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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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my baby’s a public menace {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Four Iconic Moments The Press Had A Fucking Field Day With

A/N: 2670 words. So this time we’ve got Modern Times with 70s!Roger pulled forwards in time. Don’t think too hard about how it works it just does.

1. It Becomes Official

The moment they call Ben’s name at the BAFTAs, to receive the award for Lead Actor in a Television Series, you feel like the whole world is coming to a stand still, and Ben’s rising, disbelief written all over his face.

“That’s me.” He says, quietly, as the applause has already begun, and then Roger’s on his feet, beaming, and he wraps his arms around Ben, pashing him directly in front of the camera that was catching every moment, and Ben kisses him back easily, before turning to you, eyes bright, and he pulls you to your feet, giving you a kiss as well.

“Congratulations, babe.” You murmur, and he’s so fucking ecstatic when he pulls back, and heads into the aisle, heading towards the stage. You slide into his seat with ease, lacing your fingers with Roger’s where he’s bouncing with energy and beaming with pride.

“He fuckin’ won.” Roger laughs with a little disbelief, and you turn to each other, both absolutely radiating with pride and adoration.

“Our boy did it.” You giggle, and Roger’s gaze dips to your lips for a moment before he looks back up, a new spark in his eyes that you knew all too well.

“I can’t wait ‘til we all get home.” He dropped his voice low, and you could feel yourself growing a little flustered at the suggestion.

“Keep it in your pants, dear,” you nudged him, and he barked out a laugh, giving you a wink before he turned to where Ben was finally walking across the stage. You, however, felt your heart stop in your chest, “he kissed us on camera.”

“Well, I kissed him,” Roger mused, his thumb rubbing against the side of your hand, “couldn’t help myself.” He admitted, still beaming as Ben was handed his award, expression bright and a little disbelieving as he leaned into the microphone.

“I think I just won a BAFTA and outed myself in the same minute, so that’s going to be hard to beat next year.” Is the opening line of his speech, and the audience titters with polite laughter, while you and Roger are hiding your snorts. “I actually had to email the organisational committee to ask them to let me bring more than one plus one, I’m glad to see that it wasn’t in vain.” He laughs; he goes on to thank the crew of the show he worked on, the other cast members, his family, and he looks for you and Roger in the audience, pointing the award at you. “And for Rog and Y/N, of course; the weirdest and best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

“Do you think he knows how much we wanna suck his dick?” You lean over to Roger, whispering under your breath, amused smile on your lips at you look up at your boyfriend grinning on stage.

“Of course he does, look at that smile.” Roger responds with a low chuckle as Ben leaves stage, heading back towards you. When he gets back to his seat, you move back to your own seat, resting your head on his shoulder when he sits down.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” You tell him softly as they’re beginning the next segment on stage, and Ben reaches out with his free hand to rest it on your thigh, giving you a squeeze.

“I know, love.”

2. Roger Throws Half A Chicken At A Paparazzi

“Do you think we should go inside?” You ask, voice low as you catch sight of a man in a baseball cap and dark glasses covertly trying to take photos of you three. It was a nice evening, you, Roger, and Ben had been enjoying a meal outside at an upscale restaurant, the three of you draped on a two person outdoor lounge, your entrees having just been cleared up. Both you and Ben are on your phones, and Roger’s between the two of you, nose buried in the paper.

“Why?” Ben asks, not looking up from his phone, and you shift a little uncomfortably, giving the man trying to look like he’s not taking photos.

“Hey, dude, can you just leave us alone? We just wanna get dinner.” You call to the man, and he stands, a little flustered.

“So it’s true, you’re really dating both of them?” He calls back, stashing his phone in his pocket, pulling out a little recording device; the asshole came prepared.

“No, we’re just really good friends who make out at the BAFTAs.” Roger rolls his eyes, folding up the paper, and throwing the paper onto the table in front of him.

“No need to get snarky, mate, I just think it’s weird that somebody like her would get on so well with-” He’s cut off just as a kind and beleagured waitress puts down what looks like half a roast chicken surrounded by salad onto the table.

“Fuck off, alright?” Ben snaps at the man, clearly irritated, sitting up straighter, giving the waitress an apologetic smile as she leaves in a hurry.

“The hell do you mean ‘someone like her’?!” Roger growls, and you actually have to put a hand on his chest where he’s leaning forward, as if getting ready to throw himself at the reporter.

“I- do you wanna address the rumours then, Y/N about-” The man starts, but Roger cuts him off with a snarl.

“If this bastard brings up those fuckin’ gold digger accusations, I’m gonna start throwing things.” He warns, and not a moment later, the man brings up the very words Roger had told him not to. You’re just heaving a heavy sigh, used to being hounded by the gossip magazines, though you try not to pay them any mind.

“I could shout how much I love you from the rooftops and these assholes would still think this is some sort of weird, sugar daddy situation.” Ben turns to you, his voice low as he gives you a long suffering smile. You lean in across the empty space that Roger had just vacated to give him a kiss, before turning to where Roger was wielding his roast chicken like a grenade, lobbing it at the reporter, yelling about how he’s ‘sick and tired of hearing people talk shit about his girlfriend; she’s got more kindness and talent in one tit than the paparazzi has in his whole body’.

“We should probably get him before he does any real damage.” Ben muses, to which you agree. The two of you move to collect your rogue boyfriend as he continues to yell and squirm.

“Baby, baby please calm down; you’ve made a scene, you’ve thrown a chicken, you’ve mentioned my tits, we can have dinner at home.” You try to placate him, your arm tucked in his as Ben’s got an arm around his shoulders, the two of you guiding him from the restaurant.

“Just makes me so bloody mad.” Roger growls his hands on your hips where you’ve got your arms around his waist as Ben pays for your half finished meals. “It’s twenty eighteen, you’d think dickheads would learn to grow up.” He huffed.

“I know, baby.” You muse, bringing him in for a kiss to distract him, hoping to let his anger simmer down a little as you two stand in the parking lot.

“I just love you is all, people like that make me so pissed-” He whispers, more to himself than anything, but then you’re kissing him again, humming affirmations, your hands in his hair.

“I love you too, I love you too.” You murmur against his lips.

Later that night you’ll see Ben’s instagram story from just before he joins the two of you again. You and Roger, arms around each other, lit by a single streetlight, you’re leaning in to him, lips inches from his, and he’s smiling gently back at you; the whole image is surprisingly intimate, especially for Roger. It’s captioned ‘I’m allowed to take candids ‘cos they love me’.

3. Someone Gives Ben Tequila

Ben’s not usually the type to get drunk and reckless. Or well, he’s the type to get drunk on occasion, but not reckless, not like Roger, who can be incredibly reckless even while sober, nor like you, since you could go either way. Ben was meant to be the grounded one. Except sometimes he has tequila. It’s an afterparty for a movie he’d gotten a supporting role in, it’d been fun, but he was looking forward to being able to spend time with you and Roger again. Speaking of the two of you, you’d disappeared almost half an hour ago, Roger had gone to the bathroom and you’d gone to get more drinks.

When he finds you, you’re trapped in an uncomfortable conversation with one of the editors assistants’, a weedy kid who couldn’t seem to figure out that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Hi, baby!” You call out to Ben the moment you think he’ll be able to hear you over the music, and he makes a beeline for you, his heart singing when he sees your face light up.

“Hello, love, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He says, barely acknowledging the guy you’d been talking to, who’s own expression fell as Ben pressed a kiss to your lips. The two of you head off in search of Roger, who you find by the bathroom, talking with someone who’s clearly quite enamoured with him. From his easy stance and casual smile, you could tell he was at least enjoying the woman’s company. Neither you nor Ben were usually the jealous type, but after a few drinks, you couldn’t be blamed for just wanting to stake your claim.

“Hey, babe, who’s this?” Ben asks, slipping an arm around Roger’s shoulders as you stepped around to loop your arm through his on his other side. Roger, with a sly, knowing smile, looks between the two of you, before smiling brightly at the woman who’d been talking to him.

“Like I was saying, this is my boyfriend and girlfriend; you’ll have to excuse them, they get jealous easily.” He smirked, and the woman looked a little shocked, a little flustered, as she stuttered her way through an apology. “It’s no worry, I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a while,” and with that, he winked at you. Taking the hint, you moved, taking Ben’s hand and leading him away.

“He’s just being a social butterfly, you know how he is.” You mused gently, the two of you flopping onto a sofa. Ben hums thoughtfully, sitting beside you, your hand in his. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trailing kisses up your neck to your jaw.

“‘m not jealous.” He said, lips at the corner of yours, pressing another kiss there before he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, moving so you’re smiling over your shoulder at him, “it’s just nice to say you guys are mine.” And his voice is low, almost a growl, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell him, kissing him hard, letting his hands wander and pull you close to him.

“Mine?” He asks, and his hand is on your thigh, moving your legs so you’re sitting over him rather than next to him.

“Yours.” You agree, kissing him again, messy and passionate, you can taste the alcohol on his lips and his tongue but you don’t care when he’s leaning you back to lie on the sofa. “And Roger’s.” You add quietly, and there’s a gleam in Ben’s eyes where he’s looking down at you, his arm around you, one hand on your waist.

“You’re ours, love, there’s no doubt about it.” He assures, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“I can’t take you two anywhere!” Roger’s grinning when he finds the two of you, and Ben presses his laughter into your collar as you look up at Roger and make an insistent, grabby hand for him. “If you insist.” He chuckles, sinking to his knees to join you at your level, kissing you where you’re splayed out on the sofa, with Ben all but on top of you. “You know there’s a perfectly good bathroom not too far from here.”

Not ten minutes later, one of the other cast members sends to the cast group chat, in all capitals ‘BEN’S BANGING IN THE BATHROOM’ which was met with either ‘at least they’ve freed up the sofa’ or ‘lmao called it’. You’re not surprised, nor are you ashamed, when some gossip rag has your face on it (or more accurately, Ben’s face) the next morning, and a riveting account of what happened with no actual details, and a photo someone took on their phone of you and Ben on the sofa. It wasn’t the first time, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

4. Roger Gets Instagram

Roger takes surprisingly well to instagram, which is both hilarious and terrifying. He posts a lot of selfies; he takes to being an instagram fuckboi like a duck takes to water. At first it’s mostly blurry shots, of sunlight, sometimes it’s you and Ben out of focus, laughing, or he gets one of you two to take a photo of him, shirtless.

When he gets a waterproof phone, the first thing he does is take a photo of you and he kissing underwater at the beach, and then three separate, all individually hilarious videos of Ben trying and failing to do a majestic hair flip coming out of the water; in the last one, both boys get hit by a huge wave, and the video ends with you laughing, fishing the phone out of the surf.

The three of you go on holidays to somewhere sunny, and at the end of the week, he posts the highlights; you lying on your stomach beneath a palm tree on the beach, topless; a selfie of the three of you smiling at the camera against a backdrop of a starlit sky, golden in the light of a bonfire; Ben in a coconut bra, a little blurry with the movement of laughter, grinning at you just out of shot; you, in bed, making a truly terrible face where he’s just woken you up and the sun’s in your eyes. His favourite, however, is the one from him at the end of the holiday, shirtless and tanned, shot from the waist up, biting his lip as he’s turned to look off to the left, showing off how he’s covered in hickies.

The shots that get the most media attention are his more risque ones, like the shot on his story that you’d taken where you could see the bottom half of his face all the way down to his hips, with a sheet covering his modesty, but a lipstick kiss mark along his V-line and his tongue out. (There’s a followup photo on your instagram story, of your lipstick smeared, grin wide, and your hair messy, with the caption, ‘sometimes you just gotta be a messy bitch’, and people put two and two together, and conservatives lost it.)

The most infamous actual post of his is the shot of you and Ben together in bed, he’s leaning against the headboard, still mostly laying down, and you’re draped over him, chin resting on his chest where the two of you are grinning about something. The sheet covers most of your ass, and comes up to Ben’s hips, and you’re giving the camera some pretty glorious side boob, and the photo’s framed to show room for one more person beside you in the bed, a sliver of sunlight shining through the curtains, across Ben’s chest and your back, and it’s just captioned ‘what a sight’. He’d asked you both before posting it, and you’d both agreed; it didn’t violate any guidelines, but social media still had a field day with the sweet, clearly post-coital photo.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x reader x roger taylor #ben x reader x roger #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #queen #queen imagines #queen imagine #the angry lizard writes

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justanoutlawfic · 6 years ago

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You’ll Be In My Heart: Chapt. 2

Summary: Robin explains his proposition to Regina.

