than an hour. But the humming didn’t seem to stop, and then music was turned on, and then the music was turned up just enough to keep her awake. Her feet patted across the tiled floor and into her her slides, the top half of her body engulfed in a hoodie that was much too large for her, her hair falling loosely and messily, and her face clean and free of makeup. She knocked on his own door, and it swung open almost instantly. He was still dressed in the same clothing from earlier, looked almost the exact same, but his eyes were a little bit more soft and sleepy (basically just fucking adorable, but what’s new?). All he had to do to know what she needed was look at the slightly raised eyebrow; it was the same look she wore just a couple of nights ago. Emery opens her mouth but Shawn beats her to it, “Turn the music down?” There’s a small smirk on his face. She slowly blinks with a nod. “You got it,” he says. She turns around to walk back to her place with her hands in the pockets of her black Adidas sweatpants when he catches her attention again with his voice. “Hey, um,” he pauses and she turns to face him again, “fuck, this may sound really weird and kinda creepy ‘cause we’ve only talked like, I don’t know maybe five time, but do you wanna come in?” She raises her eyebrows at him with the tiniest grin at how nervous he seems to be with his rambling. If this is how she is, then she really understands why he seems to be smiling at her so much, but she doubts she’s actually this cute while doing it. “It’s just that it’s New Year’s Eve, and I have no idea if you’re alone, maybe you’ve already got people or a person at your place, but I know that it sucks to be alone because you see everyone together and shit... but if you are alone, you’re welcome to come over. Only if you want to, obviously,” he rambling again and she doesn’t even bother to hide the little grin that’s growing on her face. “Yeah,” he looks at her with his eyebrows raised just a little bit. “I’d love to come over. Let me grab my phone and I’ll be right back?” He nods and she practically speed walks back to her place, grabbing her phone from her room and going back out the door, but not before looking in her little mirror to make sure she looked at least somewhat decent. Fuck, she was freaking out. *** Emery decided that Shawn is possible her favorite person now (and for sure her favorite celebrity, even though she knows he’s so much more than that). It was a little half past eleven, and both Emery and Shawn were half drunk/a little tipsy on an unknown type of champagne that Emery insisted was amazing—and obviously Shawn trusts her word on alcohol because she’s a fucking bartender. It’d be weird if she didn’t know—and Shawn just happened to have a bottle of it. They were giggling at the stupidest things, sitting next to but facing each other on Shawn’s sectional, and waiting for the ball drop in New York. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that your brother was choking on a lego, and you didn’t do anything about it?” “I was five, Shawn! I didn’t know what to fucking do!” Emery exclaims back. “Plus, he was fifteen years old, he knew better than that anyways.” He shakes his head at her jokingly and she looks up at him. “What about you?” she takes a sip of the sparkling drink from her glass. “Do you have any siblings?” She can see his eyes light up slightly when she asks him this. “Yeah, a little sister. Her name’s Aaliyah, she’s five years younger than me, and she’s fifty times more awesome than myself,” he chuckles. Emery smiles at how much he seems to care about her, even if he’s hardly talked about her. She’s about to open her mouth to say something when cheering from the tv that was mounted up on the wall erupted, taking the attention of both of them. It was the countdown. She started mouthing the numbers along with all the people in New York, shifting in her seat to get a better look while Shawn does the same, the ball slowly dropping until— “3... 2... 1...” and suddenly everyone went crazy. A smile take over her face and she looks over to Shawn, and it almost seems like he might have been looking at her already, but it’s hard to tell because it’s dark and she’s still a little drunk. She does know one thing though, he’s smiling back at her, and he’s a little drunk too. “Happy New Year,” she smiles, her voice is quiet and soft and sweet. And once again, even though she a little intoxicated off of champagne of all things, she thinks she might melt when he smiles drunkenly right back at her. “Happy New Year.” She wants to kiss him just a little bit. She’s not really sure if that’s because she drunk, because he pretty, or maybe because she’s had a little crush on him for a while, even though she doesn’t know everything about like some girls do. But she knows that she wants to know him like that. She wants to know his favorite color, and how much cream and sugar he puts in his coffee (or if he does at all). She want to know why he plays music so fucking loud, and if he likes sunrises or sunsets more. Fuck she just want to know it all, because this crush she’s got is so fucking big, and she want to have it even after she knows these things. But she doesn’t kiss him, because she remembers that she was supposed to call Tess when she got home, and that was about an hour and a half ago. So she pushes her self up from the couch, and she stumbles just a bit but catches herself. “I should probably go,” she says. “I was supposed to call Tess, so she could be freakin out.” Shawn just nods, and she wants to say he looks disappointed, but like it was said earlier, she’s a little drunk and it’s really dark. He stands up too, walking her to the door and even going as far as “walking her home” even though her apartment was only about fifteen to twenty feet down the hall. They stood outside of her door, his hands in his pockets while she fiddled around with her keys (her door had an automatic lock on it; safety first obviously). She finally managed to get the door unlocked, opening it slightly, then turning slightly to wish him goodnight, and that’s when they both realize how close they actually are to each other. Her breath gets caught in her lungs just a little, and she can see that his breathing has increased. They’re both nervous, at least nervous enough, and seems like years pass with how close they’re standing to each other while the both stare at each other, eyes only flicking to each other’s lips when the other isn’t paying attention. He’s the one that leans down, and she knows that she can’t be imagining it, because when his lips meet hers it’s like the New Years fireworks have started all over again, and she’s freaking out. It’s soft, and slow, and she feels like she’s dying inside, but only in the best way possible. But then he pulls away, and she’s a little disappointed, but at the same time she can’t be. She offers another small smile, and he gives one back, and their both muttering “goodnight” to each other at the same time while blushing profusely. Next thing she knows, she’s shutting her door door with a heavy sigh, but a huge smile on her face. And all of this is because Emery has a huge fucking crush on her greek god of a neighbor that blasts music through the thin walls.

#my writing #sm #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes fanfiction

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