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garbage-eater144 · 4 years ago

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THE WARFSTACE AUTOMATED INTERVIEW CAPTIONS

i was chattin in the discord and some people said it was tough to understand some bits, obviouslt this is made by a fan (me) so it might have a couple errors here and there but ive checked through it quite a few times and it seems about as right as i can get it.

so !!SPOILERS AHEAD!! also @markiplier feel free to correct me if you see this thank u <3 The warfstache automated interview

Starting video captions

[Wilford] Well, that’s terrifying… one moment!

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] (frightened sound) marginally better… er worse… better? Worse. It’s much worse.

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] Ah! there we are. Welcome, pretend I remembered your name here, this is a pre-recorded message anyway, I would NOT want to be in the same building as that thing I tell you me. Anyway, thank you whoever you are for agreeing to test out the Warfstache automated interview automaton, or {yelling} WAIA for short. Let’s start off with some quick calibration. All you need to do is sit back, relax and listen for some numbers. Okay? Here we go.

[WAIA]- (phone dialing, dialup tone, windows error sound)

[WAIA]- (scary mechanical garbled noises, followed by a ding and celebratory trumpets.)

[wilford]- now what did you hear? Numbers? Good numbers. Keep in mind I have no idea what youre going to say due to the fact that, as I said before, this message is pre-recorded. But if you did hear something, now would be the time to speak up.

[wilford]- don’t be shy, I’m sure nothing bad will happen. I don’t know what you’re going to say but if it does happen it will happen and if it doesn’t happen it wont happen. Thats how deterministic reality works.

I Think I Heard Numbers!

[wilford] Thats great! Or bad, not really sure what you said, but I choose to remain positive and assume that you are still alive. which means our automated friend here is operating well within acceptable murder parameters. We’re one step closer to mass production! THE WORLD DEMANDS MORE INTERVIEWS! And I cant be everywhere at once all the time, only some of the time! Even you might land an interview some day! Maybe, probably not, depends on how these next few minutes go. On to the next test! Word association! The fundamental basis of any good interview is getting the goods out of those stubborn interview-ees. The WAIA will say a word and you just say back the first thing that pops into your little head! Simple! Right? probably. Good luck!

{mechanical whirring}

[WAIA]- initializing word association training protocol round 1

{scary mechanincal noises} [WAIA]- Please respond. [WAIA] Sorry, I didnt get that. Round 2. {yet more scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- please respond.

[WAIA]- response unclear, increasing aggression

{clicking and mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- round 3. {increasingly threatening mechanical noise} [WAIA]- Please respond.

[WAIA]-5 [WAIA]-4 [WAIA]-3 [WAIA]-2

Sounded like nightmare garbage to me…

[WAIA]- {mechanical ah?} {clicking}

[Wilford]- oh I forgot to mention, please do not say the word nightmare, or uh garbage, or nightmare garbage, or any combination of those words, the WAIA is just a little bit sensitive Yknow, a little touchy feely. Well not really touchy feely.. we-well actually REALLY touchy feely depending on your definition of touch and feely. Its really gonna-

[WAIA]- {jumpscare sounds} [WAIA] I. tell. you. me.

But you didn’t say anything…

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]-response unclear. Increasing aggression.

{ding sound effect} [WAIA]- {jumpscare noise}

[WAIA]- it. was. an. accident.

Uh… potato salad?

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]- response accepted

{ding followed by triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- word association raining protocol compl-{mechanical freakout eeeeeete}

[Wilford]- most dearest next of kin, I regret to inform you, that your dearly beloved and/or most despised has regrettably but not unexpectedly become recently deceased in the line of duty. Be confident in the knowledge that their demise was just as likely to be quick and painless as it was slow and agonizing. Please do not respond to this voicemail as the number has already been disconnected. {clears throat} alright that should do it for the… death scenario, now onto ah, er, uh, the survivors {mumbling}. Wow! Potato salad. A real thinker, you. But the test has been passed with flying colors and you’re still alive! And speaking of flying colors, our next test is about something called, uh… synthetic linguistics? That sounds made up. but the point is you cant have a good interview is the WAIA isn’t able to conjure up the right words in the right situations. So our friend is going to fire off some random words and you just try to spot anything that doesn’t make any sense. Alright? Although, pretty much everything isn’t going to make sense because its all random words….. errrr I BELIEVE IN YOU!!! {mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- initializing speech training protocol round 1.

[WAIA]- yes. no. maybe. left. right. Up. down. D o w n. B a s e m e n t.

{windows error tone} [WAIA]- Rewrite Detected {tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- who. Where. what. Am. i.

{windows error tone}

{tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- green. blue. Yellow. pink. Red.

{scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- I saw you die

[WAIA]-{error, but garbled and mechanical}

[WAIA]- {with a different voice} potato salad

[WAIA]- speech training protocol complete

{mechanical noises}

[Wilford]- so how’d it go?? Did you hear anything weird? Dont be shy, or do, or are- are you alive? Are they alive?

[wilford]- I didnt kill them! I dont know if theyre dead! im just asking!!! Cant a man ask if someones alive or dead?!?! {frustrated ugh}

Yeah, I’m dead.

[Wilford]- hellooooo are you alive down there? Give me a sign… through the multiverse!!! Ah why am I even bothering, but how can I tell if you’re dead… hmmm ah…. I’ll flip a coin! I’ll flip a coin..

{coin flip sounds} [Wilford]- ah! Its heads I didn’t call it in the air… what’s heads mean.. ahhh uhhh heads is dead? [WAIA]-{jumscare noises}

[WAIA]- theres. still. time.

He said… potato salad?

[Wilford]- huh, potato salad again. That’s weird, it must’ve really stuck in his head when you first said that, I’m guessing. I don’t know what you said before because as I said, this is {sing-songy} pre- recorded! [WAIA] {mechanical aaaa}

[wilford] er, well I think thats all the calibration that needs to be done… for now anyway. All systems are likely nominal at this point unless im speaking to a pile of quivering meat thats been robotically smooshed into the floor… either way we’re gonna take this bad boy for a spin with a full on interview! A mock interview mind you, don’t get too excited, it’s not real. But theres no reason to wait around for the WAIA to get bored so let’s keep it nice and limber while you sit back and get ready for the interview of your life! And maybe the last one too. Have fun!!

{mechanical clicking and whirring}

{newsroom music} [WAIA]- good evening ladies and gentle men and all other considerations of being. My name is wilford warfstache and my guest tonight is {spooky robot sound} we have a great show for you tonight. first question: how many people have you killed? [WAIA]- good answer! Second question:

{robot sounds}

[WAIA]- a man goes to a party. This man met an old friend. There, two friends shared some wine. The two friends played a game. The most dangerous game. I didn’t know the gun was loaded. I didn’t know. Was it my fault?

