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tendouluvr · 4 years ago

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bakugō helping you clean your room - gn reader

- fluff, comfort

- warnings: doesnt exactly say depression but can be implied? reader will just say they lost motivation lately and felt like they couldn’t do anything bc its been a hard time but im leaving it as vague as possible so anyone can imply anything really, no swearing <3

- wc: 983

a/n: :o first writing post!! i got this idea when i saw a vid on my yt rec and it was a clean in real time w me vid i love cleaning vids

baku a lil ooc i think not sure i didnt wanna make him sound too harsh bc reader doesnt need that attitude rn but i hope he still sounds blunt enough for him to be bkg

p.s. this isnt edited and written in proper grammar. i use u, ur, lowercase, literally how i text so just a heads up. i’ll come back and rewrite this properly one day maybe

#! bakugō😑 hes loud

#! enters ur room by stomping until he realizes that there isnt floor space to stomp

#! adruptly stops and lets out one of his little “oh?” while he stares at ur lying body on the bed with ur head stuffed in between two pillows

#! “baby?” and he’ll get a grunt and a whine from u in return

#! “ur rooms a little... do u need help?” he mumbles

#! u slowly get up and look at him from across the room while mumbling something

#! “what? speak up”

#! he maneuvers his way thru ur room to u

#! “i said i havent had the motivation to do anything lately. its been hard for me to do much to be honest. im sorry it’s so messy, i know this wasnt what u were expecting when u came in”

#! “tch, don’t apologize. ur fine. i’ll clean it. wanna help?”

he starts clearing out all of the dirty laundry laying around ur room and while he does that u take ur time picking up some cups around ur desk area. u placed the used cups, some still had water and some was empty, into an empty basket laying around so u can bring it all out to the kitchen at once.

bakugō works fast so he was already done with picking up the dirty laundry and was now folding and hanging ur clean laundry thats just been sitting in the corner of ur room waiting to be put away.

“do u want to time urself? or do some countdown to help u stay focus or something?” bakugō asked u once he saw that u got distracted with some keychain on ur desk.

“hmm? oh, sure! sorry i just haven’t seen that keychain in a while heh.”

“it’s fine. here, use my phone and give urself however much time u need.”

“thank u katsu~,” u said, grabbing his phone and giving urself 10 minutes to pick up the remaining cups (and a plate but lets not talk abt that), go to the kitchen, and come back.

u made it back with almost 3 minutes remaining and decided to lay back down until the timer went off. bakugō was finishing up the last bit of ur laundry and was just organizing ur closet.

u heard the closet door close and brought ur head up to see bakugō walking towards u on the bed. he brought his arms out and u sat up to wrap ur arms around his waist while he’s standing, hugging ur shoulders.

“good job, baby. im hella proud of u. do u wanna keep resting? i can clean the rest.”

“no! i’ll help, what do i do?”

he lets out a low chuckle and tells u that u can go get a big trash bag from the kitchen so u guys can throw away any junks found while cleaning ur desk and shelves. bakugō began vacuuming, seeing that the floor was pretty much clear from any clutter that could get in the way, while u left to do ur task.

when u came back with the trash bag and some disinfecting wipes, he was halfway done vacuuming so u decided to start clearing out one of ur shelves. this was one of a few u have that holds some random books and figures that just so happens to be in ur room (yk those random stuff u find in ur room that u dont know where it came from but u do know abt it, yea im talking abt those)

u took everything out to wipe the shelf with the disinfecting wipes and then began sorting thru ur items so ur shelf can be less clustered. a little humming and sorting later, u finally decided on what to keep and what to throw and started putting it all back onto ur shelf.

bakugō just finished vacuuming and went over to u to help clean the other shelves so it’ll be done faster. he chose the top three shelves and took everything off at once. he wiped down all three and started sorting thru ur belongings, asking u now and then if u wanna keep something because he wasn’t sure. soft humming could be heard from u and echoing hums could be heard from bakugō.

bakugō has a good memory so he remembers where everything is suppose to go, so dont worry ur pretty little head abt him messing up ur stuff. after all, he does care abt u and everything related to u.

u were done with the two shelves he left u, so u went over to ur desk and repeated the taking everything out, wiping it down, and sorting process all over again for every corner of ur desk. bakugō eventually finished and came over to help ur last bit.

u were sitting on ur desk chair rearranging a small figure u have of ur favorite character from ur favorite show when bakugō suddenly lifted u up so he can sit on the chair and u on his lap.

u gasped at this and held onto his arms while he tightens his grip on u. after a moment and u guys settled down, u went back to ur figure while bakugō stuffed his soft face into the nape of ur neck. he leaves kisses on ur neck and shoulder before finally resting his chin onto ur shoulder.

“u did a great job today. if u ever need help remember im here for u, angel. u dont have to feel bad over something u cant control. i’ll keep telling u until it’s drilled into ur head, you’ll even hear it in ur sleep.”

at the last sentence u let out a quick laugh, but nodded ur head telling him u understand.

“i love u katsu.”

“hmm, love u more.”

#written with love - ar #this was longer than i intended #u gave the junk u guys found to ur classmates asking if they wanted anything and denki took majority of it. thanks denki #one mans trash is another mans treasure they say!! hell yea!#bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x gn!reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x gn!reader #bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #bakugo comfort #bakugo fluff

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒/𝐎

Requested by: @seacottons

❄𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong smiled proudly at his work of art. He carefully picked up the gingerbread house and held it up.

"Look look baby!" He exclaimed, bouncing lightly on his feet as he showed you it.

"Oh my God! It looks amazing!"

The smile on your face that was happy for Hongjoong soon turned to a pout though as you stared down at your own creation. Hongjoong peeked over and noticed why you were sad. Your gingerbread house was falling apart, barely standing up, and the frosting was smeared all over the place, including your face and hair.

"Awww sweetheart come on." Hongjoong cooed as he began to wipe some of the frosting off your face.

"I suck and I hate Christmas." You huffed softly, your arms crossing over your chest.

"Stop you don't mean that." He said cupping your cheeks.

"Tell you what? How about we go back to the store and I buy you that spongebob gingerbread house you wanted and build it for you?"

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"Really?!" You squealed.