Also on AO3

It had been 5 years since Robin had seen Regina Mills. She had worn suits every day over the year long court battle and always looked so put together, despite having a toddler at home. He always commended her for that. She seemed so strong, until the verdict that was. He watched her break down into Daniel’s arms, looking more devastated than he had ever seen anyone.

Now, she looked a lot more relaxed. She was wearing a pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved shirt, her hair shorter. God, she was more beautiful than she had any right to be.

“I don’t understand,” Regina said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I tried for over a year to get him back. It’s impossible.”

“A lot has changed.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been taking care of Henry for the past 4 years.”

Regina tilted her head. “I don’t understand. Emma was the one that got custody after the case.”

“Emma died a year after the verdict.”

Regina’s eyes widened and she stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to come inside. He stepped into the house, looking around the comfortable yet meticulously decorated living room. On the mantle piece above the fire place were a few pictures, some of her and Henry, but most of just him. He had never seen baby pictures of his nephew. It was hard to think that he had once been a squishy little baby. In the pictures where he was held by his former adoptive mother, he was looking at her with all the love in the world.

“What happened?” Regina asked.

“It was a car accident, her and my mom were in Spain together.”

“Was Henry with them? Is he alright?”

Robin had to hold back a laugh. There was so much he wanted to tell Regina, but his lawyer had advised him against it. “No, Henry was with my sister in California at the time. Emma barely took care of him anyway.”

Hurt filled Regina’s eyes and he couldn’t blame her. “So, you have custody of him now?”

“That’s the problem. After the accident, my father was given guardianship, but he was barely around to take care of him. Mary Margaret was doing her best to help, but she was just starting college. So, I took over. Henry lives with me.”

“I’m still a bit confused where I come in.”

Robin sighed. Admitting his faults wasn’t his strong suit, he was pretty sure it wasn’t anyone’s.

“Henry is a very smart little boy. He’s the type to do tons of research and ask for help when it comes to answers he can’t find. We spend a lot of time reading books or going over Google.” He let out a tiny chuckle. “I’ve learned more with him, than I did over my 4 years at Vassar.”

Regina shifted uncomfortably. It should’ve been her bragging about his accomplishments and he knew that. “That’s great.”

“The thing is, he’s starting to remember things. A lot of it is hazy. He can’t remember Emma at all, but he talks about you.”

“Me?”

“He says he remembers crying and holding onto a woman with dark hair. That you gave him lots of kisses and told him it’d be okay.”

Regina bit her lip. “That was the day he was taken away from me.”

“I figured. He’s been asking about why we don’t have baby pictures of him and where he was those first few years. I’ve done my best to explain. I’ve been doing my best period, but I know that Henry needs more than me, he needs a mother. Not just any mother…he needs you.”

“Well, that’s what I argued for two years. Your family didn’t care, they ripped him from me.”

“They were wrong. Mary Margaret and I tried to talk some sense into them, but nothing worked. You have to believe me, I never wanted this.”

“I don’t see how I can help you. What are you trying to say? You want to convince Leopold to give me custody? He wouldn’t do that 5 years ago. What’s going to change now?”

Robin let out a deep breath. “I’ve been fighting for the past couple of years for my father to let me adopt Henry. He’s called me “Dad” a few times and I can tell he wants to on a permanent basis. The issue is, Leopold doesn’t think that I can do it alone. He’s old fashioned, extremely so. Even though he’s a single man, he knows that one day he’ll die. He wants Henry to have a mother and a father, like he would’ve had if my mom hadn’t died alongside Emma.”

“So…what are you trying to say?”

“If we got married, he’d let us both adopt him.”

Regina’s mouth dropped open and for the first time since he met her, she truly seemed speechless. He couldn’t blame her, he knew that this wasn’t the most conventional way. Robin had gone over it a million times in his head before he decided to open up this can of worms. He wanted to do the right thing for Henry and this was the only way he was going to be able to do it.

“Marry you?” Regina asked incredulously after the shock wore off. “I barely even know you. I hate your family.”

“I know, and I don’t blame you. I’m not doing this for me, I wouldn’t expect us to even share a bed. It’s all for Henry.”

“You honestly think your father is going to let me adopt him again? After everything he did to take Henry from me?”

“I’ve discussed it with him. It was never about you, he didn’t want to hurt you and Daniel personally…”

“Well, he did! This entire thing ruined my marriage. I’m assuming you know that, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Robin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hired a private investigator to look into you. I’m aware.”

“Of course.”

“Look, Leopold isn’t a great guy and that’s why I took Henry. He’s getting sicker by the day and I know he doesn’t have much longer. I want him to consent to the adoption before he dies, or else there’s going to be an uphill battle. He’s made it clear if I don’t get married before he dies, Henry will go with Mary Margaret and her husband. Which I know they would do, but it’s not what they want. They’re still young, not even ready for kids of their own, let alone an 8-year-old.”

Robin could tell that Regina was actually considering it, which both surprised him and didn’t at the same time. He wasn’t asking for himself, he was asking for the little boy that they both clearly loved with everything in him.

“You’re sure your father approves of me?”

“He knows at this point, he can’t be choosey.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. Look, I love Henry. As much as I wish they hadn’t taken him from you, he’s become my entire world. If I lost him…I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Well, I already did.”

“And this is your chance to get him back. This marriage doesn’t even have to be forever. It’s just until my dad dies, then we can work out custody and all of that.”

“You’d be willing to split custody with me?”

“It’d kill me not to see him every day, but I want to do what’s right for him. That starts by marrying you.”

Robin reached into his pocket, pulling out the black velvet box that had been burning a hole in it the 5-hour flight. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to pray that it would work. Flipping open the box, he revealed the diamond that he had selected.

“Regina Mills, will you do me the honor of becoming my nephew’s mother…again?”

#you'll be in my heart verse #outlaw queen #outlaw queen au #regal believer #regal believer au

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colpeia · 6 years ago

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Sungrass Oasis

~ Music ~

The crisp ocean breeze felt revitalizing and abrupt in such sunbaked air. Beneath an otherwise lavender sky, peach colors streaked around the sun as it hid behind a glittering turquoise horizon. Salty sea turtles roamed the shore.

On a large wooden deck overlooking the beach, a pair of tawny blood elves squatted over the sides of opposite lounge chairs.

A pensive sigh escaped Colpeia as she gazed up. “Well, at least we’re no longer hated for what we’re not.”

The solemn nature of Roholly’s nod didn’t stop the characteristically peppy bounce of her ponytail. She said nothing.

“What are mother and father going to do?”

“They’re returning to the glass forge,” Roholly said. “It’s still there, thankfully, and undamaged. So they’re going to continue running Beamgully Crystal like before.” She hesitated, an uncomfortable thought tugging her lips. “I’m honestly not sure whether Eversong Woods is going to welcome them back with awkward guilt, or the same scowls that made them leave. You know how they are about their craft, though.”

“Passionate.”

“I mean, it’s just as well. Finding a suitable place in Dalaran never got easier. Not for them at least.”

“Are you’re staying, then?” Colpeia asked.

There was gratitude in Roholly’s smile. She glimpsed at her feet. “Mhmm. I’ve already settled in, so it’s like, why return to Silvermoon? Why return to a place that was so quick to cast us out? People I had worked with for years acted like they’d never known me... It hurt.” The echo of grief leaking into her voice dropped to bitter sarcasm, “Really, I’d love to see how they deal with telling patients they need a root canal. They were far too sour. The people I work with now are a lot nicer.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“What about you though? Enough clientele?”

Colpeia huffed a laugh, “They haven’t stopped. Though, most of them have been architects. Civilians want to rebuild and protect themselves. After Lordaeron and what happened in Teldrassil, I’m not surprised.” She stopped, her humble expression heralding a confession. “Actually, because of the extra money, there is something else I want to do.”

“What’s that?” Roholly blinked, bewildered. “And honestly, why? Why work any harder when you’ve already such a solid income?”

“When this war started I was already tired. I’ve rested. Now I see a lot of other people tired. Tired, injured, and very sad. I want to give them a place to rest.” Unthinkingly, she turned to the hills winding just behind and beyond the beach house. They resembled dried and knotted-up honeycombs. “A place with soft seats and hot tea. Maybe somewhere in Gadgetzan.”

“That sounds ambitious when you don’t have a tribe to help you,” Roholly joked.

Colpeia looked back at her and returned a knowing smile.

She sat on the bed, her room under the blue blanket of midnight. A silvery glow brushed every contour. The window behind her was open, revealing distant waves glittering under a nearly full moon. Their rhythmic whisper was a soothing but everyday nostalgia to her while a cool draft carried its hush inside. Colpeia’s long stare sank into the vanity mirror against the wall. She looked as dazed as she felt.

Her motivation wasn’t purely altruistic, and she knew it. This was a time of war. She was plagued by an addiction only battles could feed - not for bloodlust or power, but an insatiable redemption she didn’t need in the first place. It spiraled her into a desperate black hole of this-still-isn’t-good-enough-to-absolve-me. If she dedicated herself to soothing survivors, it meant she couldn’t go to wanton lengths rescuing people in danger.

The mathematician knew a negative feedback loop when she saw one. Colpeia was Tildalune’s curse, which made her feel guilty, which piled onto her continued self-blame, which was Tildalune’s curse. She projected her acquaintance’s death onto people in danger only to re-experience severe personal failure if they weren’t saved. This trigger was unavoidable in wartime.

It was fortunate her tribe offered so many methods of mind-healing; they were helping. It couldn’t stop there, however. Constant over-exposure didn’t help to desensitize her, but a change in environment might.

How does one stop a negative feedback loop? Replace the causing variable. After Tildalune’s death, she had fantasies of nurturing her back to health and providing comfort. What if Colpeia frequently did something that she would associate with this ‘fake memory’? She could soothe people who survived danger, instead of succeeding or failing as their white knight.

She could learn to stop. She could focus on how she’d grown to care about Tildalune instead of how she’d failed her.

Tildalune’s spirit could be free to move on. She promised.

A vague breath of a silhouette flashed the corner of her eye, and a honeyed voice beamed in her head:

It’s time. Run, my sweet desert gazelle. It’s waiting for you. You know I’ll be right behind you.

For the next week Colpeia was a montage of sending proposal letters, receiving terms, ordering equipment, and huddling over a floor plan.

In an eclipse-like flash, holding a crescent pendant, she vanished. Colpeia reappeared amidst the celestial themed tents and Silithus-esque crystals floating above the ground. Presenting her floor plan to a gradually swelling group, she delved into thorough detail - the aesthetic, the business plan, the modest building she’d be renting, the spirit of the lounge. The appraising eyes mulling over her words eventually exchanged amenable glances.

Several yards from the shore, a herd of camels sped majestically across the gold sand, their hooves kicking up clouds in their wake. Thick ribbons of cloth gracefully fluttered behind their human and elven riders. Gadgetzan drew nearer.

Slowing to a saunter through the dusty port town, the half-dozen Shafise approached the clay dome building Colpeia had described. Knicks of moderate wear greeted them.

The following month was a slew of repairs, painting, tiling, heaving furniture, positioning lights atop secured ladders, and repositioning ornaments. Regularly catered at the entrance were water and food fine enough to convey a grateful gesture.

Sungrass Oasis was ready to open.

Colpeia sat over the bar scanning over a collection of slender menus. They catalogued an overwhelming list of loose-leaf and blooming flower teas. The rest were fanciful snacks: clamlette magnifique, clam chowder, goblin deviled clams, firebloom crab cakes, cactus fruit salad, Shafisian desert dumplings, hot roc wings, fried scorpid, and prickly pear sorbet. She wasn’t initially pleased about needing a supply of meat, until a goblin explained they always had these ingredients leftover after pest control and harbor maintenance. It was good they didn’t go to waste. This would also give the Shafise tribe the opportunity to showcase some of their traditional recipes along with blends.

