Hi, I'm Not Dead!

So I found this caterpillar on my way to class

We’re bros

“I pray that you hear these words before it’s too late.” - Joseph

this the most flawless transition i’ve ever heard holy shit

killer queen —-> i’m in love with my car (live @ montreal 1981) is fucking perfect

Has this been done?

Baby It's You (Teen!John Lennon x Teen!Female!Reader)

A/N: Hello! Yes, I'm alive, and yes, I know I haven't posted anything original on this blog in over 3 years, but that's gonna change!

Thank you all for sticking around so long, my life did a 180 about a month or so ago and now I can get back to one of the things I love doing most: giving you all some juicy fanfiction to enjoy!

I've had an influx of enthusiastic followers and readers on my last oneshot ask for more writing, and I will be delivering! I have upcoming Paul and George oneshots underway; but first, I think it's time we show John a little love!

P.S. we'll probably consider this an AU fic since John went to private school, and he is going to school with the reader in this one. Sorry for the lack of authenticity in advance!

Summary: Your friend, John, invites you to the first Fair of the year with the intentions of evolving some spontaneous behaviour within you. You find just the thing there to prove to John just how daring and fun you could be-- and then things go sideways.

WARNINGS: This has been sitting in my notes FOREVER so I wouldn't be surprised if there were typos.

Also, there is a heteronormative behaviour in this fic because of the time it was set in, but I want to disclaim that LOVE IS LOVE and I, in no way, support heteronormative/ anti LGBTQ+ behaviour. Love who you want to love; just be happy doing so<3

Also Also, she is a LONG one like the other oneshot, so I advise you read this when you've got some time on your hands!

Swearing is almost a certainty at this point, but no really mature themes, so a T rating is probably enough for this one.

It was a hot Friday afternoon, at the very end of the school year; and there were hundreds of telltale signs:

The teacher was well over his curriculum and he sat at his desk reading a book in silence, student-made work was no longer strewn about on the walls, the classroom was humid even with everyone fanning themselves and each other; and the students...

You could tell the students were just dying to get home for the summer.

There were five minutes left on the clock, and you sat at your desk packing your things away. You spent the last hour doodling, but you wanted to be ready to take off as soon as the bell sounded.

As you zipped your bag up, you saw a little flash of white in your peripheral, and when you glanced back at the surface of your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper-- a note!

You looked around briefly, but no one indicated to you where to pass it, so it had to have been for you.

And if the note was for you, then there was only one person it could have been from.

You unraveled the little piece of paper, revealing the question the paper possessed.

"Fair? Tonight? -yours truly"

That evening in particular, the local fair was going to erect itself in the biggest park in town, and everyone at school was going to be there. What better way to blow off steam at the end of a long year of hard work?

You shook your head at his pathetic complimentary close, your eyes rolling to the back of your head so far they almost didn't come back.

The bell rang, and before you could even consider doing anything else with the note, everyone took off out the door, as did you, knowing fully well "yours truly" was going to be waiting for you at your locker.

As you rounded the corner to the hallway your locker was in, you finally caught glimpse of him. He was leaning against it with his arms crossed, one leg over the other as his eyes wandered the other students for your face; and when your eyes locked, his expressionless mouth couldn't help but tighten upwards.

Perhaps his smile was out of kindness, but it was most likely because he was a jokester, and quite frankly couldn't get enough of teasing you.

And now his target was spotted.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. "You know how much I hate how you sign these off, right?"

You presented the note in hand adjacent to your head as your face displayed a disapproving cringe, cheeks pink in mild humiliation.

"John, I only ever get notes written from you, so the flowery signoff is unnecessary," you put the note down, pointing at him with a frown.

"That note-passing was so open! You know if the teacher ever caught something like that, he'd make me read it out loud to the class, surely you know I'd die on the spot, and then my ghost will haunt you until you died too!"

His smile only grew wider at your words, almost as if he'd been betting with himself what your response to all of this was going to be.

"Also, you're not even in my last class," you rambled on, "so how you managed to have it smuggled in beats me."

"Oh, come on, y/n, you know you'd love all the attention you'd get out of something like that," he gestured to the paper, and you shook your head before crumpling it into a ball in your hand and tossing it at his head, to which it bounced off, and then was immediately trampled on as other students hurried down the hallway.

The both of you weren't strangers; you frequented playdates with John as children, and then you went to school together, so you basically watched each other grow up. John, for as long as you'd known him, usually displayed confident and sometimes mischievous behaviour towards others that typically you'd find unappealing for a man to display.

"People thinking I'm with you? That is not the kind of attention I'm after."

Not that you ever found John appealing, in any way. He was your buddy; you tolerated his behaviour. That being said, over the years he started lightening up on the harsher jokes with you, opting for more of a platonic flirt more than anything else, finding it was a less harmless way to poke fun at you.

"And the Fair, John? Really?"

The boy shrugged his hands up to defend his suggestion. "What's so bad about the Fair?!"

You rolled your combination into your locker, and he shifted out of the way so you could get into it better once you got it unlocked.

"Nothing's wrong with going to the Fair. Going to the Fair with you on the other hand..." you tisked at him before reaching into your locker to retrieve what binders and books you had left in there. John never used his locker, so he was just waiting on you.

You tossed your bag up over your shoulder once you shoved your books inside, and before John could interject with an if, and, or but, you put your hand up to silence him.

"You left me lost in that fun house--"

"But that was literally ten ago, y/n!"

"Doesn't mean I'm over it!"

You took the lead towards the exit doors, and John followed suit, searching for the right words to convince you to go with him.

"If you go with me tonight, I'll try to win you a stuffed animal,"

"We're doing bribery now, are we?" You smirked, reaching out for the doors and pushing through until both you and John were outside, standing under the sun. It was nice for once for the sun to have been out from behind the clouds.

"Look, you're just always hanging out with your girlies, and I've got my mates, but they're all going to the fair with other people tonight," John started as you both headed to the sidewalk and began to make your way to your place.

"We never really do spontaneous things anymore, just you and I. And, I don't know, growing up a little might have had something to do with it... but it doesn't mean I'm not still your friend, though. I wanna do things with you."

You took John's words into consideration. One thing you really liked about John was that he was passionate, and poetic. You'd seen this reflected in some of his writing before, and he often discussed with you how much he liked music, and how he dreamed that his poems could very well one day soon become songs...

Now, it's not like he spoke the way he wrote, but his thoughts translated to words so quickly and effortlessly, and he, as a speaker, really made you think twice about what he said because he sounded so sure when he spoke.

