#I get nothing done because the phone is ringing non stop
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fluffyfangirl ¡ 4 months ago
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ugh.
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cinnasweetss ¡ 11 months ago
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Out Of Bounds (M) - sim jaeyun
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PAIRINGS: jake x female reader, afab reader
SYNOPSIS: in which jake is your little brothers best friend that knows absolutely no boundaries when it comes to you.
GENRE: smut, pwp.
CONTENT: jake is super whiny, one-sided pining, reader is slightly older, overuse of the word ‘noona’, jake def has a thing for older women, mentions of drinking, masturbation (m), mentions non consensual groping, mentions of verbal threats.
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jake is everything but a pleasure to be around. endless flirting, groping, threats aimed at your boyfriend, and other unspeakable things. all done where no one can hear you beg him to just leave you alone, just this once. or hear him grumble about how much he likes you, and won’t stop.
jake is like your brother too, just a little bit more annoying. although his actions can be a bit much, you know he’s a kind hearted boy deep down with pure intentions. even if his actions can be a bit much. it’s nothing you can’t handle.
your never bring this up to your brother either. never would you deny him of a friend just because he has a very insatiable desire for you. boys will be boys! your friends say their siblings friends develop little crushes on them too. but jake’s feelings and wants for you are not little.
so, it’s no surprise that he calls you late at night after a night of drinking with your younger brother. overcome by the feeling of needing to hear his best friends older sister. just to settle him. that’s it.
your phone rings next to your pillow, pulling you from your slumber. it takes a minute for you to roll over, sighing when you pick up your phone and see ‘sim jake’ written across the screen.
“hmm? what is it?”
you know he’s been drinking. that’s why you don’t hesitate to answer. “Just…thinking about my noona.” his noona. you’re always referred to that way. his voice is slow and slurred, hinting at just how much he’s drank by now. “are you drunk?”
you have to say you're flattered. extremely. to be on his mind even when he’s drunk and has likely been around plenty of drunk women says a lot. “a lil- little bit..." you hear an exhale come through the speaker, and another noise follow. "jake, how much did you drink? do you need me to come get you?" you’re sitting up out of your bed, ready to throw on clothes and leave just incase he does need you. there’s a short pause before you hear his voice again.
“Can you- fuck... can you say my name again?" he sounds out of breath, and you can faintly hear some very suspicious sounds coming from the other end. those words mark a new boundary that’s been broken. adding to the multitude of broken boundaries. "what are you doing?" his tone sounded very suggestive, and it makes you stop, pressing your phone closer to your ear. "Thinkin' about you, noona..." he responds, and this time, he moans. "Jake..." you don’t mean to feed into him. not all all. you're just utterly shocked and at a loss for words. but most of all, worried about this would affect your relationship with him. "oh, fuck.” he's shameless in the way he moans, loud and whiny, begging you to say more. "tell me, noona..." he starts, moaning directly into your ear... "y-your panties...what color are they?"
“they’re…red..”
"ahhh, shit." you can hear him struggle with himself like he's imagining you in red panties , likely doing something lewd. "today...in the kitchen. did you like it? when I touched you?" ‘touched’ is too sweet of a word to describe what he did to you. groped, manhandled, fondled, is better. overpowering you when you tried to push his hands away from your chest, beg him to stop before your brother sees. tell him he must learn how to control himself.
“you cant...touch me like that...it isn’t right.” those are words you’ve said to him a million times before. words that go through one ear and out the other without a second thought. "cant help it. fuck, fuck, i'm so close! keep talking, please noona!" you can hear him increase speed in whatever he's doing, which, sounds exactly like he's jerking off.
"you're so pretty, too pretty, noona..." he rambles on in his fit of pleasure. telling you how much he wants to kiss you, and fuck you between very loud moans. "wish I could cum in you instead...agh! I gotta have you...gotta make you mine." his words bring heat to your cheeks despite the vulgarity of it all. "Jake..." you start, the other seemingly seconds apart from coming undone. "yes? yes, yes, noona!" he pants over the phone, whining and struggling to hold himself back from cumming before you get to respond. "maybe one day." those words from you are all it takes, a "fuck i'm gonna cum! i'm cumming! fuck!" being yelled into the speaker as he releases every pent up emotion he has for you in the form of one intense orgasm.
sim jaeyun, is way Out Of Bounds.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor ¡ 1 year ago
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Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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Your second day isn’t as intimidating. You find your desk by yourself and even remembered your honey bear mug! You tuck your bag underneath as your computer boots and check your phone for any updates from your blog. Nothing special, just a hobby.
You yawn and sign in, taking two tries to remember your credentials correctly. You check the shared calendar and see that you have a meeting after lunch with IT. Daniella mentioned you had to get your security passes before the end of the week, that’s probably what that’s for.
You swivel back and forth as you open up your training list. You’re making good progress. You think. You don’t really know. It seems like a lot and despite feeling as if you’ve run a marathon, there are only a few ticks marked off.
Before you dive in, you need a pick-me-up. You really liked that butterscotch coffee but you might try something new. You enter the kitchen and wait behind a woman you don’t know as she brews her coffee. When she’s done, she returns your ‘good morning’ but doesn’t stop to chat. Must be a busy day.
You place your cup on the tray and pick out a French Vanilla pod. You don’t really know what the difference between regular vanilla and French vanilla is. Maybe the French stuff is fancy. Ooh la la.
You hum as the coffee grinds. It sounds angry. Well, it is probably the most overworked fellow in this place. Every day, seeing the heart caffeine hounds, having them poke his face, and glare until he does his jobs.
It’s a machine. Your mother always said you put a bit too much empathy into objects without sentience. Well, your English teacher shouldn’t have made you read that book about Electric Sheep or whatever.
Your cup is full and you grab it, focused on putting the lid on it to keep it nice and warm. As you turn, you fail to stop in time. Your hand knocks against the man’s chest and you gasp as coffee splashes onto his dark shirt. Not much as you manage to block most of it but enough to make him grunt and step back.
It’s him! Oh no. You’ve upset him again.
“I’m sorry, mister,” you say as you hold out your dripping cup, “I didn’t hear you. You sure are quiet.”
He grumbles and stomps to the sink, slamming his mug down as he snatches paper towels from the dispenser. You bite your lip nervously and near. You keep your cup from dripping onto your light blue cardigan with the little white clouds.
“Can I have some–”
He wipes his hands and shirt with a growl. He swipes up his cup without and answer and moves around you to the coffee machine. His cup hits the tray hard and he jabs the screen as it beeps at him in demand of a pod. He takes one and peels open the package before shoving it inside.
“I’m really sorry,” you say as you dry off your cup and fix the lid firmly, “you snuck up on me… like a wolf.”
He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. He’s tall, his posture is straight and unbending, making you more conscious of your slouching. He wears all black that day, it makes him look lean, and the silver rings shine around his fingers. You only then notice the stud in his ear.
“Oh! I like your earring–”
“Why are you talking to me?” He snarls without looking at you.
You recoil and sputter. You’re not being rude. You’re just trying to be nice. He reminds you of that guy in university who used to call you airhead.
“Because… I wanna?” You say with a shrug, “I still didn’t get your name.”
“Look, I’m not interested in making friends. I come in,” he takes his cup from the tray, “do my work,” he points at you past the porcelain, “and I mind my goddamn business.”
He turns and strides out, another beastly sneer rolling out of him. You furrow your brow and pout at the door. Tammy enters with her own mug, a bright pink thing with a picture of Dolly Parton on it. Ah, you get it, 9-5.
“Ugh, that man is always in a mood,” she says.
“Yeah…” you agree thinly.
“Try not to get in his way. Five years and he’s never said a word to me. It’s too bad, he’s not bad on the eyes.”
You don’t acknowledge her last sentence. It’s not very appropriate for the workplace and she’s married. Quite happily as she only ever talks about her husband. You tell her to enjoy her coffee and go back to your desk.
Maybe you should just steer clear. Eat at your desk or somewhere else.
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gunilslaugh ¡ 4 months ago
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Locked In
Kim Jungsu Summary: You and Jungsu getting locked in a supply closet leads to you revealing why you don’t like him. (non-idol au) WC:~1.6k Warning:none
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photo not mine credit to owner.
“Maybe we could climb out from that vent,” you voice looking up at the vent hanging above yours and Jungsu’s heads. 
“Do you really despise me that much? Your brother is already on his way here. We’ll be out in thirty minutes max,” Jungsu says. 
However what Jungsu doesn’t know is that the thought of your brother being the one to come and save you and Jungsu from the supply closet you two comically got locked in, makes a pit form in your stomach. Because he’s probably more concerned about Jungsu being locked in the closet than you, his own sibling. You don’t want to stand there while he gets you guys out of the closet and asks, ‘You guys alright?’ while looking at Jungsu and not you. You would much rather find a way out of the supply closet yourself.
“And it could be less than thirty minutes if we climb out through the vent.” You go to climb up on some sketchy metal shelves. 
“Don’t do that. You could get hurt,” Jungsu lightly scolds you while grabbing you by your shoulders to stop you. 
“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You shake his hands from your shoulders. Jungsu lets out a mix of a scoff and a sigh. 
“What did I ever do to you? I’ve been nothing but nice to you, yet you treat me so coldly,” he questions.
It’s true, Jungsu has been nothing but kind to you, yet you still formed resentment towards him. Deep down you know the way you treat Jungsu isn’t fair to him, but can’t help it.
Growing up your parents were a little neglectful, always busy with work. Which left you and your brother to be each other’s main source of company. Honestly it worked out quite well. Your brother and yours relationship was more like being best friends rather than siblings. That was until Jungsu came along. Suddenly your brother had a new best friend. He started to cancel on you to hang out with Jungsu or if he didn’t cancel Jungsu would be there too. It felt like you had been kicked to the side, replaced. It evoked a fear within you that your brother was moving on with his life and leaving you behind.
Rationally you know that Jungsu hadn’t done anything wrong. He only befriended your brother. In fact your brother became happier after his friendship with Jungsu blossomed, so you were actually glad about their friendship, but at the same time, for you it felt like he was taking away the one person who cared about you. How could you not form a bit of resentment towards him?
“I…I know that the way I treat you isn’t fair, but I- I would just rather climb through the vent than wait for my brother to show up,” you changed the topic halfway through. Once more you go to climb on the rickety shelves. Once more, Jungsu stops you. 
“Y/n please.” You’re not sure if he’s begging you to stay put or tell him why you dislike him so much. Though it’s probably both. 
“Look, climbing through the vent is my own decision. If I get hurt while doing it then it’s my own fault,” you state firmly. 
“B/n will be here soon. Can’t you just wait?” he asked you. 
“Exactly he’ll be here soon, so I should really get going.” You turn to face the shelves once more. Your words get the gears turning in Jungsu’s head. Why would you want to be gone before your brother gets there? 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Whatever, let's just get out of here.” The annoyance is clear in your voice as you head for the supply closet door. The two of you had originally come in to put away the extra chairs from the meeting earlier. Except when you twisted the door knob it wouldn’t budge. 
“Let me see,” Jungsu gently nudged you away. Jungsu proceeds to try and open the door but it wouldn’t budge for him either. 
“I’ll call b/n,” you say, pulling out your phone. You hit the call button and raise your phone to your ear. With each passing ring a feeling bubbles in your stomach. The sound of the phone asking you to leave a voicemail pings something in your heart. “He didn’t answer,” you sigh, putting your phone away. 
“Let me try,” Jungsy says, taking out his own phone. “Hey man. Y/n and I got stuck in the supply closet on the east side of campus. Can you come get us out?” Your brother picked up Jungsu's call after what could have been no more than two rings. That fear of being left behind shot through your throat. “He’ll be here soon,” Jungsu tells you, slipping his phone back in his pocket. 
“Maybe we could climb out from that vent,” you voice looking up at the vent hanging above yours and Jungsu’s heads. 
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“Are you mad that he didn’t pick up your call?” Jungsu guessed. If your back wasn’t facing towards Jungsu he would have seen how your face dropped. 
“Why would I be mad over that?” you tried to dismiss. 
“Then why do you need to leave before he gets here?” he questioned. 
“Why does it matter? I just want to,” you say. 
“You’d rather risk climbing up this unsafe shelf and shimming through a vent to get out of here than just waiting a few more minutes for your brother?” He lays out the situation. 
“Yes, it seems like more fun,” you state, masking the way you really feel. 
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he voiced. You could tell that he genuinely meant that, yet it was kind of ironic since he was your main source of hurt. 
“I’m alre-” you slip up, but catch yourself before you can fully expose yourself. “Nevermind, fine, I’ll just sit here and wait.” You sit down on the floor right next to the shelf. Jungsu sits down next to you. A slightly uncomfortable silence falls over the supply closet. “Did b/n sound busy when he picked up your call?” You might regret asking, but you had to know. 
“I heard the sound of a toilet flushing, so I think he just got out of the bathroom. Why?” he responded. 
“Just wondered why he didn’t answer my call, but picked up yours so quickly.” Jungsu can tell that something is off. The way you’re looking down at your lap and fiddling with your fingers. 
“So you are mad at him?” Jungsu inferred. 
“I guess.” You shrug. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t think y/n likes me very much,” Jungsu said while he and your brother were hanging out. 
“What makes you say that?” your brother asked. 
“They always seem to give me the cold shoulder and they give me this look whenever I hang out with you two,” Jungsu explained. 
“They just aren’t used to having other company around. It was only us for a very long time as you know. They’ll warm up to you, don't worry,” your brother says. However even after years you never seemed to warm up to Jungsu. If anything you got colder the closer he and b/n got.
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“You think b/n picked me over you.” Jungsu put the pieces together. He can tell he’s right by the way your fiddling fingers freeze. 
“No I don’t” you denied, cracking your knuckles. Suddenly Jungsu is hugging you. “What are you doing?” you shift in his hold. 
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I understand you now.” He held you a little tighter. “I never meant to take your best friend from you,” he said. You can feel tears stinging your eyes. Your throat tightens with a lump forming in it. 
“You’re wrong, I don’t feel like that,” you tried to lie, but your voice cracking at the end exposes you. 
“It’s ok, It’s been hard all these years for you right? Watching as b/n and I got closer. I’m sorry,” he apologized again. The tears, the feelings that you have been keeping locked in, fell from your eyes. 
“It’s stupid, but I felt like he was leaving me behind and I don’t have anyone else,” you sniffled.
“He could never you behind y/n and neither could I frankly,” he states. 
“Y/n! Jungsu! Are you guys in there?” your brother’s voice calls from the other side of the door. 
“Yeah we’re in here!” Jungsu calls. He pulled away from the hug he had you in and gently wiped your tears. He helps you up. The supply closet door opens and there stands your brother.
“Are you guys ok?” he looks over both you and Jungsu. “Why are your eyes puffy?” your brother asked, stepping closer to see if you were hurt anywhere. 
“I got dust in my eyes,” you dismissed, wiping your eyes. “Why’d you leave us in such a dusty closet for so long?” You jokingly punched your brother’s arm. 
“Well I was finishing taking a dump when you called me, but I came as quick as I could,” he defended. “But you’re both good? Something feels different,” he notes. 
“We’re good man. Let’s get out of here” Jungsu says. Your brother takes Jungsu’s word and doesn’t questioned any further. 
However as you guys walk out of the building he notices how you’re walking hair closer to Jungsu. He can tell that something must have happened in that supply closet and it makes him wish he locked you guys together in someplace sooner.
taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin
comment or message me to be added!
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heluvschibi ¡ 5 months ago
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Day 1
Cursing, death,
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Today is Changbin's birthday, you were honestly a very forgetful person, most of the time you would be spacing out thinking about what to eat for dinner, but now all you have to do is get to dinner on time.
Changbin said we will be having a date on his birthday at this restaurant, you've been wanting to go to for some time.
But you weren't paying attention, like always... You swear the light was green, so you decided to go.
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You woke up, upside down, head spinning, pain everywhere, you saw your phone and tried to reach it but it was to far, you heard people screaming outside making your ears ring even more, "C-Changbin..." You weakly said, trying to reach to call him, or someone.
You gave up and decided to unbuckle your seatbelt which was also jammed, "Fuck..." You coughed the smell of gasoline filled your scenes... That's when you immediately started to panic, what if the car was leaking gas, what if the car was on fire, what if a smoker was by and threw there cigarette on the ground, you started to panic but you couldn't move that well, being stuck to the seat by a jammed seatbelt and a air bag which is slowly deflating.
"Hello!? C-can anyone hear me?" You voice wasn't heard.
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"Where is she..." Changbin tapped his finger on the wheel for the 100th time, he checked his phone for the time and she was supposed to be here, you were supposed to be here, he then decided to call you, but it said your phone was off.
Then he got a call from Chan who seemed worried, "Changbin are you okay?"
"Yeah why wouldn't I be?"
Chan sighed, "Good, there was a driver who just ran a red light on the street you drove on just down the road..."
"That doesn't matter to me right now... Have you heard from y/n? She hasn't called yet, she said she was... Down... The road.."
Horror spread across hos face, "C-chan... Can you-?"
"I sent you a link."
Changbin went to chats and clicked on it, there was now a traffic jam, and there was a fire by two cars, one car was pinned in by a truck and a building, flipped. He got a good look and saw it looked exactly like your car.
"C-chan... Y-you... You don't think that y/n r-right?"
"Cmon man, don't say stuff like that..."
He immediately drove out of the parking lot of the restaurant and drove until he was met with, the traffic jam, he immediately ran past people who got out of their cars to be met with police officers asking him and others to stay back while a fire engine comes.
"D-did you get everyone out!?" Changbin shouted.
"There is still a victim in the car over their, but they were non responsive... There is nothing we can do we don't have the tools. " The female officer pointes to the grey car, that looked like y/n's car, although the license plate is upside down and messes up its still easy to decipher... And it's was y/n's.
Changbin immediately pushed passed the police officers "Y/n!?" He shouted as he ran, officers shouting for him to stop, and it's not safe.
He got closer and the smell of gasoline was strong, your car smelled the worst, he reached closer but a police officer caught up with him dragging him away as he shouted, "No, my girl friend is still stuck on there! You have to save her!"
"There's nothing we can do until fire and rescue come-"
"It smells like gas over there! It's a ticking time bomb! It's gonna explode any-"
And just like that, the ticking time bomb has been exploded, they were pushed back by the power of it, hiding behind a car.
Changbin then looked over to see your car, burnt from the explosion.
His breath was caught in his throat, he felt his eyes fill with tears, his whole body felt numb because his legs gave out and he felt back where he was hiding behind, he then let out the most gut wrenching screaming, he started crying hysterically, the tears never ending.
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Day 1 done
It's okay if the first one is bad right? I don't know why but I've been OVERLY eepy for like days, but I've been getting good rest... Am I dying? —Chibi
I'll edit the stories at the end of angst week
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chanlixsbabygirl ¡ 1 year ago
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Regrets | Lee Know
Pairing: f!reader x Lee Know
TW: reader is deceased and Lee Know is dealing with grief.
He sat in the living room, looking up at the ceiling. It could have been hours. It could have been minutes. He didn’t know or care at this point. Everyone else was out of the dorm and the space was silent, save for his breathing.
Lee Minho had been like this, even more distant and cold than ever, for approximately three months. Three months since he got the call that Y/N L/N had been rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead upon arrival. He could truthfully say they’d been the worst three months of his life. And he’d been haunted with gut-wrenching guilt for it all.
He thought back to that day a bit too often. His eyes would often glaze over and his members, his brothers, would look at him with sad gazes, but they gave him space.
His mind was back to that rainy April day when you walked out of the dorm at 2:30am instead of staying. You were supposed to stay. Instead there’d been a fight. You’d practically begged him to yell back. To fight. To show any sign that he cared.
He had stood there, unmoving, expression unchanging. You are angry to the point of tears when you stormed out, saying you’d rather drive across the city in the rain that be stuck in his presence the rest of the night. And he watched.
Minho knew you shouldn’t be driving in that weather. He knew he should’ve stopped you because between the rain and your anger, nothing good could come. But he had let you leave.
Now the boys left the dorms oin pairs or they got frantic messages that were barely coherent. As seemingly devoid of feeling as he’d been on the outside, Minho was a swirling sea of emotions.
