7 eleven slurpee

anonymous asked:

A/U in which instead of being obsessed with 7-eleven slurpees, JD is obsessed with frozen coffee from Starbucks. He gets the most sugary, complicated drinks. Veronica is all "This kind of ruins your bad boy mystique."

I mean, there’s a Starbucks in every town too, so….

Dead Man Walking

John Laurens x Reader

words: 2000
warnings: idk what to put as a warning. message me if you find anything here triggering
description: okay so a while ago i saw someone request a heathers x hamilton imagine and it inspired me to do this. it’s my first imagine on this account. i hope you enjoy x

~

“It’s time for you to prove you’re not a lame ass anymore,” Thomas said, pushing John to the side. “Boys, let’s go.” Thomas turned around, beginning to walk towards the cafeteria.

John sighed, looking around awkwardly and biting his lip.

 "You shouldn’t of bowed down to the swatch dogs and the diet coke heads. They’re going to crush that man,“ You stated, moving out from under the bleachers where you had been watching the happenings of your new school.

“I’m sorry, what?” The freckle faced boy asked, looking you up and down. He crossed his arms.

“You’ve clearly got a soul, you just need to work hard at keeping it clean. "We are all born marked evil.” “ You stated, turning on your heels and beginning to walk off.

"Okay, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away,” He said. You ignored him, continuing to walk away. You groaned when he began to follow you. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch your name.”

You sighed, turning around to face the freckly boy. “I didn’t throw it,” You stated, looking the freckly boy up and down, who seemed to be undressing you with his eyes.

“Hey sweetheart! What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?” You read the boy’s letterman jacket quickly. Eacker.

You didn’t flinch when you felt someone’s hand hit the back of your head. Instead, your turned your body, facing your second opponent. You read his jacket, Lee.

“My buddy George just asked you a question,” He stated, crossing his arms.

“Hey Charles, doesn’t the cafeteria have a no fags allowed rule?” George asked, smirking.

“They seem to have an open door policy for assholes though,” You retaliated.

A crowd had begun to gather around you, Charles and George. Freckle face stood at the front, writing in a diary.

“Hold his arms!” George exclaimed. 

Charles grabbed your arms, attempting to hold them as tight as possible. You yanked yourself out of his grip just as George’s fist was about to hit your face. You blocked it with the book that you had been holding in your hand, moving the book and using it to hit George in the face. You knocked him to the ground, turning around and focusing on Kurt.

When both of the boys had been knocked to the ground, you walked away from the crowd as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

-

You had avoided the majority of the school the rest of that week, making yourself invisible whenever possible. It wasn’t that you were afraid to face them, it was that there was no point in speaking to them anyway.

But all good things must come to an end. And eventually, while on one of your 7 Eleven trips, you bumped into the boy with the curly hair and freckly face again. He stumbled into 7 Eleven in boots, a button up shirt and skinny jeans. 

You hadn’t noticed him when he first walked in. That was, until you heard the loud, obnoxious tone of Thomas Jefferson’s voice. 

You approached the freckle faced boy, taking a sip of the slurpee in your hand. “Greetings and salutations. Want a slurpee with that?” you asked, leaning against the wall next to the machine.

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a big gulp.”

“That’s like going to Micky D’s to order a salad. The slurpee is the signature dish of the house Did you say cherry, or lime?”

“I said big gulp… I’m John… by the way. Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll end the suspend. I’m (Y/N). (N/N) for short.”

“So, (N/N). That thing you pulled on the field was pretty severe,” John started, putting his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, well, the extreme always seems to make an impression.”

“What is a Baudelaire quoting, badass like you doing in Sherwood, Ohio?” He asked.

“My dad’s work. He owns a deconstruction company,” You said, refilling your slurpee cup and taking a sip.

“Deconstruction?”

“Yeah, the old man seems to enjoy tearing things down. You’ve seen the commercial? My name’s Big Bud (L/N) and if it’s in the way, I’ll make your day.”

“Oh yeah, and then he pushes the plunger and the screen blows up,” John said, starting to laugh. He stopped quickly when he noticed the cold look that you were giving him. “Oh. That’s your dad.”

“In all his toxic glory.”

“Well, everybody’s life has got static-” A car horn cut John’s sentence short.

“Laurens!” Jefferson screeched.

“For example, I don’t really like my friends,” John said glancing out through the glass sliding doors.

“I don’t really like your friends either. Bag the party, hang out here,” You suggested, taking another sip of the slurpee.

John scoffed. “Ah, at the 7 Eleven. Swanky first date.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Come on, I like this place.”

“No offence, but why?” John asked, raising his eyebrow. 

You sighed, “I’ve been through ten high schools. And I mean, things end up getting blurry. There’s no point in learning names or faces. My dad keeps suitcases packed in our den, so it’s only a question of when. All I’ve learnt that I can trust in this concrete oasis of society is 7 Eleven,” You stated.

“Does your mummy know that you eat all that crap?” John asked, glancing at the slurpee.

“Not anymore. When she was alive, everything was half normal. But now it’s just me and dad, we’re less… well, formal. And so I learned to pay rent, do taxes, everything your usual adult needs to know. I learned that the world doesn’t owe you a cent. At all.”

John stared at you in shock. “Wow,” he mumbled. “That must be tough.”

“Well I’m sure it would be. But my friend here, the slurpee, always helps me out. I stop thinking. You have to fight pain with more pain. So yeah, I come here to freeze my brain. Try it.” You held out the yellow 7 Eleven slurpee cup, watching Pbillip. He grabbed the cup, taking a quick sip.