"... I suppose we have been distant in terms of having fun. I know I won't be able to win an argument with you that studying every other night together is considered 'fun', even though I think otherwise."

You and John both rounded left down the next street, which happened to be where you lived; the benefits of living a block away from school. Your house was coming up, meaning this conversation had to end soon.

"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous. Just say yes and come with me tonight."

At this point, you and John had slowed to a stop and were standing at the end of the driveway, facing one another as you pondered whether tonight was going to be spent inside reading and listening to music, or stimulated by exciting noises and lights while you stuffed your face with Carnival delicacies and treats.

"... If I say yes, will I still get my stuffed animal?" You already knew the response as the smile returned to John's face.

You and John made it to the Fair for 6:30, and it was already full of life; children on the rides screaming their heads off, friends competing in mini games like Ring Toss and Balloon Darts, and the smell of popcorn and candy floss swirled through the air.

As you looked around at all of the rides available, you barely noticed John going out of his way to buy tickets for both you and him for the night. When he returned to you, he tried to see if you were looking at a particular ride. "Anything catching your eye?"

"I feel like they have different stuff this year. Like, that one must be new," you pointed to a group a different rides that you'd never seen before. "Let's look around, and if anything looks interesting enough, I say we go for it."

John bought you enough tickets for you both to ride everything anyways, but you two had all night, and nowhere to be the next day, so you agreed to start at one end of the fair, and work your way through it.

The first ride that caught the attention of either one of yous were the Tea Cups.

"Remember the one time I threw up on you on that ride?" You asked John with a little smile, to which he replied without a beat,

"And then I threw up on you and caused a chain reaction with all of the other kids on the ride?"

You both laughed and cringed at the rather unpleasant memory before John kindly took your elbow and pulled you towards the ride gently, knowing full well that your matured stomachs would be able to handle it now, and your moving feet indicated you weren't objecting the idea of getting on.

"We gotta start the fun somewhere, Love. After you," John presented four tickets to the ride operator, and you chose your favourite colour cup to climb into.

"If you just don't spin the cup, we'll make it out of here safe," you warned John with a joking wagging finger, and he saluted to you respectfully as he closed the hatch to the cup and took a seat next to you.

"Don't worry, we won't meet the same fate as last," he grabbed the wheel at the centre of the cup as if to indicate he was going to steady it the whole time, and you were excited to see how well he'd do; and even more excited to make fun of him when he did a bad job.

The ride shot to life, and as the cups began dancing around in different patterns, you watched in amusement as John tried his very hardest to keep the cup from spinning; his attention sometimes turning to you, and he watched as your hair whipped around your smiling face as the ride threw the both of you around.

Your beating heart was building up adrenaline as the ride spun on. You suddenly threw your hands overtop of John's, and his eyes shot up to you, hands going slack on the wheel, and you took that moment to whip the cup around as hard as you could, the world becoming a blur around you, and your energy within escaping in a bound of squeals and giggles.

John couldn't help but join in, your laughter was contagious, and the excitement he felt seeing you having fun made his heart ache a little, but in a good way.

The ride was over much sooner than the either of you would have liked, the both of you combing your fingers through your hair to appear more presentable as your tea cup came to a complete stop. John opened the door for you, and you both continued on on wobbly legs to see what else the Fair had to offer.

After a few carnival games and slow, paced rides, you finally grab John by the wrist after he suggests doing something you'd rather do later so he didn't take off too far.

"I think we should do the Ferris Wheel, John," You dropped his wrist and pointed to the ride in the distance behind him, his eyes following your gaze to it.

"Come along, then," it was now his turn to grab your wrist, and lead you along.

That was one unspoken rule you had with John: he never held your hand. You weren't sure why, and you didn't really care-- you didn't want to hold his hand. You just always settled on the idea John was really committed to the joke about not wanting to get Cooties; and honestly, you respected his devotion to the joke.

Your wait in line to ride the Ferris Wheel was a short one, and your chest filled with excitement yet again as you and John took your seats and the ride operator strapped you in.

As the ride filled with other people, you and John slowly made your way to the very top of the ride, allowing yourselves to take in the view of the Fair that seemed to stretch forever.

"We really should have done this first so we could have seen everything all at once," you said, peering down at some of the unrecognizable stands and rides surrounding you both. One in particular caught your eye, and it was in the shape of a space ship from those cartoons depicting the future.

"We definitely have to check that one out," you pointed to it, and John nodded his head in agreement.

"It seems to be right by the games and food. We'll grab some candy while we're in the area."

"And...?"

"And I'll win you that prize, yeah yeah yeah, I know what I promised."

The Ferris Wheel then took off, and you and John savoured the ride, watching the sun slowly fall towards the horizon, the most beautiful colours painted across the sky.

"I'm glad you convince me to come with you, Johnny. I'm having loads of fun. Thank you," you didn't shout, just loud enough that John could hear, and he smiled at you.

"Like I said, if anyone needs to be more spontaneous, it's you. If I can fix that in any way, I'll take the chance," you smiled back at his words, turning your full attention back to the sky as the ride began to slow, knowing this moment, like everything else, was going to come to an end.

You and John were on a mission to get over to the space ship, passing by a bunch of other rides and games you pointed to and indicated aloud along the way that they were on your To-Do list that evening.

As you approached what you two initially thought was a ride, you discovered that the rocket was actually just a still building. There were two lines entering the ship, and there were a few people in each line.

One of the Fair Staff was walking by, and John stopped him before he went too far. "Hey, what's this one all about?"

"Cosmic Hearts is a matchmaking activity we just added! You're matched with someone of your preference in the other line anonymously, and you both enter the rocket. You spend two minutes in the dark together, and then you leave together when the doors open, revealing who you've matched with. You can also think of it as a two-way Kissing Booth."

The staff member looked at the both of you before adding on slowly, "established couples usually don't use that one..."

"Oh, you must be mistaken, we're not--" John couldn't even correct the guy before he was walking away again. You looked from John, back to the metal space ship. The guys standing in line weren't bad looking at all.

"... I wouldn't mind spending two minutes in the dark with any of them," you thought aloud, noticing that each person in line had at least one unique physical attractive quality.

"Yeah, well I'd be worried they'd be touchy with you. In the dark and all," John huffed, shaking his head at the picture he painted himself, and you bursted out laughing.

"What, so you're my chaperone now? Going in there is knowing full well you're going to have hands all over you. Maybe I want to be squeezed up a little, Johnny, is there any harm in that?"