He had replayed the whole scene in his head before you had even made it off his street. He’d noted the things he should have done, what he would have changed. Minho planned to tell you as much when you got home.
And when you didn’t text him that you were home, he started to worry. He assumed traffic might be a bit slow because of the rain, but even then, it shouldn’t have been this long. He could feel his pulse picking up as he attempted to call. You weren’t answering. He called a few times before he gave up and just began pacing back and forth.
His phone started ringing at 3:30am. He didn’t recognize the number but he knew it was from an area code near your house, so he picked up. Maybe your car had broken down and your phone died. That was possible.
“Is this Lee Minho?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Lee, I regret to have to make this call, but you are listed as an emergency contact. L/N Y/N has been transported to Chung-Ang University Hospital following a vehicular accident. Upon arrival, it has been confirmed that she has passed. We have the young lady’s personal affects at the hospital to be claimed.”
Minho didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to. This was a dream. This had all been a dream, right? The fight had just been a bad dream, and so was this.
“Mr. Lee?”
“This…this can’t be correct.”
“We understand that this news is hard, Mr. Lee. Please come in to claim Miss L/N’s possession when the hospital is open to non-emergency visitors.”
That was when everything in his world broke down. He didn’t remember throwing the phone. He didn’t remember screaming like someone was trying to rip him apart. He didn’t remember the yelling as his maknae began trying to figure out what was going on.
Seungmin was the first into his bedroom, panic and fear burning in his eyes as he turned on the lights. Minho was on his knees in the middle of the floor, hands over his ears, screams still rattling out of him. Felix soon followed, and Jeongin went to get the rest of the members.
Seungmin and Felix got the screaming to stop by the time the remaining five crammed into the room. It was Chan that knelt before Minho and uncovered his ears. Minho’s face was a mask of confusion and his eyes were bloodshot. Tears fell freely, unlike any of the group had ever seen.
“Minho, what’s happening?”
“She’s gone.”
“Who-“
“Y/N was pronounced dead.”
The room went still and utterly silent, apart from Minho’s ragged breathing and labored exhaled cries.
“Minho, I understand that this is a very difficult moment, but you need to explain. Now.”
“We had a fight and she left. She said she was going to drive home. And it’s storming. And I didn’t stop her. And then she wasn’t home and she should’ve been and I tried to call her and she didn’t answer and then I got a call and the man said he was from Chung-Ang and that she had been in an accident and that she was gone when they got her there and that I could come to the hospital to get her things and-“
Chan put a hand on Minho’s shoulder to stop him. Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin’s face all dropped. They’d heard the fighting before they’d gone to sleep. They’d gone to bed assuming it would resolve itself the way your fights with Minho usually did. Usually Minho could calm you down enough that you’d go to bed and talk things out in the morning. Instead you’d walked and he’d stood aside and watched.
The door slammed and Minho was suddenly back in July. When the dorms were on eggshells and your jacket hung on the chair in the kitchen, untouched since it was brought home. Each member had their own feeling towards it, and each could be found staring at it from time to time, thinking about what they’d lost.
Seungmin entered, walking quietly into the room. He was the one that seemed to be surprisingly kept himself together the best. not that he didn’t care for you, but that he held his composure throughout the aftermath, for the most part. Minho didn’t expect when Seungmin picked up the jacket and walked over to sit next to him.
“You know, I called her because I accidentally broke a plant pot one day. I was terrified how you’d react when you got home if I didn’t fix it, so I called her, because I don’t know anything about plants. She came over and helped me repot it and put it back.”
Minho stopped breathing for a moment. He’d never heard either of you breathe a word of it. He wouldn’t even know if Seungmin hadn’t just admitted it. It was perfectly like you thought, to try to fix something even if you didn’t break it. Seungmin handed the jacket to Minho with a small smile.
“I know it hurts, but I would rather remember her than try to bury it all.”
Tears came. Minho cried with Seungmin there to comfort him. It was one of the first time since everything had happened that Minho cried in front of the others. He usually cried alone.
“Thank you…I needed this.”
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luwritesomething ¡ 2 years ago
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Dean Winchester x Reader: worrying chronicles.
Warnings: Swearing (probably), angsty?? but not really. John Winchester mentioned throughout the whole thing.
Tags: a bit angsty but with happy/fluffy ending, childhood friends, can be read as romantic, romantic coded, hunter!reader, reader has known sam and dean since kids, season 1, pre-season 1, can be read as black reader, can be read as plus size reader.
Reader pronouns: Non stated.
Word count: 1036
Summary: Dean calls reader and tells them he’s going to Stanford to get Sam. Reader wants him to rest.
Author’s note: I rarely ever write for Dean! Not because I don’t like him (I LOVE HIM), but because since I haven’t finished the show (i’m on season 8) the requests have to be either pre-show or within those seasons. Anyways, Dean and Sam Winchester requests are open, but with those conditions !! love my boys <3 graphic made by me (CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW PRETTY HE IS?)
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You weren’t doing anything special when Dean called, you were planning foods and cooking weeks in advance. The hunter life you had led all your life had taught you enough to know homemade foods were a privilege, and that new hunts would always come into your life without a warning, wrecking all your plans. So, after those terrible, almost death experiences you liked to call a work well done, it was nice to go back home and find your fridge full of frozen food you could just heat up and eat.
It was the ringing of the phone that made you lift your gaze up from the vegetables you were cutting so carefully, your movements coming to a halt in order to not lose a finger without it being in a worthy battle. You didn’t let go of the knife as your hand, after slightly cleaning it against your jeans, came to grab the cell phone on the counter. Barely glancing at the name from whom the call was, you pressed the device against your ear and continued with your work.
“It’s me.” You answered quickly, hearing the background noise from the other side of the line. It was easily recognizable, considering you were able to recognize the noises Dean’s Impala made even in your deepest sleep. Perks of being friends. “Y’know, you shouldn’t make phone calls while driving.”
“I can do two things at once.” Dean said with a little huff, and even though you were probably a good amount of miles apart, you noticed the way his voice didn’t sound the same. He had never been good with masking his worry, and you had never been good at not worrying about him. 
You stopped cutting slowly and moved away from the counter. If something had happened, you couldn’t have your attention split in two. “Yeah, you tell that to the cops… Is everything alright?”
A beat of silence, which Dean used to avoid your question. “I’m driving to Stanford to go get Sam.”
“What?”
The silence let you know Dean wouldn’t be repeating himself, but thankfully enough he stayed on the line, waiting for your amazement to reduce. You had known the Winchesters for years — Hell, you three had practically grown together. It had been some long time ago, but you still remembered like it was yesterday the phone call you received from Dean to tell you that Sam had given up on the hunter life and basically left home after a big argument with their dad, John Winchester. You also remembered Sam’s call, after Dean’s, telling you the news. It hadn’t hurt from Sam’s part, knowing that was what was best for him, but it had from Dean’s, since he hadn’t been able to accept that his brother leaving had nothing to do with him.
You wanted to tell Dean that dragging Sam back into a life he did not want was not what he was supposed to do as a brother, but your mind went into another direction, knowing he wouldn’t accept that lesson from you; or anyone. All these years, Dean had been working wonderfully with his father, or so he made it look like — if he needed Sam, something bigger was happening, and he wasn’t completely avoiding telling you.
“Why?” You asked finally, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Was a headache coming your way already?
“My dad’s on a hunting trip.” He replied quickly, and something in the way he  said it told you he had rehearsed those same words a lot. Not because of being untrue, though, you knew John had gone on a big trip on his own for some reason Dean either didn’t want to tell you or didn’t know about. “He hasn’t called, he hasn’t said anything. I don’t know crap about him.”
That was bad. John could be an asshole, but his rules during a lone hunt were unbreakable, and those included informing constantly about his whereabouts. “Have you asked Bobby? Maybe he—”
“No one knows anything.” Dean interrupted you, rather abruptly. He was truly worried, and you just hoped he wouldn’t lose sight of the road ahead of him. “Nothing, none, nada. I’m getting Sam, and we're going to find where the hell he is.”
“Dean, wait.” Your glance shifted to the clock in your kitchen, your hand closing in a nervous fist. “It’s too late. You should rest tonight and go tomorrow morning, early.”
You could almost see him shaking his head. “We can’t lose time.”
“What is going to change if you arrive tonight at Stanford?” You insisted, rolling your eyes at how strong headed he was. Years together, and you still were amazed at how little he listened. “Dean, you’re in no condition to drive. You’re tired and nervous, just drive to my place, and then tomorrow—”
He called out your name rather harshly, to make you stop. “I have to find him.”
“And you will. Just come and rest, De.”
Your eyes glanced again at the clock when silence and the noises from the road were the only thing you could hear. Dean was really good with his car and he didn’t drive badly, but when he was worried things changed — you had been in enough almost accidents for you to have good reasons to not want him so late in the road. And he knew you were right, but the decision was on his hands, and it couldn’t help but irk you slightly.
You could still push it, though. “Please?” You murmured, loudly enough for him to hear it but also low enough to be able to be lost in the distance between you.
Dean clicked his tongue, and then sighed. “I’m fifty miles away. Don’t wait for me, I’ll climb through your window or something.”
“I’ll wait.” You retorted, with that voice you used to show you were completely adamant about your decision. It wasn’t difficult to hear the little huffed chuckle he let out, and it made you ease up, to know he was finally slowing down and rationalizing things. “Don’t run too much, dickhead.”
With a little scoff, Dean hung up and you found yourself smiling at nothing at all. 
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slashyroguefics ¡ 1 year ago
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AU-gust 2023 - Day 22: Celebrities
“So….are we gonna address the elephant in the room?”
Will paused as he took a sip of his water, throat dry from all the talking he’d done for this interview already, and felt his chest tighten.
“That depends on the elephant.”
The omega interviewing him, her name was Natalie he thought, smiled slightly.
“Hannibal Lecter.”
He set down his drink a little too loudly, and for a minute hoped it cracked the glass table.
“What about him?” he asked, not looking up.
“You and he were pretty close on the set of ‘Alpha Mart.’ There were rumors you were pretty much courting openly for months and then when it premiered there was nothing. You didn’t even do interviews together.”
Will’s lip curled.
He’d agreed to this “tell all” interview because he knew it would hype up his first non-romantic role in ‘Resist’ and he’d had to allow one question about Hannibal or they wouldn’t even put him on at all.
But now he wished he’d just said no.
“Hannibal is Hannibal,” he said, blinking back tears as he looked up at her, “We got close, and we…we might’ve been closer than friends but now we’re not. I don’t want to tell a story he hasn’t, and I’m not the type of man who kisses and tells. It didn’t work out. Sometimes it's the right person, wrong time, and I think….it’s not our time.”
Natalie’s eyes widened. “So, you think there could be a right time?”
Will scoffed. “He’s close to being mated to Bedelia DuMaurier,” he said, trying not to sound bitter, “And he’s happy. I’m not gonna sit here and say I’m thrilled with how things ended, but I’m not going to be that type of omega. We’re different people, and…I’ve come to understand that. Now can we move on and talk about the movie?”
She nodded, looking at him with pity that made him wish he’d just stopped at one response, and for the rest of the interview Will was so close to snapping he hardly held on. He didn’t bother to say a word when he left after, and was met by his manager, Alana, outside with a travel tumbler full of whiskey that he drank gladly.
“Never again,” he said, his voice shaking, “You hear me, Alana? Never again, will I answer that question.”
“I’m sorry, Will. It was the only…”
He ignored her, heading for his waiting car, and when they pulled away he opened the tumbler to down the rest of the whiskey feeling buzzed just enough to drift off before home. Will didn’t remember getting to bed, but he woke up there hours later starving for pizza. He walked out into the hallway, wiping his eyes, and yawned.
“Aiden? Aiden, are you here? I need…”
No one seemed to be in the house, so he walked out into the backyard where his bodyguards Duncan and Markus both were smoking cigarettes.
“Hey,” he said, “Is Aiden not here?”
“The kid went to get you a pizza.”
Will smiled. “He knows me so well.”
He turned to head back inside before Markus called out to him.
“Will.”
Will looked at him. “Yeah?”
“Your cell has been ringing off the hook since you passed out, you might wanna look at it.”
He frowned. “Ok, thanks.”
Will headed back inside, unsure of where he’d left his phone, and found it plugged into an outlet in the kitchen. He picked it up, and saw that yes he did have a bunch of missed messages.
He looked at the first from Beverly Katz, one of his best friends and one time co-stars.
ARE YOU OK?
Will frowned.
WILL ANSWER ME!
WILL HE CALLED ME!
Continued in: AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023 - Chapter 22: Celebrities
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venicebichxoxo ¡ 1 year ago
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day in the life:
monday !!
at home; right now i’m just waiting on my mom to be done getting ready. my outfit is really cute today !! i have a pink shirt, navy skirt, white socks, and doc martins. my mom bought me a fidget ring yesterday and it honestly has helped a lot since then. i have costume design, acting 1, algebra, and voice & movement today. honestly my only class that will probably be an issue is voice and movement cause i’m wearing a skirt… i’m sure it’ll be okay. maybe i should bring pants lol. i also got a new phone case !! it’s so cute i love it, it has a shark on it !! something abt me is i love sharks with my entire heart. they are my favorite animal ever ever ever !! i’m gonna try to get a marine biology internship/college credit this summer. although i do want to be an actress my “fall back” is marine biology. i’ve always been interested in it and it’s always been my second choice right next to acting. my school opens at 7:20 am and classes start at 8:25 and i still haven’t left my house lol. it’s 7:55. but i’m also usually always almost late but i never am because i never he caught by the teachers on tardy patrol. lucky me !! i’ve been listening to katrina stuart non stop recently, her music rlly making me feel some type of way.
in the car; finally driving to school !! i just put on lipgloss which is hello kitty, so cute. found out my first rehearsal for districts is tmr during lunch & learn.. problem is is that i have to make up a science quiz. i’m going to try and do both. okay update: turns out i cannot do both because science isn’t open tuesday for lunch & learn. that’s kinda stupid tbh. but yk teachers gotta eat too ig. so i get to go to rehearsal !! last year i didn’t even have a chance at districts because i was new so i’m very happy it’s student directed for hs, and one my my friends is directing. i can admit, he can be a little mean so i’m a little scared to get yelled at if he gets pissed or smth but i think it will be okay.
costume design; now i’m in tech “costume design”. freshmen have to take this class but it’s rlly fun. and my man is in it. i’ve alr seen him looking at me once so yay. 2 of my bsfs are in this class too and we’re making little animal stuffed animals. nothing else is rlly happening but i’ll update if something interesting happens !!
lunch & learn; LOL i was doing things ALLLL of acting 1 so i couldn’t write, sry abt that. but now i’m helping my friend lexi with her districts number. she’s doing a group MT number to “what i was born to do” from bring it on the musical. it’s so good, everyone is so talented !! lexi is such a good singer, can u believe she isn’t in MT?? she’s in PT with me, i think that’s crazy. she deserves MT !! last year i gave the guy i liked a cookie everyday so i’m gonna try and do that again today, hopefully it doesn’t come off weird..
going home; i did not fill in anything for my last period but it was okayish. i did give him the cookie and he said “ur so sweet.” so that’s nice. but now i’m starting to think he’s not interested in me or smth like that.. or he thinks i’m annoying. i’m probably overreacting but he said “it’s fine” instead of “it’s okay”. it felt passive aggressive. but also that’s just how he talks irl so i have no clue. i’m probably overreacting tbh.
that was my school day !! i’ll post some more later 🤍🤍
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sopolicegardener ¡ 7 months ago
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From Around the Web: 20 Awesome Photos of 009BET
4 Secrets To Becoming A Guest On Top Tv Talk Shows
The phone rings. You hear an authoritative voice say, *Hello, I’m the producer of…Good Morning America or Oprah, or Larry King Live* or any other top talk show, you name it. This is your big moment, the break you’ve been waiting for. After you catch your breath what do you do?
Producers make an instant assessment of you in thirty seconds–or less. When you get that coveted call from a producer, you aren’t just *talking* to him: you’re auditioning. You are being screened to be accepted or eliminated as a guest on their show. How can you pass the audition?
Secret #1: Ask Before You Speak
Before you even open your mouth to start pitching yourself and your story to the producer, ask them a simple question: *Can you tell me a little bit about the kind of show you envision?* In other words, ask the producer the angle he is planning to take.
Doing so has two advantages. First, it gives you a moment to overcome the shock and to collect your thoughts.
Second, once you hear the producer’s reply, you can gear your pitch to the type of information he’s seeking. Listen closely to the angle that he’s interested in and tailor your points to it. Publicists often use this technique to get their clients booked on shows. They *get* before they *give* – so they are in a good position to tell only the most pertinent information about their client.
Secret #2: Wow the Producers with Brevity
Follow the advice of jazz musician Dizzy Gillespie: *It’s not how much you play. It’s how much you leave out.* Keep your list of talking points by the phone when you call a producer (or a producer calls you), so you’ll be succinct. You will already have rehearsed your points so that they’ll sound natural and inviting. Be prepared with several different angles or pitches, different ways to slant your information. *Nobody gets on these shows without a pre- interview,* says publicist Leslie Rossman. *Be a great interview but don’t worry about the product you want to sell them because if you’re a great guest and you make great TV, they’ll want you.*
And keep in mind the words of Robert Frost: *Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.*
Secret #3: Prove You’re Not a Nutcase
If you area nutcase on the air, the producer will lose their job. What constitutes a nutcase? You may think it’s a positive trait to be enthusiastic (and it is), but anyone who is overly zealous about his passion is considered a nut. Best-selling author and screenwriter Richard Price talks about this phenomenon as *The dangerous thrill of goodness.* He says, *What happens is you can get very excited by your own power to do good.* Don’t get carried away by this thrill.
One way to tell if you’re being too zealous is that you’re hammering your point at top speed with the energy of a locomotive pulling that toot lever non-stop. I remember a man calling me up about how he was single-handedly taking on Starbucks – who, he felt, had done him wrong. He wanted me to promote his cause. While this could have been a great David versus Goliath type story, he was long on emotion and short on facts. Some statistics or figures would have tempered his mania.
But he also never checked in with me to see if he had my interest. By talking loudly and barely pausing for a breath, he appeared to be a man who wouldn’t take direction well. His single-mindedness was off- putting, not engaging.
When you’re talking to a producer speak for 30 seconds or so and then check in by asking, *Is this the kind of information you’re looking for?* Listen for other verbal cues, such as encouraging grunts, or *uh huhs.*
Secret #4: Can You Mark *The Big Point?*
Contributors to the popular radio show *This American Life,* hosted by Ira Glass, have taken to calling the wrap-up epiphany at the end of a story, *The Big Point.* This is the moment that the narrator gives his perspective on the story in an attempt to elevate it from the mundane to the universal.
Another radio personality, Garrison Keillor, is a master at it. He tells long, rambling stories (not good advice for you), then ties up all the story strands in a coherent and satisfying way. As a great guest, you want to illuminate your story with a big standout point that helps the audience see the 009BET significance of your story in their world and the world at large. Rather than hitting them over the head with a two-by-four, you want to share your insights with a feather-like touch. By framing your story you alert the producer to the fact that you’re a thinker and can contribute great insights and clarity to a story thus increasing its appeal.
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acciotwinz ¡ 3 years ago
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Long Distance ~ R. T.
Roger can't sleep and calls a random number left of a napkin. He expected to find someone to help tire him out. He never thought he'd find love.
[Reposting and major editing of an old fic I had posted on an old blog & crossed posted on ao3]
Warnings: SMUT, +18 ONLY - MINORS DNI; swearing & cursing; unclear timeline (lmao); Brian is a bit of a douche. It's a long ass one, over 20K words. Read at your own risk!
Sometimes, being a rockstar isn’t all it’s cooped up to be.
Especially when on a world tour because it really has a way of derailing one’s internal clock. It’s the reason Roger can’t sleep. He had been hopeful that between the jet lag, the excitement of being back in his own bed, the hectic rehearsal and recording schedule as well as the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed at the local dive bar with his mates would be enough to tire him out. Apparently, he’s very mistaken.
