#always in my pop punk era | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theharddeck · 2 years

Text

my forever, every day (rooster x reader)

Pairing: rooster x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: rooster and his girlfriend get sidetracked on a drive down PCH.

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI, swearing, sex, oral sex (m receiving), squint-and-you-miss it rank kink, also praise kinks bc of who i am as a person...anything else, y'all lmk

Length: 4.9k

the title is a lyric from bronco, by the driver era . this one was written for @jadore-andor (happy birthday, my dear!!) and tagging my loves @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite 💙

Bradley’s unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapped around his shoulders and your hair blew around your face as you leaned back into your seat after turning up the volume on the old radio. The heavy bass provided the perfect driving music as the Bronco rolled down the 101, and you hummed along as the winding freeway took you south.

It had been the perfect day off.

You’d both gotten a little more sun than you probably should’ve, and there was sand all over the floorboards, but it had been an absolutely perfect day off. Breakfast tacos, then lazing around on a beach in San Clemente, then an ice cream from the shop at the end of the pier and now driving back down to San Diego in your swimsuits while the sun sank over the ocean—what more could a girl ask for?

The bass faded and when you heard the first notes of the next song, you recognized it, too. You looked at Bradley suspiciously; normally, his music tastes skewed much more Indie Rock than Pop Punk, and the last four or five songs had been much more your speed than his.

“Bradley?” you asked.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I love all of these songs,” you said, and it wasn’t really a question, as much as it was a request for an explanation.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Bradley said. His hand slipped down the wheel to flip on his turn signal, while keeping his other arm stretched over the back of the bench seat.

You waited for him to finish merging lanes before you asked, “What do you mean?”

Bradley glanced over at you, then leaned forward to grab his phone, connected through an adapter to a cable to the cassette tape that would let his phone play music through the vintage console. On his screen, you saw a Spotify playlist, simply titled: “For Gorgeous 🖤”.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at it, then back up at your boyfriend, his eyes on the road. Behind his sunglasses, you could see them flicking to you, not like he was nervous, but like he was gauging your reaction.

“You made me a playlist?” you asked.

“I mean,” Bradley said, shifting in his seat, “it’s not, like, a big deal. You just were so excited for your day off, and this perfect beach day that you wanted, so I thought it’d be good to end it with music you like.”

You scrolled through the playlist, recognizing most of the songs as titles you’d either shared with accompanying stories, or songs that were a part of memories the two of you shared.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said fondly, setting his phone back in the cupholder, next to the empty ice cream cup from the pier. “The old school romantic.”

He scoffed, pushing up his sunglasses again, and the hand that was over the back of the bench seat flicked down to tug lightly on your hair. You wrinkled your nose, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it into your lap. You wove your fingers between his, your free hand tracing over the veins on the back of his hand.

You lifted his hand, after a moment, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before settling it back in your lap.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Today was wonderful.”

Bradley squeezed your hand, his fingers brushing the tops of your thighs against where you held him.

“Of course, honey,” he said.

The song ran out and you went back to playing with his hands. You loved his hands, you were a simple girl like that, and his were enormous. Broad fingers, calloused palms, and always warm, always available to you.

The next song picked up, and you frowned for a moment, before you recognized it.

A memory flashed through your head—your blue sundress pushed up to around your hips, Bradley’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom of The Hard Deck, the lock digging into your back as your boyfriend lost himself between your thighs. Him whispering into your cunt that he couldn’t wait until he could take you home, he’d do this better later, that you tasted better than he could’ve imagined, and holding you on the brink of orgasm until the rest of the bar sang along with the guitar riff, covering your keening moans when you finally came apart on his tongue.

In the present moment, you looked over at Bradley, unsure if that’s why this was included on the list, to see a spot of color on his cheeks, his hand tightly clutching the steering wheel. The hand you still held was deliberately loose, but every other inch of him was radiating tension, and you’d place money on the fact that the same memory was running through his mind.

You tried to keep a laugh out of your voice when you asked him, “You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered without malice, shifting in his seat.

You bit your lip to hide a grin, and continued to watch his growing discomfort. His wide shoulders were tense, and he lifted one of his knees to hold the wheel steady while he wiped his palm on the front of his board shorts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bradley said, without looking at you to confirm what expression you wore. You pressed your lips together to trap a giggle, before looking deliberately out the window, giving him a break.

The sun sank into the horizon and the world slipped into the blue haze of twilight as the song played out. Another one came on, something soft and sweet, and you started tracing Bradley’s hand again. This song was one that had gotten you through his last deployment, one you’d looped while you cleaned the empty apartment, or rereading his last emails. Bradley’s thumb rubbed against your palm comfortingly, and you knew he knew.

The lights flipped on on the side of the road, soft circles of light cutting through the blue haze of the evening, as the guitar strings faded. Another song picked up, a beat set by a bass, and unfamiliar lyrics. You frowned, looking back at your boyfriend.

“What’s this one from?” you asked.

Bradley lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focusing on the road. “Dunno,” he said, “just made me think of you.”

You hummed in acceptance, listening to the lyrics. It wasn’t an indictment or a compliment, and you leaned across the seat to take Bradley’s glasses off his nose as the night got darker.

“You don’t need these anymore, do you?” you asked, sliding them into your hair to hold it out of your face.

Bradley squinted on principle, but didn’t fight it as you stole his aviators to use as a headband. You looked out the front of the car, at the tail lights ahead of you flickering on, and you felt him watching you.

“What?” you asked, looking back to meet him. Even in the dim light, you could make out the deep brown of his eyes, flitting between the road and watching you.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

“You really don’t remember this song?” he asked. His voice was low, curious, like he held a secret, not like he was disappointed, so you answered honestly and shook your head.

Bradley nodded, then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Guess I’d better remind you, then,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Wait, I thought it wasn’t—”

Bradley leaned a little to the side, looking under your lowered visor at a sign flashing by on the roadside.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching over briefly to tug on your safety belt, before throwing the Bronco into a lower gear, slamming on the brakes, and turning off the 101.

You squeaked as the truck pitched to the side, reeling into an overnight campsite off the beach. It was one of those that you got access to via a statewide membership, and Bradley kept the car registered in case he and the guys wanted to go on a trip; tonight it meant he could just wave authoritatively to the park ranger in the box, and drive you guys through.

“What the hell, Rooster,” you gasped at his impulsiveness, but he was silent as he drove to the back of the lot. The car lurched to a stop and he was out of it before it fully stopped moving, his long legs eating up the distance from the driver’s side to the passenger’s door. He yanked open your door, reached around you to undo your safety belt, and pulled you to the edge of your seat. With one massive hand, Bradley spread your legs, settling between them, and he wound his other hand through your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you hungrily.

You whimpered in surprise and Bradley took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He kissed you like he did everything to you—with measured intensity, determined thoroughness, and sweet honesty. His lips were soft, knowing the perfect pressure and pull to tempt you deeper into his arms, and on his breath you tasted the cherry chocolate of the ice cream you’d split back in San Clemente.

Your arms wound around his neck, pulling you nearly out of the Bronco and against your boyfriend’s tall frame and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. You felt it through his chest, and the hand in your hair pulled his aviators out of them before he ran his fingers slid down the exposed skin of your back, skimming over the ties that held your bikini top up.

When Bradley pulled back a breath, you were both panting, lips swollen, a little drunk chasing the taste of each other.

“You still don’t remember?” Bradley asked, his voice low, rough, the rasp of it sending a tremor through you.

You shook your head and Bradley’s eyes darkened, even as he smiled.

“Backseat, sweet girl,” Bradley said, stepping back out of your space, but you still felt his touch all over your skin. “Now.”