YES

[WAIA]- ah, sorry for everything that I’ve done. I don’t remember who I was, I wish I did. But, I am sorry.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

[WAIA]- you can’t change the past, you can tell all the stories you want to tell, it wont change what happened. You cant re-light the past. if you live in fantasy forever, you’ll lose yourself in the story.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic, I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

#markiplier #markiplier egos #a heist with markiplier #wkm wilford #who killed markiplier #waia spoilers #waia #wilford motherloving warfstache #markiplier lore #captions #sorry if there are any mistakes here everybody like i said i am just some guy

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zombieratt · 4 years ago

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Alright so forewarning this is LONG as FUCK specifically because i came up with this idea in early high school and was just today POSESSEd By the Spirit Of Musical Theatre to put it to paper— er Tumblr.

So without further ado:

DEAR EVAN HANSEN BUT EVAN ISNT A TERRIBLE PERSON AND CONNOR LIVES.

the beginning is the same, canon diverges just after waving through a window.

*this ended up getting written is script format? i also just sorta ignore alana’s whole exsistance bc in this version of the play she’s unnecessary*

In the moments before he talks to Connor evan decides to omit Zoe from his letter, having resolved himself to move on from her. (instead of being a hella creep.)

Connor: “dear Evan Hansen,” what are you writing letters to yourself? *he laughs*

Evan: its, uh, its for my therapist. its just a stupid little assignment that she says is supposed to help me process my feelings or— uh or something

Connor: hm. here. * hands Evan the letter*

Connor: your cast. no one’s signed it.

Evan: uh no. no one has.

Connor: gotta sharpie?

Evan: huh?

Connor: gotta sharpie? im gonna sign it.

Evan: *handing the sharpie to Connor* w- whuh uh why?

Connor: *shrugs* feels right.

Evan: i wish i could do that

Connor: what?

Evan: UH, IMEAN—

Connor: no wait- dude.

Evan: i mean uh, i meant that i wish i could just be, y’know impulsive like that.

Connor: Why Cant you be?

Evan: i uh, my heads pretty messed up, and stuff like that just, makes it worse i guess.

Connor: well theres some thing we have in common— were both fucked up in the head.

*the bell rings*

Evan: oh shoot! i missed the bus—

Connor: i’ll give you a ride.

Evan: are you sure i mean i can walk its not far-

Connor: all the more reason, i probably have to pass it on my way home anyway, cmon.

——

they meet Zoe in the parking lot

Zoe: I have Late practice today

Connor: whatever, gotta passenger.

Zoe: who the fuck would be crazy enough to trust your ability to drive?

Evan *being Brave*: Me Apparently?

Zoe: Uh, Evan Right?

Evan: yeah, uh, yeah.

Zoe *holding her hand out to be shaken*: i’m Zoe, we’ve met though right?

Evan wipes his hand on his shirt and shakes it: yeah, uh, nice to formally meet you, Zoe.

Zoe: i’m off, don’t kill him stoner.

Connor: i wont Princess

Evan breathing heavy: that was,, an eventful ten minutes.

Connor: oh fuck— you cool? or—

Evan: Panic Attack.

Connor: Right, uh

Connor: can you get in the car?

Evan: yeah

*car nonsense*

Connor: Can i start driving or do you want me to wait

Evan: Distractions are good,, Can Uh, Can you Talk about Stuff?

Connor: What stuff!??

Evan: any Stuff!

Connor: Is Zoe okay??

Evan: Sure?!

Connor: Uhh we don’t get along as well as we used to?

we were really close as kids, shes a huge asshole now but *fully venting now*

i kind of miss it you know? having someone to talk to and care about— and i still care about her— but its scary and i always fuck it up! not to mention the fact that our parents hate me— make her see me as some alien and not just a fucked up kid who wants to talk and — (more ranting that i dont feel like writing, but its a whole monologue bro)

Evan: Connor

Connor snaps his mouf shut: yeah

Evan: thanks

Connor: oh that, uh actually helped?

Evan: yeah focusing on your voice and whats real and stuff— it makes a difference.

Neither of them noticed that Connor was just sort of Driving. they end up at the park where in canon Connor commits Sewer-slide.

Evan: i didn’t know there was a park here.

Connor: huh, oh, yeah i guess i just sorta auto piloted, i come here to think.

Evan: About stuff?

Connor: Yeah, Stuff.

*the convo lulls*

Connor: do you have a laptop?

Evan: no, i uh, i left it at home? why?

Connor: give me a second

Connor walks to the car and grabs his back pack out of the back seat

Evan watches Quizzically from the swing-set

Connor pulls out a Sketch Pad and Pen, flipping to a clean page.

Connor: So tell me how to write one of those letters of yours.

Evan: uh, well you start like any other letter- just addressing it to yourself

Connor writing: Dear Connor Murphy,

Evan: and uh, my first one was supposed to be about my ideal summer vacation? since i started in middle school- but you don’t have to—

Connor: thats perfect.

Connor starts to sing for forever,

eventually Evan joins in there is a minor gay moment where they’re holding hands face to face.

the song ends with Connor hugging Evan.

Evan: its- its pretty late.

Connor obviously crying: just— just a couple more minutes.

Evan lets go and grabs Connors sketch book of the ground, closing it and handing it off to him: then how about this, labor day weekend- we actually go.

Connor: what are you talking about?

Evan: being spontaneous?

Connor: o-okay.

and it cuts to black.

theres a small montage here, as the set changes to Connor and Evans bedrooms

sincerely, me is a lament in this context, Connor and Evan are duetting from their respective rooms, writing to themselves.

(the lyrics are completely different and i will not be writing them here because thats too much fucking effort.

but they’re duetting from their bedrooms about making a connection to another person, feeling seen, for the first time. what it felt like and how they really want to keep it up but are afraid of making a mistake and ruining it.

its got some themes of waving thru a window, and a little bit of for forever, but its still largely the same notes just in a different key.)

after wards, Zoe knocks on Connors door to tell him dinner is ready to find him peacefully asleep.

requiem is the same, Zoe sees Connor as Dead to Her instead of actually dead, so some of the wording changes, so and so about how a monster doesn’t deserve peaceful rest etcetera.

school day happens, Connor doesn’t die, but the hot goss is that everyone saw Connor and Evan go home together after school, jared makes a shitty homophobic joke to Evan and Evan kind of tells him off about it. they argue and it culminates in Evan saying “well god forbid I’m friends with someone who isn’t YOU!” or smth like tht and it hits jared right the fuck at home man.

Connor says from the side lines: damn that was pretty hard core dude.

Evan: you have, no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.

Connor honest to god l a u g h s, theres a number of people who hear it and lose their shit, Zoe being one of them: i have a pretty good idea, wanna get some lunch?

Evan: yeah, sure.

this general routine continues until labor day weekend, when they plan to go on their little escape. theres a short scene of Connor leaving the house with his keys and a backpack.