Though a hole-in-the-wall, it was contemporary chic and polished, a message of modern class that she knew would hook the landlord’s interest. The floor was tiled in sleek black, and the walls painted white, brought to life by voguish artwork. Framed in thick, black frames, the paintings were as soothing as they were stylish. They depicted modern abstract, turquoise beaches, and desert blossoms. A few were pieces that might have been pretentious in another setting, but somehow felt innocently trendy here. Two of them were offset by equidistant sandstone bowls resting in tasteful square impressions on the wall. Sweeping glass sculptures ribboned with solid colors, some glittering in the light, added bold character. Most of them were feet tall and stood on the floor.

On each black chair was a plush, pale yellow cushion. Filled with sand, sea glass, and shells, a candle resting in a glass bowl embellished every table, along with a daisy in a white vase. A handful of firebloom petals were strewn about them.

Outdoor seating overlooking the beach waited behind a thick curtain. It ironically had more space than inside. Fit for a posh vacation photograph, a pergola strung with lanterns hung over the display, with translucent lilac curtains draped to the sides. To keep customers warm in the chilly desert evenings, a gemstone fire pit sat in the middle. The area was lined with potted, flowering cacti and a low wicker-weave fence. In place of daises were

One task remained before it opened: Reach out to old friends.

#stories #new tea lounge!#won't be a huge thing #might host a casual event or two with it idk

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chipsandwaffles · 7 years ago

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definition of a fuckbuddy (1/5)

Synopsis: You get invited to a stupid prestigious party by some stupid rich boy who wants to get laid. Maybe you’re going half as a favor to your best friend, and maybe you’re also going to get laid. Either way, it’s still stupid. Member: Doyoung/Reader Word Count: 4,886 Notes: i thought about posting this all at once but then i said fuck it and decided to give you it in parts for extra suffering :) there is going to be smut in here just as a forewarning + this is sort of that fuckboy doyoung everyone was asking for?? or something more ;) enjoy maybe? ^^ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You, 7:27 P.M this guy in my econ class keeps looking at me

Jessica ^^, 7:27 P.M is he cute

You, 7:27 P.M I mean yes?? But why does he keep freaking looking at me

Jessica ^^, 7:30 P.M maybe he thinks you’re cute

Jessica ^^, 7:30 P.M or so ugly that he cant stop looking because youre just THAT hideous

You, 7:30 P.M damn jess thanks for that one

Jessica ^^, 7:31 P.M I’m kidding we all know youre pretty

Jessica ^^, 7:31 P.M but maybe confront him and see whats up

You, 7:31 P.M he’s coming ovER HERE ABORT

Jessica ^^, 7:31 P.M ooo tell me what happens

Jessica ^^, 7:33 P.M y/n?? are you still there??

Jessica ^^, 7:33 P.M did he convince you to follow him somewhere and now youre dead??????

Jessica ^^, 7:33 P.M mr cute boy don’t you kill my friend!!!

You, 7:33 P.M jesus jess chILL

Jessica ^^, 7:33 P.M youre alive ;;;;;

You, 7:33 P.M yes I am -_-

Jessica ^^, 7:34 P.M what happened with cute boy???

You, 7:34 P.M he sat next to me

You, 7:34 P.M and then passed me a note?? And then left

You, 7:34 P.M super suspicious that guy =_=

Jessica ^^, 7:34 P.M what does the note say???

You, 7:34 P.M uhhhhhhhhh

You, 7:35 P.M come to this address Friday night and find me and then it gives an address……..

Jessica ^^, 7:35 P.M …do you know this guys name?

You, 7:35 P.M uhhhhhhhh

You, 7:35 P.M I think he said doyoung? He had black hair and some fake earrings and looked really expensive

Jessica ^^, 7:35 P.M expensive??

You, 7:35 P.M like his clothes and shit. He looked rich

Jessica ^^, 7:35 P.M ………..

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M OAO

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M Y/N

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M DO YOU KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO YOU

You, 7:37 P.M I got passed a note from a guy

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M NOT JUST ANY GUY

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M A GUY FROM THE SM IVY CLUB

You, 7:37 P.M the what

Jessica ^^, 7:37 P.M oh my god you need to get out more often

Jessica ^^ has sent a picture, 7:38 P.M

Jessica ^^, 7:38 P.M the sm ivy club is like a super prestigious club that every guy wants to be in. they throw wild parties and EVERYONE wants to be invited

Jessica ^^, 7:38 P.M if you get invited, that meANS SOEMTHING

You, 7:38 P.M …sounds fucking dumb

You, 7:39 P.M what is that picture?? Do they have photoshoots of themselves???

Jessica ^^, 7:39 P.M yes because they’re that cOOL and hOT and rich oh my god theyre so rich

Jessica ^^, 7:39 P.M they say if you get invited youre bound to get laid

You, 7:39 P.M sounds even dumber -_-

Jessica ^^, 7:39 P.M oh my goD YOU DON’T EVEN APPRECIATE THIS OPPORTUNITY

Jessica ^^ has sent a picture, 7:39 P.M

Jessica ^^, 7:39 P.M This was the guy right???

You, 7:40 P.M yeah that’s him except without the orange hair. He looks like a fucking dork in that picture and looks way better in person

Jessica ^^, 7:40 P.M that is not the priority here y/n.

Jessica ^^, 7:40 P.M you got invited to a pARTY. HE TOLD YOU TO LOOK FOR HIM

Jessica ^^, 7:40 P.M WE HAVE TO GO

You, 7:40 P.M I have a date that day

Jessica ^^, 7:40 P.M with your couch and Netflix bllAH BLAH WERE GOINg

Jessica ^^, 7:40 P.M I’m cashing in that favor you owe me in exchange for this

You, 7:40 P.M ……..goddamnit

You, 7:40 P.M FINE we’ll go to their dumb party

You, 7:40 P.M they better have expensive drinks and food otherwise we’re leaving

Jessica ^^, 7:41 P.M im sure they’ll have everything you want ;))

You’re standing in front of a big door, belonging to an even bigger mansion, with Jess, your ridiculous best friend who you were already thinking about knocking out with enough drinks in the first twenty minutes so that you could go home early. Or a plate. One of the two.

The music inside was blaring, and the vibe from the house was no doubt going to make you want to roll your eyes at everything.

You’re sure this was going to be nothing more than a glorified frat party, but you had to endure some of it if you were going to repay Jessica that favor you owed her.

“Are we supposed to knock or?” You ask. Jessica shrugs, and you watch her adjust her skirt. You told her she should’ve worn one that actually fit, but, she wasn’t one to listen anyways. “I’ll just try the handle then.”

You push down on the ridiculously large handle and watch as it moves smoothly, opening the door before you. Immediately you’re greeted with a large foyer, brightly lit with at least three chandeliers and people lingering everywhere. There’s two sets of stairs on either side of the foyer, leading up to an upper level that had many doors. Your eyes catch to the double doors at the top that are blocked by two men, clearly keeping anyone from going inside.

You guessed that was where you were supposed to go. You take Jessica’s hand and drag her to one of the stairs, stepping past the multiple miserable people sitting on the steps, no doubt sitting there because they couldn’t get in or because they got kicked out. You step past them all until you’re on the landing and you reach into your jacket pocket, pulling out Doyoung’s note.

“What if this note doesn’t work, Jess?” You ask as you walk towards the bouncers. She shrugs again.

“Guess we’ll just have to sneak in.” You roll your eyes and stop in front of the two men. They’re far bigger up close, towering over you in an intimidating manner that makes you want to roll your eyes again. They had to be hired, of course, which is utterly stupid. Who needed bouncers at their party? Even the frat boys didn’t hire bouncers.

“Invitation?” One of them asks. You hold out Doyoung’s note, letting the man take it. He looks it over only for a few seconds, and then looks you up and down a few too many times before handing it back. “Nice try, ladies. You can’t get in here with that.”

You stare at the man for a long moment, narrowing your eyes in disbelief. “What do you mean I can’t get in with this? Was I supposed to get some stupid invitation in the mail?”

“No invitation, no entry,” the other guy says. You throw your hands up in the air and shove the note towards them.

“Some guy named Doyoung gave this to me in my class. He didn’t give me any invitation except this. How is this not what you’re looking for?”

“The boys only use special paper for invitations. You don’t have that. Did you forge that note?” The first bouncer asks. You shake your head, shoving the note into your jacket pocket again.

“Why would I forge a stupid note for a stupid party that I don’t even want to be at?” You turn on your heel and are ready to walk off, but Jessica grabs your hand, turning you back around. She gives you this look, a look you have no power to say no to, and you groan in annoyance.

You didn’t want to be here. You absolutely didn’t want to be here. She couldn’t convince you with that look. She couldn’t.

She lets out a pathetic noise and you groan again, turning back towards the bouncers. “Can you just get Doyoung out here or something? I’m sure if he saw me he’d tell you he invited me himself.”

“That’s what everyone says,” the second bouncer says. “You’re not getting in ladies.”

You turn to look at Jessica again and she frowns, a dejected look on her face. She had been so excited about attending one of the parties, and now, here she was, probably not going to get in. You’re not sure there’d be any locked doors anywhere for you to sneak into either, so, at this point it was a lost cause.

“Sorry, Jess. I tried,” you say. You reach to take her hand, ready to drag her back to your car when one of the many doors you noticed earlier opens. Out comes Doyoung and some girl, giggling and hanging off of him drunkenly. He moves to set her down near the wall opposite the door, and then pats the top of her head, smiling at her awkwardly before standing up.

Doyoung ends up looking your way, his eyes widening when he sees you. He rushes over immediately, grinning at you.

“Hey, Y/N? You came! I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” he says. You frown at him, crossing your arms.

“Why did you assume that? Do I not seem like one for parties or something?” You ask.

“Not at all.”

“You know her sir?” The first bouncer asks. Doyoung looks at him and then nods his head.

“Yeah, I invited her and her friend. I gave her the wrong paper though so, sorry for that.”

“It’s alright man,” the bouncers say. Doyoung gives them a thumbs up before coming to stand next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He doesn’t do the same for Jessica, instead holding out his arm for her, and she happily takes it. He ends up leading you back to the door he came out of, closing it and locking it behind him before guiding you into the party.

It is far more glorified than you expected. At frat parties you’ve been to there were lights and a DJ and furniture pushed to the side for a makeshift dance floor. There was always pizza and drinks in the kitchen, and there was always at least a hundred people roaming the house.

But this was so much more.

There was hundreds of people below you, dancing, drinking, eating, making out and talking. There was a whole section off to the side full of tables where people were sitting down with what seemed like a food station behind the tables. In the middle was a giant dance floor, something you’d expect in a club or something, with a DJ at the front of the floor. Off to the other side of the dance floor was a bar and a lounge area.

It was almost too much.

“This… is so freaking cool!” You barely hear Jessica say. You look at her, still clinging at Doyoung’s arm and roll your eyes. It wasn’t cool, it was ridiculous.

Rich people had way too much money and time on their hands.

“Are the drinks free?” You end up asking. Doyoung looks at you, shaking his head.

“No, but just tell them to put it on Yuta’s tab.” You nod your head and shrug off Doyoung’s arm, making a beeline down the stairs and to the bar area. You don’t have to wait long to order a drink thankfully, and once it’s in your hands, you make your way to the nearest corner and stand there.

It wasn’t anything fantastic, nothing like Jessica had described to you on the car ride here. It was like being in a huge club, with the usual loud music and the usual people and the usual atmosphere that made you want to go home. Jessica had also said if you were invited it meant something, but, it didn’t seem that way at all. It seemed like any old party.

Really, if you could you’d have left by now, but, leaving Jessica by herself at a party like this seemed like a terrible move as her best friend.

Leaving her with Doyoung probably wasn’t the best idea either, now that you think about it. You sigh and push yourself away from the wall, looking up to the landing you had come off of. You can’t make out much except for silhouettes of people, and, at this point you’re sure Doyoung and Jessica weren’t even up there anymore.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration at your stupidity and pick out your phone to text her.