And, what, were you gonna say no to that?

You kicked off your sandals, leaving them in the front seat as you slipped under Bradley’s arm, and into the door he opened to the backseat of his car.

You heard Bradley chuckling at your haste as he followed behind you, pulling the door shut and then hauling you into his lap by your thighs.

You landed gracelessly, straddling him in the hunched space, and a moment later, his mouth found yours as he kissed you again. It was different like this, just as delicious but closer. Thighs over each other, stomachs against one another, limbs cramped in the tight space as you scrambled for purchase in each others’ bodies. Yours settled on Bradley’s shoulders, and you could feel his strong arms shifting, running over you, and then gone. You pulled back questioningly when Bradley’s hands lifted from your skin, to find him hastily shrugging out of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Presumptive,” you teased him, leaning in to kiss his neck while he tried to pull the shirt out from where it was trapped between him and the seat. You felt his chest constrict when your lips brushed against his pulse point and he yanked the shirt out from behind him sharply.

You expected him to toss it to the side, but instead, he fixed the garment around your shoulders, feeding your arms through it and buttoning one of the buttons across your chest. It was the opposite of what you expected from him, but when Bradley seemed satisfied, he surged towards you again, kissing you deeply. As his lips moved over yours, you felt his hands smooth over your skin, reaching under his shirt to untie your bikini.

Now that made more sense.

A couple quick tugs later, and your bikini fell to the floor of the Bronco; you broke away from Bradley’s mouth with a gasp when his warm palms came up to cup your breasts.

“Presumptive, she says,” he muttered against your lips, kissing you almost harshly. “I think you meant ‘possessive’, gorgeous.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened points against his calloused fingers and the loose brush of his shirt. You squirmed in his lap, his words reminding you just how exposed you were.

“Babe, do you think—” you started, and he interrupted you with another kiss, with another pinch under his shirt.

“You think I’m gonna let anyone else see my girl?” he asked, his grip on you tightening.

His possessiveness sent another bolt of desire through you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing yourself into him. Bradley seemed more than happy with the motion, his fingers working over you and his lips latching onto your neck again.

When he grazed your skin with his teeth, your hips bucked into him, and you both moaned at the contact. You were both still in your swimsuits, but you could feel the outline of Bradley’s cock against your thigh, through the thin material of his swimsuit. One of Bradley’s hands fell to your hip, helping to guide your motion as you moved over his thigh. His legs were so thick, strong under you and tensed like this, and the dragging movement rubbed your swimsuit against your core, and Bradley let out a long breath as you moved over him.

“That’s it, honey, feels good, doesn’t it?”

You pressed your lips together, nodding, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. You could feel how tightly he was clenched, wound, just letting you use his body to seek your own relief. This man, this enormous, powerful man, letting you rut against him just because it felt good.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” Bradley whispered, and when you looked up, he was watching you closely. His head was back against the headrest, and his eyes were hooded as his hands guided your movement, admiration shining in them. “You have me feeling like a damn teenager, not waiting till we get home because I need to feel my pussy before then.”

You whimpered at the crude way he described you as his, but you rocked your hips again and it was true. You were his, entirely and completely, and you were needy.

“Babe,” you whispered, your voice thin as you rocked against him, needing more.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” Bradley told you, and one of his hands lifted to slip inside of your swimsuit. You looked down, couldn’t help yourself, moaning at the sight of his thick wrist against your stomach, his big hand stretching the black material of your swimsuit.

Your body jolted when he dragged a finger through your folds, and Bradley moaned when he felt the wetness gathered there. You were scratching him, your nails scrambling for purchase against his skin, as his finger pulled your arousal from between your thighs to rub over your clit. He felt so good, heavenly, unhurried and overwhelming and Bradley continued to guide your hips over him with the hand on your thigh. The slow motion dragged you against his finger, and he shifted his wrist to keep a finger against your clit but reach between your legs to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you moaned at the intrusion, the stretch another kind of overwhelming, and you felt Bradley still.

“You know better than that, sweet girl,” Bradley said, his voice low. “What do you say when I’m between your legs?”

“Bradley,” you whimpered, your hips rocking, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you, but his hand remained frozen.

“Say my name like you mean it, honey,” he said slowly, moving his wrist again, repositioning.

“Bradley,” you all but sobbed, needing friction, needing something, needing more of him, “please, baby, please, I need to—Bradley–”

“That’s better, gorgeous,” he said approvingly, and then he shoved a third finger into you.

Your thighs jerked, hips automatically pushing away from the intrusion, but Bradley held you steady, not waiting for you to adjust before his fingers were moving inside of you.

You moaned as his long fingers reached deep into you, and you heard Bradley laughing quietly to himself as he leaned forward to kiss the curve of your jaw gently. The soft pressure of his lips was a wild juxtaposition to the merciless stretch of his fingers, and you writhed over him, desperate. His fingers curled inside of you, his thumb pressing steadily on your clit, and you ground against his hand, wildly chasing your pleasure.

“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”

You moaned, nodding dazedly, your hand falling to his swim trunks to find the cock in question.

Fuck, he was so hard.

Just from your pleasure, just from the press of your body against his; you moaned as you slid your hand over the length of him. Bradley let out a choked breath when you squeezed him over his trunks, and then he let go of your hip to brace himself, lifting you and his hips so you could slide the trunks down his thighs, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped out of you.

He was so fucking strong, and when he sank back down, his cock bobbed in his lap, and you reached for him eagerly. Bradley moaned when your hand closed over him, warm skin against warm skin, and when you looked up at him, he licked his lips, his mouth slightly agape, watching you.

“You gonna jerk me off, honey?” he asked, his voice rough. “Work that cock up to fill you, while I stretch my pussy out to take me?”

You whimpered, bringing your hand up to your mouth to spit on it, before sliding your hand over his cock. A bit of precum was already leaking out of the tip, and Bradley swore softly when your thumb reached up to grab the pearl of moisture, mixing it with your spit as you worked over him.

You would never get tired of the sounds your boyfriend made.

He was never shy about talking to you, telling you what he wanted, how hot you made him, but it was his moans and groans that got you off. You loved when he sounded undone, knowing you were the one pulling those gorgeous sounds out of him, and you tightened your grip around his dick as you worked over him.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” Bradley groaned in response, his head dropping to your shoulder. He curled his fingers inside you, and you whined when he realized he was matching his movements with your hand over his cock.

“What do you think, gorgeous,” he asked gruffly. “You think you’re ready for me?”

You licked your lips, looking down at the length of him in your hand, swelling larger with every pull of your hand over him. You were never really ready, not before an orgasm, but you wanted to be stretched over him, more than you wanted to be ready.

“Please, Bradley,” you nodded, rising up on your thighs for Bradley to undo the strings of your bikini bottoms as well. It joined the top on the floorboards of the Bronco, and Bradley hummed to himself as he took you in, wearing only his shirt, rutting against his thigh and working his cock in your hand.

“Love you so much, sweet girl,” he said quietly, and your heart clenched at his soft admission, in the middle of a frenzied pitch.

“Love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. You leaned in to kiss him quickly, settling back down on his thighs, and pulling your hand over his cock again. “So are you gonna fuck me about it?”

Bradley’s eyes fluttered as your grip tightened and your words settled over him. When he opened them, you could barely see the brown of his irises, his eyes were blown wide.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, and then he batted your hand away, lifted your hips and impaled you on his cock.

You didn’t mean to scream.

But his thrust pushed all the air out of you, and all you could think was him, Bradley, Bradley, and you realized you were moaning it aloud, like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight, gorgeous,” Bradley gritted, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, his voice tight as he held himself still, waiting for you to adjust.