He'd done what he usually does: counts sheep, lays in the dark, read the really boring book Brian has suggested. Nothing seems to be working this time around.
For what feels like the thousandth time, Roger turns over in his bed. He almost misses those rock-hard mattresses and non-existent pillows in the hotels around the world. He groans, casting his eyes to the red numbers glowing in the dark room. It’s nearing 1.30am and as much as his body is begging for sleep, his mind wouldn't shut off.
Throwing the light blanket to the side, Roger swings his legs off the bed. There’s no point in laying around, letting his frustration build. He eyes his discarded jacket, deciding that a quick smoke might help him relax just enough to be able to finally fall asleep. Stretching his arms above his head, his back cracks and with a loud sigh, quickly followed by a loud yawn, he lazily crosses his bedroom to reach the jacket he left by the door, fishing his half-empty pack of cigarettes from the pocket. As he rummages around the pockets for his lighter, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the ground.
With furrowed brows and cigarette dangling from his lips, Roger picks it up from the ground. After having found the lighter, Roger starts walking towards his bed. Lighting the cigarette, he takes a deep drag, letting his lungs fill with nicotine, immediately giving him a sense of calm.
Feeling more relaxed, Roger clamps his teeth gently around the filter, using his now free hands to uncurl the piece of paper. Once he sees the hastily scrawled digits, his lips stretch into a massive grin.
Taking another drag and flicking the ash into the empty ash-tray on his bedside table, he tries to recall when the number was slipped into his pocket. It had to be from earlier that evening as the number had the London area code and he hasn’t worn the jacket on tour as he’d forgotten it at home. However, no matter how hard he thought back to his evening, no specific girl sprang to mind. There had been quite a few that came to chat him and the lads up, but none of them stood out. He doesn’t even remember being particularly flirty with anyone of them.
Roger casts another quick glance at the clock. It’s still early enough that if the girl really was out at the dive bar with them, she’s probably getting home now as he left much earlier than regular, hoping that the jetlag and general exhaustion would lead to a good night sleep.
Deciding that the woman had clearly hoped for a call from him, Roger picks up the receiver and dials the number. Making himself comfortable, he waits for someone to pick up.
It rings much more than he thought it would and he debates if maybe he shouldn’t be calling this late, if it’s better to try again during working hours.
Suddenly, the phone stops ringing, and there is a very groggy and angry voice coming through the line, “Someone better be dead.”
Rogers chuckles. “Well, hello to you too love”.
In response, he only hears a groan and it sounds so deep that he questions if he’s actually speaking to a girl.
“Who is this? And why on earth are you ringing my flat at...” there’s a small pause, as the person on the other line is clearly reaching for something “1.17 in the bloody morning?!”
Roger cringes, closing his eyes as guilt floods his body. He really shouldn’t have called but he really isn’t great at making decisions when tired and slightly inebriated. “I’m sorry, love. Thought you’d want me to call as soon as I found your number.” He hates that he can’t recall a name or even a face.
“I am not your ‘love’!” the girl says angrily, “I have absolutely no clue who you are. Or why on earth you are calling me. I certainly did not give you, my number.”
For a moment, nothing is said on either end and Roger decides d to play it cool, act confident and pretend as if he actually remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I know we didn't spend that much time together but I -”
“Let me stop you before you start,” she interrupts and Roger can hear her shuffle around, most likely sitting up in her own bed. “I have no idea who you think you are but I can guarantee that I did not give you, my number. And before you ask, no, I don’t have any roommates.”
The girl grunts in discomfort, questioning why she’s entertaining this jackass when she can just hang up and disconnect her phone for the night.
“Oh” the syllable is so sound and dejected that she can’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, even though he woke her at an ungodly hour.
She has no know why she speaks again. “You must have made a terrible impression if some random bird decided to leave you a fake number.”
There’s an offended scoff that comes down the line almost makes up for the unwanted wake-up call. “No girl has ever done that to me. Or would need to do it. I’m a catch, thank you very much.”
“Sure you are, big boy.” She says concededly.
“Are you saying that I’m not?”
She snorts, short and derisive, “I’m sorry to break it to you but it seems that the girl who gave you the number didn’t think you were all that special.”
Roger pouts, stubbing out his long-forgotten cigarette, “You don’t sound all that sorry to me.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not.”
Roger can’t hep the small laugh that bubbles out, “And would you feel inclined to illuminate me on why?”
“Could it be because some random bloke decided to call me at stupid o’clock trying to get in my knickers?”
“You wish,” and even though she’s never seen him before in her life, she knows he’s smirking.
“Are you really telling me that you weren’t calling in hope of a shag?”
Roger shrugs, deciding to lay down and make himself comfortable, “I’m not going to lie and say I would be unhappy if it happened but that wasn’t the main reason I called.”
She bites, “Why did you call?”
“I…” Roger pauses. Why did he call?
“Are you ok?”
Roger blinks, surprised by the sudden care that seems to colour her voice. “What?”
“I just mean…” she sighs, laying back down and glancing at her alarm clock. “It’s late. Or early, depending on how you want to see it. And your voice sounded a bit off. There must be something on your mind if you think that calling a random stranger in the middle of the night is a good idea.”
She really can’t explain the sudden interest in the man. She doesn’t know him but he sounds so sad, and is clearly lonely. It tugs at her heart in all the best and worst ways. Thank you, childhood trauma.
A small, grateful smile forms on Roger’s face and his voice softens noticeably. “You’re very kind, love. I’m just a bit jet lagged.”
She hums in surprise, “That sounds fascinating! Where did you get back from?”
“That, I’m afraid, is only for friends.” He tuts, “And I don’t even know your name.”
She laughs and Roger’s heart does something weird in his chest that he pointedly ignores.
“Touché”, she’s still laughing. “The name’s Y/N.”
“Lovely name for a lovely voice,” he says softly. “I’m Roger.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.”
There’s a small pause and it would be the perfect moment to hang up but neither seem to want to.
“Well, now that we’re friends, want to share why you’re jetlagged?”
Roger laughs, bringing his free arm behind his neck, “I was in America.”
“Fancy!” She says with a laugh, “What were you doing across the pond?”
“I’m in a band and we were on tour.”
-----
What should have been a one-time thing evolved into something more.
Roger and Y/N find themselves speaking on the phone nearly every day, even when Roger left for tour again.
The first month, it was Roger that called every day. It had started because of a particularly rough day in the studio and remembering the kindness and care in Y/N’s voice, he decided that her friendly voice was what he needed to feel better.
When the second month rolled around, Y/N asked for a way to contact him if she was having a bad day.
And thus, the tradition was born.
It’s been six months now and every time the phone rings, Y/N can’t help the flutter of her heart or the smile on her face. Roger has somehow weaseled his way into her life and she couldn't be more grateful. He’s become her best friend, her confidant, someone she can trust blindly and who would always listen to her and have her back. She feels like she knows Roger better than the people she hands out with daily. They’ve opened up about their lives, their dreams and insecurities. Y/N knows that Roger wants to make it big but he’s afraid that the drugs, the booze and the sex may cloud his mind and stop him from living his dream. He shares how much he loves his band mates but how they tend to get under his skin, especially when writing new music.
Y/N shares how she took over her mother’s bookstore while being an editor on the side to make ends meet. She opens up about her limited social interactions and how she feels like she’s a bit too clingy and overbearing.
They talk about their childhoods and what they do to relax.
The two of them understand each other in such a deep, soulful way that should scare her but only gives her a sense of calm.
Y/N has even come up with a sort of table to help keep on top of the time difference when Roger is traveling. She glances quickly at the alarm next to her bed and is excited to see that Roger should be calling her in a few minutes.
She makes sure her tea is still warm as she fluffs her pillows, settling down on the bed while tucking herself into the blankets. She waits impatiently for the phone to ring and when it finally does, she grins brightly.
“Hello there, rockstar!”
It only takes hearing his voice to know that something is up. “What did they do this time?”
“Who says they did anything?” Roger knows he’s pouting and that his tone is a clear indication that his band mates did indeed do something wrong, but he doesn’t feel ready or willing to talk about it.
“Rog, please don’t.”
They’d done this before: one of them – usually Roger – is in a mood and takes it out of the other, making everyone involved feel like shit by the end of the call. Y/N isn’t sure if she has the energy for it today but has never and will never be truly able to ignore Roger when he’s clearly upset about something.
“I know something is bothering you and I’m almost certain it has something to do with your mates since you were fine before leaving for rehearsal.” There’s a brief pause and Y/n adds softly, “I worry about you.”
Roger sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.” He knows he’s being a bit too short with her and that nothing was her fault, but he can’t really help it. He doesn’t want to deal with it.
“Rog…I…” her mind can’t seem to form the right words to explain the thoughts running through it. She’s well aware of his temper and how it flares up around his mates; how he likes loads of sugar; how he can’t see without his glasses but still refuses to wear them.
Y/N knows that this time, something is different but she can’t really explain why or how without admitting that she feels more than friendship towards the drummer. And she isn’t ready just yet to wear her heart on her sleeve just yet.
She ends up settling for the next best thing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I understand. But please, don’t lie to me. I know something is up and I will never force you talk about it.”
Roger sighs in relief, some of his anger evaporation as he finds himself smiling “Thank you. How was your day?”
It’s at times like this, with Y/N talking happily about her day, rambling on and on about things he doesn’t quite understand and people he doesn’t know that he questions how he got so lucky to have gotten a random number that led to having this amazing girl in his life.
“I still can’t believe that no one except Peter Pan warned me about how much it sucksbeing a grown up,” Roger can tell she’s pouting and it makes him laugh.
The laughter however is cut short when she tries asking about his day and the previous night’s concert. “I’m in a rock band. It goes as well as rock concert goes.”
Y/N blinks, surprised by the venom suddenly lacing his tone. “What kind of answer is that?” She tries to keep her tone neutral, not letting it show how affected she is.
“The one I’m giving you.”
They may have been talking for six months but she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to keep up or understand his mood swings. “Why are you taking your shit out on me?! What’s your problem?!”
As understanding as she may be, Y/N has never had much patience for people taking their anger out on innocent bystanders, who just happen to be at the right place for the wrong time.
“You’re my fucking problem!” Roger snaps, voicing raising as he continues, “You ask all these fucking questions and pester me worse than my mother ever has. You’re not her. You’re not even my girlfriend. You’re a stranger that just doesn’t know when to let go.” His chest is heaving as he sits forward on his bed, empty hand curled into a fist. “God, we haven’t even met are you’re already so fucking clingy –”
With tears in her eyes, Y/N hangs up the phone. She tries reasoning with herself. She knows he’s upset, that something got him in this horrible mood but she has nothing to do with that. He’s hurt and wants to hurt others around him and he did succeed, if you ask Y/N. He’d said the one thing that he knew would absolutely shake her confidence and make her feel like garbage. They’d talked about it, multiple times. Roger had even reassured her at every turn that she was absolutely not clingy and that he loved every second they got to spend on the phone together.
He'll apologize when he feels better.
He values you.
You’re his friend.
Y/N keeps repeating these mantras over and over again as she stands on shaky legs, heading towards her small bathroom.
The phone starts ringing but she ignores it. She lets the tears fall, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on her face. The phone stops ringing, just to pick up again a few seconds later, confirming her suspicion that it’s Roger trying to get hold of her.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way back to her bed, sipping on the now lukewarm cup of tea. She glares at the ringing phone, wanting Roger to feel what she’s feeling, even just a bit.
Almost thirty minutes go by before she feels as if she’s got her emotions under control and is ready to speak to Roger, who hasn’t stopped calling since she hung up.
With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and picks up the phone, placing the receiver against her ear.
“I’m so sorry, love!” Roger’s voice floods her system as he stumbles over his words. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or, I mean I shouldn’t… it isn’t…”
He takes a stuttering breath, collecting himself before he attempts to explain himself again. “You had nothing to do with my shit mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said, I just knew that those were things that would hurt you and it isn’t an excuse and I understand if you’re angry and don’t want to talk to me for a while but please know that I am extremely sorry and that I will do whatever I need to for you to forgive me and I’m such an ass. I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”
“Will you now?” He can tell that’s she trying to be upbeat and wants to make him feel better but that isn’t her job. Not this time.
“I swear it, Y/N. On my drumming career. I won’t ever hurt you like this again and whatever you need me to do to get your forgiveness, I will do it. Name your price. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I s–”
“Really? Absolutely anything?”
Roger nods and realising she can’t seem him, he vocalizes his answer.
“Even if I asked you to rob a bank?”
He laughs, tears of joy springing to his eyes. “Just tell me which one.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds but Roger’s guilt crawls up his throat. “I really am so extremely sorry, Y/N.”
“I know. I forgive you,” her voice is so soft, full of kindness he doesn’t deserve and his heart does some funky fluttering in his chest.
Roger’s shoulders lose their tension as he melts into the hotel mattress. Knowing she isn’t to upset with him and that they’ll be able to jump back from this soothes his fears of losing her. He’s not sure he’d ever be able to get over it if it were to happen.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispers and he can hear how upset she is and if he could transport himself to London to sooth all her fears with a hug he would. His urge to book the first flight out is almost uncontrollable. “I didn't mean to make you feel like I was pushing you to talk about something you didn't want to. I just worry about you, and I can't do anything if not ask what's wrong.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for love.” He shakes his head, clenching his hand against the comforter. Never before has he felt such a strong urge to hold a girl in his arms. His voice grows softer as he smiles gently, wishing her could be by her side. “You were just...just being a good friend. I should have seen that instead of the inside of my own ass.”
Y/N hums noncommittally. When she speaks again, her voice is a bit uncertain but sympathetic, “You've had a bloody terrible day, haven't you?”
“It wasn't exactly one for the books.” Roger can’t help the twinge of anger that laces his tone. He really doesn’t want to get into it, knowing full well he won’t be able to control his temper if he does.
“You're also tired.” It’s not a question. She knows. She always knows.
Roger smiles sadly, heart swelling in affection for the girl on the other side of the line “Yeah, I am.”
She sighs, frowning as she doesn’t want to let him go but knowing that he needs his rest “I should probably let you rest.”
“Please don't hang up.”
It’s Y/N heart’s turn to beat erratically as she grins ear to ear when she realizes that he cares for her as much as she does for him. “Okay.”
“Just for a little while, please.”
His voice is a whisper and she answer in the same tone, “As long as you want, rockstar.”
Roger lets his eyes drift shut, rolling onto his side as he holds the receiver tightly in his hands so he won’t accidentally drop it. He could never seem to get enough of her and he doesn’t even know what she looks like yet. What will happen when they finally meet? One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.
“I’d do just about anything to be with you right now”
Had he not been holding the phone tightly against his head, Roger would have missed it. She had spoken so softly, lovingly.
The blond smiles. “Really? Anything?”
She hums, fanning her heated cheeks as she thanks her lucky stars that he can’t see her. She hadn’t expected those words to slip out of her moth but they’ve been talking for so long and they’d just had their first fight.
“I'd swim across the bloody ocean if I could.” He means so much to her that she really would do anything to cross the distance separating them.
Roger blushes, eyes bright and cheeks hurting because of his blinding smile. She makes him so giddy, “All that work just for me?”
Y/N feels her cheek warming up even more, “You’re worth it.” She wonders how he doesn’t realize just how much he means to her or that she would do anything for him.
He hums to himself, grin never faltering as his minds comes up with all these different scenarios he’d love to make come true. Y/N laughs, almost as if she can read his mind, prompting him to ask what caused his favourite sound of the world.
“I think you might actually like me when we finally meet,” she admits finally, still laughing and it really is the best sound to ever reach his ears.
He feels a blush start to spread across his face as he realizes exactly what she said. Never being one to censor himself, he decides to push their carefully set boundaries. “You know, I sometimes imagine you’re here with me sometimes.”
“Yeah?” her laughter, just like her breath, is cut off abruptly. This is certainly not the turn she thought the conversation would be taking.
The drummer hums his assent, turning so he’s laying on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling as he imagines the girl of his dreams in bed next to him. “Yeah. I don't even have a picture of you in my head or anything...I know it doesn't make sense but –”
“No, it does!” She reassures. She never wants him to think that she doesn’t understand what was going through his mind.
He smiles, “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“What would you do if you were with me, right now?” because he knows exactly what he wishes they could be doing but he needs her to want and imagine the same thing.
“Why?” She has to put a hand over her mouth to stop the squealing his question brought to her lips. Why he makes her feel like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush is beyond her but she wouldn’t give up this feeling for anything in the world.
“I don't know. It helps me picture you.”
She’s quiet for a second as she thinks over how much she’s willing to say out loud. “I'd make you tea...probably make sure you were all cozy, with plenty of blankets and pillows and the works. You deserve to be pampered.”
No one has ever cared about him as much as she does.
“Then what?” He’s aware he’s being greedy, but he can’t seem to help it.
YN swallows thickly, nervous as she forces herself to talk openly “I'd climb into bed with you. Hold you really close to me. I'd run my fingers through your hair –”
Roger moans, low and almost imperceptibly, at the thought. YN giggles, though she feels a warm ache forming below her stomach when she hears the sound. “You’d like that, huh?”
“Fuck yes.” His voice is hoarse and tired and it really isn’t doing much to help the situation between her legs. Y/N shifts on the bed, clenching her thighs while trying to concentrate on anything but the grovelling and sensual sound of his voice.
“What else?” He wants the conversation to take a specific turn but he’s beginning to get extremely drowsy and his voice betrays that.
Y/N smiles at the sudden sleepiness in his tone and her mouth goes dries as she tells him what has been on her mind for at least a few weeks now, maybe more. “I think...I think then I might have to kiss you, Rog.”
The line is strangely quiet and for a moment, she thinks she’s taken things too far and has completely misread the situation.
Roger gives a dopey, sleepy smile, hope filling his chest with a warm feeling. His voice is nearly a whisper in the receiver, “Where would you kiss me?”
She chokes back a sob, relief flooding her system as he doesn’t seem to mind the idea of her kissing him. In fact, she realizes with a start, he’s egging her on. “Maybe your shoulders...or your tummy.”
Roger hums wantonly into the phone as his mind conjures up the images she’s barely describing.
“Where would you want me to kiss you, Rog?”
The question is enough to wake him up. Roger groans, his voice huskier than a few moments ago “I can think of a few places.”
Y/N blushes, stuttering while trying to come up with a response while getting far too hot under the collar for her own good. Just as she’s opening her mouth, she hears a knock sounding through the phone.
Roger barely manages to hold back an angry curse as he gets up to open the hotel door, receiver still held against the side of his face. When he sees Brian, he rolls his eyes, “What do you want?”
Brian flinches at his friend's tone, holding up a tray of food as he grumbles “Fred wants to make sure you eat something before going to sleep.”
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry!” he responds before closing the door in the guitarist's face. He hears a faint mumble of "Whatever" as Brian heads back to his own room.
“Y/N –” he speaks, hoping against all odds that the mood hasn’t been completely lost. He needs to know what her answer is. Does she want to do to him all the things he wants to do to her?
“You should get some sleep, Rog.”
Roger wants to punch Brian for ruining what could have been the best night of his life so far. He was so close to getting somewhere with this amazing girl and that twat ruined his mood once again. He clears his throat, trying to not let tears of frustration gather in his eyes. “Y-Yeah...Yeah. You're right. I'll call you when I wake up?”
Y/N smiles warmly, quickly drying the single tear that had fallen at their lost moment, “I'll be here.”
Roger's chest buzzes. He whispers a faint 'Sweet dreams love' and waits for her reply before hanging up. He sighs, arm over his eyes.
One day, that girl will be his and he will be hers.
—————----------------------------------
“So” her friend drags out the ‘o’, looking at Y/N with pursed lips, “You like him.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, bringing the fuming cup of tea to her lips. She knows she’s just buying herself a few seconds as she debates how to actually address this whole thing. She knew she’d regret telling her best friend about Roger and their unorthodox friendship – or is it a relationship? Y/N shakes her head, aware of the piercing stare locked on her. She also knew that talking to Winnie would be a double-edge sword but she really needs to talk to someone about this whole Roger thing, just to make sure that it isn’t all in her head and that he too feels something for her. And to make sure it isn’t just some fever dream her mind has conjured in answer to her stress levels being through the roof.