"I mean," John's face flushed a rosy pink before shutting his eyes and shaking his head again, as if that was going to stop his imagination from doing what an imagination does.

"That's.. not something I want to picture."

"Well look, you don't have to anymore," you took John's arm and pulled him towards one of the game stalls close by. "But you do have to try to win me that stuffed bear. We all know that's what I came for in the first place."

The distraction you set up was a good one. The game you brought John to was pretty much just Balloon Darts but forest- themed. You watched as John tried his very best to aim his darts, but he just couldn't quite seem to make the mark for that bear.

The fifth round came and went, and John was still slapping more tickets down. You knew it didn't help that John was legally blind and flat-out refused to wear his glasses, but you weren't about to start an argument with him over that.

After John used up the rest of his darts from that round, he looked over at you with frustration and he sighed. "Look, I might just need a quick break," John took the tickets from inside his pocket, and placed them in your hand.

"I'm running to the loo, it's just on the other side of the park, just hang out here, play a round... or four... and see if you're a better shot than me,"

"I'm always a better shot than you, Lenny," you called to him as he disappeared in the crowd, waving back to you as if to acknowledge your cocky response.

You went to turn back to the game, but something stopped you. You took a quick glance over your shoulder, and eyed the lineup at the rocket ship. You couldn't believe how good looking the people in the lineup were, you could only imagine what the mystery people in the second line looked like.

And then John's words from earlier became apparent in your head, statement ringing in your ears.

"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous."

You furrowed your brow as you thought about this decision you were about to make. The closest lineup to you wasn't long at all, and before you knew it, your feet were pretty much walking themselves up to the line.

There was a girl about your age doing the matching for your line, and she met your gaze after letting the next person in. She grinned, and approached you.

"Hello! Welcome to Cosmic Hearts, do you know how we work?"

"Sort of... I just don't know how the matches are made."

"Oh, it's no worries, we do that all for you! We only really take the girl's request for preference types, and then we match accordingly from the other line. Is there something in particular you want about your match? Looks? Behaviour?"

You raised an interested eyebrow, skeptical about how accurate your preferences would be in terms of the match.

That being said, it was just an elaborate kissing booth, it's not like you were using the stall to find the love of your life-- no, you were looking to prove to John that you could be daring, that you weren't as boring as he maybe thought.

"Look, girl-to-girl here, I trust your judgement in choosing me a good-looking guy..." your voice tapered off for a moment before you added, " I just might want someone who doesn't seem too overconfident."

The Match Girl smiled wide, and gestured toward the door to the spaceship with her hand, pushing it open to let you in. You were the next girl in line, and the boys in the lineup watched as you took a deep breath and moved in.

As you walked toward the threshold of the dark room, Match Girl filled you in on the instructions.

"The other side of the curtain will be your 'contact area', only walk through when you hear the other door close; that'll mean he's inside as well. You'll have two minutes alone together, at which point we will open the central door and let you both out"

Your heart began to quicken. It didn't really occur to you until now that you were about to make out with a complete stranger in the dark, and leave that spaceship hand-in-hand just to prove to John wrong about you lacking in as much fun as he thought.

But this impulsive plan of yours also excited you a lot.

Maybe by the end of the night, you'd be leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.

You took your final step into the rocket, and your heart pounded against your ribcage as it all went dark.

After about thirty seconds of silence, you heard some shuffling from the other side of the curtain, and then a simple, "your two minutes start now," from the staff.

Your heart was beating so loud, you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. Your remaining senses enhanced, provided your lack of vision, and you followed the wall to the right with your hand, past the curtain, and you could feel an immediate change in temperature in the room.

You were much warmer now, hyper-aware of the fact that you were sharing body-heat with whoever the staff matched you with. You had to relay it in your head a few times what this actually meant for you. It meant that the stranger in this room with you was going to get to know you quite intimately in a pretty short amount of time.

This made you think a moment or two about the other party in this situation: The Stranger. What was his story? Was he dared to jump in line by his buddies to get some action? Maybe his story is that he just wanted to have his first kiss to get it just done and over with, or maybe he, like yourself, was just doing it for the Hell of it.

Whatever the reason, you felt you owed it to them to give them a decent snogging.

Your hand continued to drift along the wall before your thumb bumped into another hand. You gasped quietly, knowing you were close to the stranger, just not exactly sure of where abouts until now.

You lifted your hand off the wall at the same time as him, and as to not lose you, he made sure to reach out and take your hand in his gently, seeming more like an offer than a demand, which you took, admittedly rather nervously, especially when his other hand reached out to grab the other hand at your side.

Something was just so thrilling picturing so many renditions of handsome young men in your head, mixing and matching what he looked like based on what you could feel. His hands were larger than yours, and his fingers were calloused.

He played guitar, or bass, or something, and you knew this because John played, and you remember him telling you once that the strings were really hard on the hands, and you could just tell by looking at his hands that he wasn't joking.

You just thought the feeling was such a contrast against your own hands, which were soft and untouched, and you were sure with the way this guy was running his thumbs over your palms, and the pads of your fingers, he was admiring the contrast as well.

You almost wanted to say something to him about it, but he had you stuck in a trance, especially when he let your hands go for a moment to gently feel up your arms for your shoulders. You tried your best not to be too reactive, but you couldn't help the goosebumps trailing after his touch.

His hands moved up, and you felt his fingertips graze the crooks of your neck and then up under your jaw.

Neither of you spoke, this moment too intimate for the silence to break. You and he breathed so shallow, it was hard to even believe there was someone in the room with you.

But there was, and his fingers traced your jawline slowly, one hand deviating up to cradle the back of your head while the other gently traced around your chin.

Your lips parted, your own hands reaching out for his waist so you had some idea of where he was in front of you. Your fingers found his jacket, and as you tightened your hands around the leather, you felt him move a little closer as his thumb finally found its way to your bottom lip.

You felt his breath on your face, and you held your own, squeezing your eyes shut when you realized they had been wide open the whole time.

And finally, after what seemed like too long, his thumb disappeared and he replaced it with his own lips.

The kiss was soft, and not pushy at all, but you were tense like a rock under his touch from how nervous you actually were, and you just kept still.

He pulled away for a moment, and you could feel your face burning. That was not the kind of note you were going to leave on. Whoever this was, he had clearly gotten your attention, and you needed to return the favour.

Your one hand moved up his chest, over his collarbone and around his neck to pull him back down towards you. Your lips came together again, and you felt him melt into your embrace after an unsure second, hands dropping down to snake around your waist and pull you flush against him.