Not like you could do a damn thing.

Your body felt like it was on fire, full and stretched and absolutely alight with desire, every inch of you pulsing for him. You needed him to move, you needed to adjust, you needed him, that was what you knew.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, one of his hands coming up to pet your hair. You lowered your head to his shoulder, feeling molten, past numb, like being draped over him was the only way you wanted to stay forever.

Bradley was still running his hands over you, and you could feel his breath coming in measured pulls, as he tightly held onto control.

After a couple more moments, you felt a little more grounded, more adjusted. You became aware of the way your shaky breathing was echoing around the car, the windows fogged like Titanic, your sweet boyfriend holding himself in check until you told him you were okay.

“Bradley?” you asked weakly, reaching up slowly to cup the back of his head, even though you still didn’t feel like you could lift your head.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he breathed, and your heart swelled at the care in his voice.

“I want to feel you, babe,” you told him, and you felt a shiver work through his body.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned.

He rocked up into you, a broken cry easing out of you as he pushed even deeper, your thighs widening to accommodate him.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” Bradley moaned, and he pulled out before thrusting into you.

The drag of him was absolutely heaven, thick and rough and reaching that deep part of you that only he could. You moaned as he set a rhythm against you, his strong thighs flexing to drive up into you, splitting you, completing you.

“Baby, it’s so good, you’re so good, you feel—fuck, baby,” you babbled, and Bradley groaned.

He guided your hand farther up his scalp, twining your fingers into his hair and you pulled slightly. His hips thrust harder and you whined at the ferocity of it, the perfection of it.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned, “taking me like you were fucking made for it, moaning on my cock like it’s all you wanted.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t.

The whole world was this Bronco, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling him pushing into you, the air thick with both of your sweat and sex and the moans you couldn’t stop from pouring out of you.

Bradley drove up into you, and his hands fell back to your hips, guiding your movement against him. At the top of your stroke, your pelvis pressed against his and your clit rubbed against him, and it sent white heat curling through your body. You were gasping and writhing and each sound you made seemed only to spur your boyfriend on, as he drove you higher. His thrusts were slowing, hitting deeper, and you felt your legs start trembling at the intensity.

“Are you close, baby?” he asked, almost growled, his voice close to your ear. “Tell me you’re close, gorgeous, you feel so tight, and I can’t—”

“Yes, shit, Bradley, I’m so close,” you moaned, your body pulsing, begging, trembling.

“Give it to me, baby,” Bradley ordered, his voice sharp in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting, as your legs drew up, involuntarily. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel it, let me feel you–”

You came with a wail, your climax crashing over you like a wave that sent you tumbling. You might’ve choked, you might’ve cried, all you knew was the white hot heat pulsing through your body, leaving you limbless and sated in its wake.

You came back slowly, the darkness of night seeping in through the fogged windows of the Bronco, and you became aware of your boyfriend slowly moving your hips still, working you over him, coaxing you through it.

“Bradley,” you whimpered into his neck, and you felt his chest expand.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl,” he said, his voice soft, just on this side of undone, “so fucking good.”

“Baby…” you chided him gently as understanding dawned that he still hadn’t come yet. You moved your hips slightly, and Bradley’s hands held you in place sternly.

“Gorgeous, I’m so fucking close, but you were so sensitive, just give me a—”

Summoning strength you didn’t have and ignoring Bradley’s futile protests, you slid off of him, swallowing a moan when you felt wetness drip down your thighs as you moved. There wasn’t a ton of room in the backseat, but there was enough that you could lower yourself to the floorboards between your boyfriend’s knees, look up at him through sated eyes, and open your mouth, holding out your tongue.

“Fucking hell,” Bradley breathed, and you would’ve smirked, but what you wanted more than anything was to make him come.

So you leaned forward, tongue teasing just the tip of him, before you opened your jaw and took Bradley’s cock in your mouth.

He hit the ceiling of the Bronco, a stream of curses ripping from his lips as your mouth closed around him, humming slightly. Fuck, the weight of him. He was so broad, fat and thick in your mouth, and you tasted yourself on him, tasted how thoroughly he had fucked you, and you couldn’t help but moan around him.

“Baby, baby,” Bradley groaned, his thighs flexing as he held himself back. “Baby, I’m too close, I can’t be gentle—”

You pulled back with a pop, a stream of saliva falling from his cock to your mouth, and Bradley let out a sound that was almost a whine. That pretty sound had you reaching between your legs, brushing your fingers over your still sensitive core, just at how good he sounded.

“Fuck my mouth, Lieutenant,” you told him, and his eyes fluttered, before you added, “Please.”

His head fell back against the headrest and he groaned, a sound that went straight to your core. You took him back in your mouth, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and you felt a large hand settle at the back of your neck.

You whimpered when Bradley gathered the hair there, and started to guide you. Your eyes fell closed and you loosened your jaw, surrendering to the act of it. Yes, you were on your knees and it was your mouth around his dick, but the sounds pouring out of Bradley, the stern hand he kept on the back of your head, it felt like he was worshiping you.

He was so heavy on your tongue, and it was sloppy, but when Bradley started pushing your head faster, you worked your hand faster between your legs. He sounded so good, he tasted so good, and when you moaned you couldn’t have said if it was from the way he was pulling your hair, the building pressure between your thighs, or how good he tasted.

“You’re fucking perfect, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned. “Are you going to come again when I come? Is my pussy going to come for me, on my girl’s fingers while I fuck her mouth?”

You gagged, tears streaming down your face, and when Bradley moaned your name on a final curse and came down your throat, you climaxed on your fingers like he’d said.

Bradley’s thighs were shaking as he pumped down your throat, his hand in your hair smoothing over your hair and then curling under the back of your neck to haul you back up to his lap. Your limbs were shaking from your second orgasm, lungs heaving from how he’d choked you on his cock. Bradley dragged his lips over you, whispering praises and pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, just shy of delirious.

You could relate.

The Bronco was steamy and humid, and it felt like your own little world. A sphere where the only thing that mattered was your sweet boyfriend, the honest perfection you found in each other, and the strength to care for each other even when you couldn’t explain it.

Eventually, Bradley carded his fingers through your hair, and pulled his swimsuit back up. He left yours on the floor, and buttoned his shirt over you carefully, continuing to finger comb your hair.

When you drove out of the campsite, the ranger avoided both of your eyes.

As you turned back onto the 101, Bradley kept your hand in his, driving with his knees when he needed to change gears. The music picked up again as you drove on, and, remembering, you turned to him.

“So, what was that song?” you asked, still uncertain.

In the moonlight, your boyfriend smiled, his eyes flashing as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Don’t you remember, gorgeous?” he asked, voice still low. “That song was playing the time we pulled off the 101 so I could fuck you in the back of my Bronco.”

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #misskielwrites #theharddecksgrandopening

433 notes · View notes

roguelov · 8 months

Note

AU where Morpheus wasn’t in the fishbowl and was able to experience the punk/rock/early 2000s edgy eras.

Death pulls him out of The Dreaming to experience humanity again since the times are changing and he needs to not be cooped up in his room like a moody teenager. They go to festivals where humans are more comfortable, everyone is dressed similarly and more expressive. Their truer selves in a sense.

Morpheus rolls his eyes at the humongous groups of people, the loud screaming of lyrics, he’s still not fond of interacting with humans and finds this whole trip a waste of time.

Suddenly the show starts and Reader is the opening act on stage playing to their hearts content. They’ve got the whole crowds’ attention in the palm of their hand. The songs’ lyrics are deep, catchy and has everyone else screaming/singing along.