It's been over a year since their first conversation. Roger has travelled the world and made his way back to England just to leave again but they had yet to meet. Y/N is starting to think that he might be ashamed of her. That, or he’s hiding who he really is.
“So what if I do?” Her cheeks start to colour as she avoids looking at the person across from her.
Winnie scoffs, shaking her heard “It's worse than I thought.”
Y/N's jaw drops at the remark, chest feeling a bit tight. “What do you mean by that?”
Winnie rolls her eyes, “I haven't seen you blush this much since...Well, I've actually never seen you blush this much. You've gone completely pink.”
Y/N's eyes fall to the table. She can feel her cheeks growing even pinker and hates her friend for being right.
“Y/N/N…” Winnie says with a frown, “I've got to be honest, here. I don't like it. At all.”
Y/N’s heart sinks. She never thought her friend wouldn’t approve of Roger and the words are like a knife to the chest. Sure, she knew that Winnie would be a bit skeptical but she never thought she’d be so against the idea of Roger. “W-Why not?”
Winnie doesn’t want to be harsh or hurt Y/N in any way but she also doesn’t want her best friend to get her hopes up and then her heart broken by a complete stranger. She reaches her hand across to the table and covers her friend’s. “Y/N… Just think about it rationally for a moment. The bloke calls you in the dead of night. You have no idea where he got your number or who he is and he's already trying to get in your pants –” Y/N opens her mouth to argue but Winnie talks over her. “How do you know he's not 70, huh? He could be anyone, Y/N. He could be your dad, for Christ’s sake!”
YN cringes, holding her head in her hand as she rubbed her temples. She feels utterly defeated. And a bit naïve. Even if she explains every detail to Winnie, she wouldn’t understand.
Winnie sighs, “What if he's got nothing to offer?”
Y/N clenches her jaw, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. She knows it isn’t fair to be mad at Winnie. That her friend is only trying to look out for her. Still, she feels the urge to protect Roger and their whatever-this-is. “When has that ever been a problem for me? And that's just it, Win. He does...He offers me so much every day and he never expects anything back. He's kind to me...and he's silly and warm and sweet and–”
Winnie's expression softens as she sees the tears burning in Y/N's eyes as she takes Y/N's hands in hers again. However, she doesn’t back down, “You don't even know his last name.”
Y/N sniffles, refusing to let a single tear roll down her face. She takes a deep breath. “I don't really see where the problem is in that.” Winnie's brows knit together and Y/N crosses her arms, “He doesn't know my last name, either. It's not like I'm asking him for anything, Win. He's just great to talk to. He's kind and funny.... he’s smart. Wickedly smart, but he doesn't know it.” Y/N laughs breathlessly, getting lost in her memories of all their conversations. “Acts like this tough, careless thing sometimes but he's so soft on the inside. So good to me. He has the sweetest little laugh, too...gets all croaky when he's tired.”
Winnie squeezes Y/N's hand comfortingly, giving her a sympathetic smile. Realizing that nothing she says is going to change Y/N’s mind, she says softly “Just take care of yourself. That's all I ask.”
Y/N’s responding smile is as bright as the sun, “He's good. I know it. I can feel it. I’m going to be fine as long as I have him.”
“I hope so for you, darling. You deserve some happiness.”
Y/N takes another deep breath, reaching for her cup of tea.
Winnie grins too, “Just know that if he hurts you, I'll have his head. I don't care how old he turns out to be.”
Y/N laughs, rolling her eyes. “Thank fuck I know you've got my back, Win.”
---------------------
Roger is so lost in his thoughts that when John sits down beside him on the small sofa of the tour bus, he flinches, knocking over his beer. John laughs at him, passing him a dirty shirt from the floor to help clean the mess. Roger mumbles a quick "thanks mate" before trying to dry the small table.
“You okay mate?” Brian asks from his spot at the table. The guitarist is barely paying attention to his game of Scrabble with Freddie. For the past few days, he had been paying closer attention to his best friend because something is definitely off. He can’t put his finger on what but he sure as hell is going to find out.
“‘Course I am. Why'd you ask?” Roger is now working on the stain on his trouser, not really listening to his band mates.
Freddie frowns, waiting for Brian to place his next tile and nudges him with a foot under the table to get his attention. When Brian keeps ignoring him, the singer exchanges a quick glance with the bass player, both of them confused about what’s happening.
Brian shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and failing, “You've been acting weird lately.”
Roger's head whips up, eyes zeroing in on the guitarist “What'd you mean?” his tone came out too suspicious and the drummer has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation was headed.
“You've been extremely well-behaved lately and you spend most of your time holed up in your hotel rooms. What's going on?” Brian decides that beating around the bush wasn’t going to work with the blond.
Roger rolls his eyes, doing his best to hide the smile threating to pull his lips up as he tries to dissuade his friends from asking too many questions or giving them more reasons to be concerned about him. “’S just talking to a friend. No need to get your panties in a twist, old chap.”
“A friend?” Freddie's amused and now feels the need to be part of this conversation, especially if it makes Roger a bit uncomfortable.
The drummer shrugs, his ears going pink as Brian rolled his eyes, already tired of vague answers. “What friend?”
Roger keeps himself busy by wiping the now fully absorbed beer from his pants. “Just a friend.”
John chuckles when he notices how much the lack of tangible information is bother Brian.
“You don't have friends that we don't know!” the guitarist points out.
Roger rolls his eyes, head falling backwards as he drops the shirt to the ground “I do too! We don't do everything together Brian.”
“What's her name, Rog?” Freddie decides to cut to the chase, use to seeing through all of Roger’s bullshit.
The drummer sighs, knowing that the more he tries to get out of this conversation, the more they will pry. He mumbles, “Y/N”
John smiles as Freddie's lights up like a child on Christmas morning. The singer sits forward and leans into the drummer’s line of sight. “And where did you happen upon this friend, hm?”
Roger's cheeks grow pink. He can’t and won’t even try to stifle the pleased smile forming on his lips. Brian’s face pinches in confusion: he's never seen Roger like this in his life. Roger hates when people get all warm and mushy; he always crinkles his nose up with displeasure when John rambles on about Veronica, and yet, here he is, looking as if he’s about to do the same thing.
“If I’m completely honest, I haven't exactly met her in person. Yet.” He confesses sheepishly.
Fred raises his eyebrows, the conversation already taking a turn he didn't expect. “Pardon?”
Roger sighs, rubbing his face as he tries to explain the whole situation as best he can. “We kind of met by accident. Before leaving for tour, I was talking to a girl in a pub back home and well... she gave me a fake number that turned out to be Y/N's.”
John nods, intrigued by the blond's story, “Is it safe to assume you called the number?”
“Yeah.” Roger grins, “Wasn't the bird from the pub, obviously. The girl on the line didn't have any clue who I was. She was pissed, to be honest.” Roger laughs thinking back to the night they met. “She's from London and with the fact that she hadn’t been out and about that night, I accidentally woke her up at one thirty in the morning. She put me in my place for it, too. We started talking after that, I guess.”
Deacy is happy to see his friend so smitten. “How long have you been talking?”
Roger takes a sip of someone's drink, stopping to think. “About a year, I reckon. Maybe a bit more.”
Brian chokes on his own saliva. “A year!? Really?” He looks to the other boys, and even John has his brows raised in surprise.
Roger looks confused, “What?”
“Rog, I don't think I've ever seen you talk to any girl for more than a few hours.” The bass player is quick to point out. “And even when you do, it’s because they’re a good shag.”
Roger frowns, a bit hurt by the comment. He knows he’s never had a serious relationship and that he loves sex but he isn’t some emotionless sex fiend. He is capable of being committed and in a monogamous relationship. He’s just never had the right motivation before. “Tt's not like that.”
Fred smirks, “So you're saying she’s just a friend?”
Roger stutters for a second before falling silent, his face going warmer. “I just… I think she's nice, and easy to talk to.” He knew he wouldn't be able to explain their bond eloquently enough for them to truly understand. It’s more that simple attraction or wanting a relationship. There’s something about Y/N and their bond that he will never be able to explain.
“You realize you broke up with Jo so you could spend more time with your drums? Rog, you're not exactly fantastic at commitment.” Brian feels the need to point out.
Roger’s heart sinks at the lack of support from his friends and wishes he hadn’t let any of this slip. “She's important to me, whether you understand us or not. I want to fly her out here so we can meet –”
Brian scoffs, arms crossing over his chest “You sure she's not just trying to sneak her hands in your pockets, mate?”
Roger is stunned into silence and his temper flares. “What?!”
“How can you be sure that she's not just trying to make a few bucks off you? We make good money now, Rog. People know that.” Again, Brian is pointing something out as if it’s the most obvious reason in the world for a girl to talk with him for so long. Why else would a girl want to spent a whole twelve months speaking to Roger, right?
Roger doesn’t even know where to start or how to respond. The fact that Brian would even imply that YN would ever think about doing something like that is infuriation.
“There are plenty of smart girls out there, mate.” The guitarist carries on, oblivious to the turmoil going through the drummer’s mind. “You've got a keep an eye out for the ones sniffing out gold –”
Roger sees red. “Don't fucking dare finish that sentence, Brian.”
The guitarist rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the drummer's outburst. “All I'm saying is you ought to be careful.”
“I know you think you're smarter than the rest of us but I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.”
Freddie rubs his temples exasperatedly, knowing that this is not going to be the end of the conversation and it’s going to end poorly for all parties involved.
“Roger, you're letting yourself fall in love with this girl and you don’t even know her! She's a complete stranger!” Brian raises his voice, “You've never bloody met her!”
“Fuck off, Brian. You have no fucking idea what or who you're talking about.” Roger slams the bottle against the table and storms off towards the back of the bus “Leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the day.”
----------------------------------
Roger’s eyes blink open as soon as he registers the phone in his hotel room starts ringing. He scrambles for the receiver, nearly falling off the mattress in the process as the sheet tangle in his legs.
It's been nearly a fortnight since he's last spoken to Y/N. It seems the two have less and less time as the summer months have rolled around. There are interviews to do, books to edit, concerts to play, shelves to stock. All their work seems to be never-ending.
“Y/N?” Roger chimes, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knows that the likelihood of it being anyone else is nonexistent but he always likes to make sure she knows that she’s always his first thought.
“Hi, Rog.” She smiles to herself. Hearing his voice always makes her days better.
Relief washes over Roger's body at the sound of her voice. “God, I've missed you.” He admits, chest aching happily. “Missed you so much. Every day. Fuck, you don't know how good it is to hear your voice.” Roger relaxes against his pillow, playing with the phone chord as his eyes close blissfully.
Tears well in Y/N’s eyes as she tries swallowing around the knot lodged in her throat. “I’ve missed you too, Rog.”
Roger's brow furrow. Her voice’s hoarse, as if she’s been crying. And tired. Immediately he can tell that something’s wrong but he tries clearing the thought from his head, trusting that she would tell him anything she wanted him to know.
“Had a dream about you last night.” He mumbles, smiling at the memory as he tries to make her smile. “I can't remember what you looked like in the dream but it couldn’t have been anyone but you. It felt like you.”
She smiles against the speaker.
Roger eyes furrow as he tries to recall if they’ve ever shared physical details of each other. He knows they’ve shared what’s in their hearts and minds but never have they spoken about what they look like. He needs to know. “How tall are you?”
Y/N doesn’t answer and Roger's worry comes back stronger than before. “Y/N?”
“Hm? What was that Rog?”
The drummer doesn’t like how tired she sounds. They’ve had had their share of bad conversations but she’s never ignored or not answered one of his questions. “How tall are you?”
“Oh... uhm... I guess /your height/.”
It took her too long to answer. Roger bites his lower lip before sighing, knowing that the only way for him to feel better is knowing that she’s okay. “There's something wrong.”
Y/N pauses, finally fully present in the conversation. Her heart beats a bit too quickly in her chest. “W-What?”
“You're not acting like yourself. Something's wrong.” Roger hates how certain of this he is.
She goes silent while trying to hold it all back, but it’s no use. Her face crumbles as she lets out a sob against the receiver. Calling him had been the best and worse decision she made today.
Roger's heart feels like it’s shattering as he fights helplessly to calm her from oceans away.
“Y/N...” He feels stuck. Someone he loves is sobbing and he’s a million miles away. “Y/N, my love, what’s wrong? What's happening?”
His mind is working a million miles a second. It’s been so long since they last spoke, that there are hundreds of things that could have happened. Is she hurt? Did someone she know get hurt? Has the press somehow found out about their conversations and been harassing her?
She chokes on her words, trying to explain as best as she could but her breathing is still too choppy and labored for her to be understandable.
Roger listens as she struggles to breathe and he doesn’t think he’s ever known fear before his moment. The sounds coming from the woman he loves sound painful and he wants nothing more than to hold her and soothe all her pain. “Y/N, my love, just breathe. Can you do that for me? Take deep breaths.” He does what he’s asking her to do so that she has something to mimic. “Just do what I am okay? I'm right here baby.” He keeps his breathing slow and steady, guiding hers until she settles. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, sniffling painfully. Roger wishes he could reach through the phone and scoop her up in his arms. He's trying to figure out how angry the boys – and the label – would be if he were to fly out to her for a few days.
“I had to fire them all.” She admits in a whisper.
His stomach drops, “Who love?”
“My employees... I couldn't pay them anymore.” She starts crying again, her voice breaking and he can barely make out the words tumbling from her lips.
Roger frowns, a thought he doesn’t like pushing to the front of his mind. “Who's been running the store when you aren't there?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly and when she finally answers, he hates what he hears. “It's just been you. Oh, love, it's just been you all by yourself?”
Her sobs grow louder as Roger hushes her soothingly through the phone as he fights off his own tears. “Oh baby, I'm so sorry.”
“I-I didn't want to. I had to.” Y/N needs him to understand. She really has no other choice and she hates how powerless she is. She’s trying her best to ground herself but everything hurts.
“I know, sweetheart.” He reassures her, “They understand.”
“M-My landlord threatened to evict me and I've got no food in the pantry and I just didn't know what else to do.” She grabs her hair tightly as the pain in her chest increases.
Roger's throat tightens to the point where taking a breath is painful. “Why didn't you say anything, darling? I would have sent you mone–”
'No. No. I don't want to take money from you.” She states resolutely. “That's not fair and it’s not me. I will figure something out.”
He rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. “What's ‘not fair’ is that you're suffering, Y/N.” He pauses, “When's the last time you had a meal? Like, a whole meal, not just a snack.”
When doesn’t Y/N answer, Roger knows that it has been too long.
“I've been eating little things here and there.” She finally admits with a small, fearful voice, “I don't have time to sit and eat at work, anyway.”
“Y/N,” his tone doesn’t allow for any room for her not to answer, “when was the last time?”
She swallows thickly, “A week ago. I think.”
Roger feels like someone has punched him in the throat. His eyes burn as he fights off tears. Now is not the time for him to breakdown. He can do that once he knows she has some food in her system and she’s taken care of. He counts to five and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Haven't been sleeping either, I bet. I can hear it in your voice. You're exhausted.”
Roger pauses and then add stubbornly, “I'm sending you money.”
Nothing she says is going to change his mind on this. She needs it, he has loads and he will never sit back and let her suffer when he can actively do something to make things easier for her.
“Roger, no.” She counters immediately, “Absolutely not!”
“Y/N, you need it! I want to help you. I need to help you. I need you to be safe and happy and healthy –”
“I can do it, Rog.” She guarantees, “I just need to work harder.”
She’s stubborn but so is he.
He sighs her name. Nothing he says will convince her to take the money. She’s too proud of that but there is nothing she can do to stop him from sending it anyway. Y/N doesn’t need to know until she gets it.
There is one thing that he can’t drop though. “Promise me, and I mean promise me you'll eat and you'll sleep. I want three meals a day and eight hours at night.” Y/N sighs, knowing that keeping that promise is going to be rough but Roger keeps speaking, “I know money is tight and it seems like it's hopeless right now but swear to me that you'll take care of yourself.”
Y/N's voice thickens as she whimpers pathetically. Never had she thought she’d be the kind of girl that needs a man to keep her together, but here she is. “I need you to hold me.”
Pain shoots through Roger's chest and this time, he can’t keep his emotions at bay. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to not sob too loudly. It hurts. It bloody hurts how badly he wants to be with her.
Roger moves the receiver away from his face, letting out a few sobs before he composes himself. He takes a deep, shuddering breath as his nose burns because of the tears he’s trying – and failing – to hold back. He does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks to her again, “What if I fly out to you? Just for a few days. I could –”
Y/N’s tears start anew. “I want that, so badly but Rog, baby, you can’t. The tour –”
“To hell with the tour!” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t care about the bloody tour! I care about you.”
Her breath catches in her throat. They’ve both tiptoed around their feelings, both making it clear that this is more than a simple friendship but never had either of them been so direct. It gives her hope and now, more than ever, she refuses to let him give up on his dream. She will get through this and knowing he’s willing to drop everything to help her is enough.
“I care about you too, Rog.” She admits softly, “But there are so many people counting on you. It’s your dream.”
“Maybe I have a new one” he mumbles. “Okay. If I can’t come to you then I can fly you out.” He needs to see her and make sure, with his own eyes, that she’s really doing better. He can’t lose her.
Y/N sighs wistfully, wanting nothing more than to accept his offer. “You know I can’t. Not right now, at least. The shop –”
Roger curses in frustration. “It’s not fair!”
“I know.”
Silence fills the line. Roger’s anger quickly dissipates and all he’s left with is unrelenting sadness. He feels so unlike himself; pitifiul and needy. He feels as if he needs Y/N more than he needs oxygen.
“Soon,” Roger’s voice breaks the silence, “Promise me. We’ll be together soon.”
Y/N smiles through the tears, “I promise.”
“And promise me you’ll eat and sleep. I need you to take care of yourself.”
“I promise, Rog. I will get as much sleep and food as I can stand.”
“Good.” He swallows thickly, “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She lets out a wet laugh, “Good thing is you’ll never have to find out.”
Roger finally relaxes a bit, breathing deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you out of my sights once we meet.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
---------------------------
Roger keeps his head down, with his visor of the baseball cap pulled down almost over his eyebrows as moves quickly through the city. He’s hoping that between his disguise and Queen still being relatively unknown in the US will help him avoid any run ins with the press. It had been hard enough leaving the hotel without being seen by his mates or any of the roadies. He really doesn’t need word of his morning excursion getting back to Brian.
With a grimace, Roger walks into the American branch of his bank and lines up to speak to a teller.
It takes longer than he would have liked to get all the documents set up and money withdrawn but Roger definitely feels lighter as he steps back out into the sunlit streets and heads to rehearsals. Luckily, he was careful enough that no one noticed his prolonged absence.
The green room is still empty when Roger enters, heading straight for the vanity against the opposite wall. Slipping off his hat, he removes all the bank documents from his back pocket and sits at the mirror. He slides the signed check and bills into the same envelope, setting it aside as he removes his jacket. He definitely feels a lot better knowing he’ll be able to help Y/N in a way that matters and that will make her life easier. It also helps that their conversations have returned to being a daily occurrence, helping him ensure that she is as well rested and fed as she can be. Although she’s doing much better with his support, Roger doesn’t miss the stressed tone or how her work load seems to be constantly growing.
Roger only wishes he had managed to get to a bank sooner though this way, since it’s been a bit over a month since he offered her the money, she shouldn’t suspect anything.
Roger digs around the vanity for a pen and when he finds none, he uses one of Freddie’s eye-pencils and a tissue to write a short message to his girl. He hesitates, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his friends aren’t going to barge in. He really doesn’t want to try explaining the money or check to them.
Roger sighs, mussing his hair as he tries to put pencil to tissue. There is so much he wants to say but he isn’t even sure where he should start. He knows that no matter what he says, she is going to rip into him so with a chuckle, he scribbles down one line before signing the tissues and placing it delicately inside the envelop with the money and check. He knows he’s doing the right thing, and even if she won’t happy about it, she’ll be grateful.
For once in his life, he’s grateful for his foresight of asking for her full name and address so that he could send small trinkets and post cards when calls aren’t enough.
“Morning, Rog.”