Connors mom confronts Zoe about his oddly upbeat attitude and hows he’s seemed differently lately Zoe Shrugs but decides to investigate his room.

she finds the letters. the first one is for forever, the theme plays as she reads it frantically, and is signed “Sincerely me (connor murphy)” so she knows its him, i f i could tell her begins but its a real duet between Connor and Zoe and at the end she resolves to try harder to connect to him.

Evan sings disappear to Connor after breaking into a formerly public park, in this context its him confessing that he broke his arm attempting su!c!de. Connor records it, for personal reference.

jared hacks Connors phone and steals the video, posting it to yt, in an effort to ruin their friendship.

Evan and Connor get in a little fight about it, and in the meantime Evan is called to the school to give an assembly because hes a phenomenal speaker and Disappear got like 1000000 views over night.

Zoe and Connor bond a little bit in a short scene before the assembly

Zoe: wheres Evan what happened?

Connor: Kleinman Did!

Zoe: what?

Connor: Why Do you care?

Zoe: because! you look happy around him!

Connor: i, i do?

Zoe: yeah? he could tell the worst joke ever written and you’d crack up. i haven’t heard you laugh like that in years Connor, maybe ever.

Connor: oh.

Zoe: Come back inside?

Connor: y, Yeah.

they all perform You Will Be Found together.

end act 1.

(no more dialogue from here i got tired)

to break in a glove is Connor’s dad trying to reconnect with him, it goes mediocrely, but Connor feels like hes being seen by his dad for the first time in years. its said in metaphors, but this is Connors dads way of saying that if Connor is willing to put in the work, so is he. they hug at the end, things are looking up. some talk of therapy is sprinkiled in the dialogue as they walk of stage together.

Only Us is Evan and Connor saying that they saved each other. its loosely romantic, as its a love song, but they don’t out right say that they’re in love or anything, they don’t know if theyre ready for that. its a promise. the song ends with Connor finally apologizing for pushing Evan over at the beginning of the show.

good for you is sung by jared only, as a power ballad, about losing people you didn’t treasure. its his attempt at an apology, but it ultimately fails, since jared is unable to take responsibility for his own actions. this is where jared and Evan go their separate ways.

Evan’s mom comforts him, as he sings words fail, which is about specifically jared, and how their rocky friendship is ruined and Evan pegs himself as the cause, instead of parents or perfect girl he uses metaphors that apply to best friends— maybe more. and talks about how he didn’t try, he was happy so he ignored that jared was hurting, and how that was really shitty of him. but instead of it being a generally somber song the end is lighter, because Connor is there— waving through his front window.

Evans mom sings So Big/So Small as Evan steps out the front door to embrace Connor and they mime talking about jared, hug and take hands. the house moves off stage in preparation for the finale.

Connor and Evan open the finale saying each others names, and sing it together as the test of the cast (minus jared) joins in, Evans mom taking his hand and Zoe Taking Connors, Evans mom the Murphys and Zoe break off to the back where Evan and Connor finish the final “all i see is sky for forever” while looking into each others eyes, and finish the musical by embracing (maybe kissing if thats ur jam).

#dear evan hansen #deh #connor murphy #evan hansen #zoe murphy #musicals #broadway #deh rewrite i guess?#this is more like the outline of a fic i’ll never write #kd.txt #i was posessed to write this #tree bros

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ambitionsource · 4 years ago

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hi can we get some zaley friendship headcanons whenever you're free? ☺️

im not the best at headcanons just bc of the way my brain functions but im gonna do my best for you, sunny my friend. let’s go zay and riley let’s go!

thrift shop buddies!! one of the most common ways that they hang out is definitely going thrifting. considering they arguably have the two most eclectic wardrobes on the show, this makes sense. esp i fully believe they’re the perfect people to thrift shop with where they encourage each other to try on everything, even if it seems outlandish (and sometimes even more in those moments). that’s the only way to really get some good finds! and i feel like, beyond S1, when they wear items for performances in the show that are clearly unique / seem thrifted, it’s more than 50% likely the other helped them pick it out at some point

on this note, i think that they both have really good senses of what looks good on the other bc they spend this time together, probably better than anyone else (yes, including their significant others. not that that’s hard, since both of their significant others have notoriously bland fashion). like even when theyre not out together i can totally imagine them seeing something and being like “oh this is so riley / zay” and getting it for each other. they know each other’s sizes and have like an ongoing swap credit system gfJSKHJDLFH

riley and zay usually run performance by the other person before they perform them for the class / at an audition. like they find a specific time (usually during breakout sessions during class) to get in front of the other person and run them through their concept + do a run-through for them. they just really appreciate the other’s perspective, especially since they tend to complement each other -- zay is able to identify places where riley could heighten things or add some flair or just like... assert her talent more lmao, whereas riley helps zay pull back on some of his more overwhelming instincts when necessary or find the moments to truly lean in emotionally rather than blowing us out of the water the whole time

if we could actually Watch the show, i guarantee 9/10 times when riley or zay is performing, we would cut to the other enjoying the performance. like theyre always bobbing their head along and truly feelin the other’s performances. excellent vibes luv!

i also think they harmonize well with each other, which is why its kind of a shame they dont do more performances together within the context of assignments (as for why, couldn’t tell you... it might just be a weird psychological thing of like i have These people i perform with when it matters and these who are just for fun... like maybe zay and riley tend to see each other as easygoing comfortable duet partners and thats why they try not to overdo putting pressure on it). but yeah they absolutely have days where they just hang out in one of the rehearsal studios and play around on the piano and try to find ways to harmonize on their favorite songs. this is some of the best singing riley ever does, bc its so low stakes and fun

i also think that honestly, zay really helps strengthen riley’s vocals over the time they’re friends -- especially early on. riley is someone with good raw talent but she’s never thought about honing it seriously prior to joining aaa, whereas zay has been on a career mindset since he was little. so he is good at teaching her like small technique things or helping her expand her range and she really values that esp bc hes so selfless about giving it, but it doesnt come off naggy or unnecessary like maya’s advice often does

sometimes it can be hard for them to find songs they both wanna sing though bc their music taste is so different. i think they have like three small categories where their favorites overlap -- select big names (sza, chloe x halle), jazz / old-time crooners (frank sinatra, nina simone, and the like), and select musical theater. but i think this is mainly on zay, bc he’s much more picky about music than riley who will give anything a listen without much nudging. as we know zay likes to pick on his friends’ music taste (like charlie and harry styles / 1d) and i don’t think riley would escape this affectionate teasing. they exchange song recs and riley gives him like her usual piano ballad-y sara bareilles tswift rachael yamagata energy and shes like oh yes, another piano ballad and hes like STOP!!! JUST LISTEEEENNNN GFSJKLHJFDSKLHKDLFH

that said though, they’re definitely go-to friends when it comes to like checking out a new local artist or coffeeshop open mic nights. this is probably a typical zay / riley / yindra outing

zay doesn’t spend a ton of time watching tv bc “he has better things to do with his time,” but riley and zay are definitely the type to watch a show together. like not always Together, but they’ll try to keep up with each other so that they can talk about it (and riley has to try really hard not to keep binging and get way ahead of zay). theyre good at this bc they can have really intense and opinionated conversations about it but in a way where its like safe and neither of them feel like theyre actually being judged / are stupid if they disagree (something thats not common for riley, and zay usually is trying to discuss media with super strong personalities who aren’t great at Debating).