Hongjoong kissed your frosted nose, licking some of it off and then winked at your blushing figure.

"Come on baby. We want to get there before it closes."

❄𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

"Baby baby look!"

You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend once again got sidetracked from your task and began pulling you to see some of the items on display.

"Seonghwa! We're supposed to be shopping for gifts for the boys." You reminded him.

"I know, I know...but look how cute these are!"

Seonghwa couldn't help himself as he picked up some of the baby mittens and hats. He giggled as he held them out to you.

"Seonghwa? Who are those supposed to fit? Yunho?" You rolled your eyes.

"No silly! But I was thinking....you know.."

Seonghwa wiggled his eyes suggestively at you. When you caught onto his meaning, you smacked his arm and started walking away.

"You're....ugh!

Seonghwa quickly put the stuff down and walked behind you.

"Why are you against this?! I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted for Christmas and I want a positive pregnancy test!".

He cried out then quickly turned cause something caught his eye.

"Look this is perfect for Mingi!"

You sighed as you realized it was gonna be a long day.

❄𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You and Yunho were currently putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. You felt so proud at the color combination you picked out. You tilted your head when you heard a cluttering sound.

"Oops?" Yunho smiled shyly as he began to pick up some of the glass balls that he had accidentally dropped on the floor.

"Yuyu careful. I don't want you cutting yourself." You said as you helped him pick them up.

"I'll be fine love. They didn't even shatter." He assured you.

After you guys picked up the ornaments and finished putting them up, you both began clapping and jumping up and down.

"It's almost finished."

You picked up the last item, a shiny gold star to put on the top of the tree. You happily walked over to the tree.

"Baby? Need me to do it?" Yunho offered.

"I can do it!"

You reached up but unfortunately couldn't reach all the way to the top. You stood on your tippy toes, but still couldn't place the star on the top. Defeated, you turned with a pout to Yunho. He merely chuckled as he took the star away from you.

"Don't worry love. It's what I'm here for."

He kissed your cheek before proceeding to lift you up on his arm.

"Come on. Let's finish decorating the tree together."

❄𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"Yeosang. Can you please take out the cookies from the oven?" You asked as you assembled the frosting and the piping bags.

Making sure to put on oven mittens, Yeosang carefully took out the sugar cookies from the oven and placed the tray on the counter, fanning them out gently.

"Perfect! Now we can start decorating them!" You handed a bag to Yeosang.

Yeosang and you quietly began decorating the cookies, adding different figures and cute designs on them. You felt Yeosang tapping eagerly on your shoulder so you stopped what you were doing to see what he had done.

"Hehet." He chuckled as he showered you a blue cookie decorated with a white Hehetmon.

That wasn't the end, he then held up a cookie that resembled an angry bird.

"It's Seonghwa Hyung!"

You bursted out laughing at how cute your boyfriend was. You were so caught up in your task of decorating the cookies, you almost..... almost didnt notice the hands that swindled one of the cookies.

"Yeosang did you just ate one of the cookies?" You placed your hands on your hips.

Yeosang turned to you with a shocked look on his face.

"Nnno..." He muffled a lie, mouth full of the pastry he stole.

You shook your head and tried to hit him with the nearby whisk, but he quickly evaded you.

"You know I have a sweet tooth!"

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San made sure not to hurt himself as he hammered the nails onto the wall. It wasn't easy considering a certain furry feline decided it was a good time to start rubbing her body on his leg.

"Byeol, babygirl. As soon as I'm finished I'll give you cuddles ok?" He smiled down at the cat.

The cat however glared at him. Hissing softly, she left to join you on the couch, where you were busy trying to finish filling the stockings with goodies and candies. Byeol began meowing at you, sprawling her body across your lap.

"Byeol, sweetheart. Soon ok?" You said as you gently put her down, which she did not appreciate.

Soon both you and San were finished.

"Ok. Let's hang them up now."

You two slowly placed two stockings first, testing the waters to make sure they wouldn't fall off or rip. You both stepped back and let it stay for a few seconds before deciding it was ok.

"We did it!" San clapped as he turned back to you and gave you a high five and then pulled you in for a hug.

"All right. Let's finish putting the others-"

You couldn't finish your sentence when you two turned around and saw that the rest of the stockings had been ransacked through, some of them even with a couple of tears. You guys then witnessed a very angry cat perch itself on the top of the couch, daring you to say something.

"Ah come on Byeol! We worked really hard on them!" San complained but was met by a low hiss.

You giggled. "Come on. Let's just drink some hot chocolate and give snuggles to our child before she decides to tear up the Christmas tree."

❄𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi hopped from one side of the stove to another, peering down at your task of slowly stirring the boiling pot in front of you. He turned his face, bringing it really close to yours.

"Is it ready yet?"

You sighed as he asked for the 6th time in less than 2 minutes.

"Mingi, I told you the hot chocolate will be ready soon." You repeated to him.

He whined and shook his shoulders slightly. Rolling your eyes, you handed him the spoon.

"Stir this for a bit. I'm gonna run down to the bathroom for a while."

Taking off your apron, you made a quick stop at the restroom. As soon as you came out, you head Mingi yelp from the kitchen. Quickly pulling out the first aid kit, you ran back to see what happened. Mingi's bottom lip quivered as he held out his hand.

"I accidentally burnt myself." He whimpered softly.

You tried to be as careful as possible while you rubbed ointment on the red patch on his skin and finished bandaging it up.

"There. All better?" You asked.

Mingi smiled shyly. "Can you kiss it to make the boo boo feel better?"

You giggled and tenderly kissed his hand. "You know you're such a dork..."

Leaning up, you pecked his lips.

"But you're my dork."

❄𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wooyoung. Press start now." You urged him.

"No! I'm not starting the movie until the popcorn is ready." He wouldn't budge.

"You won't miss much of it." You shook his arm.

"I am not starting a movie until all the required snacks are in place."

Right at that moment, the microwave beeped and Wooyoung quickly sped over to retrieve the popcorn. As soon as he set it down, he jumped back inside the pillow and blanket fort you two created, effectively tackling you down, making you groan and complain when he began adjusting around.

"Cuddle me! I wanna be the little spoon." He grabbed your arms and wrapped them around him.