Roger nearly jumps out of the chair, quickly turning to see a confused looking John smiling at him, a cup of coffee in hand.
Roger exhales, laughing at his own reaction. “God, Deacy. You scared the living shit out of me. Didn’t hear you come in.”
John laughs too before sipping his coffee as he takes a seat on the couch. Roger turns back to the envelope, hiding it under his arm.
“Didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I though you’d still be in bed.” John chimes, brow quirked.
Roger clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Just had to um...run some errands is all.”
John nods though he clearly doesn’t believe him. “What are you doing here so early?” The drummer desperately wants to change the subject before he gives himself away.
John shrugs, smiling “I tend to get here early to help the roadies with the amps. I built most of them from older models that'd been trashed so they can be a bit finicky.”
Roger hums in understanding, slipping the envelope into the pocket of his jeans as Brian and Freddie waltz in. The drummer nods at both, fighting back a yawn.
“Sleep well?” Freddie asks with a smirk.
“Not well enough.” Admits Roger, standing from his chair and lazily making his way over to the costume rack. He doesn’t notice the envelop slipping from his pocket when he bends down to look for his converse. Roger curses under his breath, “I’m going to see if I can track down my trainers. I could’ve sworn I left them here yesterday.”
Brian quirks his brow curiously as the drummer trots out the door, stepping forward to snatch the envelope off the ground. Freddie cranes on his tip toes to peek over his shoulder, curiosity lighting up his brown eyes, “What've you found?”
The envelope hasn’t been sealed yet so Brian doesn’t feel too guilty as he snoops. The guitarist runs his thumb over the hastily scrawled name and address, Y/N Y/L/N.
“What’s inside?” The singer asks, hoping it’s a love letter and that he can take the piss out of the usually emotionally constipated drummer.
Brian pulls back the flap of the envelop and frowns when he notices that there’s cash inside. He moves toward the couch where John is sat, quietly observing the situation as it unfolds. The guitarist clears off a small section of the coffee table and dumps the content of the envelop on it. A wad of cash falls with a small thud, as a tissue and slip of paper flutter down after it. He quickly counts the cash and his eye widen in shock. £500. And the piece of paper is a blank check that has been signed and dated with today’s date. The name on the check is the same of the envelop and it finally hits him: it’s the girl Roger had mentioned on the bus.
Don’t be too angry. R
Brian feels like his brain is going to explode. A blank cheque?! He’s sending her a blank cheque! Anger boils in his veins as he tries to comprehend how his best friend of years goes from dumbing his girlfriend of almost ten years in order to become a successful musician to blindly sending money and blank cheques to a complete stranger. Clearly, something has happened because not even Roger would be that stupid.
Brian grips the empty envelop tightly in his hand as Roger wanders back into the room, muttering about his missing shoes.
Brian walks up to Roger where he’s now lounging on the couch next to John and throws it at him. Roger eyes the envelop before his eyes fall to the coffee table.
The blond lets out a frustrated sigh, looking up into Brian's eyes. For this, his reaction angers Brian even more.
“Mind sharing with the group, Rog?” the curly-haired man asks condescendingly. “Mind explaining why your ‘friend’ who isn't taking advantage of you is getting direct deposits?!”
Roger does his best to swallow back all his annoyance, but apparently, Brian isn’t done digging into him. “A fucking blank cheque, Roger!? A blank cheque, really? Are you trying to get robbed?”
Roger can’t even get his explanation fully out of his mouth before Brian cuts him off. “She's lying, Roger! She's a con artist!”
“She's not!”
“And you're giving her exactly what she wants! She'll be laughing all the way to the bank!”
“SHUT UP!” Roger screams, raising to his feet and pushing Brian back. “You've all got spouses or children. I don't. I've got no one to take care of. Tell me what's so fucking criminal about sending some money to help someone I love.”
The three other people in the room are shocked into silence. Never before has the drummer tossed around the l-word so easily. Roger picks up the money and the check from the table, carefully tucking it back into the envelope and smoothing it out.
Roger heads for the door, turning to look back at the group one last time before he leaves.
“If you need me, I'll be buying stamps.”
--------------------------------------------------------
“What the fuck, Taylor!?'
Roger chuckles into the receiver. “Well, hello to you too, darling.” He had been waiting for this call for about a week.
“Do not ‘darling’ me right now. I told you not to send money!” Y/N has rarely experienced such a mix of emotions. Anger, love, humiliation, sadness, helplessness, love. She whines into the phone, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “Why didn't you listen? I'm not a charity case!” She hates feeling like a burden.
Most of all, she hates how loved and better she felt when she opened the envelope.
The blond frowns. It was never his intention to upset her, “Love, I –”
“Don’t you dare use your pet names on me right now, Roger Taylor!'’ Roger tries to hold back his laughter.
“I told you I can do this on my own!” she explodes, “I am perfectly capable of handling –”
“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” He interrupts. Roger toys with the phone chord, blowing some of his bangs away from his face. “You could run circles around me, darling. Just because you're able to do it on your own doesn't mean you have to.” He smiled softly to himself, “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. I can't physically be there for you, and I hate that. If it were up to me, I'd be stopping by the store to bring you food or help lug books around.” Y/N exhales, hand running through her hair. God-damnit. Why does he have to be so bloody perfect and far away? “And as much as I wish I could change it, I know I can't be there right now to hold you and promise it will all get better.”
“Rog–” There’s so much she needs to tell him.
“Let me do this, Y/N.” He begs, “Just this one thing to help you keep a roof over your head and eat and take care of yourself.”
Y/N gives up all hope of arguing with him about this. And just like that, she’s crying for a completely different reason. Her voice wobbles as she sobs into the phone, “You're so stupid, Roger. You're such a goddamn idiot.”
He laughs as he too starts crying, smiling lovingly to the empty room. “I thought we’d already established that.” She gives a breathy laugh, clutching the money and cheque to her chest like a security blanket. “Hasn't ever kept you from talking to me before, though.”
Y/N wipes her tears with her shirt sleeve, sniffling pitifully. She knows she’s never felt love like this before and she never will again. Not even her parents had shown interest in supporting her; she never thought any less of them because of that.
But here’s Roger. Sweet, stupid Roger forking over hundreds of pounds and sending it to her from worlds away without batting an eyelash. All because he wants to help in any way he can. She can hear him as he rambles on, still trying explain how it “really isn’t a big deal".
“Roger–” her voice’s is so soft that he misses it completely.
“–I just care about you and I wanted to help and–”
“Roger!” She yells with a laugh.
He stops, eyebrows quirking as he smiled. He hears her take a deep breath and waits impatiently for her to speak.
Y/N’s heart is beating like a hummingbird's. “I love you.”
“What?” Roger feels completely frozen until she repeats those three beautiful words to him.
There’s another long silence and panic set in YN's stomach as she bites her lip. She really doesn’t want to pressure him into saying it so it’s her turn to start rambling, “I'm not just saying that because of the money and I don't expect you to say it back but I just needed you to know because it’s true and –”
“I love you too.” He interrupts her panicked mumbles.
Y/N's whole body relaxes. She exhales, hands shakily holding the phone as she lets out a watery, “Thank Christ” that makes Roger laugh.
“God, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Now that he can say it aloud, he doesn’t think he'll ever be able to stop.
Tears well in Y/N's eyes again, “I...I want you, Roger. I want you here.” She sounds selfish but she doesn’t care.
This is the moment she’s been waiting for. Now that it’s out in the open, she needs to see him, feel his body against hers. She wants to show him exactly how much she loves him.
His heart aches, “I know, my love. You have no fucking idea how much I want to be with you right now. Fuck, I'd fly out to you right this second if I knew you'd actually let me.”
Y/N chuckles, sniffling “It's really tempting.”
He grins, “Tempting enough to let me?”
She shakes her head, “I can't be the one to deprive the world of Roger Taylor. I know how that feels and it's too damn painful.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Why can't you just be selfish once in a while?”
“I'm afraid I'm not as strong headed as my rockstar boyfriend.”
Roger smiles brighter than the sun, face red and heart full at her words. “Boyfriend, huh? I like the sounds of that.”
“Do you now?”
His smile seems to grow, “Love it, actually. 'Specially hearin' it from my girlfriend.”
Y/N giggles, loving his ability to make everything better with just a few, simple words. “Be careful saying that in front of all your groupies, might break their hearts.”
Roger scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Groupies!? Who do you think I am?” Y/N laughs and it’s his favourite sound in the world “You're the only groupie I've got, darling. Take you with me everywhere.”
“That's my official title then?” She jokes, “Resident Groupie?”
“Yes. And it's a paid position so you have to accept the money I sent.”
Y/N gasps, grin on her lips “You absolute wanker!”
“You love me, really.” Her smile softens, “I really do.”
---------------------------------
Roger's shoulders and hands ached as he plops down on his hotel bed. He winces at the contact between the sheets and the raw skin of his worn hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches for the phone. Hearing his girlfriend's voice always make it all worth it.
The line rings more times than Roger is used to and a very bad feeling sinks in his gut. Even more concerning is the fact that he goes to voice mail. The drummer frowns, setting the receiver back on the base before lifting and dialing again. Still no response. He tries a third time. Nothing.
Finally, on his fourth try, YN answers the line and relief washes over him.
“Hey, Rog.”
“Oh, thank god! I thought something had happened to –” He freezes, heart dropping when he realizes that she’s crying. “What's wrong my love?”
Y/N sniffles, hating herself for being the girl that cries at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She isn’t even sure what to do. If she tells Roger that his best friend called her and said she was a gold-digging whore, he’ll react rashly and she isn’t there to stop him from doing too much damage to the band or himself. On the other hand, these phone calls are all they have. Honestly is important, they both said so from day one and fuck, they’re in a relationship for crying out loud. She knows Roger loves her. He’s proven it more than enough times. It’s just that… If his best friend, the people he spends every waking moment with think that of her, maybe it’s because he’s said something. And she’s sure it isn’t only Brian thinking those things. They couldn’t have come to that conclusion on their own. Could they?
“Is it work? Did something happen?”
“No...” She hums, trying to gather herself. She’s not going to tell him.
Roger frowns, worry clawing at his chest. She isn’t tired of him, is she? “Talk to me, love. Please.”
His plea breaks some of her resolution and she fights hard to not start sobbing. She’s sick of crying every time they call. “It's nothing, just having a rough day.”
“No, it isn't.” Roger insists, brow furrowed determinedly. Something is gnawing at him to not trust her words.
Y/N swallows, mind running in circles. “Rog…You know I'd never lie to you, right? I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
Roger blinks in confusion, “Of course I do, sweetheart. Where's all this coming from?”
“Nowhere.” She lies, “I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” She hesitates a moment. “Promise me you understand that, though. That when I talk to you...I'm never trying to get anything out of you. I'm not...digging for gold.”
Alarm bells ring loudly in Roger's head. Brian. Fucking Brian. “Did Brian call you?”
“No.” She answers too quickly.
“Brian called you, didn't he?” Roger is beyond furious as his voice raises along with the anger in his chest. “He called you and ran his fucking mouth, as he always does and hurt you. The fucking arse can’t accept that he’s not the smartest person in the room and wants to ruin everyone’s happiness because he’s a miserable bastard. Once I get my hands on him, I –”
Y/N sobs, “Don't fight with him! Please, don't. He was only trying to protect y– ”
Roger slams the receiver against the base, fists clenching as he tears through his door and down the hall towards the conference room turned music room, where he knows the lads are still rehearsing. He’ll apologize later to Y/N but right now, he needs to not be talked down. Brian deserves everything coming his way.
Roger slams the door open and as soon as he’s face-to-face with the guitarist, Roger punches him in the face.
Brian stumbles backwards as Roger keeps shoving his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!”
Brian's eyebrows furrow as he catches his balance, still trying to keep Roger at bay as he massages his sore jaw.
Roger's face is red, rage clear as day in his blue eyes as he spats his words at Brian, Freddie putting himself in the middle of the two. “Somehow, by the grace of fucking god, I'm happy for the first time in my miserable goddamn life and you have to go and try to fuck it up!” Tears welling in his eyes, Roger shoves his kit to the ground, cymbals crashing as pieces of set scattered across the floor. Freddie is grateful that it was just the four of them in the room, though the ruckus is sure to gather unwanted attention.
Brian rubs his bruising jaw, rolling his eyes at Roger's reaction. “I did it for your own bloody good, Roger! She was just going to keep leeching off you –”
“I don't fucking care, Brian!” Roger kicks his bass drum, foot going through the decal of his own face as he shoves Freddie away. “I don't fucking need it! I don't need any of it!”
Brian's eyes fall to his shoes as guilt filled his gut. Maybe he had been too rash and cruel. Maybe he should've given Y/N a chance to explain herself.
“What am I going to buy with all this money you've saved me, huh? Cars? Drugs?” Brian opens his mouth to argue but Roger cuts him off. “I love her, Brian! I don't care if she takes every fucking cent I have!”
Brian scoffs, guilt quickly being replaced by frustration at how idiotic his friend is acting. “Do you hear yourself? You've never met this person, Roger! You're being ridiculous! You're asking to get your heart broken!”
“I'm fucking grown, Brian! I can handle myself, you condescending prick! She's all I've got!”
The room goes eerily silent.
Brian clears his throat, pursing his lips. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “Since when don’t you have us?”
Roger stares right at Brian, daggers in his eyes. He scoffs sickly, “This? The band? The so-called friends that call up my girlfriend, making her cry and calling her a gold-digger?!” He gestures to the group, knowing that John and Freddie had done nothing to stop Brian from making the girl he loved question their whole relationship. “This is over. The second tour's finished, this is never happening again.”
Deacy knits his brows, “Roger–”
Roger takes a menacing step towards Brian, grabbing the front of his shirt in his tired and sore hands. “You ever speak to her again and I'll rip your fucking balls off.”
The blond turns from the group, retreating down the hall and back to his own room.
Brian, Freddie, and Deacy stand in shocked silence.
------------------------------------------------------------
Brian sighs as he raises his fist to knock on Roger's door. He feels bad. He really does. And he doesn’t want the band to break up because of a girl. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think Roger was acting like a mad man.
The guitarist hopes that the few hours he had left Roger to wallow in his self pity has been enough for the drummer to calm down and reconsider the whole quitting nonsense.
“No, Y/N! I won't! I won't forgive him.”
Brian freeze, dropping his hand to his side. Why on earth would Y/N be defending him? Brian rests his ear against Roger's door, curiosity itching beneath his skin. There’s a pause as Roger listens to Y/N's response.
“I understand that he was trying to look out for me. I get that, but I'm a grown fucking man, Y/N. He thinks he's the smartest person alive and I'm sick of it! I could have lost you!”
Brian rolls his eyes. He doesn't think he’s smarter than Roger. He just thinks Roger is dumber than him.
“No, I'm quitting! Soon as tour's over I'm flying out to you and I-.... No, I'm not! I'm not being dramatic!”
Brian smirks, chuckling to himself. “I wouldn't miss them. Not for a second. I can play drums anywhere. I don't need them! ... It is not bullshit!”
Brian’s surprised. Impressed even. He never thought that this girl would be defending them after everything he'd said to her. “I don't want to talk to those wankers. They treat you like you're some conquest. They don't even see it. I'm not like that anymore, Y/N. I'm just not that person anymore. You need to know that.”
Something in his words give Brian pause. Roger’s right: it'd been ages since he'd heard any moans coming from the other side of Roger's door. The drummer barely showed up at after parties anymore. Hell, even when women throw themselves at him, he just smiled politely, signing whichever body part they present him and returns to his previous conversation with the lads or their entourage.
There’s so many things Brian was used to seeing Roger numb himself with. Booze. Drugs. Sex. Anything that would bring him any sort of temporary relief. It had all stopped suddenly. Roger is now more focused and plays better. He fights less. He even started apologizing for things. He smiles more. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. No more dark circles under his eyes; no more empty bottles; no more smears of white powder left on tables.
Things are different now. They had been for a long time, he’d just been too conceited to notice. The changes seem to coincide with her sudden appearance in Roger’s life.
Brian bites at the inside of his lower lip, sighing as he knocks on Roger's door.
Roger curses, mumbling something to Y/N and brings the phone with him as he pries himself up off the bed and shuffles over to the door, flinging it open roughly.
“What the fuck do you want?” Roger spats. He’s vaguely aware of Y/N's voice in his ear, telling him to take it easy.
“To apologize.”
“Apology not accepted.” Roger tries to slam the door in his face but Brian’s quicker, smacking his hand against the hard wood.
“Really? I'm trying to be nice and you're going to bitch about it?” the guitarist can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Yep. That's the plan.” Roger is just about to try slamming the door shut again when he hears Y/N call his name loudly on the other line. He holds the receiver to his ear. “What did you say, love? ... No! Y/N, I don't want to hear anything he has to say.... Why should I?” The blond exhales angrily, eyes shooting daggers at Brian as he holds the receiver against his ear. “Come on in.”
The air is tense as Brian sits down next to Roger on his bed, biting at his thumbnail as Roger hits the speaker button on the base of the phone. “He can hear you now, love.” Roger mumbles. “Don't see why you're bothering with letting him apologize after he –”
“Just let him speak, Roger.” The voice from the speaker is crackly with static, sweet yet exasperated.
Brian smiles a little, feeling marginally better about things knowing she’s not too angry or hurt. “I, um...I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I was wretched. I just got worried. Roger can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes and I –”
“I am not! You're the one that bloody –”
Y/N heaves an exasperated sigh, “For god’s sakes, Roger, just calm the fuck down and let him explain.”
Roger grumbles something under his breath. Brian can’t help but smirk. “Brian, I understand where you were coming from. You were only trying to protect him.”
Roger scoffs. “You're really going to side with Brian!?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a headache forming. Men. “You're being such a baby.”
Roger groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenches.
Brian is starting to like this girl more and more. She knows how to put Roger in his place and he lets her. It’s refreshing, “I... I may have been wrong about you.”
Y/N smiles, “No shit!”
Roger can’t help but grin. That's my girl.
Y/N sighs, “But we'll get to you apologizing to me later. Right now, you two need to get your heads out of your asses and forgiving each other. Queen won't end because the two of you can't act like adults.”
Roger scoffs, “Fat chance.”
Brian shakes his head exasperatedly. “I swear, you're a child.”
“And you're a pompous asshole!”
“Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm pompous.”
“Oh, so now you don't think I'm smart?”
“Not when you act like a twat, I don't!”
“Piss off!”
“No! You –”
Y/N drops her phone back onto its base. Roger should have known she wouldn't sit there and listen to that crap. Roger and Brian go silent at the dial tone. The drummer curses, grumbling as he redials her number. It only rings once before she picks up.
“You two finished?” There’s silence and Y/N giggles. “I can't believe two grown men are being such babies.” Both of them open their mouths to argue in self defense but can’t before she’s laughing at them.
Brian sighs, “Rog, I'm sorry. I know you're not stupid and I –”
“You sure bloody act like it –”
Y/N exhales sharply, “Roger I swear to god if you don't stop interrupting, I won't pay my phone bill this month.”
Roger immediately goes silent and Brian laughs smugly. Roger flips him off.
Y/N shakes her head, “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Brian. You're already on thin ice.”
It’s Brian’s turn to go quiet and Roger’s to laugh smugly.
“Why do I feel like a mother scolding her two idiotic children?! Roger, Brian was just trying to look out for you. It was a shitty way of doing it but he loves you and wants you happy. Brian, Roger is hot headed, you know that better than me but because of you, I almost lost him and Roger was right in his reaction. You had no right to call me and call me a gold digger and an actress. You should have trusted your friend's judgment.”
Brian held out his hand, “I'm sorry, Roger.”
Roger takes it, giving it a reluctant shake. “I'm sorry, too.”
Y/N sighs in relief until Roger speaks again, “You need to apologize to Y/N as well. And you should know: she didn't ask for the money. I sent it to her without her knowledge and she yelled at me.”
Freddie walks by the open hotel room door, having heard their screams from the hall and leans against the post, observing the scene in front of him. Brian rubs his neck, cheeks turning red. “I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge.”
“You're right, you shouldn't have but I forgive you. I'm still hurt but I know it was done in good faith.”