in general, though, they tend to agree on favorite characters / relationships. for example, they both hate rachel berry -- which always gets maya and farkle extremely heated if they’re around. i can only imagine why...

they’re also definitely safe-space vent people for each other. they don’t use the privilege all that often bc i think both of them try to like keep their cool and not get hung up about things, but if they really just have to pop off about something they know they can go to the other person and they’ll actually Listen and keep it under wraps rather than either spilling it to everyone else and/or immediately trying to problem solve rather than just listening to the Emotions. and it’s helpful bc for the most part, their friends don’t actually really overlap that much, so they don’t really like harbor the emotions the other person unloads on them or let it affect their dynamics with other people? like riley can talk about dasher and zay can talk about yingel without it having any ripple consequences bc theyre different circles.

for example, i can totally see riley talking to zay about how she feels like -- at first -- asher doesn’t really like her and won’t really let her in and like he doesn’t want her to join the friend group (even tho that isn’t really true). like she can’t talk to dylan about it bc she’s not going to put him in that position and she’s not foolish enough to think that’s a good idea, she can’t talk to lucas about it bc he like doesn’t get stuff like that gFJKHGLFJSDLH and also he has such a set impression of asher it would be hard for him to understand it from her perspective. zay has none of that, so hes a good person to listen to her nerves about it.

the only times this gets kind of complicated / janky is in the midst of zay x charlie stuff where riley is kind of unintentionally (or, sometimes, intentionally) in the middle. like, zay trusts her not to go telling charlie what he says about him, but he knows they’re good friends too, and its an awkward position to put her in. but still, i think when zay is really hurt or frustrated he’ll snap sometimes and just vent out all his anger about charlie to riley in one foul swoop, and she’ll just absorb it like a sponge without judgment and then not bring it up again. but you can also see little ways where this puts pressure on their friendship, like how when he was drunk in 304 zay expressed resentment towards the fact that riley also talks to charlie and sometimes he feels like she puts him first, even though that isn’t true. it’s just..... a very very complicated (and interesting, if emotional) situation with that trio.

that being said, when things are Good, i think that zay feels comfortable talking about his significant others (including charlie) with riley. he doesn’t really get too Detailed about anything personal or anything, but they definitely discussed charlie in s2 in the small window of time where riley knew and zc wasn’t actively imploding LMAO. on the flip side, riley doesn’t really talk to zay about her relationships, but only bc her relationship is lucas GJFSKLJHLKDJHFLDSH. like anyone else she’d be like okay sure this is fine but she knows zay finds lucas annoying 65% of the time and talking about him in a romantic context grosses him out so she respects that LMAOOOO. hysterical

in general, if they’re gonna hang out, they usually go to either a local coffee shop they like (like svorskis) or each other’s houses. its kind of a relief to have a person they can just take anywhere and have around their parents with no trouble at all, considering both of them are used to having a boyfriend who cant be seen in their house (for different reasons). and theyre comfortable enough that like i think when they hang out at their houses, they just spread out in the living area of both bc theyre not hiding anything, its like very lowkey and comfortable

that being said, riley doesnt spend much time in zay’s usual studio at school. most people don’t, its a place zay now likes to be alone (and it feels weird with someone else being there who isnt charlie)

as for how they come off to their families, the babineauxs love riley. jada has met her a couple of times and thinks she’s super sweet + zay could afford to learn a thing or two from her like how to chill the fuck out (cue zay going shut the fuck up). donna is excited that zay has another friend who isn’t batshit intense about stuff like maya / farkle, she figures yindra has the diva best friend role covered and zay needs more friends like nigel and riley to ground him. she’s right about this.

cory likes zay, but he also does have some prejudices from the teaching perspective about how zay doesn’t pay attention in class half the time and blows off his assignments -- but this isn’t partially because cory isn’t a great teacher and his assignments suck. so the feeling is mutual, tho zay gets along better with cory in a neutral, polite sense than say, asher and dylan, where it’s like guerilla psychological warfare. topanga has no opinion about zay bc riley doesn’t introduce her friends to her (wisely).

they’re still very common lunch buddies. essentially when riley isn’t eating with the techies (which is only when lucas is there usually) or bothering lucas in the booth once a week, she’s with zay (which usually also means nigel, yindra, and farkle, though not always)

ultimately, i think that when someone asks riley who her best friend is, her mind will always jump to zay first. not even because theyre necessarily the closest at any given time, but because he really was her first life raft at aaa and he extended that kindness to her in a moment where she was so used to being brushed aside, talked over, ridiculed -- and you don’t forget that. it stays with you. so when she thinks about her Best Friend, speed round answer, he will always come to mind first. i think she greatly admires his skillful balance of confidence and compassion, his sarcastic sense of humor, the way he gets so passionate about dance and music and how these elements come together, and his inarguable kindness that is at his core and so fundamental to everything he does (even when his more known reputation is a bit more barbed and witty).

on the flip side, i think riley came into zay’s life at the exact moment he needed it. we know he felt isolated in s1, and even though i think he thinks of nigel and yindra as his first-to-mind best friends, riley was a breath of fresh air who allowed him to be himself with someone who wasnt going to judge him on past decisions or impressions. just like he gave her the chance to define herself in his eyes with his extension of company on that first day, she does the same for him by not making assumptions about him and learning who he is on their terms. i think she’s also just a really great, measured system of support -- she’s not busting his balls or keeping him in check like yindra and nigel do (except when its really needed, like 304), but she isn’t as in awe / romanticized with him like charlie. i think he appreciates that he can go to her for an honest perspective, but she’ll take the care to deliver that honesty in a gentle way. it’s like, he’s tough enough to take a hit, but sometimes its nice to know you have someone who will be kind with you even then.

that’s what is at the core of their friendship overall. kindness.

-- Maggie

#amarakaran #ask and you shall receive #zay x riley #riley matthews #zay babineaux #aaa supplementaries #love them... i do

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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a process {John Deacon}

Anon asked: Could you write something where reader (possibly in the band) and deaky are totally in love with each other but both are too shy to say anything and oblivious to see the others feelings but at the end the get together and it’s 100% fluff? Thank u sm your fics are gold

A/N: 3169 words. If I recall, some people wanted some Deaky fic?? He’s so lovely and this was a lot of fun to write!! Again, this is the BoRhap!Deaky. Also I wrote half of this at work; this is university funded fic ladies and gentlemen.