You rolled your eyes but nonetheless cuddled up to Wooyoung as you started your Christmas movie marathon. Wooyoung would occasionally make you feed him popcorn or chocolate, or he'd end up throwing some at your face when you thought he'd feed you as well. He'd laugh every time you smacked his hand.

"Look baby! You're on tv!" He pointed to the screen when the Grinch came up.

"You're so annoying!" You exclaimed as you got up and let go of him.

Wooyoung wasn't having it though. He quickly pulled you back down and wrapped his legs around you, making you the little spoon this time.

"Come on baby. You know I'm kidding. I love you so much." He confessed as he attacked your cheek with kisses.

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho carefully patted some more snow onto the snowman you were currently building. You had gone inside to get a hat and scarf to wrap around it. When you came back out and notices how focused he was, you decided it'd be fun to mess with him. Picking up some snow, you made it into a tiny ball before throwing it at the back of his head.

"Hey!"

Jongho screeched as he turned around, but was met with another snowball to the face that you threw at him. You giggled at him as he stared at you unamused. He bent down and picked up a large handful of snow and began walking towards you. You let out a squeal and began running as fast as you could, trying to escape your boyfriend's revenge.

"Get back here Y/N!" He shouted from behind, a smile plastered on his face.

Jongho ended up discarding the snowball and instead tackled you down onto the snow before proceeding to roll you guys around on it. He ended up pining you down and both of you were giggling like crazy.

"Oh..." You stopped laughing and looked at the tree above you.

Jongho followed your gaze to see a mistletoe hanging by one of the branches right above you guys. He looked back at you and smiled softly.

"I mean.....it is tradition." He mused as he bent down to tenderly kiss your lips.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez christmas fic #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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irkenheretic · 4 years ago

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okay i promised id do it and im doing it: Explaining The Plot Of That AU I’m Vague About: The Post

(as i was preparing to write this i actually got my 250th follower, which slapped)

so i’m just gonna start with the simple version, which is this: it’s a rebel AU which primarily centers around the tallest, who are both defective. they give up on trying to make any meaningful changes as figureheads, and instead direct their attention to being involved with the ��neo defect revolution,” or NDR. they do manage to make one change as tallest- there is a garbage dump planet turned into a sanctuary for defectives (who in this au are executed once discovered,) and eventually enough of the populace finds out about it that the tallest have to deal with it. they finesse their way into kicking it out of the empire, so now it’s its own planet with its own rules, governments, and most importantly, immigration policies and protections

a lot of stuff happens and it’s gonna be structured using arcs, and each arc has a separate protagonist/deuteragonist/tritagonist lineup (but that doesnt mean the same lineup won’t be used multiple times!) and yes the insane list of OCs are for this au alone: some arcs are very OC-centric, some have OCs as supporting characters, and a couple are all-OC or mostly-OC.

its going to be very longform and it’ll span from the tallest’s elite training days to twenty years after zim arrives on earth. (the 20 year gap btwn zim arriving on earth and the story proper isnt as tightly plotted as later tho.) the point is to see how a revolution on the scale of the NDR works, who was fucked over by defact laws, who was fucked over by other laws, etc. theres a lot of lore and a lot of headcanons i made for this AU and even a conlang. i am a being of hubris. itll be a series of fics, some multichapter and some oneshots.

the series as a whole is gonna be called Invader Zim: Annexed or just Annexed for short. its a pun on an irken word that sounds similar but means the exact opposite. i am not explaining more bc itll be explained in the fic itself. but thats why the tag for it is #anx lmao

i didnt mean for this to be as long as it got but under the cut im gonna breakdown some of the early arcs:

so it all starts with a fanfic called Love Is The H-Word (no the “h-word” isn’t “hell.) it centers around red and purple as elites-in-training, who do a little whoopsie and have an egg. purple doesnt wanna smuggle it into a smeetery, bc then he’ll never see it again, so they go to the defect sanctuary (still a part of the empire at this point.) purple knows he’s defective while red has a hard time accepting that he is as well, due to events from his past. but being around all these other defects are starting to wear down his denial, and the fic is all about that. it also sets up some plot stuff, like how defects adopted a self-identifier in the word “heretic,” hence the sanctuary being named, “heretirk.” (hey look my url!) (no, the “h-word” is not heretic, either.)

i dont wanna say what happens in that fic bc spoilers, but stuff Happens. its also when we meet some ocs that end up being important, and the existence of others are foreshadowed. this is also where we meet the tallests’ future advisor, rarl kove, for the first time, as a local who decides to keep them company. purple bonds with kove due to their shared interest in politics, while red reluctantly bonds with titch, a young irken (a smeet in heretirken standards, an adult in imperial standards- did i mention he and red are roughly the same age? lol) who is interested in military stuff and thrill-seeking and general destruction. titch is pissed because he claims his father is stealthing on devastis as a military commander, but won’t let titch sneak in as a soldier, as titch is deaf.

(fun facts: in the au, “titch” is regional slang for “a little bit.” ironically, titch the character is above-average in height.)

due to titch’s deafness, he developed “gesturespeak,” irken sign language, so he can communicate. this existing becomes important later

a oneshot called invade the system is right after h-word in publishing order. it details zim’s exploits in leaving foodcourtia, where he was assigned and infiltrating the invading academy he eventually graduates from (in this au, zim is too short to be an invader, which sucks because the hight minimums for the military are really short to begin with lmao)

the fic chronoligically after H-Word focuses on red and purple being back in their platoon on devastis, specifically red navigating his training and his relationships with two defective platoonmates, pon and zi (who are in h-word a little,) after the realization that he too is defective. it also focuses on how the irken military works, and how they train their soldiers.

the first arc overall focuses on red and purple going thru training and such, and ends after they graduate and are on the field, working to get commander rank. (they planned to gain commander rank then leave and go back to heretirk to train an army there, as heretirk has.... no army.) in the middle of this, they’re pulled out and told they are to become the next tallest. they debate over staying and taking the job or just running to heretirk, and they ultimately decide to stay.