You, 11:19 P.M where are you? Are you still with doyoung???

You stare down at your phone, waiting for the reply, and when you feel something vibrate in your pocket you realize your dumb mistake.

Jessica had left her phone with you because she had no pockets. How could you forget that?

“Jesus fuck, this is the worst freaking night.” You mumble to yourself, quickly pocketing your phone. You’re about to head towards the dance floor to find her when you feel a hand grab yours. You turn to look at the person, finding Doyoung again smiling at you.

“Where is my friend?” You ask immediately, pulling your hand away from his. He frowns, and steps towards you.

“I left her with the most trustworthy person here. She’s in good hands,” he tells you over the music. You cross your arms and fix him with a glare, not fully trusting his words. You didn’t know these guys, and you definitely didn’t know Doyoung, so he could easily be lying to you. “…Do you want me to take her to you? To show you she’s fine?”

You nod your head quicker than expected and he sticks out his hand for you. You look down at it, and after a long moment of deliberation take it, letting him lead you through the crowd that lingered around the perimeter of the dance floor. You come to stand just a few feet away from the table area, and Doyoung points towards one of the middle tables where a bunch of guys and a few girls sat. You could barely make out Jessica sitting next to someone, smiling and passing out cards for everyone.

“See? She’s fine. I told my friend not to let her out of his sight for the rest of the night, so she should be fine then too.” You frown and turn to Doyoung.

“That’s awfully nice of you,” you say. He smiles, leaning in closer to you.

“I invited you to this party. If something happened to your friend, what kind of host would I be?” He leans in a little closer, his lips brushing at the rim of your ear. “Speaking of which, will you follow me to my room?”

“What, you don’t want to stay down here and party with everyone else?” You ask. He pulls away, and gives you an amused look.

“I’m not sure you understand what I’m asking of you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you follow me, I’ll explain it to you.”

You stare at Doyoung for a moment, then look back at Jessica. She’s smiling and clearly having fun. You didn’t want to leave her alone, but, Doyoung seemed sincere about all his statements. Maybe he was telling the truth.

Hopefully he was telling the truth.

“If anything happens to her, I’m coming back here to personally murder you.” Doyoung smiles even bigger and takes your hand once again.

“I’d expect nothing else.”

Ten minutes later of twists and turns and door after door you’re pulled into a room. The door is closed after you, practically closing off the party that was happening in some other part of the house, and Doyoung is immediately pushing you towards the bed on the far side of the room. He sits you down and then pulls up a chair for himself, sitting in front of you.

“I’m guessing you don’t know anything about our club,” Doyoung starts. You shake your head.

“Just what my friend told me. You’re rich, throw really big parties, you’re hot, uh… Something about getting laid?”

“I mean, sounds about right. What do you think?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow at you, and you, for the first time that night surprisingly, look him up and down. He’s wearing something that looked far less expensive than what he wore at school; jeans, a white t-shirt, and a bomber jacket that had a bunch of patches sewed into it. He still had that fake earring in his ear, and his hair was sporting little streaks of purple in his hair now.

He was definitely hot. Cuter than that dumb picture Jessica sent you, and more handsome than you remember.

He definitely fit that expectation.

You look around his room next, taking in all the décor. He had one wall full of posters, another full of shelves with figurines and pictures and trinkets alike, and then a wall with more shelves and a T.V bigger than any T.V you’ve ever seen in your life in the middle of said shelves. You look back at him and nod your head.

“Yeah, I think that sounds about right. You’re hot and clearly rich. That T.V is fucking huge,” you say. He laughs and then nods in agreement.

“I sit here for hours just watching T.V sometimes.”

“I am not doubting it.”

There’s a slight pause in your conversation before he’s scooting his chair towards you, talking once more.

“The last thing you said. The other guys and I… I wouldn’t call it a game necessarily, but, we bring a lot of girls here. Well, we invite a lot of girls, and then bet if we’ll get laid. If they end up coming, we end up fucking. And then if you got laid, you get paid whatever was wagered.”

“…that is absolutely a game. Is that why you invited me? To get laid?” You ask, not at all surprised by his words.

Rich people had way, way too much money and time on their hands.

“Yes, I did. But you’re the first girl I’ve ever actually gotten to come.” Doyoung moves to put his hands on your knees and you look down at them, then back at up at him.

“You must take me for an idiot,” you say. He laughs, and then smiles at you.

“I don’t. I’ve seen your test scores.”

“Test scores don’t necessarily make one smart, Doyoung.”

“Wise words,” Doyoung says. “Maybe that’s why I invited you.”

“Is it?”

“No. I don’t know why I did, really. Maybe I just like how you looked.”

“There are other girls who look better than me,” you say.

“And there are other guys who look better than me. I still think you’re pretty. Beautiful. Nice on the eyes. Whatever works for you.”

“I like ravishing,” you say. Doyoung lets out a hearty laugh for a full-on minute, his smile big and his eyes crinkled up in this really adorable way.

At least he wasn’t a super huge asshole. That was comforting at least.

“Either way,” Doyoung starts when his laughing dies down.

“Either way,” you repeat.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You look at him a second, a slight smirk on your lips, and put your hands on top of his. “Can I say no?”

“Absolutely. Though, that look you’re giving me…”

“I’m considering it,” you say. This was definitely a weird situation to be in, after all. Jessica was still downstairs too, and if you wanted, you’re sure you could just drag her out by now and leave. Though, fucking Doyoung wouldn’t be so bad. He was hot, and, if they did this often, he had to be good. You’re almost positive he had to be good. If it wasn’t, he said you could say no, which, was always a plus.

“If we don’t I’ll just end up watching T.V if you want to join me,” he says. You smile, and take his hands off his knees, placing them in his lap.

“How about we start with T.V and then see where things take us,” you say. You scoot back on the bed and immediately get cozy, patting the space next to you a moment later. Doyoung smiles back at you.

“I like where your head is.”

Soon enough, Doyoung has put in some movie that you’ve never seen or heard of before and then is cozying up next to you, an arm around your shoulders and a hand on your knee.

Two minutes into the movie, said hand is running up and down the expanse of your thigh. It distracts you immediately, but you ignore it as best as you can, knowing that whatever game Doyoung was playing, you could play it back.

You cross your arms and stare straight ahead, watching as what you assume are the two leads in the movie bump into each other.

And then you feel Doyoung’s other hand at your ear, his thumb beginning to circle the rim of it. It makes you tense up, the slow, soft movements triggering the sensitivity that your ears so easily gave.

In turn, you clench your fists and bite your bottom lip, blinking a few times to focus on the movie. Something happens with the lead girl, but Doyoung pulls your attention back to him before you can even figure out what’s happening in the movie.

Doyoung’s lips are soft against your neck, and the hand on your thigh has stopped to give it a light squeeze and his other hand has wandered into your hair. Every sensation is so much, giving you just what you could want, and yet so little, not giving you enough.

Doyoung knew how to get you to want more.

“Are you still watching the movie?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You shake your head, and he laughs against your neck, pressing two more kisses there. “Do you want me to stop? We can actually go back to the movie.”

You think for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, making sure you wanted this.

After a minute of deliberation, you crawl onto Doyoung’s lap, straddling him, putting your hands on his chest and pressing your lips to his. His hands find your hips and then finds the skin underneath your shirt, and then he’s pulling away, finding your neck again.

“Is that a no, you don’t want me to stop?” He asks.

“No, I don’t want you to stop. Unless you’re shit at this. Then I’ll end up stopping you,” you say, rolling your hips against Doyoung’s. He lets out a quiet moan against your neck, and rolls his hips right back.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I hear I’m amazing at this.”

Your fingers curl tighter around Doyoung’s biceps, nails digging just barely into skin as he thrusts one last time into you. Your whole body practically tenses as you finally let go, your last orgasm wracking through your body in such a wonderful, sublime way that has you sighing in bliss.

Doyoung ends up pulling out moments later, falling onto the bed next to you, breathing just as hard as you were.

He was not wrong, at all. He was definitely amazing at sex.

Maybe it was because he ate you out or knew where to touch you in all the right places or made you come three times, you’re not sure. Whatever it was though, you didn’t regret coming here now.

“Was it good?” He asks when you think you’ve finally come down from your high. He must’ve gotten up at some point to throw away his condom because he’s patting you down with a wet cloth, the coolness making your skin tingle delightfully.

“So good,” you mumble out, letting out another content sigh. You feel Doyoung’s lips press against yours softly, and then he’s pushing a piece of hair behind your ear before letting out his own sigh.

“We should return to the party. You probably want to get out of here,” he says. You nod your head slowly and he moves to get off the bed, but you find his hand and tug at it.

“I don’t know if I can walk,” you say. He laughs and then tosses a piece of clothing at you. “Doyoungie, will you carry me?”

“Doyoungie?” He asks with an incredulous tone. You open your eyes and nod your head.

“Doyoungie. Carry me? My legs won’t stop shaking.”

You see him look down at your legs, and then back up to your body to you.

“I’ll give you a minute, and then if you’re still shaking, I’ll carry you.”

A few minutes pass, Doyoung dressing himself and helping you dress, laughter and smiles and short kisses being exchanged between you two as it happens. Once you’re finished he helps you stand up, and unfortunately you don’t fall or anything.

You pout as he takes your hand and leads you out of his room. You really wanted to be carried.

“Maybe another time,” he ends up saying. You look down at your hands entwined, and for most of the walk you just stare at them.

It’s… weird. Doyoung just brought you here to fuck but he’s still very caring and thoughtful about it. Your mind wanders to when he was eating you out, insisting on it before you and him did anything else.

You wondered if he did this with every girl he brought here.

“Hey, Doyoung?” You start when you’re nearing the party. The music is still blaring, the party probably not even close to winding down yet.

“Hm?”

“Do you ever fuck someone twice?”

He doesn’t answer right away, staying quiet as you finally reach one of the doors that leads into the party. He opens it up and pulls you inside, heading over to the table area. Jessica is still there, but all the people that had been with her are gone, and she’s just with Doyoung’s friend, drinking something out of a bottle and hanging off of the guy in such a sloppy manner.

It was definitely time to go home.

“Hey, Johnny, thanks for watching Y/N’s friend,” Doyoung says. You let go of Doyoung’s hand and walk over to Jessica, touching lightly at her face.

“Hey, Jess, ready to go home?”

“Y/N! I was- I was just telling Johnny about you!” Jessica whips her head to Johnny and then back to you so hard she ends up stopping any speech completely, blinking many times before leaning to the side to throw up. You turn away towards Doyoung and plug your ears with your index fingers, not wanting to hear her emptying her stomach.

When she’s done she tugs at your jacket, and you look down at her to hear her whine. “I wanna go hoooommeee…”

You nod your head and then lift her up gently to her feet, putting an arm around her middle and slinging her own over your shoulders. Johnny comes to her other side and helps as well, and you begin walking awkwardly back up the stairs. You leave through the door Doyoung had brought you through earlier, the same girl he had dropped off out there sleeping on the floor now.

As you head down the stairs, you wonder if maybe Doyoung invited her to fuck and then she got too drunk before they could do anything.

Maybe if he talked to you after this you could ask.

Eventually you make it back to your car, and Johnny helps you get Jessica into the front seat. He even goes as far as buckling her up for you before shutting her door and stepping a few feet away. You turn to thank him, only to find Doyoung and him whispering to each other.

You hadn’t even realized Doyoung had followed you outside, and you’re not sure if you should drive off or wait for him to be done with talking to Johnny.

Would he answer your question from earlier if you waited? Or maybe this was your cue to leave?

You start to walk around the car, making it as far as standing in front of your door before you hear your name being called. You watch Doyoung walk towards your car, around it, and then come to stand in front of you. He presses you to the door, his hands on your hips and a smile on his face.

“I have an answer to your question,” he says. You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Personally, I’ve never asked someone to come back here again… I haven’t really heard anyone do it either. Stuff can get complicated and if someone gets to clingy, it gets weird…”

“Uh-huh.”

“If you’re looking for something more with me… I probably wouldn’t do anything with you again,” he says. You laugh and move your hands around his neck, your fingers playing with the hairs at the nape.