“Alright, boys, jus’ letting you know we’ve got a new intern in today; Y/N, she’s going to be shadowing me.” The sound designer, Earl, a skinny gentleman who always seemed to be wearing black, denim shorts no matter the weather, announces your arrival over the microphone to the recording studio where the band was discussing what song to practice next. In the next moment, you have four pairs of eyes all watching you through the glass of the sound studio, and you give a nervous wave back.

“Hello.” You offer, awkwardly, and Earl leans in to the microphone on the desk.

“She says hello.” He informs the others, and you feel like an idiot. Fortunately, the men all wave back, giving quick greetings of their own, before going back to their discussion.

“They’re good.” Earl, pulled up a spare chair for you by the desk, checking the levels as they started up on a new song. From anyone else, the words would sound like a mild compliment at best, but from Earl, who you’ve known practically forever, he was a friend of the familys’, and he did not shy away from complaining about the ‘teeny bopper drivel’ he had to make sound half-decent, you knew it was closer to a round of applause.

“Intern? Does that mean you get us drinks?” They’re actually recording now, one at a time, while the rest of them lounged around on the other side of the room with you. You’re perched on the edge of your chair by the sound desk when the drummer, Roger, speaks to you. Their lead singer, Freddie was at that moment, currently in the recording studio, crooning into the microphone with his headphones on, and it takes you a moment to turn and consider what he had said.

“I mean… yeah, I guess?” Looking to Earl to either confirm or deny the request, he’s focused on the sound desk, just waves you off with a distracted affirmation. A grin stretches over Roger’s face.

“Bourbon, thanks.” And his grin only got wider at your sudden confusion.

“Water for him.” Pipes up the bass player, John, sitting against the wall with his ankles crossed, smiling up at you. “And one for me too, if it’s not too much trouble.” Relieved, you smiled back at him despite Roger’s protests. “You want anything, Bri?” John asked their guitarist, and you ended up getting drinks for everyone. Thankful that they kept fresh bottles in the break room, you returned as Freddie stepped out of the sound booth, and his recording was played back. His smile was stiff as you handed him a water bottle, though it was probably because he was trying to concentrate on the playback of his vocals than any malice towards you. Roger accepted the drink begrudgingly, and Brian smiled at you.

“I’m John, by the way.” Holding out his hand to you, you bent down to shake John’s hand where he was still sitting on the floor.

“I know,” you answered automatically, though he could see the regret on your face as soon as you said it, “I mean, we can hear you guys from in there, talking and everything,” you tried to explain yourself, still shaking his hand. After a long moment silence, he’s still looking at you with a bewildered, but pleasant smile. “I’m Y/N.” You finally manage.

“I know.” And he’s grinning at you, amused as you finally retract your hand to cross your arms over your chest. “You were introduced.” Pointing at Earl, you followed his gaze to the sound desk and the glass window, through which you could see Freddie setting up for another take.

“I’m Roger.” Roger offers from the side, and he seems to be splitting his focus between you and the singer.

“He’s Roger.” John muttered, much more quietly. How he was able to verbally communicate a fond eye-roll, you may never know.

“What does this one do?” Three weeks into your three month internship, and you’re minding the desk while Earl’s on break, slapping away John’s hands as he tries to get near the buttons.

“I don’t know.” You laughed for the fourth time in a row, pushing his hands gently from the desk.

“This one makes things loud, right?” His fingers edge towards one of the faders and you can see the grin he wears as he watches your expression closely, deciding if you’re going to slap him away from it again. The others have gone to get lunch and he’s keeping you company. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and you wouldn’t say you minded. John’s good company, unexpectedly sharp, and he always seems happy to see you.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that one; it’s for your bass.” You raised your eyebrows at him, lips twitching as you repressed a smile, watching him retract his hand to fold it in his lap.

“So that one’s for the bass, but what about the others?” He asked, nodding to the other faders, and you shrugged.

“Not sure.” Your response only made him smile wider.

“But you know which one the bass one is?” He asked, and you let yourself smile at him, a little more mischievous than was strictly necessary.

“Maybe I just told you that so you wouldn’t touch it.” There’s an unspoken challenge in your words, and his fingers danced along the bottom of the soundboard, just below where the masking tape labels for the faders have all worn away. There’s a moment, he’s hovering over one that looks like it’s labelled ‘Mic 2’ and you’re hand is already raised ready to knock him back, when the door bursts open and the others all spill in.

“Alright, out of my seat.” Earl pulls the rolling chair back with you still in it, and you obligingly hop out. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?” He asked, just like he had every single time since he’d first trusted you to look over it while he was gone.

“Yeah, Deaky, did you-” Roger’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but the bass player has hopped out of the seat that usually belongs to you, to make a beeline for the recording studio.

“Oh shut it, Rog,” he snaps, and though you can’t see the blush rising on his cheeks, he knows it’s there. “No.” He adds, and Roger’s exaggerated eye-roll, and the comment he had made, make you blush also, but you’re not entirely sure why, or at least, you won’t admit to yourself why.

“Okay, take, uh, take six? Take six of Killer Queen’s bass.” You stumbled over your words while speaking over the microphone into the recording booth where John waited with headphones on. He gave you a thumbs up, which you missed, searching for the button to play back the other accompaniment into his headphones. After a moment of fumbling, Earl pointed the button out to you, giving you a longsuffering smile as the music began to play back. The other band members quietly discussed the logistics of the song as you watched Earl gently adjust the sound levels every few moments. Sparing a glance to John through the glass, you get a little lost for a moment, watching his intense concentration as he worked his way through the song. He had an intensity about him, the utmost concentration that made you not want to look away. Finishing without a single note missed, he looks up to see you looking back at him, a little starry-eyed, and he grins back.

“Wow.” You breathe, before turning bright red, feeling someone over your shoulder.

“She thinks it’s great.” Freddie pressed down the button, speaking into the microphone by your shoulder. John chuckled fondly, a little flush.

“I- yeah, thank you.” After a beat, he recomposed himself. “And you guys?” His gaze finally moved from your face to look over the others, who were all looking at either you or John smugly. Freddie stepped back from the console, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile as he looked between you two.

“She’s right.” Roger called from the sofa, splayed across it, partially leaning against Brian. After a beat, John gave him a confused look, tapping at the headphones. “Oi, tell ‘im.” Roger urged you, and tentatively you pressed the microphone button, leaning in to it.

“They agree.” And you watch him let out a sigh of relief as he goes to put his bass on it’s stand, making room for Brian to step in and start with his section. When he comes back into the room, John makes a beeline for the sofa, only to find Roger’s laid himself across it horizontally, taking up as much room as he possibly could.