the next arc i call the “bridge,” tbh. its less tightly plotted than the other arcs; fics are spread apart from each other chronologically and all that. it spans the time after the tallest being appointed to a little after zim arrives on earth. it also has a couple of anthologies focusing on imperial defects- each chapter is a new character. these guys are all important and the easiest way for me to introduce their backstories without cluttering everything up is anthology style, lmao. other things that happen are a look into how the tallest work, eventually culminating with the resolution of the tallest having to Deal With Heretirk, tenn’s rescue from meekrob, and zim on earth obtaining a half-irken smeet named pip due to stealing an Unethical Science Experiment from dib (which is pip.) the bridge is basically just. “heres some stuff that happens between point A and point B so when we get to point B you’re not confused as all hell.”

the next arc focuses on zim. in the first fic, pip is sick and zim is trying to get into his neighbor’s pants, to cope. this basically sets up that zim in this au has no idea how to find personal fulfillment in living- he’s only OK if he focuses on pleasing someone else, be it taking care of pip or doting on the neighbor, some rando human named piqu (pronounced, “peek.”) this is mainly a cute romance story with the underlying veneer of “a child is slowly and painfully dying” in the background. fun!

without spoiling the circumstances, zim and pip end up on heretirk, which at this point is its own independent planet. pip is in the hospital for most of it so zim has to do his own thing. computer fans rejoice bc hes basically zims dad at this point, who tells him to go outside and get some fresh air and talk to the locals instead of schmooping or screaming in anxiety. im sneakily introducing more characters like ini, the “next-gen zim;” a short bio-engineer (she works on PAKs) who was constantly passed over by everyone because they dont trust someone that short or they dont trust someone that spazzy, even though shes actually brilliant. also her brother mo, who’s a pilot that NOBODY will teach military-class ships to (at this point, HTK has a population of ex-military that had their old ships, but still no formal army) because he doesnt talk and they think hes “slow” as a result. for the curious, he is physically able to talk most times, he just doesnt like it. zim ends up teaching him how to fly military-class which ends up being important laterrr

(haha ini and mo. wheres meenie and minie? ILL GET TO THEM)

no really, theyre quadruplets. named ini, myni, minie, and mo. these are real characters.

minie isnt introduced till later. shes too cool to be the side character in someone elses arc. she is feel uncomfortable when we are not about her.

myni is busy palling around with pip and pip’s friend “elly” (real name elevenn, with two N’s.) elly is a half-meekrob War Crime Baby and tenn’s smeet. he has vision problems (he can “see” energy signatures of things, as opposed to conventional sight. everything is monochrome and he has to really focus to see like, words on a paper. also fuck tablets) but the trade-up is telekinetic powers (that he cant use too much or his brain will melt. fun!) this isnt relevant until the arc AFTER zim’s, where they end up poking around a historical site due to myni’s interest in that kind of thing, and they find logs of an old revolution (that was actually pretty successful in their goal, before they were caught and executed,) that lead them to a man named lefy. he helps with revolutions and helped these guys, and the trio go to seek him out; myni because he wants to impress his parents with helping them, pip because after they’ve recovered enough to walk around and do stuff, feel like they need to justify the choice to save their life and make their dad proud and all that, elly because he doesnt want pip to get hurt and die. And thats where the stuff REALLY starts happening and i cant tell u more sorry

this seemed kind of disjointed but thats bc i cant really be too detailed otherwise id like.... spoil it lmfao. but thats the summary of the first few arcs.

#*falls over and dies* my poor hands and fingeys #yall better mf read this.....#ill post a fic later today or maybe tomorrow #its being betad rn #take this lol! i finally explain myself #for those of you on mobile i am SO sorry #this is fine to rb in case ur wondering. dk why u would wanna but its chill #anarchisma au #live from conventia #long post

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griffinsmith · 4 years ago

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Ok so i wrote some notes for another hc thingy for how Dr Jackall’s side of the Barkingham Palace dungeon happened, just a bit like on how he pulled it off (until he didnt). Its all pure headcanon and written in about 40 minutes without spell check so uh voila

- Ok lil more context 4 da jackall man. I’ve mentioned before that I hc him as the mechanical engineer of barkingham palace; he was hired to set up defenses for the palace because he is very skilled with mechanics n stuff so he got brought on board to basically be their repair guy along with creating some mechanical defense systems. And to his credit he was really good at his job! He put some fancy new stuff on the mechanical shizz of the palace and even made some automatons that stood sentry around the entrance of Barkingham. Eventually tho they were just replaced with normal dog guards and Jackall didn’t have all that much to do around the palace except do mindless little fixins like unclogging the toilets. You know, fun stuff

I’ll write another post about how I think his motives to make the mr hound potion came to be down the line bc I don’t wanna clutter this post up but anyway hc time for how he orchestrated the heist

Again this is purely headcanon and aint canon at all; I just wanted to write my interpretation of the dungeon all down somewhere

- Barkingham palace classifies its inhabitants as either essential or inessential. Essential people there are like (of course) the queen and chief whip, along with the guards, so basically the queen and everyone directly around her. Inessential are all the people who do the other jobs, cooks, janitors, anyone else, and that means Jackall. Both kinds of staff live in Barkingam, since the inessential people still are needed daily (barkingham is tightly knit and theres not all that many people there compared to other places with royalty. Come on, its Marleybone, no one wants to work directly with royalty when they could just steal from them). If you aint essential staff, you get cleared out of the main hall every night and just go hang out in the far reaches of the state wing til your job starts again at the crack of dawn the next morning. SO that means that Jackall and all his nonessential coworkers have no access to the heart of Barkingham. That’s where Catrin Cheshire comes in.

- Dr jackall chose the night that everyone would be distracted with the opera singer Catrin Cheshire to finess the jewels away from the queen. Palace staff are informed of when the queen is being entertained by a certain person a few days in advance so Jackall had ample time to find Cheshire days before and bribe her into letting him sneak into the Main Hall of the palace while she was getting set up. Cheshire isn’t a criminal, but hey, 100 pound is 100 pound. While she and her (real) opera squad were getting set up and distracted the guards, Jackall snuck in behind her with his hypnotizing automaton and got into the main hall.

- Jackall let lose with the noxious gas on everyone in the main hall and made sure to hit chief whip with a second dosage; don’t want anyone to throw a fuss when they notice the queens missing, after all. Speaking of the queen, she wasn’t hit with the gas very much, if it all. She was in the corner of the main room when jackall entered, so he just grabbed her out and kicked the automaton in, letting it roam around the hall while he hustled the queen to the elevator lift to the roof. The queen just goes with him since she thinks he’s just someone who works for her and who’s totally not plotting stuff.