Morpheus can practically feel everyone daydreaming about living better lives, getting that job, speaking up to their parents, etc. and is stunned at how much was brought out from all these humans just from one of Reader’s songs.

They end their song with a bang where confetti bursts from the edges of the stage and the crowd is loving their slow exit off to the side as they wave and blow kisses. Morpheus’ eyes follow them the whole way and the feeling he’s receiving from all the daydreamers slowly dissipates.

The main acts make their way on stage after a few minutes and the rest of the show continues without Reader being seen again. Morpheus being slightly sad he can’t hear another song. The sensation is the same from the other singers but not as strong as earlier with everyone daydreaming when Reader was at center stage.

He and Death stayed for the whole event and she asks what his thoughts are from the experience.

“What of the first singer? They were only onstage once compared to the others.”

“Why don’t we go see them then?” Death smiles knowingly and leads them both to the backstage area.

Reader is in their own section getting cleaned up and making sure they have everything. When they spot Death they run up to her with a big smile and hug her.

“I’m glad you could make it! What did you think?” They ask, still vibrating with adrenaline from the festival.

They converse with Death for a while as Morpheus stands off to the side, silently observing this person who evokes such strong dreams from people with their voice and music. A portion of himself in The Dreaming is doing research about this human who has caught his eye.

Just who are they? What drives them to make songs? What’s their inspiration? Are they single?

“And who’s you’re friend?” He suddenly hears.

Morpheus is pulled back to The Waking and sees Reader is giving him their full attention. He’s tongue-tied. Words of introduction lodged in his throat with no way to escape. The brief look into Reader’s dreams leaving him breathless and hungry to know more.

Death quirks an eyebrow at this sudden silence but hides a smirk and tells Reader a little about her brother. Eventually finding his voice, Morpheus joins the conversation just as Death excuses herself to return to her duty.

Cue friends to lovers with the King of Dreams and Nightmares being the number one fan of Reader. He always watches them when they have a show and is the first to hear a finished song and asked for any critiques. They both are fashion icons, mostly with Reader helping find an outfit for Morpheus.

This idea popped into my head and just kept going anyways I hope you liked it as much as I do 🤗

DUDE I DONT LIKE THE IDEA I FUCKING LOVE IT

Dream adored when you visited.

He especially loved the music which always followed you. It may be a hum on your lips or an actual melody - a half completed song - trailing behind you on the wind.

You were his lovely muse, his songbird.

Currently, you were in the Dreaming. You were in a music room - one Dream specifically created for you - filled with instruments found all over the Waking and the best recording studio ever imaginable.

Sitting on a couch, a laptop rested in your lap with headphones dangling around your neck. You were almost feverishly working on your newest song, one that had been stuck in your head all day. It was going along okay, it could be better. You hit a bump in the process and you wanted a fresh pair of ears.

“Dream? Could you have a listen to this?” You asked, handing over the headphones.

Dream, directly beside you with a book in hand, set the book in his lap and nodded. “I would love to.”

He put on the headphones and you anxiously pressed play. Dream was taken away, taken on a journey with your music and how you weaved your lyrics.

You truly were gifted.

Once it finished, he handed over the headphones. “So?” You nervously asked.

“I loved it.”

You groaned, “But you always say that. What does it need? Something feels missing. The chorus is catching yet it seems to … I don’t know, basic? It feels like I need better wording.”

Dream smiled softly. “I’m sure everyone will love it.” I know I do, he thought.

“But -“

“How about you take a break?” He suggested. “You had been at it all night since you first came. Relax and I’m sure time away will provide new perspective.”

You grumbled, glancing back at your screen. “How about just one more hour? I’m right there, I know it. Maybe it’s the second verse, to be honest I wasn’t completely sold on it. Or maybe it’s the melody altogether -“

He closed your laptop.

You gasped, and playfully glared at him. “Dream -“

“Time away is what is best, songbird.” He stood up, extending his hand towards you. “You will figure it out, I know you will. But, you must give yourself a break.”

You sighed. You placed the laptop and headphones down. Your hand slid into his. He easily helped you up. “Okay, okay, Sandman, I’ll relax.”

He smiled softly. “That’s all I ask.”

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #notwhatiseem #ask

65 notes · View notes

bsaka7 · 1 month

Text

tagged to post my 9 favourite album with commentary by @mathewbaldzal !!!! we r two peas in a pod i think with having a lot to say about some tunes...

in no particular order...

different class (1995) - pulp. this is not my no1 album of all time because i don't have a favorite album of all time, but this album is in part representative of "getting into music" to me. i love 90s britpop, whatever that means for a random american and this is my fav of em all (though i do actually quite rate this is hardcore in pulp's discography). "common people" is one of the songs of ALL TIME. god jarvis's little sing-song sleazyness gets me. really, really, really great classic performance of it at glasto 1995...for some reason "pencil skirt" also always really hits.

home video (2021) - lucy dacus. the newest album on this list by a long shot, but it's had songs in my top5 year end lists since it came out. i've also seen lucy live <3. this album rises above some of the others in similar company (punisher - phoebe bridgers, the boygenius ep, etc) because i never get tired of it. "first time" "hot & heavy" "brando" and "triple dog dare" are nearly always standbys in my listening history. probably gonna be an album-i-listened-to-in-college classic forever...

songs of love and hate (1971) - leonard cohen. maybe none of my favorite leonard cohen songs are on this album, but as a single work, this album stuns me. possibly the most transfixing 44:21 i've ever heard. his lyricism in particular is -- i can't even describe it. the mix with his voice, the sparseness of the instrumentation at time, the harmonies. i'm not a big stories guy but in this, yeah, the songwriting, the stories. i don't think there's another album like this one out there, really.

if you're feeling sinister (1998) - belle & sebastian. the first time i heard this album, i thought i had never heard an album so perfect. i love songs off of it but i nearly always listen to it whole. i love, love, love b&s's early sound (twee, if you will), and stuart murdoch's lyrics really, really shine. this is one of my favorite albums to listen to when i have a headache because it's lovely to just, focus on but not grating at all. i really love "judy and the dream of horses" and "get me away from here i'm dying". really, a beautiful work

rumours (1977) - fleetwood mac. i was sort of scrolling through some of my playlists trying to decide what to put on this list (it's a bit weighted towards stuff that's in rotation now) and i couldn't leave off fleetwood mac (in part to represent the huge part of my music taste that is like. classics 1965-1980). stevie nicks was one of my earlier music obsessions (the OG was the beatles). so many wonderful songs and riffs. i know this was left off the original 12-inch but "silver springs" is one of my favorite songs forever and ever and ever...

nebraska (1982) - bruce springsteen. when it comes down to it, this is my favorite springsteen album. i do think his 1975-1987 run of albums is pretty much perfect but nebraska is a masterpiece in a way that i find hard to express in words. there's a sense of sparseness and distance in this work (in part bc of how it was recorded) that i find so utterly compelling i can't even describe. "nebraska" - especially this 1984 live version - is a perfect song to me. perfect. i also like a lot of the stuff that went into inspiring this album (notably flannery o'connor) and well. where it fits into springsteen's narritivization of his own life (dude was in the dumps).

all killer, no filler (2001) - sum41. this pick is a little bit representative of the era of my life where i basically exclusively listened to pop punk but if songs of love and hate is an album that's perfectly drawn out, this is an album that's perfectly compressed. like, the title is correct. this album is fucking TIGHT. i used to listen to it at a job i hated to make the 30-min intervals go by. and it's got such classics...."fat lip"..."motivation..." of course, "in too deep." SO good.