“Sorry, mate.” The drummer grins, clearly not sorry at all. Even Freddie, who usually didn’t go in for this sort of stuff, was using the armrests of the armchair he had draped himself in, giving the bass guitarist a knowing smile, and a sly look to where you were receiving a quiet lesson faders from Earl as Brian began making sure his guitar was in tune.

“You’re doing really good,” John muttered to you from where he leaned against the wall close to the sound desk. You’d just called to start the guitar track and he was keeping his eyes on his bandmate. Startled, you slid the headphones from your ears where you were listening to make sure Brian was hearing the same thing you were.

“What?” Voice quiet, you looked up at John, and he finally looked away from Brian, smiling fondly at you.

“The whole intern thing, you’re doing really well.” And the resulting smile you gave him made you glow with pride. You’d been so worried that it had seemed like you were stumbling through your tasks, because, well, at times you were, but even a slight affirmation had you thrilled. After a beat, you tried to school face into something more serious as you tried not to let the embarrassing crush on him that had developed over the past few weeks show. He was a musician and you were an intern, and it was just a little bit of a hero-crush, nothing to get too serious about. But he was smiling back at you, and it just made you feel warm; it didn’t have to be a bad thing if you didn’t let it.

Once the album is done, you still actually manage to see them around, at least for the first few weeks. You’d actually managed to score a job as an assistant from the internship, and they were in often discussing the plans of their tour. Every time they spotted you in the halls, the others would conveniently vanish the moment John asked how you’d been. It hurt a little, to think about how you wouldn’t see them, see him, for a few months, or perhaps even a year, but you thought perhaps it would be a good thing, letting your little crush die.

“I’ll really miss working with you.” But then he had to go and say that, smiling in that way that made everything seem alright, and he wrapped an arm around you in a hug. He’s not usually a tactile person, from what you’ve gathered, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice.

“I’ll miss,” the words get stuck in your throat a little, “working with you too.” He gives you a comforting squeezes, and you’re not sure what to do about the way your heart beats a little faster, so you let him leave. He hesitates for a moment, seems like he doesn’t want to go, or has something to say. You see something in his smile, maybe a little sadness, maybe something else you can’t quite place, and you both know it’ll be a while before you see each other again.

“Is Y/N going to be here?” John’s bopping slightly to the beat in his head as he watches Earl set up the sound equipment on the farm.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.” Earl doesn’t look up from his job while Roger yells at the same time, from the other room.

“No distractions!” And it’s accompanied by the thwap of Roger’s slipper hitting the glass of the window to the sound room, but he’s grinning at the bassist from where he’s sitting behind his drums. John refuses to read into that.

It’s been almost six months since you’d seen each other, and you’d jumped at the opportunity to join Earl and the boys a the farm, even if it is in the middle of nowhere, and you’d be sleeping on a sofa for a week. You arrived at the tail end of their stay, once the music was written, all that was left to do was record it.

He’s waiting out the front of the house, perched on the brick wall and eyeing off a large chicken who looked like it was ready to spook him, when Earl pulls up with you in the front seat.The noise of the van is enough to send the chicken scrambling in the other direction, but John waved at you, and there it was, that feeling in your chest that you’ve been trying to bury for six whole months practically leaping to life as you step out to hug him in greeting.

“Oi, Y/N, settle an argument for us.” When you walk into the kitchen in the morning, Brian is smiling despite the fact that he’s got bacon in his hair, Roger is hunched over eating the rest of the bacon, at least what wasn’t scattered on the floor, from the pan and refusing to share, and John was just smiling blithely into his coffee.

“What do you think of when you hear the phrase, ‘I’m in love with my car’.” John asked, not looking away from where Roger was glowering.

“Is it a nice car?” You asked, easily making your way around the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast, ignoring the way Roger perked up at the question.

“Like as a song, what do you think?” John’s smile as catty as you’ve ever seen it. When you ask what happened to the coffee pot as it lay on it’s side sink, John hands over his mug without hesitating, still waiting on your response.

“Well... is it a metaphor?” You asked, squinting between the three of them. After a beat, Roger slams the frypan on the table and throws his hands in the air.

“Yes, see she gets it!” And you’re pretty sure you’re on the wrong side of the table as John shakes his head.

“So you metaphorically are in love with your car?” You asked, rounding the bench to join John and Brian, who were now actively stifling laughter as Roger’s face fell. Resting against the bench by John, you’re close enough that he can lean his head against your shoulder in solidarity, taking back his coffee and having a pointed sip as your words set Roger off on another rant. If you lean into it a little, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, you don’t see it, but his smile widens.

When you hear John banging on the door of the farmhouse after you’ve finished helping pack everything up and Earl’s already locked everyone else out of the sound room for the rest of the night, it’s a shock.

“Tell her!” You can hear Roger’s shout on the other side of the door as John knocks louder.

“You really should just tell her.” Unexpectedly, even Freddie seems to agree with the drummer, though John shouts that he’ll catch his death of cold if they don’t let him in soon.

“Be an adult, John!” Brian tries to placate the bassist from the other side of the door where they’ve all teamed up against him. “Just tell her.”

“Be an adult?!” John parrots back, just before you get to them.

“Tell me what?” That shut them all up quick, and even before he turns to face you, you can tell he’s bright red. “I mean, I’m the only ‘her’ for what feels like a few hundred kilometres.” Smiling with confusion, you look to the door, and then to John. Someone whispers ‘tell her’.

“I want to see you again.” John lets the words tumble out into the world, hands out and open in front of him in some sort of ‘ta-da’ gesture, before looking over his shoulder. “Can I come back inside now?”

“What? No.” You can hear Roger’s baffled expression in his words, and it’s joined by a hum of agreement from Freddie.

“He’s right, Deaky, that was a terrible declaration of lov-” John’s pulling you away by the elbow before you could hear the rest of Freddie’s statement, though you got the general gist of it.

“You know what, maybe we’re better off out here.” He huffs, unable to look at you as he tugs you towards the wall.

“Slow down, slow down.” Once at the wall, you tug free from his grip and lean against it, watching him fidget. “You like me?” You asked, half smile forming on your lips.

“We’re not high schoolers, Y/N.” He tried dodging the question with a self-deprecating smile. Taking a step forward, you finally got him to look at you. “You know, it was weird, caring about you so much after only three months.” He admitted, studying your features with an intensity you had only seen him get around music, it made you feel like the only person in the world that mattered in that one moment. “It was weird, looking up on stage and not seeing you in the crowd.” He paused for a moment. “And I don’t want that to be our only interaction, just recording music together, I wanna take you take you to all the sights I got to see, but just... just because I want to see them with you.” When his gaze dropped, it felt as if the moment had passed, but you didn’t want to leave it just yet. Gently, you took his hand, and when his eyes met yours, you were smiling, a bit pink in the cheeks, but so obviously full of joy.