You sighed against his mouth, and he pushed his tongue past your lips, all of your past worries melting away. You were in heaven, so drunk on intimacy that you forgot what you were even doing in there in the first place. You tried pulling him even closer by the jacket, to which he responded by slowly backing you against the wall, one of his hands dropping to your hip, and the other returning to the back of your head like before.

Your hand behind his neck slipped up into his hair, and he moaned gently when you tightened your fingers up in the strands and pulled a little.

"Yes, Baby..." the words tumbled from his mouth lowly, and you felt a chill shoot right up your spine; you immediately froze up, lips separating as the realization hit you. You felt like you were going to faint.

"John?!" Your question was short, but clear, and you felt your suspicions were all too correct when you felt all of his muscles tense up as well at the sound of your voice.

"...Y/n?!" His voice cracked, body frozen in place like a statue. As were you, grip still tight in his hair and on his jacket.

You were speechless-- you couldn't believe the one you just spent the last minute and a half or so with-- the one with whom you spent the most intimate experience in your entire life-- was John.

The gentle touching, the embracing of the heavy silence, the patient behaviour, the soft kissing, the respect of your boundaries, and the feeling of wanting more-- it was all John.

This was the first time in your life you had ever experienced John in a situation where he didn't have the words he needed to speak at his disposal.

But to be fair, neither did you. What would anyone do in a situation like this?

It became all the more real for the both of you a moment later when the doors opened up, the lights around the rocket ship lighting John's face for you to see, and your face for him. You both sported embarrassing shades of red on your cheeks, and John's mouth just hung open in perpetual shock as he took in the fact that it was you.

After a second, you both came back down to earth, and your hands came zipping off each other so fast, John scratching his head nervously and giving you space from the wall, and you folding your arms over your chest and gripping your biceps tightly with your fingers.

You couldn't even look John in the eye, nor could he with you, let alone speak. You walked out the door, John at your side. The Match Girl waited by the bottom of the ramp, grinning ear-to-ear. If only she'd known.

"Pretty good-looking, huh?" She nudged to you with a wink, and you could feel your face grow hotter as you glanced over to John. You made brief eye-contact, and you cast your eyes straight to the ground when it happened.

You were thinking things about John you never would have before had it not been for that stupid snog box.

"Yes," was all you could say, nodding for the most part and squeaking out a soft thank you to her before you turned on your heel, and beelined straight for the women's room, rushing out to John that you were running to the loo without looking back at him.

You were too focused on finding some cold water to splash in your face, and a quiet space to figure out what to do in this situation; the lights and sounds had your head just spinning, and it was too difficult to concentrate.

The women's room was quiet enough, and when you felt you'd splashed enough water in your face, you went and sat in one of the stalls for a while to break down the situation that just happened, and what you were going to do to fix it.

John was your friend. There was no way you were going to let something like this drive a wedge between you, especially if you just had to explain yourselves. You had your reasons going in there, as did he.

You were just hoping this could be something you could both look back on in the future and laugh.

You took a few sobering deep breaths before leaving the women's room. You rounded the corner, not quite sure where to begin looking for John, but you found you didn't have to go far when a rather familiar set of fingers took hold of your own as soon as you stopped.

You glanced over your shoulder and there he was. He'd been waiting for you the whole time.

And now he was holding your hand.

That's new.

"... Can we talk?" you spoke simultaneously, and you both smiled a little. John still couldn't seem to hold your gaze for too long without needing to tear his eyes away and resort to looking at his shoes, yet he still held a firm grip on your hand.

You'd never seen him like this before. It was sobering to see him without so much confidence.

"Where did you wanna talk? Nowhere's really private here."

"... Did you just wanna get outta here?" As soon as the words left his mouth, your shoulders lowered in relief. You both definitely had enough excitement for the night, and when you nodded your head sheepishly, John gave your hand a little squeeze, gestured you to come with him with his head, and you both headed for the Fair exit.

Your stroll down the town streets were quiet. Nothing was said between you two for the first little while, your strides were slow, your destination was unknown, and your hands were still clasped together. You took in the night air, for the sun had dropped below the horizon while you were in the spaceship, and the temperatures were lower.

You weren't too sure yet how John felt about all of that night's events so far, and what he thought of you. Clearly, based on the fact that his hand was still in yours, some opinion of his had changed.

Was he comfortable holding your hand now knowing it was you who shared such an intimate moment with him? Or was he maybe wanting to break off this friendship with you all because of tonight, and hand-holding was the only way he could think to comfort you?

At one point, John's fingers unraveled from yours, and you both slowed to a stop. He shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders before you pushed your arms up into the sleeves. John tried looking you in the eye again, and he swallowed nervously, face going red yet again.

"John, we need to talk about what happened."

"I know."

You took his hand this time, and guided him to the curb, sitting down together. Your fingers left his, and you both planted your hands at the curb at your sides.

There was silence for a moment as the memories of what happened back at the Fair resurfaced in your minds, what you were both feeling for each other, physically and emotionally, in your literal moments of blissful ignorance...

"Okay. I'm just going to put this out there right now. John, I had absolutely no idea that they matched me with you, or that you were even in line, for that matter." You sighed before continuing on, feeling the creep of warmth washing over your face yet again.

"I jumped in line impulsively when you left because I figured if you came back and you saw me leaving the rocket with a guy, I could prove to you tonight that I can be just as spontaneous and daring and fun as you."

You could see the gears turning in John's head when you finished saying your part, and after a second of putting the pieces together, his eyes widened, and then this wide smile spread right across his face, and, to your utter relief, he started laughing.

And it sounded so different compared to all of the other times he laughed around you. You couldn't quite place exactly what was different this time, but you found it to be more melodic than usual; more genuine. It was like music to your ears.

"I uh, I jumped in line for kind of the same reason." You raised a confused eyebrow, so John elaborated a little more, smile faltering a little as he cleared things up.

"Let me explain; If you saw me leaving the rocket with a girl, I was hoping I could convince you to do something tonight a little out of your comfort zone, like I did with that."

There was your Pièce De Résistance: John's reason for being in there all along was to teach you to live a little. And you were simply in there to live.

"Not that I wanted to see you specifically go through with the spaceship and getting felt up the wrong way, per se, but I just..."

John's words trailed off, and you could tell he was struggling to find words again. So, he decided to take this conversation in another direction.