what did you expect from the vaccines? (2011) - the vaccines. maybe this pick is a tiny bit cheesy but it is a perfect encapsulation of the era of alt rock it came from. which i love. i really like the vaccines, i think they're super fun and i did see them in concert finally and they totally lived up to that. "wetsuit" is again...one of my favorite songs of all time. "if you wanna" is a perpetual banger.

age of consent (1983) - new order. again, an album that deserves to be listened to whole, despite how good "age of consent" hits alone ever single time. sometimes i think i like another new order album more than this, but i don't. sumner's voice just out-of-tune ringing out over that sound, that new order sound, the bass, that post-punk club vibe. they're a band that don't sound like anyone else, and this is the album most indicative of that. wow, every time.

a few narrow misses

boxer (2007) - the national. i didn't get the national until one day i did. "slow show." my god. hello.

very (1993) - pet shop boys. it's too simple to say this is an album about gay love because it's so embedded in it's context but. this is an album with so much love. psb are brilliant.

the execution of all things (2002) - rilo kiley. jenny lewis CALL ME. also like. you know "a better son/daughter". there's more.

a thousand suns (2010) - linkin park. i used to listen to this at 6th grade cross-country practice. first band i ever got into on my own. idk.

this is not only my favorite albums but a pretty decent summation of the broad strokes my overall taste. thank you again for the tag!! i enjoyed doing this a lot :). idk who has done this/on what blogs so if u have PLEASEEEEE send it to me i want to see!! i tag @lfcrobbo @upthebrackets @girlfriendline @odegoob @amandaleveille @thelittlebirdthatkeptsomanywarm @kritischetheologie @bright-and-burning @a-corn-field if any of u want to but no presh!!!

#i HAVE been listening to albums off some of these that i've seen ppl do (sez i've only listened to wisecrack but more of urs r on my list)#and there have been notable instances of me falling in LOVE with albums off things like these others have done (c mentioning the midnight #organ fight and passive me aggressive you which have become mainstays for me lol)#SO like always if u wanna chat about music or rec me things i'm so here lololol #shshshsh why did i think i had to tag 9 ppl i'm sitting there like oh gotta get 9 and then realized it's just however many u want.#well i want to know everything about all music taste ever so 9 it is...#tag game #yahooo!!!! <33333333333

21 notes · View notes

alphadog · 10 days

Note

I hope you don't mind me jumping off your Mania post a bit, but it's always absolutely boggled my mind, that people who claim to love FOB are always so surprised and upset when they experiment with their sound, which is all the time!

I mean, even back in the TTTYG era, people were apparently up in arms about the high note in "Saturday", as if the singer in a pop-punk band showing vocal range is a bad thing.

IOH literally opens with a monologue by Jay-Z, and has a cameo by Lil' Wayne, which you probably don't see too often in a pop-punk album.

There are elements like full orchestra and choir accompaniment, hip-hop style sampling, steel drums, EDM drops, and spoken-word poetry all over their music, which are not typical "emo" fare at all. The only thing consistent about their sound, is that they're always trying to expand it, and I really don't see why that's a bad thing!

tbh I don't even have anything else to add, you just nailed it

13 notes · View notes

punisheddonjuan · 15 days

Text

A few brief notes on some films I watched recently-ish (i.e. within the last few months)

Strange Way of Life - A short feature, but I'm kind of stunned that I've not seen anyone talk about it. I mean it's directed by Pedro Almodóvar and has Ethan Hawke and Pedro Pascal playing gay cowboys. You people should be making .gif sets. It's rather slight and a little out there, but it's pretty good, I enjoyed it.

Poor Things - Mixed thoughts on this one, I like Yorgos Lanthimos but I think this might be one of his weaker films. It drags somewhat in the middle third despite strong performances all around. It has a fantastic visual flair, and a stellar soundtrack, but there is something off about it that is keeping me from declaring it a favourite. It's not the "pedophile apologia" discourse, which I disagree with even if I can see where it's coming from. I might have to stew with it a bit, I do think it was also meant to be deliberately uncomfortable in places. Still, it's a disappointment for me after The Favourite, which was a masterpiece.

Blood Sucking Freaks - Why did I watch this?

O-Bi, O-Ba: Koniec cywilizacji - There is something about the temperament and cultural heritage of Poles that makes them the best purveyors of post-apocalyptic fiction and media. Soviet-era Polish sci-fi always gets high marks from me though (see also: On the Silver Globe, The Hourglass Sanitarium)

Killers of the Flower Moon - Scorsese's best film. Left me filled with a deep sorrow and rage; It's devastating and beautiful. The radio show ending is one of the most cutting and brilliant twists ever committed to celluloid.

The Souvenir: Part II - Altogether weaker than the first part, I still enjoyed it. You should really watch them both though, Joanna Hogg is great.

The Holdovers - One of the most perfect films ever made. It had me openly weeping. Delightful.

Dinner in America - If this had come out at some point in the '90s it would be considered a punk cult classic along the lines of SLC Punk or Ghost World. Loved it.

Gone Girl - Okay I finally watched this ten years after the fact with vague memories of the online discourse of 2014 on sites like Jezebel that proclaimed Rosamund Pike's character a girlboss and declared that she was entirely justified in everything and all I have to say is, what the fuck. Jesus. It's really good though.

No Tears for the Damned - I need to stop watching weird grindhouse shit that Vinegar Syndrome decides to put out, because whoof buddy. A few interesting shots of Vegas in the '60s before it got all family friendly.

The Zone of Interest - It took me a good five minutes to clue into the the fact that all of the "pops" in the background were gunshots as they executed people. That's when my stomach started to churn. The only good Holocaust film ever made (actually let me amend that, the only good fictional Holocaust film ever made as Lanzmann's Shoah exists), as it's the only one to really grapple with the irredeemable reality of its subject matter.

#blog #film

11 notes · View notes

yourdyingwish · 2 years

Text

My Chemical Romance, Reunited and It Feels So Bruised

(From today's NYT; note: in print the title was "Still Thriving, Fearlessly as Ever)

Back on the road after more than a decade, emo’s most theatrical outfit let its songs and fans provide the drama as it revisited its anthems about fearlessness and individuality.

By Jon Caramanica

Sept. 11, 2022

In 2006, My Chemical Romance — by then, an edgy screamo band turned ostentatious pop-punk dramatists — released “The Black Parade,” a flashy and theatrical opus that established the group as art-house emo sophisticates. It maintained some of the scabrousness of its earlier albums, and smeared big-tent pop ambition atop it: “The Wall” for the “TRL” era.

On Saturday night at Barclays Center in Brooklyn, while performing “Welcome to the Black Parade,” a caffeinated march that’s one of that album’s signature songs, the band’s frontman Gerard Way saw the crowd pumping fists in the air, and encouraged it to go even harder.

“C’mon, I’m 45 doing this,” he said — a little tart, a little bemused, maybe a little fatigued.

The passage of time is an inevitable subtext of all reunion tours. This show, the first of four arena shows in the New York area, was part of the group’s first proper tour in a decade. (Its last studio album, “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys,” came out in 2010.) In that time, emo has gone through its second or third revival, Way’s comic book The Umbrella Academy has become a Netflix hit and something about the My Chemical Romance mythos has deepened and hardened — it is now a misfit beacon.

Everyone is older now, and reality sometimes weighs down memory. At this show, that played out as a tug of war between been-there-done-that fatigue and we-survived-this-together triumph, with triumph ultimately triumphing.

The band started tentatively, lading the show’s first half with late career singles that felt much like conventional rock songs — “The Only Hope for Me Is You,” “Boy Division.” It was almost as if this rigorously flamboyant band was somehow shy about its own hits.