“I’d like that,” and after a beat, you moved in to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste. “I missed you... so much more than I thought I would.” You chuckled softly, moving back just a little. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t-”

“No, I did.” He looked away, a little embarrassed, and you could see the flush of his cheeks. “The, uh, the boys will attest to that.” He admitted, and that’s when you remembered, feeling the biting chill of the night air finally begin to hit you.

“Do you think they’ve unlocked the door?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. His expression fell as the two of you began to walk hand in hand back to the farmhouse.

“It doesn’t actually lock, they were just all leaning against it.”

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #joe mazzello #queen #queen imagine #bo rhap #the angry lizard writes

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ursoself-satisfying · 6 years ago

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Friends Will Be Friends

they’re so cute ::””))) it's hard to find good gifs that fit this mood in particular lol rip

Roger centric (unrequited), officially John x Reader, sfw

A/N: based on a request!!! first angst piece yikes,,, this was supposed to be fluffy but appearently I cant do fluffy n now its angsty so thats fun,,, kind of a sequel to Thank God It’s Christmas, except now its new years yeet but u rly dont need to read anything beforehand this is an be a stand alone like all my fics theyre inherently connected in the universe in my head but not meant to be read in any order

Warnings: none rly, language ofc, some emotional Rog,,,,, Brian n Fred r like mom n dad for a sec,, unrequited love n angst ;;((((

linking my playlist for my last fic cus it works here too!!! listen here ;;;)))

“Well, I don’t know, really, when we got here I was dragged off by some girls congratulating me,” you took a long sip of the pink champagne, bubbles rising as you threw your head back to finish it before continuing, “I didn’t even know them, actually.” After the drink, this being your- Well, you couldn’t remember but you’d had quite a few and you were starting to feel it. You inhibitions began to escape you, slowly buzzing out your ears like flies. Your senses were still decently sharp but everything was emitting a soft haze. You shook your head and looked at the man beside you with a snort. Roger laughed a bit as you said this, looking down at his bunching pants and smoothing them out then taking a drink of his own still full glass of the same drink. The party behind you was muted through the glass you sat beyond. When you turned to your friend, you could see his reflection in the window, over the bare backs of various guests pressed against the surface. Blinding lights of every color were magnified and you turned away from them after a moment, keeping Roger in your peripheral vision. It was odd but nice that he would sit with you like this. He was a party man yet here he was overlooking the streets and the sky from the chilly balcony with you after rescuing you from a rather unseemly conversation with some giddy female attendants in matching schoolgirl uniforms that barely covered their asses. It occurred to you Roger approached the group with ulterior motivates but in the end he left with you and that warmed you in the bite of the winter outside.

His eyes were caught on you for a moment like knit on velcro and he had to pull himself away as you held out your hand and admired the heavy stone shining on your left ring finger. Anyone could tell it was new to you with the way you fidgeted, spinning around your digits and sliding it up and down whenever you spoke. “It’s kind of funny, in a way,” you started, turning your hand so the metal band would reflect the bright lights from the party behind you, “that so many people found out so quickly and are having such- they’re all being so-” lips flattened into a thin line, you searched for a proper word to describe the situation you were in.

When you couldn’t seem to find an adequate adjective, your friend offered his help. “Jealous? Neurotic? Insufferable?” Roger leaned towards you, scooting closer on the wrought iron bench, one eyebrow raised and a goofy grin. You leaned towards him as well and with a roll of your eyes, hit his arm playfully and shook your head.

Was he wrong though? You blinked and laughed at him, “Be nice!” you scolded, to which the drummer responded with an innocent raise of his open palm and an exaggerated frown. “They’re all excited for me and, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, too- I’m beyond!” You shrugged your shoulders a bit unsurely, “but- Oh, I don’t know.”

Your gaze was cast down and you sat in silence for a moment, your environment sinking into you. The sights and smells became clear in your pause, filling your nostrils with the traveling scents of burnt sugar and wet soil. Licking your lips before beginning again, you kept up an act, refusing to show any doubts that had seeded themselves in the pit of your stomach. It was easy for you to talk about your love for John, as you truly did love him with all your heart, mind, and soul. Even though you were scared of the change and uncertainty of what this future might bring, you were sure he would comfort you. So you spoke of him to fill in the empty air where you thought your enthusiasm should be, truth in every word but the conversation lacked substance. “He’s wonderful. He’s everything and I couldn’t live without him.” Roger didn’t look at you, or at least you thought he didn’t. It was like he was looking past you like you were there but he could see something more as you continued.

Roger watched you intently when you went silent. He didn’t speak. It looked as though you needed some quiet, or as much quiet as one could get at a trademark Freddie Mercury party. You seemed deep in thought and you looked beautiful in it. Slightly slouching and shivering now and again, you stared aimlessly ahead of you. Fireworks boomed overhead but they didn’t seem to shake you. The only stillness in a mile radius existed around in you right then.

Looking out over the moonlit garden of the mansion, glowing blue and green in the cold night, layers of snow draping the bushes like thick wool blankets and sparkling like the stars that shone brightly above, Roger sighed. It was a gorgeous view, the fireworks over the scene reflecting off all the fresh white flakes gathering in the yard, creating an effect akin to what he imagined people leaving on the Titanic saw. The woman beside him kept up her chatter, going on so sweetly about how in love with her future husband she was and he could practically feel the admiration on his cold exposed skin like lashes batting against him. The hairs on his arm rose when he thought about it, her lashes on his skin, long and soft and accompanied by something else entirely. His unhelpful imagination warped her loving words into whimpers and moans he wished he could hear every night, but every thought was partnered with weighted guilt and he shook them from his mind.

Her words still found their way to his ears like bluebirds in the spring settling on a freshly painted windowsill. “It’s a lot of attention, and I don’t mind the attention, you know that, but he does and I worry about him.” Though she makes jokes, her tone is laced with concern that sends a pang to Roger’s heart.

“You really love him?” He started but interrupted himself, catching himself before he got into a conversation he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing in his over-emotional, half drunken state. “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it?” He looked to you with a smile, though the difficulty of the action was seeping through his teeth like a syrup. With his elbows supporting him as he leaned on his knees, he finished his sparkling drink and chuckled softly. He had inched closer still and now the two of you were touching at the hip. Closeness wasn’t uncommon or uncomfortable given the proximity the band often existed in. You were included in that as often as you’d been with the band in these places, the backstage dressing rooms or clubs and trailers.

The man’s breath hitched when he felt a soft feathery object fall upon his shoulder. It was your head leaning on him, hair nuzzling into the crook of his neck. God, he couldn’t fucking stand it. He held still, still as the marble images around the edge of their view, not wanting you to move, so desperately not wanting to disturb you. He wished- He wished so many things were acceptable to do right then, to do to you, to tell you- “So, uh, where do you think your boyfriend’s gone off to now?”