"Okay, look, y/n, I don't want you to be under the impression that I think you're no fun. It's just not true. I adore you. There's just something about seeing you at the peak of excitement that makes me feel warm inside, like a child. I see this in moments you doubt yourself, but you still take that chance and you come out successful in the end, shining with confidence. I wanted to see you tonight with that same glow. And I would have if I hadn't have made fun in the first place that you were such a bore, so I'm sorry."

John dropped his head down after he finished speaking, and you looked at him for a moment, blinking once before reaching out to rub his back.

"Johnny, there is nothing to be sorry about." He turned his gaze to look at you, and you took some long pauses between your sentences. John was patient, eyes watching your face, and hanging onto every word you said.

"Of all the people I could have ended up with in that rocket tonight, I don't think you have any idea just how grateful I am that it was you in there with me, and not some stranger."

You didn't think you could keep it inside forever just what you thought about John's kissing, but you didn't think you'd give up fifteen minutes after the situation, either.

"John, I've kissed boys before, that's no secret between us; but what is is that I've never kissed a boy the way I kissed you tonight, and the attention you were giving back to me, I thought I nearly fell for you in there, and I had no clue it was even you," you laughed a little, the words feeling funny in your mouth, especially when they were for John's ears, only. Those words elicited red faces from the both of you.

"... I never thought I'd ever be nervous looking you in the eye, but to be quite honest, all that comes to mind when I see your face right now is the bubbling of excitement in my chest, and the feel of my legs going wobbly. God, John, would I be crazy to say I want you to kiss me like that all over again?"

You figured if you didn't throw the opportunity out there, you just might lose the chance to experience what you felt again, even if it meant just one last time in your life. But when John remained silent for longer than you hoped, your confidence began to falter. Perhaps John wasn't so comfortable with you anymore.

"... Would I be crazy?" You asked again, this time just above a whisper. John was the kind of person you expected to laugh something like this off. Perhaps he'd tease you for a moment, but ultimately tell you it was no big deal before gently rejecting you.

Instead, his silence indicated something much different. His eyes darted to your lips for a moment, a hand reaching up to hold the back of your head gently as he glanced up into your eyes.

"Love, if you think you're crazy for thinking that, then what I'm thinking must make me completely mad."

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, and John decided not to waste any more time in reconnecting your lips.

At first it was a little strange, his mouth on yours, but it wasn't in any way unpleasant. You found yourself, before long, snaking your arms around John's shoulders as you pulled him ever closer, your chests now flush as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. You hummed at the contact, but John had to pull away soon after to catch a breath, but he kept your chests flush so he could feel your heartbeat.

The contrast of kissing him knowing full well who he was still didn't change the respect in his movements, and the gentleness of his kisses.

When your eyes met again, you couldn't help but smile nervously at him, biting down on your lip as you noticed his cheeks glowed pink.

"Wow," you sighed.

"I'll say," he responded, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as the pad of his thumb drew invisible patterns from your cheekbone down your jaw.

That's when your smile began to fall slowly, and John noticed this as he was going to dive in for another kiss.

"What's the matter, Love?"

"... I think I like this too much. I think I like you too much," you said bluntly. The more you and John indulged in what you both physically wanted, the more you realized what you were putting on the line.

"... And is that a problem?" John asked you gently, and you raised your eyebrow, pulling away a little more from the embrace.

"It's a problem because this puts our friendship at risk, John. Every time our lips touch, the harder it is to look at you platonically."

"Then don't look at me platonically anymore," His suggestion was so effortless as you felt his other hand reach up to play with your hair.

"... I never expected tonight to go the way it did. But y/n, the more I think about a situation where it was anyone but me in that rocket with you, the more jealous I'm becoming... The more grateful I am that it was me, too."

John took another moment to bask in the silence before clearing his throat, and looking you right in the eyes.

"My eyes are wider than they've ever been before, and my mind is so clear. Why don't we try dating?" He suggested after a moment of deciding whether to ask in the first place.

"Dating?!" You paused. "John, if anything were to happen to what we have..."

"I know you're scared, y/n. So am I. But... I also believe this can be the beginning of something really great."

John let the hand in your hair drop to his shoulder where one of your hands rested. He gave your fingers a squeeze before he raised your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

"We already kind of go on dates, and now that kissing and hand holding is on the list of things we're comfortable with, we might as well just put a label on it."

John paused for a moment. "It's not like we have to scream it from the rooftops unless you wanted to. But... after tonight, it would be a treat to be able to walk around with my arm 'round your waist and proudly announce to the world that you're mine."

That comment of his made you bite back a toothy grin, but your red face really emphasized how his words made you feel. You were expecting a teasing jab from John, but, surprisingly, nothing came. Just hopeful eyes awaiting your response.

"If you're so confident we'll flourish romantically... then I'm with you, Johnny. We'll give it a go. But under one condition!"

John looked at you expectantly.

"You win me that damned stuffed animal tomorrow night, Lenny."

Now it was John's turn to grin, his arms curling around your body and pulling you into a warm embrace as he mumbled "deal" into your ear.

You were once again surrounded by leather, the crisp night air, the single dim beam of light from the streetlamp, and the faintest scent of whatever John's body wash was.

But most of all, you we're surrounded by young love.

You finally supposed that by the end of the night, you did end up leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.

You just had no clue you could kill two birds with one stone the way you had.

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A/A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this! I've had it in the works for LITERALLY four years now, and I am just SO glad it can be out in the world now.

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My favorite thing about Tumblr is just how easy and real the possibility is of finding HUGELY popular posts by just randomly scrolling. I constantly think of this one

Lift Confessions (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Author’s Note: Okay so hello! This is my first piece of writing, so I guess you could say I’m fairly new to this whole writing thing. I’ll get used to it though, hopefully. I really hope you enjoy this. Comments and requests are appreciated!

Summary: You and Queen’s drummer Roger Taylor do not get along, and it’s unclear why until one night when the both of you are found stuck in a broken lift, alone together. 

(This can be read as either BoRhap!Roger, or real Roger. It’s all completely up to you)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol/ Intoxication, Smoking, Mild Self-Harm (?), Panic attacks, Break-Ups, Etc.

I would rate this fic T just because of the swearing and subject matter.

If you want to read the prequel, you can find it here

He was the one person you hated the most. 

 Why did you have to get stuck in a lift together now? 

 You had been Brian May's best friend since high school. After graduation, the both of you had unfortunately gone your separate ways.