“Earlier was really fucking good Doyoung… I’m not really looking for a relationship, but if you are okay with being fuckbuddies, I’m all for that. If I’m asking for anything, I’m asking for that.”

Doyoung stares at you a moment, and then he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a sudden kiss. It only lasts for a few moments, but it doesn’t fail to make you feel absolutely giddy inside.

He clearly wanted this too.

“How about we start with you coming back here tomorrow and we’ll see where things take us,” Doyoung says.

You can’t help but laugh at hearing your words from earlier repeated back to you.

#kim doyoung scenarios #kim doyoung imagines #doyoung imagines #Doyoung Scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct fanfic #nct imagines #sheep writes #i'm too lazy to make a gif right now plus i gotta leave by e

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arplis · 5 years ago

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Arplis - News: Wearable souvenirs: 10 best places for vintage shopping around the world

The Earth is suffering, and we all know that. Choosing to travel in a sustainable way and supporting eco-friendly hostels is already making a big difference. That being said, the fashion industry alone accounts for 5% of all manmade greenhouse gas emissions, and experts say that percentage is set to grow. Not to mention the ethical implications of underpaid workers and child labour. Being bombarded with all this information can be overwhelming, I know it was for me. I love fashion and creating new outfits, so I started looking into ways to do it in more sustainably. Given that most eco-friendly brands right now are quite expensive, and working with a backpackers budget, I turned to vintage and thrift shopping, something that I thought was limited to pretty ladies wearing red lipstick and a beehive. I started warily, but I still remember the feeling of finding that perfect vintage t-shirt for a bunch of euros, and before you know it, I was hooked.If you want to learn the best places for vintage shopping around the world, youve come to the right place.

The cool thing about buying second-hand is that youre not putting anything new into our ecosystem. All those clothes were already loved and worn, and their only options were to end up in landfillor in your closet! Theres also a hunting aspect to vintage shopping that I took a liking to. Finding the perfect fit is so much harder than selecting the right size on a website, and once you stumble upon a piece of clothing you like and that looks good on you, it feels like the stars have aligned. Truly a magical feeling! Thrifting became a hobby of mine, and as a traveller, I started implementing it in my trips, too. Every time I was in a new place, I would reserve at least half a day to raiding those foreign second-hand stores, on crazy itineraries that took me around the coolest neighbourhoods. I was often coming back home with unique vintage finds as souvenirs, and I started getting the same feeling I got when I travelled as a child pre-internet stores, when I was excited for all the different places I could shop at. I loved showing up at school with some funky pants and answering I got them in Paris when asked where they were from. I know, a bit pretentious, but youd be lying if you said you didnt love it too!

:Getty Images

Through vintage shopping while travelling, my closet started turning into a postcard box made of clothes accumulated from around the globe. Memories of that trip would be woven into the fibres of the garments and every piece started meaning so much more than clothing used to. How precious is it to see a world map of the places youve been every time you open your wardrobe? There are cities out there full of the coolest and quirkiest pieces, just waiting for you to ransack through their racks. As a backpacker, Id urge you to take some time to explore the local vintage scene wherever you are. And if you dont know where to start, take a look at our top ten best places for vintage shopping around the world. Go on get thrifty!

1. Milan, Italy

:@alexandru_stravrica

Milan is the fashion capital of the world, with designer stores lining the sidewalks that the most stylish people youll ever see stomp their stiletto heels on. Think faux fur coats and huge sunglasses, plus that one quirky element to show the world youre that high fashion. Youd think second-hand stores wouldnt belong in a city so posh, but youd be wrong. The Solari neighbourhood, south of the city, boasts quirky windows and neon signs showing off a more sustainable and fun side of this high fashion hub. My personal favourite is Humana Vintage, a true vintage store selling fifties dresses to cosy grandma sweaters, with prices that go as low as 5 and deals going on all the time. A few blocks from there youll find yourself in the street of vintage stores, with a bunch of thrift stores all a couple metres from each other. SNAP Milano is a cool concept store selling vintage pieces gathered from all around the world. If Japanese fashion appeals to you, definitely give it a try. Bivio has both a male and female store and specialises in designer pieces. So go rummaging you could snag a pair of snazzy velvet green Versace Jeans pants for as low as 20! Theyre also willing to buy your old clothes: a great way to refresh your backpack without running out of space!

Humana Vintage, Via Cappellari, 3, 20123 Milan MI

SNAP Milano, Via Gian Giacomo Mora, 11, 20123 Milan MI

Bivio Milano, Via Lambro, 12, 20129 Milan MI

Bivio Milano Donna, Via Gian Giacomo Mora, 4, 20100 Milan MI

2. London, UK

:@evantdang

If youve heard anything about London, Im sure youve heard about Brick Lane and its iconic vintage stores. London is one of the best places for vintage shopping and names like Rokit are legendary. The price tag can reflect the fame though, and although I recommend visiting the main stores if youve never been, I thought Id include a couple of backpackers budget tips too.

Beyond Retro is one of my favourite places to shop in London and online, with cool reworked pieces and a perfect sustainable record that includes reusing shipping boxes and shipping by sea instead of air. Some of their stuff can be pricey, but you can also find affordable pieces that still have that cool edge to them.

The best way to spend money while buying second hand in London is by hitting charity shops. On top of helping the Earth, youll also give a hand to the different charities they support. Being donation-based, youll be better off heading to the western part of the city, where posh people live and donate their clothes. Oxfam in Notting Hill will hook you up with a cheetah mini skirt for as cheap as 3, and youll be helping an association thats working to end poverty all around the world at the same time.

Wombats City Hostel London is located in Whitechapel and is only a short walk from the thrifty neighbourhood of Shoreditch and Brick Lane. Check out all the hostels in London to plan your vintage tour of the city!

Rokit, 101 Brick Ln, London E1 6SE, UK

Beyond Retro Soho, 58-59 Great Marlborough St, Soho, London W1F 7JY, UK

Oxfam, 144 Notting Hill Gate, Notting Hill, London W11 3QG, UK

3. Dublin, Ireland

:Getty Images

In many cities, all the best vintage stores are crammed together. In Dublin its no different, as all the best places for vintage shopping are right behind the popular Temple Town, famous for its bright red bar and a couple of other pubs. If you manage to avoid the calling of a fresh pint of Guinness, go up Fawness Street and get ready to immerse yourself in the marvel of Irish vintage shopping.

You cant miss Lucys Lounge because of its bright pink faade its hella chic inside and out!.. Climb down the stairs and find yourself in the wonder of sweaters and vintage jeans. Whats interesting about this one is the impressive collection of vintage lingerie and lacy corsets, handy if youre looking to get lucky in the leprechauns land.

Something I love about shopping in Dublin is their vintage reworked stores, which take pre-loved pieces and turn them into an Urban Outfitters worthy number. Fresh has a super clean feel thanks to its all-white interiors and perfectly organised selection. If youre on the hunt for a pair of white vintage Levis, this is the place to go. Nine Crows, which is right next door, is one of my favourite second-hand stores in the whole world, boasting a cool-girl vibe, vintage berets and cropped flannels to fulfil all your country girl dreams.

Just like Dublins shopping scene, the hostels in Dublin are pretty slick. Generator Dublin has an on-site bar, a games room and plenty of fun events like karaoke and drinking games. Its somewhere to channel your inner hipster!

Lucys Lounge, 11 Fownes Street Upper, Temple Bar, Dublin, Ireland

Fresh Limited, 1 Crown Alley, Temple Bar, Dublin, Ireland

Nine Crows, 22 Temple Lane South, Temple Bar, Dublin, Ireland

4. Stockholm, Sweden

:Getty Images

Stockholm was one of the first places I thrifted in and it should be considered one of the best cities for vintage shopping. The thrifting culture is big in Scandinavia, just like how everythings cool and sustainable (theyre just the best, ugh). Youll just have to venture to the hipster neighbourhood of Sdermalm to find vintage stores aplenty. My beloved British Beyond Retro has a Swedish store too, but if youre visiting you should absolutely check out Humana Second Hand. Although they have a similar name, this company is not affiliated with the Italian franchise, but youll find their stores all over Scandinavia and Germany. Their selection is perfectly curated and ranges from leather jackets to cool sweatshirts. What I love about it is that it feels like a regular store and misses that old clothes vibe that can scare off newbies. Its just like Urban Outfitters, but with a much more fun (and cheap!) selection.

City Backpackers Hostel has a vintage vibe throughout perfect for you old souls! Dont forget to check out our other hostels in Sweden.

Beyond Retro, Brnnkyrkagatan 82, 118 23 Stockholm, Sweden

HUMANA Second Hand, Timmermansgatan 23, 118 55 Stockholm, Sweden

5. Vancouver, Canada

:Getty Images

Being Canada is the capital of everything thats hip and sustainable, it makes sense that Vancouver would be the number one spot to check out for vintage shops when heading North. Right in Yaletown, the coolest part of the city in my opinion, youll find a couple of spots nestled in between a caf and a cool brunch place that are worth a visit. House of Vintage is an aesthetic fanatics dream, with racks and racks of perfectly organised clothes going from flannels (its Canada, duh) to skirts and accessories. They also have a household section if youre looking for a used toaster or something like that.

If youre after the classic North American thrift store experience, head to the Value Villages all across the city. These dont really offer a curated selection of pieces, but more an overwhelming amount of clothes that you have to look through until you find that hidden gem. Who wouldve guessed youd go hunting in Canada?Bargain hunting that is!

Samesun Vancouver is centrally located, so its surrounded by the citys best bars and clubs. If you dont feel like going out, chill by the on-site bar! Explore all of Vancouvers hostels.

House of Vintage, 1008 Robson St, Vancouver, BC V6E 1A7, Canada

Value Village,6415 Victoria Dr, Vancouver, BC V5P 3X5, Canada

6. Portland, USA

:@zackspear

Could the hipster capital of the world not be included on this list? Portland, Oregon, is known all over the world for its craft breweries and quirky coffee shops, but its vintage shopping scene is a gamechanger. You cant miss Buffalo Exchange, right in front of the famous Powells City of Books, probably the most popular thrift store in PDX. The store is big, so its likely to feel a bit overwhelming, but if you take your time, youll be able to find a range of interesting pieces, some even with the tag still on! The big downside is its central location, that makes it quite busy on a day-to-day basis.

To live the authentic Portland lifestyle, dedicate a whole day to vintage shopping. Head to House of Vintage, a collective of different dealers selling clothes, accessories and bags in a huge warehouse in the Sunnyside area, so iconic its where some of the Portlandia outfits are from. Top it off with some food from local food trucks and a pretentious handcrafted coffee and youll be living like a local.

With Portlands hostels, its kitchy vibes all around. HI Portland Hawthorne is a charming eco-friendly hostel that offers free light breakfast, bicycle hire and fun activities. Get to know this wonderfully wacky city and book your stay now!

Buffalo Exchange, 1036 W Burnside St, Portland, OR 97209, USA

House of Vintage, 3315 SE Hawthorne Blvd, Portland, OR 97214, USA

7. New York, USA

:Getty Images

Vintage stores tend to reflect a citys vibe, so the more a place is cool, edgy and fashionable, the more youll find gems hidden between the thrift stores racks. Thats why the Big Apple is one of the best places for vintage shopping, offering a variety of stores as big as its number of different personalities. Depending on where you thrift, youll find different ranges and prices: Ina, Tokio 7 and Micheals on the Upper East Side are full of designer gems and fashion interns trying to look the part on a budget. If you move towards Brooklyn, youre deep in hipster territory, with Quality Meding helping you to rock the mechanic-chic look with dungarees and distressed workwear. Thriftwares is full of silk dresses and woven bags to effortlessly channel that chic Parisian vibe.

New York is known as the city that never sleeps, but youll at least need a rest after all that vintage shopping! You dont have to spend big bucks to live like an Upper East Sider. Freehand New York just seeps style and is calling your name!