- Around this time, he goes back into the state wing to cover his hide if anyone should try to stop him, which is why the player sees him in the state wing before he leaves to “inform sherlock about the opera sneak theif” where he really just goes to the rooftop again.

- By this point, the guards definitely know somethings wrong, and those that aren’t hypnotized are crowded around Sherlock and Watson in front of the palace. (Again, this is Marylebone. Crime runs rampant everywhere in this world. The guards are not the brightest and will easily leave a very vulnerable palace under attack if it means they can listen to the guy with the pipe talk about how he sent a twelve year old to stop the evil do-er.)

- THIS allows the other people Jackall hired to sneak around them and make their way to the rooftops. (mr poole and mr utterson were hired by jackall with fat stacks of cash in exchange for them hanging out in the airship incase anyone tried to stop the queen-kidnapping) Mr Poole and Mr Utterson used the escape ladder seen in canon to get up to the roof and then airship while Margherita Vizzini just used her swords as ice picks and scaled the wall to get up. Utterson and Poole hoisted the queen into the airship, and Jackall was juusttt about to get into it himself when that pesky Young Wizard showed up again.

- It was all going so well until they kept meddling, huh? Jackall fled to the airship after Margherita’s defeat, and tried his best to whoop the literal tween standing between him and the Queen’s jewels, but it didnt work out.

And that’s it for that. Sorry I know this isn’t super interesting but Ive been racking my brain all day long about how I thought the dungeon would play out from Jackalls side. Thanks if you read all the way through!

#my hand hurts goodnight everybody #oh one last thing i left billy the cutter out of this bc hes really not important and i think he was just robbing the palace at the same #time jackall happened to be pulling his heist and lied abt why he was there #wizard101 #wizard101 dr jackall #sawyer rambles #sawyer writes words

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

Text

and then there was light [4] {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 5060 words. part 4? part 4. it’s a bit of a darker one and before you ask, there will be a part 5, you know i wouldn’t end it on a cliffhanger and do you dirty like that.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

The moment Roger steps foot into the meeting about the design of the shows for the upcoming American legs of the ‘Night at the Opera’ world tour, he’s pretty sure he’s already mentally checked out. Freddie’s doing all the talking, to literally no-one’s surprise; the man has big ambitions for his own costumes, and knows the other guys will pipe up about their own needs when they get to meet with just the costume designer. John Reid brings up the technical requirements, Roger’s got the ‘galileo’s from Bohemian Rhapsody playing on repeat in his head as he stares into the middle distance, and it’s Deaky who sits forward.

“We’ve got a pretty solid idea for the lights; Freddie and I have been consulting with a designer in America; she’s freelance, used to work for EMI, she’s reliable.” He assures, and Roger’s thinking ‘hey that sounds familiar’ but Reid seems satisfied and they’re already moving on to the staging and sound equipment needed.

Roger doesn’t connect the dots at first; it’s been almost four years since that fateful American tour, and they’ve had other tours come and go since, and as far as the others are concerned, they’re pretty sure he hasn’t spared you a thought since arriving home at the end of that tour. But he does, even if he doesn’t mean to.

The tour after you’d quit working for EMI, someone drops a parcan side of stage, and his heart is in his throat when he realises he was waiting to hear you yell ‘okay that one wasn’t my fault’ or something similar. All he hears is a faint apology, and a call from someone to get a broom. The scheduling’s different this time around, he can’t even have a cigarette in an empty theatre without some stagehand buzzing back and forth, or a band member trotting across the stage as they practice. It would be so much easier to lay on the stage if the rest of them were confined to one place while they played, like he was behind the drums. It’d be boring as shit, he would be the first to acknowledge that, but it would mean he would get stepped on less during lunch, and that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make with the toe of Freddie’s shoe poking at his waist.

Nothing serious had come his way in that time, or rather, he’d never found anyone who could hold his attention for more than a week or two. People became dreadfully boring when all they wanted to do was faun over him and fuck him; not that it wasn’t fun at first, it was always fun at first, but there was a lack of variety, a sinking sensation that these people were more attracted to the idea of him that left a sour aftertaste.

But now he’s here, new company, new album, second leg of the new tour, new chance to sample all different women across this great nation. He’s already a little tipsy from his multiple jack and coke’s on the plane when they land, and he’s passed out on the tour bus before it even gets to the first tour stop. Once in Conneticut, he’s dragged from the bus, and informed that as soon as the tech crew had finished their meeting, they could start loading in their instruments.

“How long have they been here?” Brian asks the stage hand, and the guy shrugs.

“A couple of hours; the Floor Tech wanted the drum risers set up before she gave the brief.” He tells them as he lead the band in to the theatre, where most of the crew were milling about on stage.

“She always did have a flare for the dramatic.” John says with a grin where his eyes were trained on the stage, and Freddie hums in agreement, which only serves to confuse Roger further until he sees an all too familiar figure climbing the drum risers with a clipboard in hand.

“Alright guys, can I have your attention, please?” Even after all these years, the sound of your voice hits Roger square in the chest. “I wanna make this as quick and painless as possible, so after today we can bump in and bump out without any hassles.” You addressed the crowd with an easy confidence from your place at the top of the drum risers, tapping your nails against the back of the clipboard in your hands, wearing the overalls he’d seen you in so many times before.

“You can call me Spotlight; I’m the Head Floor Tech for the tour, as well as lighting designer; those of you on my lighting team, you’ve got a copy of the lighting plan, and I’ll be talking to you about how we’re gonna run it after this. Next time, I’ll get some help from the stage hands to set up the drum risers, I had a few people help me today to get them set up early, but that’s just because I like being tall.” With a sharp grin you pause as a titter of laughter spreads around the group, “stage management team, you’re in charge of making sure side of stage is set up with anything the band needs, and that it’s clear of unnecessary clutter and people, and running cabling for the sound guys; they’ll tell you what they need.”

After a beat, you look around the gathered crowd, and nod firmly, a gesture which a few of them return.