 You'd reconnected a handful of years after university, only to discover that Brian joined a band as a guitarist. The band, according to him, was "not half bad". That band was Smile, which later on became Queen.

 You befriended the frontman, Freddie Mercury, faster than it took for you to introduce yourselves to one another. Not only did he enjoy your company, but your generosity when it came to willingly helping them set up, and pack up their sets when you attended their small pub gigs.

 You did it so many times that it just became a norm for you to tag along with the band in order to be of assistance to them. That was also how you ended up becoming a "full-time roadie" for the band, as John Deacon liked to put it.

 One of your most important jobs, according to Brian, was not just to manage their coordination and placement on stage, but to follow them around like a lost puppy, all day, everyday. Although the guitarist insisted your presence everywhere was beneficial to your work, as well as theirs, Freddie told you at a later date that Brian just really liked having you around again.

 All of the boys liked having you around.

 All except for him. 

 You could see him, Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen, forcibly laugh, and shake his head from the corner of your eye; and before he opened his big mouth to start complaining like always, you raised your finger up.

 "One word, Meddows, and I will strangle you." 

 "It was your fault, y/l/n!"

 "How so?!"

 "You pressed the buttons last!" What a weak argument. "I should have taken the fucking stairs like everyone else."

 It was clear Freddie, Brian, and John took the stairs to narrowly avoid the arguing between you and the hot-headed blond. Even when there were others around, it was hard for the both of you not to bitch at one another.

 You didn't even understand why you two chose to ride the lift down together. Neither of you ever complained about it, though... you had noticed, however, that it was becoming a rather common occurrence.

 You assumed it was better to ride the lift with Roger, and suffer for a handful of seconds rather than having to endure a long, dreadful walk down the stairs with him, anyways.

 You reached out, and tried the open door button, like you had moments before. It didn't do anything. You hit the button again. And again. And again.

 "Don't expect shit to change, y/n! Jesus Christ--"

 "Do you have any other bright ideas, Car-Fucker?" Your words were cold as you turned to stare down the blond who'd retreated to the back corner of the lift.

 Roger's mouth twitched threateningly, and you turned back to the refusing doors. You huffed, and hit the call button before moving to sit at the very opposite of Roger in the lift.

 He watched as you sat yourself on the floor, and cross your arms over your chest.

 "Take a photo. It'll last longer."

 He simply shook his head, leaning himself against the wall and staring at the yellow light in the ceiling.

 "... Bitch."

 "Dick."

 And then there was silence.

 Roger spent nearly ten minutes staring at either the wall in front of him or the ceiling light, and you picked at the dirt underneath your fingernails.

 There was something very uncomfortable about the lift's silence. It was so odd to be in the same room as Roger and not be verbally attacking him the entire time, and vice versa.

 Roger, after standing against the wall for about five minutes more, moved to the button panel next to the door. You opened your mouth, in preparation to ask him what he was doing, but when he began to mash the open door, and call button, and then kicking the steel doors as hard as he could afterwards, you knew very well not to piss him off.

 You had never physically attacked one another, and today was not going to be the day that reality would change.

 "What a load of fucking bullocks," Roger's voice shook, and his shoulders heavily rose and fell with his chest. He pounded his fist one more time against the door before pacing back to his original spot against the wall. You watched him sit on the floor, and after realizing you were watching him, he crossed his arms like you had before.

 "Take a photo. It'll last longer."

 The mock made you even more uncomfortable. Not because he quoted the bitchy line you used beforehand, no.

 Something about him not only seemed irritated, but anxious... And it struck an unpleasant nerve in you.

 You had never seen the Roger Taylor unnerved in your life... and you didn't like it.

 Roger's gaze was now on his hands, which he'd resided to wringing in his lap. His right foot tapped rapidly on the lift's floor, as if he was getting more restless as time ticked by.

 Soon enough, the drummer was back on his feet, pacing towards the button panel and pressing the call button over and over, like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

 "... Rog--"

 "Come on, open up!" Roger began to slap the lift's doors with the palm of his hand, his pleads strained with distress. Sooner than later, he tore himself away from the panel to sit back on the floor. His movements were quick, and only then could you see the panic in his glassy eyes.

 That's when you realized it.

 Roger was claustrophobic.

 You could see him looking at the lift's walls as if they were way too close for his liking. His feet began to tap against the floor like before, and he swallowed thickly before squeezing his eyes shut.

 "Open up," you could hear the blond whisper to no one in particular. He brought his legs up to his chest, and buried his face into his knees.

 "Oh god, get me the fuck outta here."

 Considering the situation, Roger must have really thought his song about his "love for cars" was strong enough to be on the B-side of Bohemian Rhapsody if he was willing to sit in a tight cupboard for hours until Freddie agreed to cooperate with his wishes.

 But seeing Roger shake in his panic made you feel sick, and even though you felt unwillingly sympathetic towards him, you also felt like you were compelled to do something.

 When Roger lifted his head up next, you were relocated, right next to him, your brows furrowed with-- as much as you hated to admit-- worry.

 "Take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me, Roger?"

 When he didn't answer, and his silent tears spilled over his waterlines, you sighed, and slowly reached out to rest your hand on his shaking shoulder.

 "I'll breathe with you. Okay? Just breathe in..." you took a deep breath in through your nose, watching as Roger began to cooperate. As he did this, you rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. 

 "... And out."

 You both exhaled through your mouths, although his came out shakily. You could feel the smallest of smiles on your lips, and you nodded your head in approval.

 "Good. Do that a few more times, Rog."

 Roger slowly drew in, and released some deep breaths, like you had asked. You found relief to see the distress physically cease from his being. A few minutes passed, and after Roger had calmed down, he rubbed at his eyes with the pads of his hands.

 "... You gonna be good, Meddows?"

 His gaze moved to your face, and his eyes narrowed as he stared into your own. He opened his mouth, and closed it. He did it a handful of times before frowning, and clenching his jaw.

 "... Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

 His question wasn't meant to be condescending; even you knew that. Honestly, if you were Roger, you would have been asking the same question.

 The tone in his voice was soft... which threw you off guard. You hadn't heard Roger speak in such a gentle manner towards you for... a very long time. You felt like you were talking to a different person entirely.

 "I..."

 Roger raised his eyebrow expectantly, and that made you hesitate even more. He was listening to you.

 He never listened to you.

 "I was..."

 You stopped again.

 You didn't know whether or not you wanted to tell him the truth. If you told him you felt sympathy for him, you feared it'd only inflate his already-large ego, and he wouldn't be grateful for your actions at all.