Brian nods, guilt eating at him. “I understand completely. I... I wouldn't have forgiven me had I been in your shoes.”
Y/N smiles, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Lucky for you, I'm very forgiving and understanding. And as much fun as this is, I'm going to be late for a meeting.”
“Make sure to eat something, please.”
“Don't worry rockstar, I'm taking care of myself. I love you.”
Roger smiles sappily, “I love you too.”
After she hangs up, Freddie smiles and makes his way into the room and drops down next to Brian, “I like her.”
Roger grins, “Yeah, she's amazing.”
“I'm sorry I didn't stop Brian.”
The drummer shakes his head, “It's all good mate. You lot were just trying to look out for me. I was just angry because she was already hurting and you managed to make it worse. I hate hearing her cry.”
The two nod, realizing what a mess they had made. Freddie claps his hands, “Well, now that it's settled that you're not quitting the band and we're all friends again, we should celebrate! I won't take no for an answer, my darlings!”
————————————————————
Y/N’s pulled out of her thoughts as the phone rings at nine am. She knows it’s Roger: no one else calls her but she almost never gets calls from Roger this early in the day. There’s only a four-hour time difference, but it’s still rare for her to get a call before the middle of the night.
It’s nine and two minutes, meaning Roger is calling her at five in the morning his local time.
She picks up the phone in an instant, worried that something is wrong, “Rog? Are you ok?”
“Y/N? Y/N! It's me! It's Roger!”
She chuckles, realizing what’s going on. She can hear the smile in his voice as he basically screams across the distance separating them. “Hi, Rog. Sounds like you're having fun.”
He laughs drunkenly, stretching his legs across the couch he’s sitting on. “And you sound –” He groans longingly, “You sound so sexy, Y/N. So beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.”
Y/N giggles, face heating up at his words. “You've never seen me before, Rog.” She hears a few snickers from around him. “Am I on speaker phone?”
Roger nods, forgetting he was on the phone in his drunken state. He’s just happy to be speaking to his dream girl.
“Hello Y/N!” Brian calls, taking another swig from his nearly empty beer bottle. Y/N returns the greeting but Roger frowns, quickly switching her off speaker. “Brian doesn't get to ever talk to you ever.”
YN smiles sympathetically, “Aw, Rog. I told you I forgive him, so did you. He was just being friendly –”
“I don't have to see you to know you're pretty.” He interrupts, drunken mind already returning to the most important thing. “I just know it. I do.” He frowns, grumpy that she dares question how highly he thinks of her. “Prettiest girl in the universe.”
He yawns, rubbing at his eyes. “Wanna meet you so bad. I think...I think it's scary.”
YN hums, confused. “What's scary?”
“W-What'll I-...What is-...What if you don't think you like me as much? What'll I do then?”
Her heart stutters, “Oh Rog, of course I'll like you. I love you.”
“But you love hearing me but what about seeing me?” He croaks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “What if you don't like seeing me?”
Y/N sighs, “Roger, I'd love you if even if you were bald with green skin.”
“What if it's worse than all that?”
Y/N laughs, “Worse than bald with green skin!?”
Roger hides his drunken smile, as if she was there to see it. “I'm serious! I'm being serious and you're laughing at me!”
“Aw, Rog, I’m sorry. I won't laugh anymore.” She speaks through her giggles. “I'm listening. Really...”
Roger sighs, self consciously looking down at his body. “I...I'm not big.”
Y/N quirks her brow, intrigued by where this conversation is going. “What?”
“I'm not so big and muscly! I'm skinny! I mean...well...My shoulders are ok but –”
She chuckles, “Roger, my love, I promise I'm going to love the hell out of you no matter how muscly you are.”
Roger groans, “You've got to stop that.”
She frowns, “Stop what?”
“Stop...Just stop being so goddamn perfect all the time.”
Y/N scoffs, “I'm far from perfect, Rog.”
He groans again, “You sound so goddamn sexy.”
She laughs at him, loving how his drunken mind seems to go in circles. “Is it my 'I just woke up and haven't spoken yet' voice?”
Roger moans, running his hands through his hair. “You're just teasing now! You have any idea the kind of things I want to do to you?”
“I might have a vague idea, yes.”
Roger let his eyes fall closed, mumbling. “God, I just want to suck on your tits.”
Y/N's jaw drops, “Roger!” She feels her face turn scarlet, knowing he’s just a few steps away from his band mates and they are absolutely listening in.
“I mean it!” He whines, “You make me so fucking hard –”
“Roger, I am not having this conversation with you in front of your mates.”
He whines again, “'m not asking for full on phone sex!” His lips turn up in a smirk, “Maybe I could just get you off? The boys aren't listening.” He glances at his friends but he’s too drunk to really see, “At least I think they’re not.”
Y/N buries her face in her hand, “They most definitely are, Roger.”
He frowns, not comprehending what the issue is, “But I love you.”
“I love you too, rockstar.” She smiles, “Do me a favor? Put an aspirin and a glass of water by your bed.”
Roger feels himself tear up, “Are you hanging up?”
She knits her brows sympathetically. “I've got work, baby.” The last thing she wants to do is hang up on him when he sounds so adorable and horny but she’s already running late.
“Call me?” he asks, “Once you get home? The minute you get home.”
She’s smiling, “I don't think you'll be awake.”
“Wake me up, then.”
She chuckles, “Ok, rockstar.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Roger wakes up hours later, unsure on how he managed to get back to his room and with a pounding headache. He reaches for the aspirin and water he vaguely remembers putting on his bedside table, as requested by his amazing girlfriend.
While going to wash his face, he notices an envelope by the door. Reaching down to grab it, his heart flutters when he sees the name of the sender: YN LN. It’s priority mail, meaning she probably spent quite some money on it and it’s dated three days ago.
His hands shake as he tears the envelope open and tears filled his eyes as he finally knows what the girl of his dreams looks like.
----------------------------------------------------------
Y/N makes her way into her small apartment, keys held in her teeth, a grocery bag in one hand and mail in the other. She stops in the kitchen, quickly putting her groceries away before sitting on the sofa and going through the mail.
As usual, there are a few store coupons, a reminder that her rent is due in two weeks and an envelope from Roger. She’s come to love and hate these: postcards are great, full of witty comments and loving remarks. Envelopes usually mean that he either sent her money or a small gift. Stupid, sweet Roger.
Y/N's heart is beating like a hummingbird's as she opens the letter from Roger. She pulls out a single photo, clipped from a magazine with a single word written across the bottom.
Guess.
She smirks, sliding the photo back into the envelope and hurries to her room. She dials his number the minute she gets to the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed. It only rings once before he picks up. He doesn’t even get a chance to greet her. “You think you're so clever, don't you?”
Roger laughs, knowing exactly to what she’s referring to. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“You're such a wanker.” She’s laughing, shaking her head as she looks over the photo of Roger and his band mates.
He laughs, adjusting his pillow as he rubs his eyes, waking himself up a bit more, “Thought that was why you love me?”
Y/N smiles, kicking off her shoes as she lays back, “You want me to play that game? Fine, I'll play it, rockstar. I bet you twenty pounds I'll get it on the first try.”
“You really think you will?” Roger loves how confident she sounds. God, he loves this woman.
“Of course I will, drummer boy. I'd know you anywhere.” Her smile’s soft, the love she feels for the boy knew no limits.
He bit his lower lip, a grin breaking out on his lips 'You're on, sweetheart.'
YN pulls the photo closer, excitement rolling in her stomach. “Let's see...”
Every face in the picture is a beautiful one but she knows immediately that her Roger is the blond one but there’s no reason to make him aware of her discovery just yet.
She grins, the idea of making him sweat extremely amusing. “Suitor number one, here...Tall! He's got some legs on him, doesn't he? And just look at those curls! Gotta love a man with curls.”
Roger feels jealousy boiling in his stomach, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to give anything away. He starting to regret sending her a group photo. “Number two...Oh! that jacket is lovely. I like the silk. He knows how to dress, for sure.” Roger chuckles. Good old Fred.
“Number three...Number three looks like he's quite a sweetheart, doesn't he? So smiley! And that little striped vest!”
Roger purses his lips nervously, knowing she’s about to focus on him and talk about her first impression. What if she doesn’t find him attractive?
“Number four is this blond fellow.” Y/N smiles, her heart fluttering as she gazes at the man she loves. “Sparkly pink shoes, looks a bit tired. Might be drunk in this photo, actually. Stunningly handsome. Looks like he's got a bit of an attitude too.” She pauses for a moment, making Roger smile. She’d described all his friends perfectly and he can tell from her voice that she knows. He loves her even more for it.
“Yep, there's my Rog.”
Roger laughs, cursing his mind for doubting her even for a second. “I do not have an attitude!”
“You do!” She counters between laughs, “I would too if I wore pants that tight!”
He smirks, “I just wanted to show off my cute ass for you, love.”
YN grins, “Wait 'til you see mine, pretty boy. I can guarantee it's cuter.”
Roger's face goes red. The power this woman holds over him was astounding.
She hummed blissfully, head relaxing against her pillow as she admires the photo once again. “You're beautiful, Rog. Knew you would be...”
How she ended up being so lucky, she will never know but she will thank her lucky starts everyday from here on out.
Roger's heart stutters. He wants to ask her if she really means it but his heart knows she would never lie, especially about this. He looks over at her picture, propped against the base of the phone. He’s been carrying it in his wallet and keeps it next to his bed when they stop at hotels. His eyes scan her smiling face. “Do you have any birthmarks?”
She giggles, thrown but the sudden question. “What?”
“You know, birthmarks.” He realizes that it sounds random but he wants to know everything he can about her. At this point, he’s aware of her family history, of her interests and hobbies, and friends but he knows almost nothing about her body except for what he can make out from the picture. Roger wants to memorize every inch of her.
She quirks her brows, “I've got a little one on my back but it just looks like a mole. Why?”
“Just curious.” He admits, “What about scars? My hands and arms are covered in small ones because of the drumming and stupid fights.”
Y/N laughs at that, not at all surprised by his sheepish confession. “Mm... I have a scar on my left wrist. Got it when I was probably around five-ish. I was riding my bike and ran into my garage door. The glass window shattered on my arm. It both scared and scarred me.”
Roger smiles, imagining how her body looked liked, her scars and all. “Are you ticklish?”
“Depends on where you try it.”
Roger grins, “I can't wait to figure it out.”
They settle for a moment, letting the familiar silence wash over them. Words hang unspoken in the air and Roger decides to through caution to the wind. “I wish I could touch you. Just explore you. Every inch of your gorgeous body.” He’s wanted to say these words for so long.
Y/N smiles, a warm feeling washing over her. Roger can’t help but imagine her sitting in her room, holding the receiver to her ear. He hums, picturing his hands running down the smooth skin of her stomach. He swallows thickly, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Have you got a soft spot?” God, he wants to be with her so bad it’s a physical pain.
She smirks, her voice lowering a bit and taking on a sultry tone, “Why ever would you asking Rog?”
He chuckles, pants tightening at her tone and implications but two can play at that game. “Think you know why, love.”
She feels heat pool in her stomach, “Maybe you should wait and find it yourself.”
He groans in frustration, “What if I don't want to wait? What if I want to hear you moan my name right now?”
Y/N clenches her thighs, biting her lip to hold back any sounds that might escape her lips. Roger isn’t done though. “If you like that, just wait till I get my hands on you. I'll ruin you in the best ways. You'll be screaming my name.”
YN's head falls back, hitting the wall with a small thud as she moaned, panties growing wetter by the word. “Is that so drummer boy?”
Roger nearly moans, “Well, you know what they say about drummers, don't you?”
Y/N bites her lip. “What do they say?”
He smirks, “They do it harder.”
The silence is pregnant. Roger's boxers are tented and he’s feeling too hot under the hotel blanket so he throws it to the side before speaking again. “I had a dream about you last night.” His tone leaves little to guess about the nature of said dream.
“Lucky you,” She’s breathless, mind buzzing and body aflame.
Roger chuckles huskily, “And you said I have an attitude. What I am to do with you?”
Y/N smirks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Are you taking requests?”
Roger moans shamelessly, boxers too tight to be comfortable as he rearranges himself. “I wouldn't mind having you under me.”
It’s her turn to whimper, legs rubbing together to alleviate some of the building pressure in her core. “I wouldn't mind having you on top of me.”
Roger closes his eyes, imagining the scene and wishing it was currently reality. “You won't get anything if you keep talking back.”
Y/N giggles, “You didn't think I'd go down without a fight, did you rockstar?”
God, he loved her. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude right out of her. “Honestly, I thought I'd be the one going down...”
Roger doesn’t expect the moan that comes out of Y/N's mouth and he wishes he could hear it in person. He smirks, “I bet you're an absolute mess right now.”
“You're welcome to come over here and find out.”
Roger wants nothing more, “That's tempting, sweetheart.”
She smirks, “It was meant to be.”
“You're such a brat.” He loves it.
“You didn't know that?” She’s playing coy, riling him up and Roger is soaking up each word.
“You've got quite the mouth on you.”
She bites her lip, “You'll love it even more once you feel what I can do with it.”
Roger moans, palming himself over his briefs. “I'm so bloody hard right now. All because of that mouth of yours, you minx.”
Y/N whimpers, “What do you want me to do about it?”
Roger squeezes himself, hips canting up from the bed. “I can think of a few things, actually.”
She palms her breast, bra getting in the way and she quickly rids herself of it. “Yeah? Want to know how wet I am for you? Would you like me to touch myself? Let you hear as I moan your name?”
Roger's breath comes out in pants, hand slipping beneath the elastic of his briefs to grip his cock. “That'd be a great start.”
She smirks, loving how worked up he sounds. “Bet I can finish too.”
Roger laughs breathlessly, “Damn right you will, love.”
Her underwear is soaked, fingers itching to remove them and get some relief and her mouth works faster than her brain. “What are you doing right now?”
Roger swallows around the knot in his throat, “I'll give you three guesses.”
“What if I get it wrong?”
Roger smirks, “Don't find out.”
Y/N has always loved a challenge, “What it I want to?”
“It might involve you not getting to cum, so I'd think about it real hard.”
“Is that a hint, lover boy?”
Roger moans, finally slipping his cock out of his boxers and slowly starting to run his hand up and down his shaft.
“That sure was pretty, rockstar. Let me hear it again.”
“You first, love.” He pants, “Touch yourself for me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds I know you make.”
Y/N lets her hand slip past the band of her panties, fingers teasing herself as she slowly circles her clit. She moans, making Roger speed up his movements as he smirks. “So you can follow directions.”
She moans again, applying more pressure to her clit. “Only you for.”
Roger can’t get enough of the sounds coming from the phone. “You sound so sexy. I can’t wait to taste you baby.”
Y/N slides her finger lower, teasing her entrance as Roger continues speaking, “I’ve had some many dreams about you, baby. Dreamt about watching your face as you clench around my cock.”
Y/N moans loudly, the images in her head and the words spoken in her ear driving her mad. “Roger”, she whimpers, fingers sinking into her slick core, “want your cock in my mouth, Rog. Want to feel it against the back of my throat.”
Roger curses, hips bucking wildly as he pumps himself. “God, the sounds you make will be the death of me.” He closes his eyes, holding the receiver close to his ear to make sure he won’t miss a single sound, “I'm so hard baby. Leaking all over my hand.”
Roger swipes his thumb over the tip, gathering the precum and using it to aid his hand. “Wish it was your hand.”
Y/N whimpers, fingers pumping her heat faster and faster. “Feels so good, Roger. I need you so bad.”
Roger curses again, “How'd you want me, love? You want my face buried in your cunt? That make you feel good?” The more he speaks, the closer she gets to her release. “Or would you want me inside you? I'd fill you up so good, baby.”
It’s Y/N's turn to curse, closing her eyes as she pictures his blond hair between her thighs. “I bet you'd look beautiful between my legs, rockstar. I want you so bad. Need to feel every inch of you stretching me. Fuck, Rog.”
She lets out a pathetic whimper, phone held between her shoulder and ear so both her hands are free, one to tweak her pert nipple and the other rubbing her clit furiously. “So close.”
Roger places the receiver on his shoulder, using his now free to cup his balls as the other increases the speed of his strokes. “hat's right love, cum all over your pretty fingers. Let me hear you.”
His vision goes fuzzy, chest warm as he lets himself cum while listening to Y/N whimpers and moan his name as she orgasms.
Roger whimpers as he finally lets got of his cock, breath coming out unevenly. He can hear Y/N's own sounds reducing, breath steadying. Never in his life has he felt such a strong need for aftercare. Through the years, he'd humor the stranger in his bed, playing with their hair or kissing them before they finally left. He never saw the point in pretending that the night of passion they shared was going to lead anywhere but he wasn't a complete jackass.
For the first time in his life, Roger wishes he could hold this amazing girl in his arms, kiss her lips as she relaxes against him. Maybe even clean her up, if she'd let him.
“Rog?” her voice sounds tired yet satisfied, and it makes him smile.
“Yes, my love?”
“I love you.”
Roger feels complete. “I love you too.”
----------------------------------------------------
“Are you excited the tour is ending tonight?”
Roger sighs, a smile on his face. “You have no idea! No more sharing a tour bus with those three wankers, I get to sleep in my own bed and eat food that isn't prepared in a restaurant or that comes in a take-out container.”
Y/N grins, putting a pillow behind her knees as she gets comfortable in the sofa, “Sounds like a dream.”
Roger hums, not completely agreeing. His dream is now something more domestic. “And the record label said we'll be in London for a while.”
The unsaid words hang in the air. Roger desperately wants to ask her to meet in person. They’ve been together for a bit over a year, speaking for almost three. If he’s honest with himself, he’s scared shitless. So much could go wrong and he needs her in his life.
“Oh.” Y/N isn’t sure on how to reply. She wants to meet him, hug him, see the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs or how cute his face is when he pouts. She’s scared but she knows she needs him in her life and it’s time she feels his arms around her. “Maybe we could grab a coffee?”
Roger grins, voice full of emotion. “Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a rockstar?”
“You sure you want to hang out with a book worm?”
Roger laughs wetly, heart beating furiously in his chest. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”
—-—————————————————-
Every corner he turns, Roger can’t help but let his eyes drift over the crowded streets, searching for that familiar face. He keeps a hand in his pocket, thumbing over his photo of Y/N like a security blanket as he trails behind the rest of the boys. He unwraps another strawberry sweet, popping it in his mouth as Freddie grabs John's arm, leading them all into another women's clothing store.
Roger has been back in London for almost a month now, and both him and Y/N have yet to find the time or courage to meet in person. It’s an odd, nervous game each time he goes out now, like a "Where's Waldo" from hell. What if he’s right beside her and he doesn't even know it? He shakes the thought from his mind immediately: he would know her face anywhere.
“C’mon Rog,” John sigh, an arm wrapping around the drummer’s shoulders as Freddie digs through a rack of leather pants. He pulls a pair off the rack, holding them up to Brian but they fall about mid shin against his outrageously long legs, making the guitarist scrunch his nose in annoyance. “You’ll meet her soon enough, mate. You don't have to go searching every time you're out.”
The blond groans, letting his head fall back against his friend’s arm. “You have no idea how hard this is, John.”
The bassist frowns, “Sure I do. I've got a family. I miss 'em more than anything when I'm gone.”
Roger sighs as Deacy gives him a firm pat on the back. “But it's not the same, though. Yeah, you miss Veronica and the kids when we’re away but...but at least you know what it feels like to hold her. Kiss her... All I have is that one photo of her. You get to go home, to a house full of life and love. I went home to an empty flat.” His hand hovers over his coat pocket where said photo sat, tucked away.
Freddie gives a sympathetic look as he folds his arms over his chest. “It’s going to happen darling. You just have to be patient. The universe is waiting for just the right moment to spring her on you!” He winks, grinning brightly.
Roger rolls his eyes, “Fuck the universe.” He doesn’t care if he sounds like a child. He’s waited long enough. “It's been three bloody years. I'm tired of waiting.”
Brian smiled softly, “I'm sure she’s just as eager as you are, Rog.”
Roger wanders outside the shop, tired of their optimism. He just wants to meet the girl of his dreams. Is that too much to ask for? He ends up flipping through a little rack of postcards set up next to the door. He chuckles to himself, trying to figure out how funny it would be if he sends Y/N a 'London' one.