“If you have any questions, remember; find your Light.” You point directly at yourself. “We break for lunch at one, but until then we’ve got a lot to get through; let’s get rockin’.” Grinning brightly, you hop down from the risers into the crowd of crew members, ushering a bunch, each holding a sheet of paper, off to the side, as the others scattered like cockroaches under light.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Roger finally finds his voice where he’s still standing, a little dumbstruck, alone in the aisle of the theatre where the others had left him behind.

“Didn’t you hear her speech? Spotlight’s our lighting designer.” Freddie calls over his shoulder, eyes wide and innocent, as if he hadn’t set this all up without thinking to mention it to Roger.

“Our what now?” He splutters, jogging a little to catch up to the other band members as they made their way towards the stage. He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, or what will happen when he gets their; the last thing you’d said to him was that you were stupid to think he was above his reputation, while you were in tears, and then it had been three years of nothing. He’s not going to run, at least he’s pretty sure he’s not; he’s self aware enough to know he was in the wrong last time you spoke, that he was an asshole, but he’s not going to be a coward. Not again.

“That was quite the speech.” John waits patiently until the crew who made up the lighting team had dispersed before addressing the familiar face at the centre. You turn, eyes bright and smile brighter, casually making your way towards him and the rest of the band.

“Yeah, I really feel in my element, you know?” It’s with an easy familiarity that you pull John into a hug, giving him a firm squeeze. “Good to finally see you again.” And then you’re hugging Freddie, and then Brian, and you stop short in front of Roger. It’s a stalemate, neither one wanting to be the first to look away, but both unsure of what to do. In the end, you don’t even offer him a handshake, just nod, and you turn back to the others.

“How’s Pippin been?” Freddie asks, and you’re about to answer, but Roger cuts in.

“Hang on, can someone fill me in here? Lovely to see you, by the way, just a little confused as to how you got here.” He says, and you’re lost for words, just blinking rapidly, trying to process the whole situation.

“Did you not tell him I was working with you guys?” Your words come out incredulous as you turn your gaze upon John and Freddie, who seem just as bewildered as you.

“I thought he’d cotton on when I mentioned an American designer who used to work for EMI.” John mused, turning his gaze on Roger, who frowned, thinking back to the initial meeting he’d just mentioned.

“I did,” Brian piped up, before casting a smile at John and Freddie that was just a little bit confused, “though I wasn’t a part of this little setup.” He tried to reassure the drummer.

“In my defense,” Roger started, before his gaze dropped, “I wasn’t paying attention, design isn’t exactly my forte.” He admitted, and you had to shake your head at that, exasperated and already a exhausted.

“Pippin’s good.” You go back to John’s initial question. Pippin isn’t so much a person as it is a touring version of a Broadway musical that had opened a year ago, to great success.

It turns out a written letter of recommendation from both the lead singer, and bass player of Queen goes rather far in the industry. After taking some time for yourself, you call up EMI to beg them not to fire you, however it turns out you needn’t have; both John and Freddie had given glowing reports of your work ethic and skill, and the man on the other end of the line is just eager to know when you were next available.

The moment you’re on site next, they tell you you’ve been promoted to Floor Tech; they hand you a roll of gaff tape and a drill and a whole new set of responsibilities, heaped onto your usual load. You don’t even remember who had been performing, the tour had only lasted a month, all you know is that they were calling you Spotlight from the moment you’d arrived; apparently it was what Freddie had called you, and John had to clarify.

John is the first to contact you again, through EMI of course, and he becomes something of a comfort when you consider taking your career beyond the company that kept you firmly in the one position on tour. Freddie calls you less often, and never about business; it’s John who gives you the courage to leave EMI, and he’s the one who helps set up as a freelance theatre and event crew member.

People had been head hunting you from tour to tour, beyond even EMI, some smaller acts even giving you the full Lighting Designer role. They expect you to sit back, let a stage hand or an assistant to take care of it, but every time you watch someone else focus a spot, your fingers itch to be doing it yourself. Dedicated to a fault, Roger had once called you, you think about it every time you climb an unsteady ladder, and think perhaps that he’s right.

The moment Pippin announces it’s tour, and puts out calls for crew, you’re first in line for the job, putting your hat in the ring for lighting, but happy enough to take any crew role. Not that you don’t love working with bands, but there’s a certain finesse that comes with theatre lighting that you can’t get anywhere else in the world. After two years, and the support of both John and Freddie, you find yourself as the assistant Lighting Designer, as well as Head Floor Tech, and once you step foot onto the tour bus, everything else becomes history.

Speaking of history, later in the day, after the rest of the crew have broken for lunch, you’re wedged under the drum risers, running some cables, when you hear someone climb up them, taking a seat at the drums.

“If you play one beat-” You’re cut off by Roger’s yell of surprise, as he’s so startled he almost falls off his chair.

“Holy shit, who is that?” He’s breathing heavily, voice panicked, and for a moment you take pleasure imagining clutching his hand to his chest like a delicate, little grandmother.

“Take a wild stab in the dark,” you mutter, unwedging yourself from beneath the structure, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. Almost immediately he’s frowning, and you’re thrown back to the moment almost three years ago where you’d been here before, looking up at him from behind the drum risers after you’d changed out the light mid-show. Clearing your throat loudly, you break the moment, getting to your feet and making your way to the side of the stage.

“What are you doing here?” He calls, watching idly as you go about counting out fly lines until you get to the one you’d been looking for. You’d gotten here early to go through the fly-line procedure with the Duty Tech for the venue, and now you lowered the LX bar it was attached to with ease after making sure there was no-one in the way. Your focus made something in his chest tighten, and he feels like he’s being taken back in time; you’re beautiful when you work, passionate and skilled, meticulous, that hadn’t changed. Roger has to look away.

“My job,” and you just sound tired when you say it, already securing the meticulously placed lights onto the bar you’d just lowered, going along and fixing them to the metal in a neat line. An uncomfortable silence spreads between you, punctuated only by the scrape of metal against metal, and the rattle of the safety chains.

“What are you doing here?” You don’t even try to hide the snippiness from your voice, not even turning to look at his as the accusatory words hang in the air.

“I’m having a smoke in what I thought was going to be relative peace, it’s something I do, okay?” Voice defensive, you hear the rustle of cardboard and hear the click of a cigarette, your annoyance growing with each passing moment.