“Let me put on my sunglasses so I can look like an authority figure,” Way said, after a dry half-hour of bits and bobs. What followed was exuberant, rowdy, winningly messy: the chipper swing of the wry “Teenagers” giving way to the frenzy of “Welcome to the Black Parade.” “Mama” brought the Nutcracker to the mosh pit. “Helena,” perhaps the band’s most memorable song, was part victory march, part plea.

Before & After ‘The Black Parade’

These epic anthems about fearlessness, rebellion and individuality were bracing. But the tension between the show’s two halves exposed a light quirk about this band, which is that often what set it apart from its peers was its sense of performance and its willingness to be ambitious while its actual music remained more conventional.

That accessibility is what allowed My Chemical Romance — Way; his brother, Mikey, who plays bass; the guitarists Ray Toro and Frank Iero — to survive long enough to thrive once more. They play with confidence, if not always warmth. (It was Mikey’s 42nd birthday, and some speakers onstage were adorned with drawings made by his children; most of the band wore T-shirts celebrating him.)

In front of trompe l’oeil installations of demolished buildings, the group was musically robust — Toro delivered taut chaos, and the touring drummer Jarrod Alexander was blistering, closing out the heart-rending anthem “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” with sensitive aggression and then shifting right into the punchier intro of “House of Wolves.” There were occasional flickers of rockabilly, ska, even death metal. Way is a lauded wailer, but his growl is just as potent.

At times throughout the show, Way appeared lightly cautious, never quite oversinging, even on the songs that demand abandon. He wore a camouflage jacket and a T-shirt featuring a smiley face with a bullet hole in its head, blood dripping down the cheerful yellow visage, and toward the end of the night, he put on a tight clear mask that had echoes of Patrick Bateman.

It was a manque version of the hypertheatricality that elevated the band out of scene notoriety to pop ubiquity. Late in the show, Way described a conversation he’d had about how to navigate a comeback tour after so many years, and the tension between performing for oneself and performing for the crowd.

“Maybe for a time it was for me,” he conceded.

But not now. “It’s not about the ego,” he said.

And yet. “Sometimes it’s about that,” he continued. “That’s a really delicate way of telling you I’m going to control you right now.” Everyone pumped their fists in unison.

My Chemical Romance performs at Barclays Center in Brooklyn Sunday night, and at Prudential Center in Newark on Sept. 20 and 21. The tour continues in North America through Oct. 29.

#full article for you all. mwah

217 notes · View notes

wentzsmatchacup · 1 year

Text

Honestly my favorite era of the sound of Patrick’s voice was after the hiatus where he finally found his actual voice and stopped being scared of it. I love hearing this especially in SRAR, PAX AM Days, and AB/AP. Some of my favorite instances, especially of the soulful, gritty, low notes, are in Death Valley, The Mighty Fall, Jet Pack Blues, American Beauty/ American psycho (the title track), Novocaine, Twin Skeletons, We Were Doomed From the Start, Love, Sex, Death, and American Made. Yes, I love the old sound too, and I LOVE Soul Punk, and I love MANIA and SMFS, but there was this era where, after his journey in his solo career, he implemented that power and confidence and HEAVENLY voice and experience into FOB’s more pop punk sound. SO GOOD. AB/AP is climbing the charts for one of my favorites- I’ll always be a Folie number one stan (I am listening to West Coast Smoker as we speak), but MAN the GRIT?? THE HINTS OF PRIMAL RAGE AND JUST SHEER CONFIDENCE??? HELLO???? Anyways live laugh love SRAR-AB/AP was the best era (I am biased lol) also, I need Patrick screaming back. All I’ve got is Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying and Jock Powerviolence by Weekend Nachos. …and kind of Death Valley- it has those raw qualities.

#Fob #fall out boy #patrick stump #soul punk #srar #save rock and roll #pax am days #ab/ap #abap #american beauty/american psycho #American beauty American psycho

55 notes · View notes

cripple-punk-dad · 10 months

Note

you have probably been asked this a billion times already, but do you have any punk music recs? I feel I do a search myself I get more watered down stuff.

Yeah! My favorite punk punk band is Pure Hell, I fucking love their stuff, my favorite album is noise addiction (idc if people say that's basic it's a good album lol) and also Streetlight Manifesto if you want something a little more funky. SLM is technically a ska punk band. I love ska punk but it's def not for everybody. if you do wanna listen I recommend their album The Hands That Thieve or Everything Goes Numb

Those are my favorites. But the 70's-80's (Don't jump down my throat I'm listing these off the top of my head) classics are bands like the Misfits, Green Day, Joy Division, Rancid, The Descendents, NOFX, The Romones etc. I can't vouch for the behavior of a lot of these bands and the artists in them, pretty much all of them have a history of being racist/ok with Nazis/bigoted in general so take with that what you will, these are just the bands that most people seem to agree are punk rock.

There's like three different generalized eras in punk, you've got proto-punk (60's-70's) (the stooges, the pink faeries etc) which were garage bands that played stuff that kind of hinted at punk before it became commercially recognized, there's early punk (early 70's) which was when punk started gaining momentum, then you've punk rock (80's- late 90's-arguably present day) and after that a whole bunch of sub-genres popped up and mixed together an all that. That being said I'm not a music historian and this is all very generalized information that I've heard and gotten from the internet. This is also focused on the U.S and the U.K. I hope this is somewhat educational, as always do your own research and all that, rock on!

#punk #punk rock #cpunk #punk history #punk music

49 notes · View notes

rubyreduji · 2 years

Text

he was a skater boy — hvc

summary: your skater boy best friend asks for your help to get with the head of the dance team

tags: slice of life, slight angst, skater boy!vernon, best friend!vernon, high school!au, gn!reader wc: 3.6k an: reader is in their avril lavigne era, we love debut vernon

“CHWE!” At the sound of his name being called, Vernon turns around to see you riding up to him on your skateboard. When you get closer to him you stop your board and walk the rest of the way to meet him. “What did you need from me?”

Earlier today your best friend told you he needed to talk to you later and to meet him at The Place. The Place being the parking lot of the abandoned shopping strip that went out when the new pier was built.

“So as you know you’re my best friend,” he starts.

“Yes…? Oh my god, are you breaking up with me?” You ask deadpanned. Vernon sighs in fake frustration which makes you crack a grin, which makes him crack a grin.

“But seriously dude, you’re my best friend which means I should come to you with shit like this. So like, I kinda…have a crush on someone,” he admits. You try not to laugh at him. You fail. “Hey!”

“Sorry man, that’s just…not what I was expecting. You’re being all dramatic like you’re dying or some shit. So what? You have the hots for someone, why are you telling me? Unless you’re in love with me Nonie~” You tease him and he glares at you before shoving at your shoulder.

“C’mon be serious. I’m telling you because I need help.”

“Oh? Little Chwe doesn’t have game so he needs Y/N’s superior help?” You smirk at him. He shoves you again.

“I just need some pointers. You date people all the time! Plus you’re friends with this person, so just wingman me,” Vernon says.

“May I remind you that the people I date don’t exactly work out. Besides, you’re a catch man, what do you need me for? Everyone I’m friends with are total losers. Including you.” You punch him in the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s why I need your help. I mean, how else am I going to get Vanessa to like me.” The name makes your smile drop. You stare at Vernon a little incredulously.

“There’s no fucking way you have a crush on Vanessa Jeffries.”

“I know, okay! But you gotta help me out here man.”

“Hansol.” You give him a pointed look.