INA, 110 E 13th St, New York, NY 10003, USA

Tokio 7, 83 E 7th St, New York, NY 10003, USA

Micheals, 1125 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10028, USA

Quality Mending, 705 Driggs Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11211, USA

Thriftwares, 70 N 7th St, Brooklyn, NY 11211, USA

8. Tokyo, Japan

:@magict1911

Tokyo is a crazy city, and so is its vintage shopping scene! The best places for vintage shopping are in Shimokitazawa, a neighbourhood close to Shibuya metro station. If anything, its definitely where most of them are! Im talking hundreds of different shops. Seriously, its overwhelming. If you add to that all the temporary pop-up shops, theres no way youll be able to hit them all but thats ok because it gives you a reason to come back!

Obviously with so many, theres a thrift shop here for every style and every budget. Personally, I prefer the ones that stay under 20, but Im willing to make an exception for places like Grapefruit Moon because its just too cute and deserves a visit if youre ever in Tokyo. To stick to a backpackers budget, head to New York Joes Exchange, where you can bring your old clothes and get new ones in return! Or, I mean, someone elses old clothes. If you dont want to spend your whole time in Tokyo looking for thrift finds (understandably!), check out Shimokita Garage, a vintage market where youll find different sellers all in one place. Score!

While wandering through the neighbourhood of Shibuya, make The Millennials Shibuya your base. This ultra-sleek hostel has reclining pod beds and a futuristic bar.

Grapefruit Moon, 154-0000 Tokyo, Setagaya City, Kitazawa, 2 Chome211 F, Japan

New York Joe Exchange, 1 Chome-20-4 Jinnan, Shibuya City, Tokyo 150-0041, Japan

Shimokita Garage, 2 Chome-25-8 Kitazawa, Setagaya City, Tokyo 155-0031, Japan

9. Paris, France

:Getty Images

The dreamy capital of France is especially known for true vintage shopping and less thrift finds. So, think beautifully curated boutiques and slightly more expensive prices. At around 30 for a pair of pants though, I dont think its too bad in a city thats home to designer labels like Saint Laurent and Chanel.

Most of the more affordable vintage stores in Paris are located in the Marais district, like Coiffeur Vintage, a cute wooden door that opens to floral prints and organised chaos, or Vintage by Ramin, pretty hard to miss because of its hot pink awning. Youll also spot quite a few Kilo Shops around Paris that, as the name suggests sell clothes by weight, usually 40 per kilo. Some of their locations are themed for example, Kilo Shop Kawaii specialises in Japanese fashion.

The cool thing about vintage shopping in Paris is that the Parisian style is timeless, so second-hand items will look just as good as brand new ones. Fill your baskets with pastel coloured cardigans, midi dresses and perfectly fitting jeans, and get ready to embody the effortless chicness of a French girl!

So why not head to the worlds capital of fashion and stay in one of Pariss hostels? Stay in the artsy district of Belleville at Les Piaules, where youll be welcomed with funky interiors, lush dorms and an on-site bar!

Coiffeur Vintage, 32 Rue des Rosiers, 75004 Paris, France

Vintage by Ramin, 64 Rue de la Verrerie, 75004 Paris, France

Kilo Shop Kawaii, 65 Rue de la Verrerie, 75004 Paris, France

10. Los Angeles, USA

:Getty Images

LA is beaches, Hollywood stars and wannabe influencers, but its a score for vintage shopping too! Maybe its because everything is so spaced out and many thrift stores can thrive, or maybe its because in a city so big it only makes sense that someone would end up getting rid of something nice at one point or another.

Los Angeles second-hand shopping is all about quantity, with the massive Society of St. Vincent de Paul Los Angeles Thrift Store being a prime example its the biggest thrift store in LA! You can get lost in this store for hours, finding gems like vintage Ralph Lauren blazers for $8 hidden behind a pile of Forever 21 faded tops.

You dont have to buy into the hype of a popular attraction though: a simple visit to the many Goodwills around the city will do! Given the huge selection they carry, youre bound to find something cute and interesting in any of them. Its science!

Dont forget to walk down Hollywood boulevard after all the shopping is done. LAs hostels give a relaxed and summery vibe making it the ideal chill out space. Walk of Fame Hollywood Hostel is ON Hollywood Blvd. So, I guess Ill see you in the movies

Society of St. Vincent de Paul Los Angeles Thrift Store, 210 N Ave 21, Los Angeles, CA 90031, USA

:@astaclivo

Each of these cities has so much more to offer, not to mention all the vintage stores hidden in the other parts of the world! I hope that next time you find yourself in a new place, youll decide to check out the best places for vintage shopping too, and maybe come home with a little wearable souvenir. And if you happen to find something really cool, please let us know in the comments below!

Keep reading:

Things to do in Shoreditch: The ultimate guide for eating, drinking and shopping

Where to stay in New York: a neighbourhood guide

The 11 best hostels in Los Angeles

About the author:

Hello! Im Linda, born in Rome under the Aquarius constellation. Hobbies include drawing on coffee cups, playing with glitterand pretending to be a witch.Favourite place on earth: Budapest, HungaryFavourite hostel: Clink261 London, UK. Catch me on the gram@lindasaidmeow!

The post Wearable souvenirs: 10 best places for vintage shopping around the world appeared first on Hostelworld Blog.

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socialattractionuk · 6 years ago

Text

Muslim men explain why it’s difficult to find a partner to marry

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

It’s a truth universally known; dating sucks.

But not all communities date. Muslims, for example, often get to know potential suitors with the aim of getting married as soon as possible. This is to avoid premarital sex.

The dating pool might not scream talent, no matter what your preferences are, but when you add religion to the mix – in that, you’re trying to find someone on the same religious level as you – the pool may become smaller.

Recently, we wrote about why Muslim women find it difficult to find a partner. A lot of the women said the issue came down to men not meeting them at their level.

But Muslim men also face challenges in finding someone to spend their lives with.

After all, Muslim men, like any group, are not a monolith – not all are mollycoddled and sheltered individuals, unable to reach the standards of Muslim women.

We spoke to five different Muslims based in the UK, US, and Canada.

Don, 28

The biggest challenge in preparing myself for marriage lies in the economic barriers to success. With housing prices so high, and enormous competition for high salaried positions, it feels like if you haven’t met a set of arbitrary, sometimes unreachable goals, you’re not worthy of the long term investment needed for a marriage.

The persistent idea that you are measured against your salary and how much you’ve achieved by a certain time in your life can leave you feeling inadequate.

In addition, having been raised Muslim but not necessarily having dated Muslim women, it can often feel like my value set isn’t sought after in a culture that seemingly rewards excess or wealth.

It makes the search for someone special considerably [difficult] and has proven itself a likely pitfall for heartache when values inevitably clash in a long term relationship.

Mustafa, 27, UK

Muslim dating apps are shit and the time it takes to communicate with someone is a turn off itself.

It’s a Muslim dating app and therefore you’re stepping on eggshells when it comes to flirting. Some don’t reciprocate the flirting which turns you off from flirting at all!

Some women certainly have a list of things they want in a man. Some are so expansive, it’s not surprising they’re still single.

And I’ve generally heard that the men on there are either boring or just trash.

I think in general both sexes don’t know how to approach the app by being themselves. I think they’re scared of the unknown or having the fear of being judged.

If you’re not meeting people via an app, it’s awkward meeting someone in real life especially if they bring someone with them. A lot of women also have a preconceived idea of men from certain areas, such as Tower Hamlets.

One thing I find is that a lot of girls don’t have confidence and don’t show off their personality on the first meeting.

(Picture: MMuffin for Metro.co.uk)

Nahid, 34, U.S

At a certain age, (over 30) it becomes easier for men to find partners than it is for women. This doesn’t seem unique to Muslim or South Asian culture.

I assume it’s because women tend to want to settle down at an earlier age as being single after a certain age is still somewhat frowned upon. Women are more willing at an older age to settle or work out the differences. They don’t want to be outside of societal norms.

But in some ways, I find that men of my age, ethnic and religious background in the west have to work a tad bit harder to find a suitable partner, especially if we’re limiting ourselves to partners of a similar background.

That’s because most of the backlash against Muslims is geared towards Muslim men. Women, in general, are viewed as victims of male oppression.

So it becomes our burden to prove that we’re not the oppressor and work harder to prove that.

More: Dating

Muslim men explain why it's so difficult to find a partner to marry

Every horrible 2019 dating stage and what they mean

What does DTF mean?

Our understanding of success in Muslim /Asian culture pivots around the notion that we’ll get married and settle down with kids.

Men’s goals and aspirations don’t usually stop there but women’s goals and aspirations are usually limited after marriage. A large part of female success is therefore defined by finding the right partner for her ‘success’.

I wouldn’t say women are inherently less ambitious, but their ambitions are not directed to what a capitalist part of the world would call success.

Also, women from a Muslim background have culturally been dependent on male support, financially.

Not only am I fighting Islamophobia, at the same time I’m fighting to liberate women from male dependency. These all take a mental toll and make it harder to marry.

Jamil, 26, UK

I don’t think it’s actually that hard to find a partner when you’re a Muslim man.

I know loads of people (male and female) who are finding partners and getting married.

However, I do think marriage feels like a huge deal in the Asian Muslim community, so when people of a marriageable age start thinking about it, it feels like a huge pressure to find someone that they’re compatible with, especially when it’s something they may have neglected whilst they were pursuing other things like education, career, or travelling etc.

Also, I think people feel like they have to be the finished package before they are ready to spend their life with someone as opposed to growing as an individual with someone which can cause them to delay or neglect meeting people.

It doesn’t help that Asian weddings can be very expensive, so before considering getting married, many need to make sure they’ve got healthy bank balances.

More: Dating

Muslim men explain why it's so difficult to find a partner to marry

Every horrible 2019 dating stage and what they mean

What does DTF mean?

Aden, 33, Canada

I spent a large part of my youth chasing the wrong things and neglecting my responsibilities. I think the family dynamic in my household and many other Muslim households has caused us as youth to make up our own ideals of how a wife or husband should be.

I personally would like to apologise to all the young Muslim women who have worked hard to help their families and educate themselves while some young Muslim men have gotten lost chasing the wrong things in life. We men have done a great dishonour to our Muslim women and our responsibilities as Muslim men.

Most guys don’t get themselves together until they hit their 30s, that’s if they ever get it together, and by that time most guys will look to marry younger girls which in my opinion is wrong.

Muslim men need to take a page out of Ilhan Omar’s husband’s book, who stands by his wife and elevates her by supporting her.

My recommendation to Muslim women who are single and looking for marriage is; be positive at all costs while also practicing sabr (patience) and remember that God tests the ones he loves with the greatest tests so be patient and your reward will be great.

MORE: Muslims who date in the age of Minder

MORE: Shisha lounges are important community spaces that are uniquely welcoming for Muslims and other minorities

MORE: Islamophobia has crept into the Conservative party and trickled down to its voters

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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a process {John Deacon}

Anon asked: Could you write something where reader (possibly in the band) and deaky are totally in love with each other but both are too shy to say anything and oblivious to see the others feelings but at the end the get together and it’s 100% fluff? Thank u sm your fics are gold

A/N: 3169 words. If I recall, some people wanted some Deaky fic?? He’s so lovely and this was a lot of fun to write!! Again, this is the BoRhap!Deaky. Also I wrote half of this at work; this is university funded fic ladies and gentlemen.

“Alright, boys, jus’ letting you know we’ve got a new intern in today; Y/N, she’s going to be shadowing me.” The sound designer, Earl, a skinny gentleman who always seemed to be wearing black, denim shorts no matter the weather, announces your arrival over the microphone to the recording studio where the band was discussing what song to practice next. In the next moment, you have four pairs of eyes all watching you through the glass of the sound studio, and you give a nervous wave back.

“Hello.” You offer, awkwardly, and Earl leans in to the microphone on the desk.

“She says hello.” He informs the others, and you feel like an idiot. Fortunately, the men all wave back, giving quick greetings of their own, before going back to their discussion.

“They’re good.” Earl, pulled up a spare chair for you by the desk, checking the levels as they started up on a new song. From anyone else, the words would sound like a mild compliment at best, but from Earl, who you’ve known practically forever, he was a friend of the familys’, and he did not shy away from complaining about the ‘teeny bopper drivel’ he had to make sound half-decent, you knew it was closer to a round of applause.