“Yeah, I don’t see what all the fuss is- son of a bitch!”

 You heard a car door slam outside and watched as the automatic sliding glass doors opened. “Laurens!”

“Coming!” John exclaimed, passing the slurpee cup back to you and running out of the store.

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the slurpee machine before going to fill up your cup again.

-

The party calmed down for a split second as soon as Thomas Jefferson stood on a crate. Both Burr and Madison stood by his side, staring down the party goers. John watched his friends, waiting for them to speak.

“Alright Westerburgers! Time to celebrate our upcoming victory over the Razorbacks by whacking apart their mascot!” Jefferson cheered. John watched as George whacked Jefferson’s ass. Jefferson smirked, letting George pull him into the bedroom.

Burr moved forward with a baseball bat and a blindfold in his hands. “We need a volunteer to take the first swing at the piñata!” He exclaimed, glancing around the room for a victim. George and Jefferson reemerged from the bedroom, snickering and holding something behind their backs.

“I think Alexander Hamilton should do the honours,” Jefferson stated, a large smirk covering his face.

John glanced at Alexander, the boy who had once been his best friend. He gulped slightly, watching as Alexander stood his ground.

“Oh, I don’t really know this game,” He stated, crossing his arm and slowly backing out. Jefferson had fought with Alexander at any chance he got, and would take any chance to embarrass him. John figured they had something coming. Especially after making him write that note to get him here…

“Let’s show this man some Westerburg spirit!” Jefferson exclaimed. Suddenly, all of the drunken teens began to chant his name. It seemed that everyone from Maria Reynolds to Eliza Schuyler was in on the joke.

“Let’s bring out the piñata!” Burr exclaimed. Madison smirked, grabbing the piñata from Jefferson, which had a picture of Alex’s face taped to its face. John watched in horror. He moved quickly towards James.

“Madison! What are you doing? Give it to me!” He exclaimed. He attempted to pull the piñata out of James’ hands, groaning when it was held above his head. He jumped, getting a grip on the piñata again and pulling it away from James.

“Thomas! Help!” James exclaimed. Thomas grabbed the piñata, pulling with James.

Eventually, John yanked the piñata away, running to the pool. “What is your damage Jefferson!” He yelled. “If you want this, you’re going to have to swim for it!” John dropped the piñata in the pool, looking around at the crowd of people that were staring directly at him.

Alexander ran to John’s side. “What’s going on?” He asked. John shook his head.

“I’ll explain later. Just, go home,” John said, giving Alexander’s hand a squeeze and then letting him go.

“No, I was going to-“

“Alex, just go home!”

Alexander looked around at all of the stone cold glares, running out through the house.

“Well, we gave it a shot. I’m resigning my commission from the Velvet Gestapo and going back to my normal civilian life,” John continued. He turned to leave, gasping when he felt someone grab the back of his shirt

“Ha! No,” Jefferson said, spinning John around to face him. John started to feel sick. He put a hand over his mouth. 

“No, don’t spin me. I’m not feeling well,” He mumbled.  Jefferson grabbed John’s face, pushing his cheeks together.

“You don’t get to go home and be a nobody. Come Monday, you’re an ex somebody. Not even the losers will touch you now! Transfer anywhere, I don’t care. But no one at Westerburg is going to let you play their reindeer games.” Jefferson released John, who stumbled slightly before bending over and vomiting all over Jefferson’s shoes.

Thomas screamed. “I brought you up from nothing and how do you thank me? I get paid in puke!” He exclaimed.

John stood up slowly, laughing. “Oh, lick it up baby! Lick it up!”

Jefferson chuckled. “I know who I’m eating lunch with on Monday, do you?” Jefferson stated. John ran out of the house, panting when he was eventually reached the road. He sat down on the curb, putting his head in his hands.

“Thirty hours to live, how will I spend them?” John mumbled. “You’ve got so many options, but is changing your name and moving to Seattle really a good way to solve your problems?” John looked up from his feet, seeing a 7 Eleven sign glowing in the darkness from across the road. He smirked. “Bingo.”

-

You woke quickly when hearing someone fiddling with your window lock. You sat up slowly, looking across to your balcony as the door slowly opened. Your eyes widened when you saw John Laurens slip into your room.

“John?” You mumbled in confusion. John moved onto your bed, moving into a push up position over you. “What are you doing in my room?” John put a finger to your lips, a soft shh sound escaping from his.

“I’m sorry to come without a warning, but I’ve decided I must ride you until I break you.” Your eyes widened.

“Wait, what?” You asked.

“Heather is annihilating me from Westerburg. You’re my last request, my last meal. So…” John trailed off, running a hand through your hair and leaning in close to your ear. He nibbled on your earlobe. “Shut your mouth and lose your clothes.”

You slowly unbuttoned your pajama shirt, staring into John’s eyes. “Come on!” He exclaimed, ripping open your shirt. “Tonight, I’m yours! I’m a dead man walking.” Your lips met. You tasted the alcohol in his mouth, letting him explore yours with his tongue.

He pulled away. “Slap me!” He exclaimed. You moved out from under him, slapping his ass as hard as possible. John let out a loud moan. “Pull my hair.”

You followed John’s instructions once again, lightly yanking on his hair as he unbuckled his pants. “Touch me there, and there and there!” He rolled over onto his back, letting you touch him.

“How’d you find my address?” You asked quickly. John shook his head.“No more talking,” He muttered, kissing you again. He pulled away. 

“Love this dead man walking.”