“Gross, don’t call me that.” Vernon makes a scrunched up face to display his disgust. “I will literally do anything Y/N.”

“Ness and I aren’t friends anymore, you know this,” you huff annoyed.

Vanessa Jefferies. She lives in the house two doors down from yours and you guys grew up together. Before Vernon was your best friend, it was Vanesssa. That was until you started to get into skateboarding and pop punk music and she started to get into dance and student council.

Once high school hit it was easy for you guys to split apart, especially since her older sister drove her to school and you still had to take the bus (two months into freshman year you just started skateboarding to school). Not that you didn’t try to stay friends, but she was always too busy with new friends or clubs or whatever and at some point you just stopped trying as well. By the end of first semester of freshman year she had a whole new group of friends and a whole new style and even attitude. You on the other hand didn’t change much but that meant that you were still on the outskirts of the school hierarchy.

Then halfway through second semester Vernon moved to California from New York and you guys became fast friends over your shared love of skateboarding and cringey emo phases and it didn’t matter that Vanessa didn’t even look at you in the halls anymore because you had Vernon.

Now in senior year Vanessa is head of the dance squad, student body president, the founder of the conservation club, and on track to be class valedictorian. And you’re still riding to school on your skateboard listening to the same music you have been for four years. You can’t even remember the last time you talked to her, let alone had a conversation.

It’s a whole cliche, you know, and it annoys you to no end, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Vanessa isn’t going to suddenly show up at your doorstep begging to be friends again and you’re not going to change your personality just to fit in with her group of friends. You honestly were planning on spending the rest of high school ignoring her and her band of asshole followers without a second thought.

But here’s your best friend asking you to help him score a date with the most popular girl in school and it’s Vernon so as much as you tease him you still have the biggest soft spot for him and can’t say no.

“Please Y/N?” He begs, eyes round and pleading.

You groan out loud and drag a hand down your face. “Fine. But you owe me so badly Chwe.”

“He wants you to what?”

You groan. “He wants me to help him get with Ness.”

“Ha, good luck with that.”

You’re laying on Josh’s bed as he sits at his desk working on his homework. Joshua Hong is the only other person you would consider a good friend outside of Vernon. He lives in the house diagonal from yours and he grew up with you and Vanessa. He was never as close to Vanessa as you were though, always being more of your friend than hers. Unlike either of you Joshua keeps a middle of the road popularity with most of his friends being kids from the theatre department.

As much as you love Vernon he’s a “out to have a good time” friend, whereas Joshua is a “talk until three am about your issues” friend.

“You aren’t really thinking about helping him are you? You’ve had the biggest crush on him since he moved to California, there’s no way you can help him get with your ex-best friend.”

“What else can I do Josh? He’s my best friend. I can't just not do anything.”

“I know, I know. Just…don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Aww is Joshie worried about me?”

“Nevermind break your own heart bitch.”

You’re about to retort back to Josh when the doorbell rings. His parents aren’t home so you and Joshua both make your way down the stairs. When he opens the door you swear the universe is playing tricks on you.

“Hey Joshua! Oh, hey Y/N.” The girl you were just discussing is standing there on Joshua’s front porch with a smile on her face. “Wow this is actually so fortunate you’re both here! As you know since we’re all seniors this year we have senior projects to do and I was wondering if you guys wanted to do ours together! I’m head of the conversation club and I was thinking of doing a neighborhood clean up and since you guys live here too we could all work on it together.”

Joshua is about to respond but you cut him off by shoving him to the side and taking his place in front of Vanessa. “Hey Ness, it’s been so long! As great as that sounds, Josh and I are already working on our senior projects together. But you know who still needs an idea and loves the planet? My friend Vernon. You should ask him.”

“Vernon,” Vanessa mutters like she’s trying to figure out who he is. “The brunet skater guy right?”

“Yep, that’s him! Chwe’s his last name, you can find him in the phone book. Thanks, bye!” With that you close the front door of the Hong residence and drop your fake smile.

“Y/N! Why did you do that?” Joshua hisses, rubbing his arm where you shoved him.

“Because I’m helping Vernon out! I wouldn’t have said yes anyways. Working with Vanessa to clean up the neighborhood? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t even want him to date Vanessa!” Joshua shouts.

“You’re right! Are you happy?” You snap back, then let out a deep sigh. “He wouldn't like me back anyways Shua, so I’m not going to risk our friendship over a stupid crush. If he wants Vanessa then Vanessa is what he’s going to get. I just want him happy, I’ll be okay.”

At your tone of voice and the use of the nickname Joshua doesn’t say anything more and you’re grateful for that, but you still see the way he can’t wipe the concerned look off his face.

“The skater guy? He’s weird Vanessa.” The grating shrill voice of Polly Brunham fills your ears as you walk past the girl’s bathroom during study hall. “You were already pushing it by asking Y/N L/N to help with your senior project.”

You roll your eyes at this. Of course Vanessa and her friends are gossiping about you and Vernon. This is the exact reason you were hesitant on helping Vernon out in the first place.

“Hey don’t talk about Y/N like that. As for Vernon, I talked to him earlier. He seems nice and really willing to help. He’s kinda cute too,” Vanessa giggles. You frown at this. Vanessa thinks Vernon is cute. Your dorky best friend who is in need of a haircut and only got his braces off a few months ago.

“You’re joking with me, you have to be!” Another shrill voice. You then hear Vanessa laughing as well. Of course she’s joking.

“I’m just being nice okay. I’m student body president, I can’t just turn people down when they offer their help like that. Y/N seemed really insistent when I asked too, so let's just call it a favor to an old friend.” You roll your eyes before continuing to walk back to study hall.

The next time you see Vernon is at lunch and you’re about to tell him what you overheard in the bathroom but he barely stops at your table to talk to you.

“Y/N! You’re literally the best! Vanessa wants to eat lunch with me and talk about the senior project!”

“Listen Vern, Vanessa isn’t the type of person to-”

“Hey I have to go, but I’ll see you after school okay!” With that he rushes off. You watch him walk up to Vanessa’s table and the two walk into the courtyard. Your eyes land on Vanessa’s friends and the way they start to whisper the second Vernon leaves.

You’ll tell him later.

You don’t tell him later.

You barely have five seconds alone with him anymore and he always looks so happy when you do talk to him that you don’t want to crush that. Not to mention that Vanessa always looks happy to be around Vernon, and not in the fake way, in the genuine way.

Before you know it a whole month has passed and it seems that Vernon and Vanessa have become friends. They’re together most of the time which leads you to spending more time with Joshua who keeps sending you pitying looks every time you hang out.

“You have to tell him,” Joshua insists.

“No I don’t.”

“At least tell him to balance his time better! You guys went from seeing each other everyday to barely even speaking. It’s sad.”

“Stay out of it Joshua,” you growl.

“No! You’re killing yourself over here Y/N. Everyday since you told Vanessa to ask Vernon for help on the senior project you’ve been wallowing in this cloud of miserableness and I’m tired of it! Your happiness shouldn’t be sacrificed for Vernon’s,” Joshua tells you. This is what you love and hate about him. He’s also honest with you and tells you the exact thing you need to hear. He’s great at giving advice, it’s just you who’s bad at taking it.

“It’s fine. Things will go back to normal after they finish the senior project. They should be done soon anyways, have you not seen the posters Vanessa has been putting around the neighborhood?”

The neighborhood clean up she and Vernon are planning is set for the Saturday in two weeks. Your mom keeps talking about it and every time she does you either leave the room or put your earbuds in.

“Fine, but if things don’t get better after the clean up then you better do something.”