“Intern? Does that mean you get us drinks?” They’re actually recording now, one at a time, while the rest of them lounged around on the other side of the room with you. You’re perched on the edge of your chair by the sound desk when the drummer, Roger, speaks to you. Their lead singer, Freddie was at that moment, currently in the recording studio, crooning into the microphone with his headphones on, and it takes you a moment to turn and consider what he had said.

“I mean… yeah, I guess?” Looking to Earl to either confirm or deny the request, he’s focused on the sound desk, just waves you off with a distracted affirmation. A grin stretches over Roger’s face.

“Bourbon, thanks.” And his grin only got wider at your sudden confusion.

“Water for him.” Pipes up the bass player, John, sitting against the wall with his ankles crossed, smiling up at you. “And one for me too, if it’s not too much trouble.” Relieved, you smiled back at him despite Roger’s protests. “You want anything, Bri?” John asked their guitarist, and you ended up getting drinks for everyone. Thankful that they kept fresh bottles in the break room, you returned as Freddie stepped out of the sound booth, and his recording was played back. His smile was stiff as you handed him a water bottle, though it was probably because he was trying to concentrate on the playback of his vocals than any malice towards you. Roger accepted the drink begrudgingly, and Brian smiled at you.

“I’m John, by the way.” Holding out his hand to you, you bent down to shake John’s hand where he was still sitting on the floor.

“I know,�� you answered automatically, though he could see the regret on your face as soon as you said it, “I mean, we can hear you guys from in there, talking and everything,” you tried to explain yourself, still shaking his hand. After a long moment silence, he’s still looking at you with a bewildered, but pleasant smile. “I’m Y/N.” You finally manage.

“I know.” And he’s grinning at you, amused as you finally retract your hand to cross your arms over your chest. “You were introduced.” Pointing at Earl, you followed his gaze to the sound desk and the glass window, through which you could see Freddie setting up for another take.

“I’m Roger.” Roger offers from the side, and he seems to be splitting his focus between you and the singer.

“He’s Roger.” John muttered, much more quietly. How he was able to verbally communicate a fond eye-roll, you may never know.

“What does this one do?” Three weeks into your three month internship, and you’re minding the desk while Earl’s on break, slapping away John’s hands as he tries to get near the buttons.

“I don’t know.” You laughed for the fourth time in a row, pushing his hands gently from the desk.

“This one makes things loud, right?” His fingers edge towards one of the faders and you can see the grin he wears as he watches your expression closely, deciding if you’re going to slap him away from it again. The others have gone to get lunch and he’s keeping you company. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and you wouldn’t say you minded. John’s good company, unexpectedly sharp, and he always seems happy to see you.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that one; it’s for your bass.” You raised your eyebrows at him, lips twitching as you repressed a smile, watching him retract his hand to fold it in his lap.

“So that one’s for the bass, but what about the others?” He asked, nodding to the other faders, and you shrugged.

“Not sure.” Your response only made him smile wider.

“But you know which one the bass one is?” He asked, and you let yourself smile at him, a little more mischievous than was strictly necessary.

“Maybe I just told you that so you wouldn’t touch it.” There’s an unspoken challenge in your words, and his fingers danced along the bottom of the soundboard, just below where the masking tape labels for the faders have all worn away. There’s a moment, he’s hovering over one that looks like it’s labelled ‘Mic 2’ and you’re hand is already raised ready to knock him back, when the door bursts open and the others all spill in.

“Alright, out of my seat.” Earl pulls the rolling chair back with you still in it, and you obligingly hop out. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?” He asked, just like he had every single time since he’d first trusted you to look over it while he was gone.

“Yeah, Deaky, did you-” Roger’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but the bass player has hopped out of the seat that usually belongs to you, to make a beeline for the recording studio.

“Oh shut it, Rog,” he snaps, and though you can’t see the blush rising on his cheeks, he knows it’s there. “No.” He adds, and Roger’s exaggerated eye-roll, and the comment he had made, make you blush also, but you’re not entirely sure why, or at least, you won’t admit to yourself why.

“Okay, take, uh, take six? Take six of Killer Queen’s bass.” You stumbled over your words while speaking over the microphone into the recording booth where John waited with headphones on. He gave you a thumbs up, which you missed, searching for the button to play back the other accompaniment into his headphones. After a moment of fumbling, Earl pointed the button out to you, giving you a longsuffering smile as the music began to play back. The other band members quietly discussed the logistics of the song as you watched Earl gently adjust the sound levels every few moments. Sparing a glance to John through the glass, you get a little lost for a moment, watching his intense concentration as he worked his way through the song. He had an intensity about him, the utmost concentration that made you not want to look away. Finishing without a single note missed, he looks up to see you looking back at him, a little starry-eyed, and he grins back.

“Wow.” You breathe, before turning bright red, feeling someone over your shoulder.

“She thinks it’s great.” Freddie pressed down the button, speaking into the microphone by your shoulder. John chuckled fondly, a little flush.

“I- yeah, thank you.” After a beat, he recomposed himself. “And you guys?” His gaze finally moved from your face to look over the others, who were all looking at either you or John smugly. Freddie stepped back from the console, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile as he looked between you two.

“She’s right.” Roger called from the sofa, splayed across it, partially leaning against Brian. After a beat, John gave him a confused look, tapping at the headphones. “Oi, tell ‘im.” Roger urged you, and tentatively you pressed the microphone button, leaning in to it.

“They agree.” And you watch him let out a sigh of relief as he goes to put his bass on it’s stand, making room for Brian to step in and start with his section. When he comes back into the room, John makes a beeline for the sofa, only to find Roger’s laid himself across it horizontally, taking up as much room as he possibly could.

“Sorry, mate.” The drummer grins, clearly not sorry at all. Even Freddie, who usually didn’t go in for this sort of stuff, was using the armrests of the armchair he had draped himself in, giving the bass guitarist a knowing smile, and a sly look to where you were receiving a quiet lesson faders from Earl as Brian began making sure his guitar was in tune.

“You’re doing really good,” John muttered to you from where he leaned against the wall close to the sound desk. You’d just called to start the guitar track and he was keeping his eyes on his bandmate. Startled, you slid the headphones from your ears where you were listening to make sure Brian was hearing the same thing you were.

“What?” Voice quiet, you looked up at John, and he finally looked away from Brian, smiling fondly at you.

“The whole intern thing, you’re doing really well.” And the resulting smile you gave him made you glow with pride. You’d been so worried that it had seemed like you were stumbling through your tasks, because, well, at times you were, but even a slight affirmation had you thrilled. After a beat, you tried to school face into something more serious as you tried not to let the embarrassing crush on him that had developed over the past few weeks show. He was a musician and you were an intern, and it was just a little bit of a hero-crush, nothing to get too serious about. But he was smiling back at you, and it just made you feel warm; it didn’t have to be a bad thing if you didn’t let it.

Once the album is done, you still actually manage to see them around, at least for the first few weeks. You’d actually managed to score a job as an assistant from the internship, and they were in often discussing the plans of their tour. Every time they spotted you in the halls, the others would conveniently vanish the moment John asked how you’d been. It hurt a little, to think about how you wouldn’t see them, see him, for a few months, or perhaps even a year, but you thought perhaps it would be a good thing, letting your little crush die.

“I’ll really miss working with you.” But then he had to go and say that, smiling in that way that made everything seem alright, and he wrapped an arm around you in a hug. He’s not usually a tactile person, from what you’ve gathered, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice.

“I’ll miss,” the words get stuck in your throat a little, “working with you too.” He gives you a comforting squeezes, and you’re not sure what to do about the way your heart beats a little faster, so you let him leave. He hesitates for a moment, seems like he doesn’t want to go, or has something to say. You see something in his smile, maybe a little sadness, maybe something else you can’t quite place, and you both know it’ll be a while before you see each other again.

“Is Y/N going to be here?” John’s bopping slightly to the beat in his head as he watches Earl set up the sound equipment on the farm.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.” Earl doesn’t look up from his job while Roger yells at the same time, from the other room.

“No distractions!” And it’s accompanied by the thwap of Roger’s slipper hitting the glass of the window to the sound room, but he’s grinning at the bassist from where he’s sitting behind his drums. John refuses to read into that.

It’s been almost six months since you’d seen each other, and you’d jumped at the opportunity to join Earl and the boys a the farm, even if it is in the middle of nowhere, and you’d be sleeping on a sofa for a week. You arrived at the tail end of their stay, once the music was written, all that was left to do was record it.

He’s waiting out the front of the house, perched on the brick wall and eyeing off a large chicken who looked like it was ready to spook him, when Earl pulls up with you in the front seat.The noise of the van is enough to send the chicken scrambling in the other direction, but John waved at you, and there it was, that feeling in your chest that you’ve been trying to bury for six whole months practically leaping to life as you step out to hug him in greeting.

“Oi, Y/N, settle an argument for us.” When you walk into the kitchen in the morning, Brian is smiling despite the fact that he’s got bacon in his hair, Roger is hunched over eating the rest of the bacon, at least what wasn’t scattered on the floor, from the pan and refusing to share, and John was just smiling blithely into his coffee.

“What do you think of when you hear the phrase, ‘I’m in love with my car’.” John asked, not looking away from where Roger was glowering.

“Is it a nice car?” You asked, easily making your way around the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast, ignoring the way Roger perked up at the question.

“Like as a song, what do you think?” John’s smile as catty as you’ve ever seen it. When you ask what happened to the coffee pot as it lay on it’s side sink, John hands over his mug without hesitating, still waiting on your response.

“Well... is it a metaphor?” You asked, squinting between the three of them. After a beat, Roger slams the frypan on the table and throws his hands in the air.

“Yes, see she gets it!” And you’re pretty sure you’re on the wrong side of the table as John shakes his head.

“So you metaphorically are in love with your car?” You asked, rounding the bench to join John and Brian, who were now actively stifling laughter as Roger’s face fell. Resting against the bench by John, you’re close enough that he can lean his head against your shoulder in solidarity, taking back his coffee and having a pointed sip as your words set Roger off on another rant. If you lean into it a little, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, you don’t see it, but his smile widens.

When you hear John banging on the door of the farmhouse after you’ve finished helping pack everything up and Earl’s already locked everyone else out of the sound room for the rest of the night, it’s a shock.

“Tell her!” You can hear Roger’s shout on the other side of the door as John knocks louder.

“You really should just tell her.” Unexpectedly, even Freddie seems to agree with the drummer, though John shouts that he’ll catch his death of cold if they don’t let him in soon.

“Be an adult, John!” Brian tries to placate the bassist from the other side of the door where they’ve all teamed up against him. “Just tell her.”

“Be an adult?!” John parrots back, just before you get to them.

“Tell me what?” That shut them all up quick, and even before he turns to face you, you can tell he’s bright red. “I mean, I’m the only ‘her’ for what feels like a few hundred kilometres.” Smiling with confusion, you look to the door, and then to John. Someone whispers ‘tell her’.

“I want to see you again.” John lets the words tumble out into the world, hands out and open in front of him in some sort of ‘ta-da’ gesture, before looking over his shoulder. “Can I come back inside now?”

“What? No.” You can hear Roger’s baffled expression in his words, and it’s joined by a hum of agreement from Freddie.

“He’s right, Deaky, that was a terrible declaration of lov-” John’s pulling you away by the elbow before you could hear the rest of Freddie’s statement, though you got the general gist of it.

“You know what, maybe we’re better off out here.” He huffs, unable to look at you as he tugs you towards the wall.

“Slow down, slow down.” Once at the wall, you tug free from his grip and lean against it, watching him fidget. “You like me?” You asked, half smile forming on your lips.

“We’re not high schoolers, Y/N.” He tried dodging the question with a self-deprecating smile. Taking a step forward, you finally got him to look at you. “You know, it was weird, caring about you so much after only three months.” He admitted, studying your features with an intensity you had only seen him get around music, it made you feel like the only person in the world that mattered in that one moment. “It was weird, looking up on stage and not seeing you in the crowd.” He paused for a moment. “And I don’t want that to be our only interaction, just recording music together, I wanna take you take you to all the sights I got to see, but just... just because I want to see them with you.” When his gaze dropped, it felt as if the moment had passed, but you didn’t want to leave it just yet. Gently, you took his hand, and when his eyes met yours, you were smiling, a bit pink in the cheeks, but so obviously full of joy.