 "... I could hear your mumbling as clear as day over there." You decided to go the harsher route.

 "I wanted the noise to stop."

 Roger's eyebrows lowered, and he opened his mouth as if to speak...

 But no words came out. 

 You sighed again, and shifted to a kneeling position in order to pull yourself back up to your feet, but once you were halfway up, Roger suddenly grabbed your elbow, and gently pulled you back down to the floor.

 You landed next to the drummer with a thud, and you stared quizzically at the hand cuffing your appendage.

 Your eyes moved from Roger's now soft grip on your arm, to his face, your eyebrows lowering in confusion. Your stare was enough to ask the question you were thinking. 'What?'

 "... What even went wrong between us, y/n?"

 That was a question you were not expecting to hear.

 "... Excuse me?"

 "You heard me."

 You pursed your lips, and looked back down at Roger's hand, which was still planted at your joint.

 "I don't even know why you and I even started fighting," he confessed gently.

 After a beat, as if he had been thinking about doing this beforehand, his fingers began to glide down the length of your forearm. Very slowly.

 For the first time in your feud, you let Roger touch you. The contact, although minimal, brought an ironic sense of comfort to you.

 "I just woke up one morning... and it was like we'd hated each other since birth..."

 Roger watched himself trace mindless patterns slowly over the back of your hand once his fingertips reached it.

 You would have been repulsed by his actions if he would have been doing this minutes beforehand; but now... you honestly didn't want him to stop.

 "We hit it off the day we met... why did that have to change?"

 You could hear your heart beating hard, and loud, and fast against your rib cage, which was an issue since Roger's voice was barely even a whisper.

 The blood rush in your ears only grew more intense when Roger unexpectedly, yet slowly, curled his warm fingers around your own. Even if you wanted to pull away from Roger, you didn't think you had the strength to move.

 "... You don't remember what happened... do you?" 

You asked, just as quietly as he had. At the response, Roger's gaze moved up to meet yours, his face branded with confusion.

 "I don't." 

 "You were shitfaced. No wonder you don't remember..."

 You finally pulled your hand away from Roger's touch, and the fingers that were once keeping yours warm hovered in the air for a moment.

 The blond eventually dropped his hand in his lap, pursing his lips, and silently waiting for you to continue your explanation. With a sigh, you continued. 

"Remember Steven?" The name made the corner of Roger's mouth twitch unpleasantly. 

 "How could I forget him?" he said tightly. 

Your stomach sank at Roger's tone, and you took a deep breath or two as a natural remedy for your mild nausea.

 "... Why do you think you haven't seen him in, what, two years?" 

 Roger's cold gaze softened, and he parted his lips after putting two and two together.

 "You two--" 

 "He left me," you finished. Roger ran his tongue over his teeth before hollowing out his cheeks in thought.

 "... What's this have to do with me, though?" 

 "We were hanging out at that one pub you guys met me in. You were doing a gig that particular night, and I was helping you guys pack up." Roger tried his best to remember the night that ended your friendship. 

 The night that birthed your rivalry.

 "The last time I remember you ever being nice to me, I went to get you a drink from the bar..." Roger's face twisted. He was clearly bothered that he couldn't remember much about that night.

 "You got blackout drunk," you reminded the drummer with a tight-lipped smile. "... you offered to buy me one drink, but one turned into five, and God knows how many for you." Roger then smiled the slightest bit, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. That did sound like him.

 "And at some point in the night, I went out for a smoke... I think Brian called Steven to come and pick me up."

 Roger's mouth twitched again, and he nodded his head slowly after his smile completely disappeared again. 

"... alright."

 "You stumbled out of the pub at some point. Sat down on the curb right next to me..." The entire night was coming back to you, almost as if it were a film you hadn't seen in years, but just the mention of a scene or two had you remembering every little detail about it. You could have recapped the whole night to Roger; everything that happened in blunt detail. In times like this, you were glad to have the gift among few that allowed you to easily remember things while under the influence.

 And in times like this, you were a little disheartened that Roger was not one of those people.

 "... You were getting a little clingy. Physically." You laughed a little, your eyes trained on the loose dirt on the lift's floor. You didn't want to see the look on Roger's face from then until the end of your recollection.

 "Shocked me, really, seeing as you're very much a "hands off" kinda guy when it comes to romantic stuff. You had your arm around me, your head on my shoulder..." You took a deep breath, and cleared your throat awkwardly. Following this was a strained huff of laughter. 

"... Then you kissed me."

 It was hard to keep your eyes off Roger's face in that moment, especially since he didn't say anything in response. You hoped to God the blond believed you, and didn't think you were trying to make a joke out of this whole situation. But knowing Roger, if he had suspected this to be a joke, he would have called you out on it already. 

"You actually cut me off during a conversation with it..." You frowned again, your fingers moving to clasp together in your lap. You shook your head, and huffed another sarcastic laugh.

 "And I was with Steven at the time. I-- I knew it was wrong for that to happen... But I kissed you back."

 Your fingers began to curl in at the memory, and you watched as your fingernails began to press harshly against the skin of the knuckles on your opposite hand. 

 "And Steven-- he fucking showed up at the worst of times! He showed up while we were sucking face, and I had to spend the rest of my night fighting with him!" 

You hadn't noticed your calm tone had blossomed into a shout. Even when you shot up to your feet, bounded towards the steel doors to the lift, and kicked them as hard as you could, you couldn't tell how scary you'd become.

 You listened to the sound of the door's assault ricochet through the elevator shaft, and you dropped your tense shoulders when nothing could be heard anymore.

 Roger said nothing.

 The people who may or may not have been outside the lift said nothing.

 You said nothing.

... You said nothing for a very long time.

 And when you did, your tone was miserable, and your voice was full of tears.

 "I told h-him I l-loved him! I s-started to believe it l-less and less with every time I s-said it...!" You peered through your tears at Roger's disfigured reflection in the lift's door. Even though your back was to him, he still watched you as if you were facing him. You took a few deep breaths to relax yourself, and when you decided you'd spent enough time calming down, you spoke again, in a better-controlled tone. 

 "He ended things. He told me you could have me."

 You frowned, crossing your heavy arms over your chest. 

"... He said it like I was some kind of toy he was just tossing away."

 You opened your mouth, but hesitated with your next words. 

"... I couldn't help but blame you at first, for everything that happened." A pause.

 "And then I blamed the both of us... I blamed us for a very long time."

 You finally turned to look at Roger, who was staring at you with empty eyes. When he still didn't respond, you continued.