He pulls her photo out of his pocket, admiring it as his eyes wander about the crowd. He knows he'd recognize her in an instant. The moment he sees her, there will be not doubt in his mind. No other smile in a crowd of people could be as bright as hers. He’s so busy people watching that he barely notices it, tucked away on the street corner.
Author’s attic.
He freezes, heart speeding like a train as his eyes fixate on the store on the opposite side of the road. It’s a quaint little shop. Vines climb up the side of it, nearly obscuring the sign. It'd clearly been painted ages ago and cracks had long since riddled the letters. Roger feels like he can’t move a single muscle. It can’t be that simple, can it?
Roger pays the boys no concern, abandoning them in the shop as he forces his feet to move from their spot glued to the pavement. He stumbles across the street, eyes locked on the store as his heart sits in his throat.
Please, let this be the right place.
A small bell chimes as he allows the door to close behind him. The place is exactly the way he'd imagined: books lining every available surface, books piled by the register, books stacked beneath a potted plant. There are even books arranged beside a small armchair under the front window. It smells of coffee and old paper, and it feels welcoming and homey.
“I’ll be right with you!”
Roger feels like he’s stopped breathing: he would recognize that voice anywhere. Tears gloss his eyes, his hand trembles as he reaches into his pocket, fingers grazing over his worn picture of her.
He turns towards her when she buzzes into the main room, arms full of thick story books.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” She chirps, eyes not leaving her work as she flits around her desk, putting things in their right place. “Things have been so busy around here lately.” She chuckles, “I've barely been able to keep my own head on my shoulders!”
He watches her with a smile, tears threatening to fall. He blinks them back quickly, refusing to let her see him cry. His throat tightens with emotion and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. He wants to say something suave, something that’ll make him sound poetic and well-educated. Something that won’t make him sound like the love-struck idiot he is, but his mind seems to only hold her name. “Y/N...”
She turns around so fast he fears she might get whiplashed. Her eyes are wide as she meets his blue ones. The room spins for a second, and she can't quite tell if she’s imagining it or if it’s real. Her rockstar. Home after all this time. Seeing him here, in her world of books, with his messy blonde locks. He’s even prettier than any photo she’s ever seen.
His name is a breath on her lips, “Roger.”
She drops the books in her arms to the side, stumbling over her own feet as she runs to him, falling into his arms. She presses her face against his neck, her arms lock tightly around his shoulders. She can’t even try to contain the sobs that wrack her body. He smells of cigarettes and wood. He smells like home.
Roger can't believe how perfectly she fits in his arms; how normal it feels. He wraps an arm around her waist while his other hand buries in her hair, crushing her tightly against him. Her hair smells amazing, something sweet he can't quite place.
He sniffles, kissing the crown of her head as tears stream down his cheeks. His voice is weak and pitiful when he speaks, “It's so nice to finally hold you.”
Y/N gives a watery laugh, lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. “You're home.”
Roger moves his hand down to the nape of her neck, making her pull back to look at him as he moves his hands to cradled her cheeks. Never had he seen such beautiful eyes, so expressive and full of love. Roger's thumb grazes her cheek, soothingly. His voice’s barely a whisper. “Knew I was right. You're the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes on.”
Y/N laughs, head thrown back. She kisses his cheek, making him grin like a child on Christmas morning. “You're so beautiful, Rog.” She admires him, tucking some hair behind his ears. “Don't even need muscles.”
He tickles her sides, and she giggles, nose scrunching as he pulls her close again. Her laughter trails off as he smiles down at her, forehead resting against hers. He feels her hand rest on his chest, right above his heart as she clutches his shirt.
His eyes linger on her lips before locking with hers again. Her breath stalls. Roger is slow in cradling her face, indulging in her as he runs his thumb over her skin. His hand drops to hold the back of her head, tilting her into him as her nose nudges against his. Their lips graze.
A bell rings.
They jump apart, heads turning to the door to find his three friends staring at them. Brian and Deacy’s eyes are wide with shock and confusion: they turn their backs on Roger for five minutes and here he is, nearly making out with a store clerk after bitching about not being able to meet the girl he loves. Freddie just looks amused.
Roger groans, failing to hide the smile on his face. “God damnit Brian! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!”
Y/N burst out laughing, her head lulling back as Roger's hands holds her hips. Once she cracks, he can't hold back his laughter any longer, her smile infectious. His grin widens at Brian's confused expression. Freddie gives them a knowing smile, waiting to see if Brian could figure it out.
The singer knew who she was the moment he'd seen the two: Roger's protective stance, the starry-eyed look he has in his eyes, the way they are so comfortable with each other. It’s more than enough to hint at the girl's identity. Not to mention that he'd seen Roger fall asleep on the tour bus couch multiple times, still clutching her photo in his hand.
Freddie glances at Brian, chuckling as he decides Brian wasn't getting any smarter about the situation. The singer takes a step forward, lifting his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose. He gives Roger a wink, “So this is the girl you love?”
Roger goes red as Brian's eyes light up with realization, a grin on his face as Freddie smiles knowingly. “What did I tell you, darling? Trust the universe.”
Roger rolls his eyes, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging up in a smile.
Brian finally pipes up, “Wait a second, so you're –”
“The actress trying to get in to your best friend's wallet.” She gives an amused smirk, extending her hand to shake his. “It's a pleasure.”
Brian blushes. Honestly, he had hoped that when they finally met, she wouldn't bring up the horrible things he had said to her. Without making eye contact, he timidly shakes her hand, “It's nice to meet you. Again, I want to apologize fo –”.
Brian feels two slender hands rest on his cheeks. He slowly lifts his eyes, meeting hers.
Y/N wears a kind smile on her lips as she speaks, “I'm just teasing. It's all good, Brian. You were just trying to be a good friend.”
The guitarist nods, unsure in his smile as Roger wraps his arm around her waist once again, pulling her towards his body. Brian observes how connected the two seemed to be: their movements are almost synchronized, and although they had just met in person, they somehow work perfectly together, like a couple who had grown up together.
John smiles at the group, “As much as I would love to get to know you, I think it's best to leave you and Roger alone for a bit. You deserve some time to get acquainted.”
Roger grins, kissing Y/N's temple. The girl smiles, her hands resting on the drummer's. “I like that idea. Rog, want to grab that coffee?”
----------------------------------------
“Sorry for the mess Rog! I didn't think I'd be having any visitors today.” Y/N bites her lips as she moves around the messy living room, trying to clean up a bit but Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, making her stand straight. He gently moves her hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss where her neck meets her shoulder.
“I don't care about the mess,” his voice is as soft as his touch, “All I care about is being here, with you.” Y/N hums, relaxing in his arms with her eyes closed as she enjoys the warmth emanating from his body. “It's all I've cared about for a while.”
Roger chuckles, content to stay like this forever. He can’t get enough of her. Her smile, her hands on his, her smell filling his nostrils. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake.
“Did you really keep all the post cards I sent you?” Roger isn't sure why he asked, but he needs to know if those pieces of cardboard were just as important to her as they are to him.
Y/N nods, gently taking one of his hands in hers and silently makes her way through the flat. The drummer lets his eyes wander, taking in as much as he can. She leads him to her bedroom and it feels oddly reassuring to be here. He had imagined this room so many times; he had pictured her laying on that same bed so many times, playing with her hair as she talked to him.
It's surreal. It’s almost exactly like he imagined it to be in his head: soft and warm and homey. He loves it. Every inch of it screams her name. It’s cozy. A big patterned rug covered the wooden floor, and her bed’s made up with a pretty knitted blanket. And there, right above the bed, hangs a little bulletin board, holding every post card he'd ever sent her.
She smiles as she watches him wander around her room, a grin on his face. She stops herself from apologizing for the mess once again, as she moves to her bed to remove some papers and books from it.
Roger runs his index finger over the leather-bound spines of the books lining the few shelves on her walls. She must have hundreds. Her walls are lined with them and still, she doesn't have enough room for them all.
Roger pulls a small red one from the bedside table. The Velveteen Rabbit. He smiles a little to himself, flipping through the brightly illustrated pages. Y/N walks over to him, arms wrapping around his middle from behind as she kisses his shoulder before resting her head against it.
“My mum used to read this to me all the time, especially when I was sad.” He mumbles quietly, stopping on a drawing of the little boy holding the plush rabbit. “It was my favorite.”
Y/N's heart grows a few sizes at the image of a young Roger seated in his mother's lap as she read to him.
Roger's heart stutters as he flips through the pages, recounting the story of the little plush bunny, turned real by love. A knot forms in his throat as he admires the book's last illustration: the rabbit, sitting by a raspberry bush in the little boy's garden, visiting the one who had brought him to life.
Y/N feels Roger stiffen a little, and she meets his glossy eyes as he turns in her arms, “What's wrong, rockstar?”
Roger laughs breathlessly, her gentle touch calming him immensely. “Nothing. It's just...” He shakes his head a little, refusing to let his voice go watery. “It's just that I never really got it until now.”
Confusion knits her brow, “Got what?”
Roger smiles a little, looking back down at the book and then at the girl holding him. “I guess...well...Sometimes it takes being loved by someone to finally make you feel alive.”
Y/N's heart feels full of so much love she doesn’t know what to do with it. She stands there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She does the only thing she feels she can do: she tightens her arms around his waist, giving him the biggest, warmest hug, he'd ever received. His arms wrap around her, stroking up and down her back.
“I love you.” Roger whispers against her ear. It feels amazing to be able to tell her as he holds her in his arms.
“I love you too.”
Their foreheads meet as Roger's nose nudges hers, heat building slowly between them. Y/N takes a little step backwards, knowing if she inches any closer, she'd want to jump his bones more than she already does.
Roger smirks, taking a step forward. She goes a bit breathless, smiling playfully as she takes another step back, only for her back to be pressed flush against her bookcase.
He chuckles, toying with a loose strand of her hair. “Caught you.”
Y/N tries to steady her breathing as his hand cradle her face. He runs his thumb over her lower lip. “What're you going to do now?”
Her eyes trail to his lips subconsciously, “I'm going to wait for you to kiss me, rockstar.”
He grins, pressing into her. He thinks back to that night he first called her. He thinks over every moment he had been so desperate to hold her in his arms.
The moment he kisses her, Roger is brought to life.
Her lips are softer than anyone's he'd ever kissed before. The kiss is gentle, her hand moving to cradle Roger's face as they melt into one another. He tastes of sweets.
Her skin smells of cinnamon and it reminds him of the tea Freddie would drink in the morning.
Roger inhales the sweet, spicy scent as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers laced in his hair, soft and fine between her fingers, and he hums a moan against a sensitive spot below her ear, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.
Y/N feels overwhelmed in the best way. This is what she had craved for over two years and now that it’s finally happening, she’s afraid she won't be able to commit to memory all the feelings. Roger's lips moving against her own, the rapid beating of their hears. The feeling of his breath on her neck as he lays gentle kisses on it. It’s enough to make her mind spin.
She lets his hands grip her thigh tightly as she gives in to the urge to grind against him. He refuses to let his hands leave her body: some small part of him still afraid she'll disappear at any moment.
Roger pulls her closer, keeping an arm against the wall as he grabs at her ass, rutting against her clothed heat. She lets out a whine, thoroughly enjoying the friction as wetness pools between her legs.
Y/N wants more. Craves it. Needs his hands all over her. Needs his red-stained tongue against every inch of her body. She pulls away from his lips, panting as he drags his eyes over the curve of her hips and breasts. He takes one step back, eyes locking with hers as he pulls his shirt off. Her eyes roam his chest, mouth still ajar as she tries to catch her breath. He holds her loosely in his arms, pecking her lips. He will never get enough of her sweet taste. Roger will never get enough of her.
“Rog, I...” Y/N fumbles over her words. “I...” She needs him to know. She needs him to know how much she loves him. She needs him to know how uncomfortably wet her panties are becoming. He chuckles, meeting her eyes, as she tries to remember English. Roger feels a thread of concern build in his chest. Has he made her nervous? Has he gone to far?
He presses a sweet kiss on her forehead, “What's wrong, love?”
Timidly, she takes a step away from the bookshelf, moving so that Roger is now the one with his back to it. His brow quirks with confusion. Her eyes are locked with his, cheeks flushed and hair messy. Roger swallows thickly, heart racing in his chest as he watches her slowly drop to her knees in front of him.
Her hands tremble as she unbuttons his jeans, tugging down the zipper and pulling them down off his hips. Roger has to force himself to grab her wrists, pausing her movements. “You sure?”
Y/N doesn't say a word. Instead, her eyes stay locked with his as she leans forward, mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Roger gives a whimper, his hand lacing in her hair as his head tips back against the wall. He curses under his breath at the feeling of her hot mouth on his cock.
Roger has been sucked off before. In fact, Roger has been sucked off a lot, but never once has it ever felt as good as it does right now and he isn't sure if it’s because he’s in love with her, and he's been dreaming of seeing her pretty lips around his cock for months now, or if it’s the way she’s taking him into the back of her throat, dragging her tongue over his shaft, but he can barely remember his own name. He knows e should be embarrassed by the sounds passing his lips, but he can't find it in himself to care.
Roger hadn't even realized how long it'd been since he'd had physical sex with someone. He'd forgotten how good it could feel.
He whines her name hoarsely, his fingers itching to be against her skin. “Y/N, you've got to stop, love. I won't last.”
He watches as she pulls off of him, kissing the head of his cock one last time before Roger pulls her up to meet his lips again. He has her on the bed in seconds, nearly tripping as he finishes shedding his jeans and boxers. He mounts her, wasting no time in grabbing the waist band of her pants and pulling them down over her ass, taking her panties with them. He wants to tease her. He really does but the moment he sees her cunt, all soaked and ready for him, he loses all coherent thoughts.
Her jaw drops open, seeing stars as he flattens his tongue, dragging up slowly over her sensitive folds. His mouth is hot and wet against her as he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking it expertly as her back arches off the mattress.
Roger has never been more grateful that he’s experienced. It’s as if every girl he's ever been with, had been a practice run for Y/N. He knows where to suck, where to prod and lick and devour to make her squirm and buck into his mouth. He watches her face intently as she moans and ruts against his face, the arousal from her inner thighs smearing across his cheeks. He loops his arms around her thighs, her hands clutching the bed sheet like a vice. She gasps loudly as he shoves his tongue inside her, fucking her with it as he explores the inside of her hole. She cries out, head pressing into her pillow as her legs start trembling. He can feel her clit throbbing as he returns his mouth to it, pushing two fingers inside her to replace his tongue. She screams hoarsely, and Roger smirks against her heat as he fucks her harder, crooking his fingers inside her.
“Roger, I'm cumming. Don't stop, Rog, please don't stop!” She gasps, hips rolling as she rides his face, a numbing, warm pleasure washing over her. She gives a breathy sob as Roger works her through her high with his fingers, face still buried in her cunt.
She squirms beneath him as she grows sensitive, overstimulation setting in. She whines as he presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles over it as he sucks at her folds. “R-Rog you can stop –”. She whimpers as he hums in response, continuing his tongue's assault on her pussy.
“Rog...” She groans again, her hips settling as the discomfort begins to melt into pleasure. God, she’s so sensitive. It’s so much. So much at once. How is she already this close? Roger chuckles against her, watching her face as his lips finds her clit again. She lets out a high-pitched moan as the pleasure begins to build again, warmth tingling till the tips of her toes. The fire in her belly increases and she grips his hair tightly as she comes on his tongue again with a silent scream. He brings her back to earth, resting his chin against her stomach as she finds her bearings, cheeks pink and chest heaving.
“Want to go again?” Smug bastard.
Y/N fights to catch her breath, “Jesus, Rog, if you go again, you'll bloody kill me.”
Roger laughs, crawling up to meet her lips. She groans, tasting herself against his tongue. “Taste like fucking candy, don't you?” His voice is thick with lust.
Y/N peels off her shirt, leaving her wearing nothing but a thin bra. Roger hooks his finger under one of the straps, pulling it down so that he can roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her moan and arch into his touch.
Y/N wraps her hand around his cock, pumping him slowly and Roger curses, eyes rolling back as he grinds against her hand. His name slips from his lips breathlessly. Heat bubbles in Roger's veins and without a second thought, he rips her bra down the center, exposing her tits. Y/N gasps at the sudden movement, breasts heaving as Roger kneads one in his palm, mouthing at the other. She barely notices his other hand sinking lower until he has two fingers pressed up inside of her.
Y/N whines, sobbing breathlessly as he fingers her. She’s wet and tight around his fingers, clenching as he hits her g-spot with ever movement of his talented fingers. Roger groans, the idea of his cock buried inside her nearly bringing him over the edge.
“I love you.” She moans, his name like a prayer falling from her kiss-bruised lips.
Roger curses, cock twitching in her hand at the wet sounds her cunt makes against his knuckles. He nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, sucking dark bruises into her skin.
“I need to be inside you.” His voice is desperate and hoarse. “Please, I need to fuck you.” He’s desperate with the need to be buried inside of her, to be connected totally and completely.
Y/N pulls his face up to hers so she crashes her lips to his, cradling his face as he kissed her desperately.
“Ruin me.” She whispers, hands tangled in his hair.
Roger has to grip his cock roughly to stop himself from cumming. He whimpers, lining himself up with her entrance. Y/N cries out as he sinks into her.
“Tight fucking cunt. Shit.” Roger groans into her neck. “Love you so fucking much.”
Tears of emotion well in her eyes. “I love you too.”
Y/N’s breath comes up in short pants, back arching as pleasure flows through her body. “I love you, Rog. You feel so good inside me, baby.”
Y/N bucks into him as he fucks her, the head of his cock hitting her sweet spot with every smack of his hipbones against hers. His left hand finds hers, fingers lacing between her own. He squeezes her hand lovingly, thrusting harder against her. His eyes stay locked with hers as he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “My gorgeous girl.”
He moans as her free hand finds his hair. “You fuck me so good, Rog. Oh god.”
She can feel him throbbing inside her as he watches himself disappear inside of her again and again. Tears stream down Y/N's face, “I'm close Rog.” Her eyes screw shut with pleasure.
“No, look at me, baby. Look at me while you cum. I want to watch you cum on my cock,” He kisses her jaw, releasing her hand so that he can rub her swollen clit, “I've got you, sweetheart. Cum. Cum for me.”
Y/N's eyes lock with his as her body trembles, her stomach pulsing with heat and pleasure as wave after wave of bliss overwhelm her. She sobs hoarsely, clenching around him again and again.
Roger buries his face in the crook of her neck as she tightens around him, letting her pull him over the edge with her. He whimpers into her neck, biting at it to muffle his moans as he spills inside her. Her legs wrap around his hips, heels pressing into his lower back as he relaxes against her, trembling. He kisses her long and hard, emotions pouring through the simple contact.
Y/N's leg go lax, releasing Roger from her grasp but as he tries to get out of bed, she latches onto his arm, forcing him to lay on his back so she can rest her head against his chest, legs tangling with his.
Roger smiles fondly down at her, an arm behind his head as the other wraps around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he possibly can. “I was going to grab a wash cloth to clean you up, but I think you may have other ideas.”
YN nods, placing a gently kiss over his heart. She turns her face upwards, eyes drinking him in. “I just got you, I don't want you going anywhere so soon. Sheets can be washed and we can shower later. I need this moment with you.”
Roger has never felt so happy or content his whole life. He places the hand under his head on her cheek, urging her to move her face closer to his. He closes his eyes as he gently places a kiss to her swollen lips, feeling completely at peace.
Roger never believed in fate or in soulmates. Not until he met Y/N. It had been Fate that had given him her number, it had been their destiny to meet and fall in love. She completes him, understands him and his crazy lifestyle like no one ever could. He wants this moment to last forever.
Roger wants to wake up everyday beside Y/N, kiss her whenever he wants. He wants to see her in the crowd of every single one of his shows. He wants to be the one she calls when she needs help moving around books or shelves in her store.
Roger wants a life with Y/N.
“Marry me.” He wants to spend the rest of his life getting to know every single facet of her body and soul.