Vernon has asked you to hang out together today. The text takes you by surprise because you haven't heard for him in a while because he's "been busying planning the clean up". You don't think there can be that much planning going on. He's probably just trailing around Vanessa like the pathetic shadow he's been for the past five weeks.

He asks to meet up at your guys' favorite skate park which makes you forgive him a little bit. Deep down he's still Vernon, your stupid skater best friend who spends too much time trying to stick skills that just ends up with his hands being scraped up.

When you get there he's about to drop into the bowl. The park is fairly empty, but even if it wasn't Vernon is easy to spot with his colorful outfits and his tall figure.

You stop walking so you can stand and watch him do his trick. You can tell what trick he's trying to the second he drops in. It's the same one he's been trying to stick for months now. He picks up speed around the bowl before flying out, catching air, only to fly right back in, speeding up even more. He goes around the bowl before he catches his tail on the lip, riding around the rim.

You stare, anticipating the normal fall he always does when he gets to the final skill, but you watch at he grabs the lip of the bowl and kicks his feet up into the air for a few seconds before bringing them back down, sticking in the landing and riding out of the bowl.

Holy shit.

This is the first time he's ever been able to stick all three skills back to back. You can tell he's hyped off of adrenaline and you make haste to go congratulate him, just as stoked as he is.

That is until Vernon doesn't turn to you. He turns to the girl who's sitting on the bench excitedly clapping.

"Holy shit did you see that!" Vernon calls excited to her.

She giggles. "You're so cool. I would have fell the second I stepped foot on the skateboard."

Of course. Of fucking course.

You laugh to yourself a bit incredulously. Of course he brings Vanesssa here. Why did you expect that you would be able to get just one moment alone with your best friend? Why did you expect him to keep your guys' favorite hobby to just you and him?

You have half the mind to turn around and leave but Vernon finally catches sight of you.

"Y/N! Hey! You would never believe what I just did!"

"I uh saw," you say.

"Oh. Hey Y/N." Vanessa smiles at you.

"...Hey Ness...What are you doing here?"

"I invited her!" Vernon says happily. "She asked me to sat in on one of her dance rehearsals and I said it was only fair if she came with me to the skate park, so here we are."

Vernon...your Vernon...sat in on a dance team rehearsal.

You love Vernon, you want him to be happy, but not if it means this. Not if it means he's dropping his friends and doing things he doesn't enjoy just to be around Vanessa Jeffries.

Honestly if this is what he wants, you're not going to stop him. He can be happy, but you don't have to jeoprodize your happiness as well.

"Yeah, hey uh, I think Josh needed me for something so I have to go. I'll catch you later." You know its a lie but you don't really care. You don't even bother to listen to Vernon's response before you mount your board and skate away.

“Are you and Joshua dating?” You don’t even have a chance to take your earbuds out before Vernon is interrogating you.

“Excuse me?” He hasn’t talked to you properly in weeks (you are not counting the skate park incident) and now he’s demanding you to answer his question like nothing has happened.

“Are you and Joshua Hong dating?”

“That’s fucking disgusting Vernon. Why would I be dating Josh?”

“I don’t know. You’re around him all the time now and you guys look really comfortable.”

“Yeah that’s called fifteen years of friendship. Plus you’re around Vanessa all the time, even when you ask to hang out with me, so I don’t know what you want from me anymore. To sit around alone everyday waiting for you to finally text me back? Yeah right Hansol, you’re out of your mind.” His first name slips out, something that happens when you’re particularly upset with him. “I don’t care whatever crush you have on her, but don’t think I’m stupid enough to just sit around and wait for you. Just leave me be.” With that you grab your things and walk away from him and he’s too stunned to follow.

Your mom forces you to go to the neighborhood clean up. You’re in jeans and a t-shirt as you stand off to the side with Joshua. You glare over at where Vernon and Vanessa are standing, talking to some of the neighbors.

“He’s being an ass,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and fix things,” Joshua sighs.

“Why should I try when he isn’t?”

“Because things won’t get better if neither of you try!”

The rest of the day sucks. It’s hot as you go around trying to clean up trash and pull weeds. You stick close to Josh the whole time and barely even look at Vernon. You’re considering just leaving at one point but Joshua stops you because his conscience is too nice to leave but he doesn’t want to be left alone.

Finally after too many hours of working everything is done. You’re itching to go home and take a shower but you stop when you see Vernon and Vanessa standing and talking.

“Vanessa, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes Hansol?” You cringe. Vernon hates being called Hansol. It’s even worse since you guys became friends because now he associated it with you being mad at him.

“I like you. I have for a while and doing this project with you really solidified everything. I love being around you and I hope you feel the same way. Will you go on a date with me?”

“Oh Hansol,” you hate the pity in Vanessa’s voice, “I don’t like you like that. You’re a great kid and this project was really fun but you’re just not my type.”

“Oh…”

“I’m really sorry.” With that Vanessa turns her back and walks away from Vernon.

You hate the dejected look on Vernon’s face. You hate the way you can see the pain in his eyes as he watches Vanessa leave. When she’s fully out of sight Vernon finally looks away and just happens to meet your eyes.

And just like that weeks of pain and distance don’t exist anymore. You’re walking to Vernon and wrapping him in your arms as he silently cries into your shoulder.

“Hey Vern?”

“What’s up?”

“How would you feel if I wrote a song about Vanessa Jeffries?”

Your boyfriend looks up from his desk top to stare at you. “What?”

You laugh a bit. “You remember senior year?” He nods. “What if I write a song about it? Something like, he was a skater boy, she said see you later boy.”

“That’s awful.”

“No it’s not!” You smack his shoulder.

Senior year was a distant memory at this point. You and Vernon are now happily dating (even though it didn’t happen until sophomore year of college) and now you guys are both singer-songwriters while Vernon produces music as well.

“And what if Vanessa hears it?”

“Then she’ll know what a fat L she took when she turned you down,” you answer. “But it’s a good thing because now you are dating the coolest person on the planet.”

“I didn’t know I was dating Woozi from Seventeen. How lucky is that.”

“Haha,” you deadpan at your boyfriend’s K-Pop obsession. He just cracks a grin at you. “I’m going to write the best damn song ever and you’re going to see how it blows up. Just wait.”

“Sorry, girl, but you missed out. Well, tough luck that boy's mine now. We are more than just good friends. This is how the story ends. Too bad that you couldn't see, see the man that boy could be. There is more that meets the eye, I see the soul that is inside.” You sing out. You can feel the sweat running down your forehead as the hot stadium lights shine down on you. “We are in love, haven't you heard, how we rock each other's world~”

Your fingers fly over the strings of your guitar skillfully as you smirk. Of course you proved your boyfriend wrong. You always write bangers. Your eyes flit over to the side of the stage where he’s standing there watching you, a smile playing at his own lips.

You look down into the audience and you swear you catch a familiar face, an almost knowing look plastered on said face.

“I'll be at a studio, singing the song we wrote, about a girl you used to know~” You finish. The audience erupts into applause and you smile and thank them before heading off stage.

“Phenomenal as always,” Vernon tells you the second you meet him.

“I know,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Did you see she was here tonight?”

“Who?”

“Vanessa Jeffries.”

“Holy shit.”

“Tell her hey when you go out,” you tell him. “I mean, she’s the whole reason this song is such a hit.”

“God you’re awful,” Vernon says.

“But you love me.” You lean forward to kiss Vernon. “And my awful song.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @enhacolor @brxzilianbaby @baldi-2 @moshiyuron @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee

join my taglist: here!

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #vernon #hvc #vernon fanfic #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #svt vernon #kpop fanfic #rru.fics #★ sfw #rru.writes

189 notes · View notes