“No, it’s what I do. It’s what I did three years ago, you just started showing up. You stole my relative peace.” You snapped, turning to him, a blazing fury in your eyes at his words, before your lip curled in disgust, “And you don’t even do anything with it.” You scoffed, and he went quiet, sulking behind his drum kit. Sensing he wasn’t got to talk back you turn back to your work.

The moment you turn away, he sees the way you heave a sigh, angry tension draining from your shoulders, a little hunched as you concentrated. Your hands shake a little as you fiddle with the safety chains. There’s still that confidence there, the ease with which you moved about the stage, but unlike around other people, when it was just Roger - though he suspected you were pretending he wasn’t there - you just looked... weary.

After that first town, he keeps his distance for a few stops, though the other band members look to keep you company on occasion. But then... he’s there again. Quiet this time, he just watches where you hold yourself like royalty at the top of a rickety ladder, so sure of yourself. He’d forgotten the sight of you in your element, and it hits him like a truck.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You snap when you chance a glance down and see his awestruck expression looking up at you. The shock comes when he actually looks abashed, averting his gaze, picking up his drumsticks and tapping out a rhythm that you’re pretty sure you recognise.

You’re both too stubborn to give the other one the peace of the theatre at lunch, however, while you’re content with stewing in silence as you worked, Roger, to no-one’s surprise, is not.

“How’ve you been?” He brings himself to ask. You stop where you’re replacing a gel on one of the drum riser lights, taking a long moment to consider your words carefully.

“Busy.” Tired. The subtext comes through loud and clear, despite your short answer, and once you’d finished with the light, you stand, before taking a moment to stretch your back out from behind hunched over.

“Working a lot?” I can tell. He answers after a long pause, almost sympathetic, and you know he’s not really responding to the words you’d said out loud.

“Yeah, non stop.” No subtext, just responding at face value, before your eyes up to the mostly finished rig. Afternoons were for last minute fixes and focusing, there wasn’t much left you could do, unless you were willing to ask for Roger’s help.

“When did your last thing end?” He asks, and you click your tongue as you turn on your heel, burned out gel in your hand, heading for a bin.

“Two days before this one.” You admitted. When you’re met with silence, you turn, and Roger’s frowning at you, almost disbelieving.

“You’re not still sleeping on the tour bus, are you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes before you tell him your accommodation is paid for this time around. You’re the first to leave, for the first time since everything had started, you leave halfway through to actually eat lunch, leaving Roger to himself.

When he’s drunk after the show, leaning against some local pub, with a girl leaning against him, heavy enough that the two of them would have tipped over if it wasn’t for the counter, he can’t get you out of his mind.

“I didn’t ruin her career.” His eyes go wide as the words, with something akin to revelation, escape him, and the girl makes a noise of confusion, her fingers ghosting over his chest, but he can’t even bring himself to enjoy it.

“I didn’t ruin her career!” He announces, excited and pleased in his inebriated state, sitting himself so forcefully on the arm of Freddie’s chair that he spills part of his drink. Freddie makes a noise of confusion, looking up at the blonde, and Roger gesticulates enough to spill more of his drink, ignoring Freddie’s yelp. “Spotlight! She said I’d ruined her career!”

“When?” Freddie asks, just as John pops out from seemingly nowhere.

“Well you certainly didn’t help it. That was me.” Roger doesn’t care that John’s drunk, the way bassist says it, so serene and matter-of-fact, makes it sting just a little bit worse. His mood instantly flips.

“Can you piss off? Go be her best friend somewhere else.” Roger snapped, and he knew he’d regret being so sharp with John the following morning, but it seemed John himself knew that Roger was in a mood, and obligingly fucked off, seemingly not taking it to heart. “When we broke up, she accused me of ruining her career.” And he realises too late, when Freddie’s eyes go wide with realisation, that he’s said too much.

“Is this where you tell me exactly what went down between you two?” He asked, tapping Roger’s leg with excitement. The blonde, however, stood abruptly, glower on his face.

“No. Fuck off.”

Roger spends almost fifteen minutes banging on the door of the tour bus before he remembers that you’re not in there, and falls into bed alone, fully clothed.

“The fuck did you say to Freddie last night?” The moment he steps foot onto the stage at lunch, you’re waiting for him, already livid. He’s tempted to turn and walk right back out the door. “Apparently he doesn’t know the real reason that I went home last ti- !”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Roger snapped back, on the defensive without a moment’s hesitation. “It makes me look like a fucking wanker and he’d kick my ass; he adores you!” And that was enough to shock you into silence, grip loosening on the gaff tape in your hands. “They all do.” He said, and your expression turns unreadable.

“I know.” You finally said, a new, strange quality to your voice, it’s something akin to shock, but not quite, and Roger doesn’t know what to say next. “What about you?” You finally ask, voice a little defensive. It hurts to see you look at him with such a judgemental eye, though he’s well aware he deserves it.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? I could apologise a thousand times and you’d still be pissy.” He huffs, and you cross your arms, cocking your hip.

“At least once would be nice.” You level a cold glare at him and his gaze snaps back at yours, surprised. “You never once apologised, you know that?” And your voice is low, hurt and honest. “Are you even sorry for what happened?”

“It was three years ago-” He sighs, but you cut him off, shifting your weight to your other foot, swallowing thickly.

“So that’s a no. Glad to see where you stand.” And you turn to cross the stage to where you’ve already got the ladder set up, but he makes his way to you in three long strides, making to grab at your upper arm. The moment he does, however, you whirl around, slapping him, hard. “I told you to never fucking touch me; did you think I forgot?” And he sees why you were so eager to leave; there’s tears in your eyes, so close to breaking and streaming down your cheeks, your lip trembling. Something about your voice is so raw, it hurts worse than the slap.

“I am sorry.” And he sounds so fucking sincere, but you just glare at him, unashamed where the tears have begun to track down your cheeks.

“You had your chance to say sorry; you had your chance to beg for forgiveness, but you told me I could leave; so I did, and so did your fucking opportunity.” But you can’t bring yourself to step back, frozen in place where he’s less than a foot away. Every fibre of your being is betraying you, wanting to be around him, close to him, after what he did.