 "Months after the separation... and my pointing of fingers... I knew I fucked up. You were my friend, and just because we kissed while we were drunk, our friendship was sacrificed to make me feel better about myself."

 You swallowed thickly, your eyes surveying his to see if he was going to say anything yet.

 Nothing.

 "I realized it was me who tore us apart. And when I finally came to terms with myself, I thought it was too late, and you could never forgive me." 

 One of Roger's eyebrows slowly raised, and you shifted from one foot to the other. 

 "All this time I'd pretended to hate you because you hate me. I was too scared to ever apologize because I feared rejection..." You looked around the lift, and pinched your bottom lip between your teeth.

 "... And here we are, now. You know what happened, and..." you rested your eyes on Roger one more time. "... I just want you to know that I forgive you. And... I'm so sorry, Roger."

 The blond's eyes softened, and he shifted a little to sit up straighter against the wall.

 "... C'mere," he finally spoke.

 After a pause, you uncrossed your arms, and moved to sit next to Roger again. He gestured down to your hand with his eyes, and you raised it up, to which he took in his own grasp.

 The physical affection shocked you, even if Roger had been doing this with you minutes prior. The touching was just so unlike him, even if he were doing this with someone he genuinely liked.

 "... God, y/n I don't even know where to begin..."

 "... Begin?" You questioned, to which Roger nodded his head.

 "My Doll, I never hated you. The distancing was a charade. I've lied to myself every day for the last two years. I told myself I never cared about you, and I don't love you. I thought that was what you wanted. I kept it up. I never believed it; those lies. I never could. You're just too... special."

 You watched with an open mouth and big round eyes as Roger raised your hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles. He then opened your hand and slowly kissed the tips of your fingers, his glossy blue eyes watching your face as his lips made contact with your skin. 

 "Roger..." 

 "My Doll, I have been in love with you since the moment I set eyes on you, and I never stopped."

 Your heart pounded in your chest. You feared it was loud enough that Roger could hear it.

 While his one hand held onto yours, his other hovered just above your waist. His eyes moved from his free hand to your eyes. You granted him permission to touch you with a small, single nod. At the signal, Roger's fingers gently settled onto your clothed skin, and he squeezed your hand.

 "Steven made me so goddamn jealous, y/n. How much I wanted to be him when he'd pick you up after our gigs, holding the car door for you like you were a princess. How I desperately wanted an oversized rain jacket so during pouring days I could offer you space in my arms and warm you up until we got somewhere dry..."

 As Roger continued on, your eyes began to tear up. At first you assumed all of Roger's wishes had you missing Steven; but your heart knew that was wrong.

 You wanted these things to happen as much as Roger did.

 "What I would give to dance with you under a streetlight in the middle of the night like a cliché film," Roger let go of your hand, and reached up to curl a piece of loose hair around your ear. "Or what I would give to taste your strawberry-flavoured lip gloss I can smell from a room away." While he mentioned your lips, Roger didn't shy away from admiring your slightly opened mouth.

 He swallowed, and looked up to you, his eyelids falling ever so lightly as his hands found their way to your elbows, and the two of you found yourselves gravitating towards one another.

 "Y/n..."

 Your mouths were just inches from each other when the lift jolted, and it began to move down to the ground floor. You and Roger watched as the floor numbers became smaller and smaller, and you rose to your feet, offering a hand to Roger to help him up as well.

 He held your hand for a moment or so after he properly got to his feet, and he looked down at you. You returned his gaze, and he opened his mouth to speak.

 The lift's doors finally opened and a man in a maintenance outfit greeted you and Roger with a curt nod of his head and a twirl of his wrench. "Sorry 'bout that, kids. Lift's been actin' up lately. Thanks for bein' patient." He moved out of the way, and you and Roger left the building after thanking him.

 The two of you stepped out into the pouring rain, and you cursed.

 "After all that time, I forgot my helmet upstairs." You turned to make your way back into the studio, but Roger grabbed your hand. "Princess, you're not biking home in the rain. I'm taking you."

 You didn't argue. Roger unzipped his jacket and stretched it to the side. "There's room in this jacket for the both of us."

 You just grinned, and slipped into the area under his arm, and the both of you rushed to Roger's car while he did his very best to shield you from the elements. 

He opened the car door for you, and made sure you were in fine before closing the door and climbing in on his side. He blew hot air into his hands and rubbed his palms together, glancing over to you.

 You were looking out the window until you took notice of the vehicle's silence, and you turned to look at Roger, matching his toothy grin. You laughed and shook your head 

 "What?!"

 "I'm just so glad to have you back in my life."

 "I never left, Meddows," you teased.

 "You know what I mean." You reached over and grasped his hand, giving it a squeeze as he started the car. Before putting the car into drive, he glanced at you. "I'm glad too, Roger."

 The next little while was you directing Roger to your house as you listened to the music on the radio, Roger's thumb rubbing the back of your hand gently. You could tell he was enjoying your company, as did he with you. 

 Eventually, you told him which driveway to pull into, and Roger was almost reluctant to put his car into park. He didn't want to leave you just yet. 

 "Hey,"

 You looked at him with a tilted head, and you kissed the back of his hand, something you weren't expecting to do this morning when you greeted him with your regular insults. 

 "I just miss this," he explained, gesturing between the both of you.

 "I miss being near you, and touching you, and..." He stopped talking on his own, and he moved his eyes up to look into yours.

 "... D'ja wanna go to dinner, y/n?"

 Your face burned hot, but you never hesitated in nodding, trying your best to hold back a grin. Roger on the other hand, wasn't scared to show his teeth when he grinned. He smiled so much it looked like it hurt.

 "Brilliant," he exclaimed with an exhale. 

"How does Friday night sound? Seven o'clock. I'll take you to a really special place for a really special lady." He winked at you to which you laughed in reply. 

"That sounds perfect, Roger."

 He got out of the car, and opened your door in the pouring rain, offering you protection from the weather in his jacket again. After escorting you to the door, Roger watched as you unlocked your door. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and watched as you turned to look at him one last time.

 "Friday?"

 "Friday," you confirmed, leaning up, and kissing Roger's cheek. He rested his hand where you kissed him, and watched you leave with starstruck eyes, and a goofy smile on his lips. "Drive safe, Lover Boy."

 You closed the door to your place, and you leaned against the wall in the main hall. 

You were already impatient for seven o'clock Friday.

                                                                Author’s After-Notes: Let me know if you want a sequel. I’d be down to write some more