“What?” her heart had just returned to normal and now it’s beating erratically again, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at his angelic face.
“Marry me.” There’s no doubt in his mind that this is what he needs to bet truly happy for the rest of his days. “It doesn't have to happen right away. You're it for me. There will never be anyone else. You're the love of my life, Y/N. I want to spend every waking and sleeping moment with you.”
“Ok.”
Nothing about their relationship has been normal. Not the way they met or how they fell in love. She never wants to spend another moment away from him.
Distance really did make the heart grow fonder.
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sublimecatgalaxy ¡ 2 years ago
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hey babe may i request a blurb\fic of Rafe x Pogue!reader where theyre secretely fucking and JJ calls her while theyre doing it and rafe tells her to pick it up and doesnt stop hile on the call
LOOOVE. Also some of my tags still aren't working but more worked this time than last time so. Win.
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"What did I say about turning your phone off?" Rafe growls in my ear, hips suddenly stalling against mine as I cling to him, broken sobs leaving me as I wiggle my hips against his, needing him to do anything, something. "Hmm? What did I say?" He leans back from where he was tucked into my shoulder, arms caging me in. His nose brushes against mine, the softness of the gesture being a complete contrast to how he's handled me the last forty minutes.
"To turn it off- you said to turn it off." I gasp, nails digging into his bicep as he hisses, eyes flickering to look down to look at the crescent shaped marks in his tan skin. "I'm sorry, Rafe- please I'll turn it off. Just- fuck- do something-" His fingers wrap firmly around my throat and his hips slowly cant against mine once more, the fullness making my head a lot less noisy as he whispers against my cheek.
"If it rings again, you answer it." He orders and my eyes widen, chin tilting so I can get a better look at him, double checking to see if he's actually serious. "You heard me." He mutters, dragging his lips against the column of my throat and he finally gives in to what I want. His hands wrap around my bruised thighs, tugging me to the end of the bed, his cock hitting the deepest that he ever has. My jaw drops in a silent moan, completely overwhelmed by the new angle but he doesn't give me a chance to adjust but just snaps his hips against mine.
A cute, pink blush crawls all the way down his cheeks to his chest and his parted lips are swollen from me incessantly biting at them for hours on end but some how, the sweat and the exhaustion makes him look even more enticing. We haven't seen each other in weeks because of his family and their lack of awareness when it comes to our secret relationship so tonight has been built up through the phone and over text for days on end.
It's safe to say he's living up to his promises.
Before I can tell him how good it feels, my rington fills the space around us. My eyes widen frantically, hands reaching to grab the loud device but Rafe beats me to it, not bothering to stop his thrusts as he holds the phone out to me. JJ's name is written across the screen and I feel my stomach drop, pitiful, tearful moans escaping me as I shake my head.
"Answer it." He orders once more with a bright smile, satisfaction filling him at the thought of fucking me while on the phone with the man he hates the most. I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as I press the answer button, holding the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I stutter, hearing JJ laugh from across the line.
"I have been calling you non-stop dude, where the hell are you?" He asks, music booming from the other line as I try to separate myself from the pleasure wracking through my body, my eyes locking on Rafe's fingers that dance across my swollen clit.
"I've been busy. I'm not feeling too good so I've been holed up in my room all day." I mutter with a quiet sniffle, concealing a loud moan with a cough instead.
"Awe man that sucks. Must because you hang out with all those kook assholes and all their snotty kids." He laughs, coughing immediately after he's done talking, presumably because he's smoking which makes me feel a little less guitly about my current situation.
If anything happens, I'll blame it on his love for marijuana and his lack of attention.
"Yeah definitely." I sigh, reaching out to grab onto Rafe's wrist but he just bats me away, wanting nothing but to bring me as close to the edge as possible. My hips stutter against his and I bite at my lip, hearing JJ hum to the music over the line.
"Well you're lame tonight. Go get some rest or smoke a joint- I don't know. I'm gonna go bother someone else." He huffs with a quiet laugh, ending the call before I can and I immediately toss the phone across the room, the plastic clattering against the wood flooring of Rafe's bedroom.
"I fucking love you." Rafe groans proudly and hoists me into his arms, his biceps curling around my back to hold me tightly to his chest, not giving me an inch of free space to writhe against him as he pounds into me. He doesn't hesitate to press heated kisses to my shoulder as I thank him over and over again, my orgasm trembling through me as he bottoms out.
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delicrieux ¡ 4 years ago
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☆ミ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”
PART 24: OH...HI
after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.
─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k
author’s note: we did it joe.
ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.
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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 
Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 
She is not impressed.
“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”
Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 
“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.
“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”
“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”
And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 
So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 
“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.
“That implies that I’m always tactless.”
“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”
“And I can!”
“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”
...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”
Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”
“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”
She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”
“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”
“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”
“I’m not nervous!”
“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”
You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 
And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 
Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 
You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.
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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]
The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 
A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.
The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.
You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 
“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.
His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.
Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 
You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 
You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.
He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 
You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.
He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.
Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”
He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.
Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!
“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 
Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.
“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”
“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”
“...Touche.”
Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 
So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.
You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”
Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.
After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 
“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”
He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”
“Side hoe, then-”
“-No.”
You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 
The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.
“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”
His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.
“But I’d be a worm.”
“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”
“But you’d be human.”
He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”
“Those are the rules.”
“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”
“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”
“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”
Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.
“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.
“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”
“Sure.”
You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 
Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”
“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”
“...Fuck you.”
“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”
God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”
His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”
Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.
✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼
tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai
more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙
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kissbentennyson ¡ 3 years ago
Note
I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!
*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.
Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.
Spill
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He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.
He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”
When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”
“What?”
Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”
You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”
“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”
-
The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.
You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.
You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.
When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.
He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.
Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.
Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.
“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”
You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”
It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.
“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.
You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.
-
It was a game day.
Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.
Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.
Almost.
He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.
His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”
“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.
“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”
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technowoah ¡ 3 years ago
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Wait imagine a fic where Jack and the reader are long distance or something and when Tubbo and Tommy are doing the man hunt irl the reader surprises Jack.
That would be cute I think 🤔
Just One Livestream
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You surprise Jack with a spontaneous visit to the UK, little did you know that they were livestreaming.
- Jack Manifold x gen neutral!reader
- Anon Requested!
⚠︎ swearing, fluff!, not proofread
an// I hope yall enjoy! Much love! And sorry it came out so late I have no inspiration rn but imma get it done! Also I used the difference of American hours to London hours so sorry of
Navigation!
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"Love, why are you up early?" Jack asked through the phone.
You two were facetiming eachother as he propped his phone up on his dashboard while he started to drive. It was around 1 am for you and 6 am for Jack. Sadly you two were in a long distance relationship. You had met Jack when you were on a college trip to London to study abroad for 3 weeks. You were sad that you had to leave your home country, but this was a opportunity you couldn't oppose.
During this trip you had found a cafe that you would go to often. The first time you sat at the cafe alone you always noticed it was only you and this other man in the cafe. He was always on his computer and sat by a window, he always came early too, even earlier than you. As the days went on you continued to see him around more and he seemed to notice you as well. You made a note to yourself to always try and show up a tad bit earlier to the cafe to stay around the same time as he did.
You two got to know eachother throughout the three weeks you had to stay in London. The small nods became hellos, and the hellos turned into full on conversation by the window. He had told you his name was Jack Manifold and was kind of surprised when you didn't immediately know who he was. To him it was refreshing not to be immediately noticed based on his appearance. You both had exchanged numbers one day and after each morning you two would text non stop even during your classes. Luckily trying to get to know Jack changed your sleep schedule and because of that you always made it to class on time.
Jack was such an amazing guy to you, but during the first week you had developed a small crush on the man, and he had developed a crush on you too. The second week you two had ventured out onto different territory than the cafe. Jack started to call those small outings after class, dates and you weren't opposed to the dates at all you loved them. The second and third week were mostly dates and the night before you left he asked to be your boyfriend and of course you accepted not knowing the pain of a long distance relationship.
You had to answer his question on why you were up so early. "Yeah- Um, Im up because of you." You chuckled. "You changed my sleep schedule ever since I met you."
"Well you're welcome, because before me I heard you were missing classes." Jack payed attention to the road but still talked to you.
"Because I told you! And I am grateful, but there is nothing to do at one am here." You sighed while you started to walk around your room as you lied to him.
Jack was talking to you while you did a clean sweep around your house to check if you had everything for your trip.
Two weeks ago you had decided to pack your bags and take a trip back to London. Right now your flight will be leaving early in the morning and that's why you are up so early.
You wanted to surprise Jack instead of straight up telling him that you will be in the country. You missed him dearly, and this will be a great way to spend time together instead of seeing eachother across a screen. One of you had to make that sacrafice and that would be you.
While Jack continued to talk you checked everywhere to make sure you arent leaving anything behind.
"What are you doing, darling?" Jack asked and that snapped you out of your trance. "Are you even listening to me? Im hurt." Jack faked being hurt.
You smiled at him and shook your head. "Im sorry I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"
"I was saying, when you were ignoring me, that I'm going to the cafe right now and that we should plan a trip soon. I miss you." Jack confessed and you awed.
"I miss you too Jack! I hopw we can see each other soon." You tried to contain your smile as you hid your surprise.
"Me too."
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Your plane finally landed as you let out a sigh of relief. You had collected all of your shit fast so you could finally get off of that horrible plane. Every stereotypical airplane scene happened to you in the hours you were on that plane. You had a child crying behind you with a mother who couldn't keep that child calm, you were sat next to a man who snored the whole ride here and you just felt cramped.
Sadly you couldn't return any of Jack's messages or calls that you saw when you were in the airplane terminal. You tried calling him twice but they both went to voicemail while you rolled your bag through the huge building. Finding yourself outside you ordered an Uber and once you did that your phone began to ring showing Jack's name and picture of you two together on the screen.
You quickly answered the phone. "Hey!"
"Hi!" Jack chuckled. "I called like, 17 times!"
"I know! Im sorry. I was busy." You weren't lying getting a plane and basically leaving early in the morning and arriving in the afternoon in London. "So, what are you doing today?"
"I am hanging out with Tommy and Tubbo at the park! Im picking them up now!" Jack responded and you heard him close his car door.
"Which park?" You asked quickly as you saw your Uber arrive.
Jack started to laugh. "Uh I'll text you the park I guess. Why would you want to know?"
"No reason! I just want to make sure you are safe. Dont make me call 999." You tried to joke around and take the attention off of your question.
"I cant believe you still remember 999." Jack laughed.
"I still do!" You said as you got inside your Uber and gave the driver the directions to your hotel forgetting that Jack was on the other line.
"Wait hotel?" Jack questioned through the phone.
"Hotel? What are you talking about?" You acted oblivious.
"I- I thought you were talking about a hotel." Jack hesitated.
"No!" You tried to cover up your mistake.
"Well Im going to pick up Tommy soon. I'll talk to you later okay? Answer my calls this time!" Jack chuckled.
"I definitely will!"
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You had recived the name of the park you were surprising Jack at. You began to walk around the parking lot after you got dropped off and noticed his car sitting there. There were tons of people at the park today and you didn't know where he would be. As you walked on the dirt trails of the park your thoughts took over, what if you made a mistake and should've told Jack that you were here in London and wanted to meet up at the cafe?
You looked at people as they passed by you ok the trail wishing that you had that energy that you had before, thinking that you would find Jack easily when in reality you were in a busy part of the park and he could be anywhere.
When you thought all hope was lost you heard some loud voices on the trail to your right. You were already walking aimlessly through the park and your first instinct was to go left and walk away from the loud voices, but then you heard something.
"Tommy this was a bad idea!"
"I dont think it was!"
You stood in the "intersection" of the dirt trails thinking that you heard those voices right. You rounded the corner and followed right to see Tommy and Jack doubled over, out of breath while Tubbo was still standing up breathing heavily. There were far away from you, but not far away that you couldn't see them clearly.
You began to call out to them. "Tommy! Jack! Tub-"
They quickly turned around and took off running. Confused on why they were doing that you took off running after them trying to tell them to stop. They were yelling and you were yelling and getting weird glances from stangers, and you dont blame them. You're chasing after your boyfriend and his two friends in a quiet public park. You continued to hear their groans of tiredness and their speed started to slow down.
"Jack! Tommy! Wait up!" You yelled out of breath as you slowed down as well.
"We give up! We give up!" Tubbo yelled and came to a complete stop while trying to catch his breath. He turned around to finally face you. "Y/N?!"
"Wait what?!"
"You're here?!" Jack ran up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, rocking you two back and forth.
"I am! And Im our of breath thanks to you three." You said while still hugging Jack.
"M'sorry I thought you were a fan and I took off and they followed suit I guess." Tommy rubbed his forehead.
"A fan?" You questioned and Tommy and Tubbo lifted their phones up gesturing that they were recording.
"We're doing manhunt in real life, darling." Jack kissed your temple and wrapped his arn around your waist, holding you tight.
"Next time look before you run okay." You smiled still out of breath while kissing Jack's cheek.
"Enough with the PDA!" Tubbo yelled still recording you two.
"We havent even started!" Jack yelled back giving you a huge hug. Jack closed the distance between you two and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips while the two boys groaned in disgust.
"I think that's enough streaming for today boys." Tommy sighed.
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"Sorry again, love. That won't happen again."
You and Jack walked hand in hand down the streets of London. People had to walk around you two because you were basically taking up the whole sidewalk and you weren't letting go of his hand anytime soon.
"It better not! I dont want to run after you again." You smiled as you bumped shoulders.
"And you wont have to!" He smiled back at you as you two continued to walk and people dodged the two of you.
"Have you ever thought of moving here?" Jack asked out of nowhere.
"I have actually! On the plane ride here I thought of leaving and moving to London." You thought about it constantly. It was nice being close to Jack and it was a major risk.
"Well wherever you're ready, I'll be here for you." Jack kissed your cheek. "And I wont run away when you come here!"
You two finally made it to your destination which was the cafe you two met at. It was busy at this time because it was the middle of the day and not the beginning. You two entered and took your seats by the window where you two usually sat.
"I love you. I missed this." Jack said.
"I love you too! And of course I missed this. Maybe you can show me more places around London and convince me to stay longer." You gave him a proposal.
"Longer than what?" Jack asked.
"Four weeks." You grinned.
Jack grabbed both of your hands and kissed the back of them. "Hell yeah. I get you for more than four weeks?!"
"That's if you show me places to stay longer." You teased.
"Okay babe. You like ferris wheels?"
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kooktrash ¡ 3 years ago
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hello! can i request the "is she really just a friend" and "trust me on this" with Namjoon please. maybe joon idol au where he gets into another scandal with an idol he's collaborating with? thank you!
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For @sweetjellyfishland and @blxckswxnxge since it was similar
rumor has it | kim namjoon DRABBLE
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summary | you’ve only been seeing him for a year, was it necessarily a serious relationship? nobody knew about you two and it made it that much harder to watch him be shipped with other idols.
Disclaimer: it’s a namsoo ship rumor (I literally don’t know any ships and that was the first non-bts one I found lol
warning(s): jealousy. angst. secret relationship. idk. insecurity
You felt stupid, so unbelievably fucking stupid. He told you so many times how much he loved you, called you every chance he could and you just couldn’t believe it. And it wasn’t even that you doubted that he cared for you, but it was just the nature of your relationship. Maybe this was all your fault, you’ve never been with anyone with his circumstances. You didn’t know how to act like this so sometimes it really did feel like this wasn’t for you.
As selfish as it sounded, you liked being shown off. You liked the idea that someone was proud to be with you, who wanted to let everyone know you’d chosen them. Or maybe you were just used to that. So used to past partners holding your hand in public, posting you on their story, bringing you up in conversation. It wasn’t even that you were asking for much, but you always were apparently.
And God you were so fucked up. You know how much Joon loves you. He shows it in every way you can, searching for you at concerts where you’d hide in the back. Play with the bland brown bracelet you gave him once that matched yours while he was in front of a camera. Everyone just thought Hobi got it for him. He’d wear the sweaters and shoes you’d get him and bring you back something anytime he went out of the country.
But that’s the thing, you didn’t want those small little signs that he was thinking about you when he was away. You were a clingy brat and wanted to be able to go places with him, see the world him… not watch some stupid hosts in this stupid ass variety show talk about how good their guest stars, Kim Namjoon and Kim Jisoo, would look good together. Hear them talk about the chemistry they had in front of a camera and how their looks matched too. Because of course when you’d go to Twitter or WeVerse, Instagram, YouTube, anywhere, it’d now be filled with ships of them.
Your phone dinged drawing your attention away from the tv, Namjoon’s name on display.
joonie <3: are u busy love?
joonie <3: wanna hear ur voice
joonie <3: k gonna call
And there was the ringing, his cute face on display as he tried FaceTiming you. You fixed your hair quickly, answering and see his big smile on the screen, “Hey.”
“Hello my beautiful girlfriend,” he chuckled fixing his hair as he pushed his glasses up his face, “Sorry if you were doing something, we just got done with practice and I wanted to call you before bed.”
“That’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything,” you licked your lips nervously looking back to the tv. You exited out of the call so he’d only be on the corner of your screen and scrolled through social media.
‘BTS x BLACKPINK [Namjoon and Jisoo]’
‘Namjoon falling for Jisoo in 3 minutes’
‘ARMYBLINK’S dream: Namjoon and Jisoo’
You wanted to chuck your phone across the room. Namjoon was watching you, the way your brows knitted slightly or how your jaw would clench, “What’s wrong?“
“Nothing,” you told him blandly, exiting out and clicking on his spot to make it full screen again. Namjoon hated when you did that. He needed you to know he was here for you, no matter what, and when you’d close yourself off from him he never felt more distant.
He’d been the one to seek you out. He was the one who first went up to you, asked you on a date, and just because you were waiting at the bus stop in front of the convenience store near his apartment. Of course you couldn’t tell who he was, you’d be surprised what a good disguise a cap, sunglasses, and a mask was late at night. It was beginning to rain, and unlike him you didn’t have an umbrella. In your defense, you hoped to be back home when the rain started but with the bus being late that wasn’t happening. Long story short, he’d gone to give you his, the sound of his voice as he spoke immediately familiar to you and when he took the sunglasses off and that was it.
He let out a sigh, a sign for you to know he felt distant again. This was a constant battle between you two, who could push the other away. “They’re right, yknow?”
His brows furrowed, “Who?” “Everyone, you and Jisoo look good together.” He shook his head, another huff in annoyance as he sensed an argument creeping on.
“Please don’t start with this, she’s a friend,” he tried telling you but you just looked away from the camera in thought. It’s like you knew that, you knew he loved you but god did you wish he could show it. Just so that you wouldn’t have to sit through an interview or scrolling through social media filled with edits of him and all these pretty idols with perfect bodies and visuals. You were jealous because he was yours.
“Is she really just a friend?” You asked, feeling stupid and insecure but you just couldn’t help it. You were insecure and self conscious and part of you hated yourself and couldn’t see why he was still with you when there was not one special thing about you. You weren’t ‘different’ from other girls, you were just the same.
“Baby please look at me,” he drew your attention toward the screen again, “Trust me on this, there’s no one else that I love like I do you. You know that, I try and show you every chance I get. And I know, I’m shitty, I can’t take you out like you want me to or talk about you to everyone and I’m so sorry about that, but I never want you to doubt how I feel for you.”
You looked away again, not because you didn’t believe him or because you were mad, your brain just played tricks on you to make you think nobody would ever want you. “I’m,” you opened your mouth to speak, “I know. I know you love me, I’m, I’m trying I really am, to be better and more trusting.”
He shook his head, “Don’t blame yourself, this isn’t easy. I don’t like being away from you either,” he looked to the time on the top, biting his lip, “Fuck it, I’m coming over. I want to see you.”
“No you don’t have to, it’s late, you’ve got a bus—“
“Baby,” his voice was calm and deep, “I wanna see you, now.”
You nodded, knowing you couldn’t change your boyfriend’s mind. And you didn’t really want to.
Not when he came over, engulfing you in his warm hugs and sleeping in your bed at the end of the night.
::.
ok I’m sorry this wasn’t that good but honestly I legit don’t pay attention to ships so I really didn’t know wth I was doing 💀💀💀💀
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