“I’m sorry what happened between us;” his voice is so level, carefully controlled, you know he’s think hard about what he’s about to admit, “I fucked up, I know that; I’m sorry. It was three years ago but I’m still sorry. I’ve been sorry for a long time now.”

“Since it happened?” You asked, and he didn’t drop your gaze, answering without flinching or hesitation.

“Since I started worrying I’d lose you; I know what I’m like, I knew what I’d end up doing.” He admitted, and the words clearly didn’t have his intended impact as you stumble back, free hand clutching your chest.

“And yet you still-” And quietly, so quietly you’re not even sure he hears it, the words come out as more of a defeated whimper than anything else; “How could you not tell I was in love with you?”

He’s in shock, and you barge past him, leaving as you can no longer contain your aching heart, and you head to the hotel you were staying at down the road, taking the rest of the lunch break to cry.

When you return, the rest of the crew has filtered in, Roger looks guilty, and Freddie and John look about ready to commit violent homicide, which was unsurprising for Freddie, but there was something comforting about Deaky wearing the expression too. In less than a week, the whole crew knows, and wherever you go, you feel yourself followed by pitying stares, which won’t go away, no matter how hard you throw yourself into your work.

“You’re working yourself into the ground.” Roger tells you a week later, watching the way your arms tremble as you focus a light, and it takes you a moment to blink blearily at him. “Don’t forget the security chain.” He adds, and you scowl, before looking at the light itself, and hurriedly affix the security chain to the rig. You insist that you’re fine, making your way down the ladder to scoop up another parcan, but you almost immediately drop it.

“I just need some food.” You try to insist, your hands shaking as you leave the light where it is.

You don’t come out after shows, and it’s not gone unnoticed. The rest of the crew think you’re just dedicated, personable for the most part but prone to bouts of standoffishness.

“Oh you should have seen her on our first tour,” Freddie muses to an enraptured crowd at an afterparty, a few crew members listening with a bright-eyed attention, “that woman risked life and limb for our show.” And he sounds so proud when he says it, but something twists uncomfortably in Roger’s gut.

Cracks don’t show around other people, Roger’s noticed; you’re smile’s bright enough and your voice is loud enough that they don’t see the way your hands shake. Or how tired your eyes are. But then there are moments, you stand as if in the eye of the storm, gaff tape and drill in hand, watching as people follow your instructions without question, and you look up to see Roger tweaking his drums, and the two of you share a look. It’s a little indecipherable, he’s concerned and you’re just... tired. He wants to offer to help, but as soon as the moment arrives, it’s passed, and you’re off to the next task.

The air between the two of you has lost it’s angry tension; after saying your peace, after hearing his apology, there’s no fight left. Just a lingering disappointment, a quiet like the moment after a world-weary sigh. You don’t have to pretend around Roger, you both know he’d see through it if you’d tried.

“You should come get a drink after; you look like you need it.” Roger laughs, but there’s no humour in it. Without missing a beat, you decline, you don’t even bother coming up with an excuse.

“I’m worried about you.” The tour is almost three weeks in, and you’re asleep against the proscenium arch when he walks in. You wake with a start at the sound of his voice, reaching out for the light you’d been fiddling with before you’d passed out. When you look to him with confusion, he repeats himself slowly. “I’m worried about you; are you sleeping okay?”

“As if that’s any of your business.” You snapped back, and Roger kept quiet. It only takes him a day to figure out that sleep isn’t really a luxury you allowed yourself; you were the last out every night after bump out, sometimes staying until two in the morning, and from what the crew said, you were always the first up, running through check lists, accident reports, and going over anything that needed maintenance.

When Freddie asks you to come out with them after a gig, you find it difficult to say no, he helped get you this job after all, but you’re there for barely half an hour before Roger sees you slip out the side door, drink untouched.

John asks if you’re okay one afternoon when you drop a stack of gel frames without warning, jumping almost a foot in the air and looking like you’re about to break into tears from shock, but seems content when you explain you’re just tired. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover how overworked you are.

The night you finally decide to relax a little, bump out having been miraculously fast, you’ve got the next day off. The others cheer you on as you down drink after drink, the alcohol hitting you hard and quickly, and the world gets blurry as you find yourself on the dance floor. It’s easy to drink too much, because for the first time in a long time, you’re relaxed, not worrying about the pretty, dickhead blonde who worries about you when he really shouldn’t.

You’re drunk enough to admit to yourself that part of you likes the attention he’s giving you, it feels like vindication for the heartache you went through all those years ago. Part of it’s not even vindictive, part of you just likes the way he looks at you, the way his smile made your heart beat just a little faster; you call that part a fucking traitor and have another drink.

You don’t remember leaving the bar, but you come back to your body when you’re leaning against a streetlight for support, halfway through telling someone to fuck off.

“Ya’ not my caretaker, Roger,” you sneer, “you don’t need to look after me or whatever this is. Go help groupies home or to hotel or whatever.” You spit, and push off from the light, turning on your heel, almost topple over, and right yourself.

“Light, that’s the wrong way.” He calls, exasperated, and you turn again, this time actually crashing to the ground and grazing your hand on the way, before you get to your feet. He’s come over to try and help you, but you swat him away.

“You don’t get to call me that.” You stalk ahead of him in the direction he had come from, back toward the hotel, and he follows only a few steps behind.

“Fine, Y/N; you’re legless, let me help.” And after a moment of intense eye contact, in which you try to weigh up your options, you begrudgingly loop your arm through his.

“You’re still on my shit-list.” You inform him, and he hums in acknowledgement. “Why are you doing this?” You follow it up with.

“I’m not the asshole who fucked you over three years ago, and I’m not gonna let you get yourself killed for this show.” He said through gritted teeth, and you just smiled, a little dreamily.

“But what a way to go.” And he came to an abrupt stop. It took you a moment to realise, and looking back, you tugged on his arm to keep him moving. He just frowned at you, a little concerned. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it.”

“If I have to fire you to get you to take a break-” He threatened, and you scoffed, expression turning bitter.

“I’ll drop a light on you.”

“You’ll drop a light on me by accident before then anyways!” He crowed, and your expression fell, contemplative. “Just let me help; what do I have to do to make you actually rest? What do I have to do to prove myself?”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may #and then there was light #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #the angry lizard writes

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