“I’d like that,” and after a beat, you moved in to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste. “I missed you... so much more than I thought I would.” You chuckled softly, moving back just a little. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t-”

“No, I did.” He looked away, a little embarrassed, and you could see the flush of his cheeks. “The, uh, the boys will attest to that.” He admitted, and that’s when you remembered, feeling the biting chill of the night air finally begin to hit you.

“Do you think they’ve unlocked the door?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. His expression fell as the two of you began to walk hand in hand back to the farmhouse.

“It doesn’t actually lock, they were just all leaning against it.”

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #joe mazzello #queen #queen imagine #bo rhap #the angry lizard writes

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

Text

ask your destiny to dance [11] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

The second worst part is that Kristin is so nice. She’s bright, and sweet, and she ‘loves that shirt where did you get it from? You made it, oh that’s so cool! I could never do something like that you’re so talented!’ She’s so earnest, barely nineteen, and she clings a little, to Roger when he’s around, to Ash and Mary, because they answer her questions; she’s starry-eyed when she stands and watches the band through the glass of the sound studio window. She doesn’t know a lot about music, but she knows enough to appreciate the work they’re putting in.

The worst part is that she takes a liking to Ash.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to talk so much, I’m just nervous, you know?” And Kristin’s smiling a little distractedly as she watches Roger play. “I mean, I only met him a few weeks ago-” and she keeps talking but Ash’s brain short circuits; she’s not just a girl he picked up at the bar, she’s a girl he invited to the bar to watch him play.

“Could I talk to you for a second?” Ash asks, standing abruptly, holding out her hand to Kristin. The other woman takes it, and Mary shoots the ginger a supportive smile.

Ash wants to tell Kristin to run as far as she can, wants to warn this kind-faced girl about what Roger was capable of, wants to tell her that he basically admitted that he still wants to hook up with Ash not forty minutes ago, but as soon as the door swings closed, Kristin starts.

“I know you’re friends with Roger,” she starts, a little sheepish, and Ash’s eyes go wide, “and you’re protective of him or something like that, but-”

“No, not at all!” Ash blurts out, realising she’s still holding Kristin’s hand. “It’s you I’m worried about, darlin’.” It’s takes a long moment for Kristin to process Ash’s words, wide-eyed. “Roger can be,” Ash takes a moment in the silence to choose her words carefully, humming as she turned each over in her mind before settling on; “fickle.” Run fast, run far, he mind yells, but Ash is already feeling selfish for thinking it; she’s told him she’s going to try and keep it platonic from now on, she shouldn’t try and scare off someone he’s a little serious about.

She’s not jealous.

If she keeps telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it, maybe she’ll stop feeling like her emotions are betraying her.

“Fickle?” Kristin’s brow furrows, and her expression turns soft. “You’re worried about me? Oh, Ash- can I call you Ash?” She asks nervously, not at all patronising, and Ash lets herself grin.

“It is my name.”

“I promise I can take care of myself.” Kristin assures her, but the horrible thought flashes through Ash’s mind, that August would adore her, Ash knows immediately that she has to keep Roger from hurting her while they’re together.

“I’m sure you can.” Ash gives her a kind smile, forcing herself to relax. “I just wanted to say my peace.” She said, and Kristin gives her fond smile, squeezing her hand as a reassurance, before they head back into the recording studio.

“You two... seem to be getting along.” Roger doesn’t sound like he likes that, eyes zeroing in on where the girls hands are clasped, and Ash gives him a sunny smile. He narrows his eyes further, plopping himself onto the other end of the sofa from Mary. Kristin lets go of Ash and immediately makes her way over to him, sitting in his lap, and something in Ash’s chest tightens painfully, smile dropping as he wraps an arm around her.

“She’s just being kind.” Kristin assures him, and Ash is pretty sure she sees a sarcastic response pass through Roger’s mind, but he bites it back.

“She’s good at that when she wants to be.” He says instead, quiet, apologetic smile on his face when he makes eye contact with Ash, and the girl in question just gives a jerky nod, turning to watch John begin playing.

“Yes, our Ash can be a sweetheart.” Freddie says from his seat beside the sound engineer, and Ash gives him a grateful smile, and he gives her a nod of acknowledgement, smile reassuring.

“A downright sap, sometimes.” Mary calls from the sofa, despite the fact that they both knew she’d never seen Ash as anything less than a dry-humoured bartender, though Ash still feels her cheeks heat up, embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, thanks I think she gets it.” And when Ash turns back, Kristin and Roger are quiet, her head on his shoulder, both looking up; she’s looking at Deaky, looking relaxed and content, and Roger is looking at Ash, a little confused.

“I don’t want to get into another argument.” Roger says it around a cigarette when Ash joins him outside for a smoke. He’s restless, both from the tension he can feel crackling from Ash, and the fact that they’ve yet to strike gold in the recording studio.

“I just don’t know how you could say all that to me while you knew she was in the next room; you’re dating her, aren’t you?” She doesn’t light up her own cigarette, just shoves her hands into her jean pockets. Her voice is hollow.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the most sincere he’s sounded so far, and the silence that follows feels like eons. “I’m sorry I said what I said; about the standards comment and everything else, okay? After what happened with August, we were good, weren’t we? Not back to... to whatever we were before, but we were good. I miss that.” I miss you, he thinks, but he can’t say it. “What happened?”

Ash can’t open her mouth because she knows if she does, she’ll say exactly what she’s thinking, that they were good, but she watched him pick up Kristin at her bar and she was hit with how much his words had hurt her, and how much it hurt to have proof of him spending the night with someone else.

“I guess I’ve just been bottling up being mad about that comment you made.” She lied easily, shrugging, not meeting his gaze. “You are dating her, aren’t you; you’ve been together for a few weeks now.” And Ash isn’t sure which answer will hurt more.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He seems a little uncertain, and he’s reached the end of his cigarette.

“She’s good.” Ash says, quiet enough that Roger almost doesn’t catch it, and when he goes to comment, she looks up, smiling a little too brightly. “We’re good, for real.” He thinks for a moment that she’s correcting her earlier statement, but he’s not quite sure, and she reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder, and he’s frowning, confused. There’s a sincerity in her eyes that he can’t help but believe, and as soon as she can see he believes her, she’s turned and headed back inside.

“Don’t you think I sound like shit?” Ash walks in as Freddie is pacing, listening to a playback of himself. As if working off muscle memory alone, he moves in to give Ash a distracted side hug, before letting her go. Ash herself is a little distracted, and she makes her way over to where John’s sitting by the sound engineer, deep in thought. She rests her chin on his shoulder, uncertain of what else to do, and he pets her face comfortingly as a form of acknowledgement.

They’re so close to gold it’s almost painful, and she watches Freddie, restless, step back into the recording booth. Stepping back, Ash listens as he sings, hears the door open and close but doesn’t turn, just gives her best friend her full attention, and seeing her there, less troubled than earlier, bright and focused on him, Freddie’s own focus intensifies.

“What if we bounce it left and right for the ‘ah-ah-ah’s?” He suggested on the next playback, resting an arm on Ash’s shoulder, frowning at the soundboard. They listened, Freddie’s voice sliding from the speaks on the left to the right, a little hypnotically.

“And then centre for the last one!” Brian says, eyes bright, filled with a new energy, coming up and leaning on Ash’s other shoulder, to which she couldn’t help but grin, feeling the electricity crackle through the air as they listened back to the recording as they experimented on it.

“And blast it!” Roger cries; and there it is, coming together, gold.

Freddie picks Ash up, spinning her around, ecstatic, before he’s turning and reaching for Mary. They’re bottling lightning from the moment they step back into the studio, experimenting with their sound, and it’s like a weight has dropped from everyone’s shoulders, tension leaving only to be replaced with elation and excitement. Ash throws herself back onto the sofa between Kristin and Mary, positively beaming, and Mary wraps her arms around Ash, pulling her in for a tight hug, while Kristin tapped Ash’s leg with excitement.

Everyone’s up, down, and all over the place; at one point, Ash is on Brian’s shoulders with a tambourine, and then she was pulling the change from her wallet, pouring it onto the drums, along with the others, and she and Kristin were botching the cha-cha to a playback of Modern Times Rock ‘N Roll as Freddie and Mary were stepping through a surprisingly good jive, and the other three were bopping along; Roger grinned as he watched Ash dance. Actually, she realises, he’s probably watching Kristin; she doesn’t dwell on it.

The night was growing later, and they were still working as Kristin called it a night, and Ash had her head in Mary’s lap as the boys were in the recording studio, trying to record with a bucket over the microphone, and Mary was nodding off against the back of the lounge but Ash felt electric. Men in suits come in asking for a demo, but she’s too wrapped up in the music being made to even really register them. They leave with a demo of the recording before she’s even fully realised they were there.

“Where’s Kristin gone?” Roger asks, eyes bright as he moves to the sofa. Ash pulls her legs back, making room for him, before she puts her legs in his lap without thinking, neither of them really register it, it feels like it always has, and they’re smiling at each other.

“I think she went home.” Ash told him, and Roger’s gaze slides to Mary, something fondly amused about his expression. His hand is on Ash’s thigh and something inside her feels sated.

“I think Mary’s about ready to call it quits too.” He mused, voice getting a little quieter as to not disturb her, before he looks back at Ash. “I appreciate you being cool about Kristin.” He said, and Ash rolled her eyes.

“Well I wasn’t going to flip out, that’s a pretty dead giveaway that something did happen between us.” Ash’s voice was light, she seemed more exasperated than anything else. Mary makes a noise in her sleep, and for a moment, there’s fear in Ash’s eyes that she had heard what Ash had said. Roger is quiet for a long moment, his expression nervous as he looks at Mary, and his hand begins to move in a comforting rhythm against Ash’s thigh. She doesn’t seem inclined to move or to ask him to stop.

“You guys sound so fucking good.” Ash finally breaks the silence, tension dropping as she beams at him.

“Well we’re glad to have you with us; our unofficial mascot.” He muses, and Ash smacks his arm, snorting out a laugh. “Fine, not a mascot, our... what do you do for us?” He asked, which only made Ash laugh harder. Mary made another noise, and Ash pressed her lips together, stifling a guilty laugh as she sat up, moving her legs from beside Roger to sit next to him, legs tucked up onto the sofa. He kept his hand on her thigh.

“I serve you drinks and lend Freds my clothes,” she clarified, and Roger nodded as seriously as he could, the two of them looking through the window to see Freddie and John waving about card board tubes as Brian was fiddling with the amp.

“So you’re our costumer?” He asked, and Ash made a thoughtful noise, smiling at the notion.

“Only if I can dress all of you-” and as she said it, Roger’s hand slowed, coming to rest at the top of her thigh. Ash’s smile became a little tight. “Of course I was going to be cool about Kristin.” It’s so fucking pointed it hurts both of them a little, and he folds his hands in his lap.

“Of course you can dress us, I’d look great in sequins.” He mused, tone still bright and amused, and Ash snorted, rolling her eyes.

“You give yourself too much credit, Rog.” But there’s still a tension there, and Roger turns to her, eyebrows raised, and his answer is so automatic that he doesn’t register it until the words are out of his mouth.

“Ash, look at me, look at my face; I look good in everything, I even look good in nothing.”

Ash can feel in this instance that she’s at a crossroads; her mouth goes dry, and she has to look away, something in her chest tightening.

“You’re really doing this? You really decided that that was what you needed to say right now? God, you’re an idiot.” She gives a humourless laugh, standing.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He tries, but she just shrugs helplessly.

“You are who you are, Rog, I get it.” And she started collecting her things. “Just try not to act on your instincts, for Kristin, okay? She’s good. I’m going home, it’s late.” And she gives him a tired smile. “Tell the others I said goodbye; I am really proud of you guys.”

Roger nods, giving her a weak smile, and watches her leave.

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