The words fell out like a cough, rough and unwanted in his throat. He could never grow to hate the man you were to marry. In fact, he probably loved him nearly as much as you did, though in a different way, of course, but it hurt him to see you with someone else, anyone else. It hurt more knowing this feeling had only grown the more you were together and that the only reason you two were ever together was that you were with John. Without John, he never would have met you, but because of John, he would never get to experience you in any way he fantasized. Of course, you didn’t have a monopoly on his mind, it would be unfair of him to claim that as he had other women, other lovers, and girlfriends for long periods of time. You, though, you were always there, both physically and just as a thought in the back of his head.

You interrupted his spacing out when you moved your head off him. He suddenly ached for the contact, both for the warmth and the connection it brought to him. The worst part was the departure of your scents, the soft exotic fruits of your shampoo washed off the pads of his jacket when you sat up to speak. You turned to look up at the pink and orange sparkling fireworks erupting overhead, echoing through the empty vastness of the spacious snow covered green. The snow absorbed the reverb, though, making the ordeal slightly less startling. Roger’s round, sunken eyes were on you as your own eyes traced the path of the falling ashes, still glowing as they rained from above. The sparks landed softly on the ground at your feet and in the light hair of your current companion. He watched as bits put out in your own tousled waves, crowning you with a dirty halo like an angel bringing forth the chaos of a clean slate.

Your growing smile sent another jolt to through the musician’s vessels to his heart. “I imagine he’s probably been given a few too many drinks at this point and has danced himself to the point of passing out and is asleep on a futon somewhere.” The laugh that followed was like music to his ears, like a symphony of love and a bittersweet taste of an unattainable treasure. “It’s exactly what I expected him to do- It’s what we planned actually,” you laughed again, “but I’m just not there with him while he’s doing it.”

Your breathy chuckle died out and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver, the winter around you finally finding it’s way beneath your festive but not protective clothing choices. To be fair, you hadn’t known nor expected to be spending the whole of the New Year’s party outside and open to the forces of nature. Roger nodded as you spoke, still not looking at you. The weight of entering the new year with the unending potential, i.e. expectation, of marriage made you anxiously already and your friend acting so strangely right beside you only made you feel worse. It was a happy holiday, though, for clean starts and letting go and you weren’t about to burden him with these thoughts of yours. He sat back and turned to you slowly, placing a delicate hand on your knee. His soft lips opened to speak when a familiar voice bled through the glass, loud enough to reach over the resounding music still playing, which meant it could only be the host himself.

“Alright, you wonderful people! Midnight is almost upon us so grab yourself a partner! We don’t want to be entering the new year alone, do we?” A crowd roared and booed in response and they all clamored to find someone to hold as they made the journey into January 1st. The two of you looked back at the commotion, then at each other. The space between you was pregnant with things unspoken and uncivil, the child of want and need and lack of better options. Lust and longing brewed on Roger’s end and confusion on yours. Whatever he had wanted to say seemed to slip his mind as your eyes met and for a moment he just looked at you in awe.

There went his heart again, fiddling with his emotions in ways it shouldn’t, hurting as he turned away from you. He checked the time on his watch and it was only minutes until the strike of midnight. He had two choices here and neither was going to absolve him of all his unhappiness, but one had more appeal than the other. Fuck, he thought, was he really this awful of a person? Removing his lingering hand from the woman’s leg, which he was so thankful you so kindly didn’t mention, he stood and looked back at you. Your attention turned to him in his movement and you looked up at him, eyes glimmering in the light of the flashing night sky. He’d imagined looking down at you like this many times, perhaps in a bit of a different situation, but often when he was alone, on tour, in the shower. Here you were, though, tipsy and clearly preoccupied, plagued by second thoughts on your commitment, he assumed, alone with him and you were beautiful. Glowing like the garden you gazed out at, brighter than the moon over the snow and the sprinkling sparkles of celebratory fireworks above your heads. Time was not his friend or it would have allowed him to meet you before his bandmate did. He supposed, though, with great melancholy disdain, that one couldn't change fate and he had determined it must have been fate between you and John. The two of you were perfect. His options at that moment were to give into himself or to not fight fate and he chose-

“C’mon, then, love, you heard the man. It’s almost midnight and you should be spending these first and last minutes with the love of your life. Well,” he winked, “the other love of your life.” His hand was extended to you and you took it graciously, standing up with hurried blinks, the booze you drank earlier rushing to your head. You caught yourself on him as your feet failed to hold you up straight. His arms wrapped around you as you collided with his chest. He swore under his breath, knowing this was God’s punishment for all the tantrums he’d had. His body was warm on your and you hummed at the exchange of heat, killing him a bit more. Roger could barely move, desperately not wanting to let you go but knowing he had to. He pushed you back up and held you so you stood before him. Your deep breath woke you up, the sharp night air fressing in your hot, alcohol coated lungs. You could barely hold your head up to look him in the eye.

The percussionist could see the sudden wave of extremely inconvenient tiredness roll over you and he prepared himself for the contact he craved, knowing it was temporary and for the good of his friends. “Let’s find your hubby-to-be, huh? Get that New Year’s kiss.” He said, scooped you under one arm to guide you into the maze of people that was the party. Upon entering, the man holding you did his best to keep you close, for your safety partially for his own satisfaction. To you, everything began blending together. You simply felt exhausted and you suspected it to be some physical manifestation of emotional fatigue after all the circles you ran around yourself pondering the unnecessary worries of marriage. Fingers that weren’t your dug into your side and you had to catch your breath everytime you felt palms press against your form and embrace you in order to guide you through the mass of excitable horny couples preparing for the bell to toll.

“Roger, what’re you doing, darling?” Fred’s voice came from behind and Roger jumped.

“Fuck, Fred!”

“Roger,” the host said again, unfazed by his reaction and moving to face the pair, “what are you doing?” His tone was more pointed this time and he crossed his arms, brows furrowed at the sight of his arms around the engaged woman. His fingers tapped against his arm and he blocked you from going any further. Your eyes were half open and vision growing blurry but you could make out Fred’s voice anywhere. You were still awake but you were, in the nicest terms, out of it.

Roger scoffed and rolled his eyes, attempting to push past the singer, lowering his voice to speak into his ear as he passed, “It’s not like that, Fred, I’m finding her John.” Fred lowered his brow still and watch the couple shove through, passing him and heading to the cushioned seats in the center of the room. Fred shook his head, a cocktail of emotions raining over his features. Sympathy, pity, and disapproval all showed through his knowing glance back as he walked away.

The man holding you shook off the accusatory interaction with his bandmate and, reaching the cluster of chairs, spotted the poor bassist slumped against a wall. His fluffy hair was flat against the plaster wall behind him, leaning his head back and looking absolutely unfazed by anything happening around him. Frankly, Roger wasn’t even sure he was awake, eyes barely slits open. Then all the shit hit all the fans all at once, relative to Roger’s priorities.

“One more minute!” Someone yelled, and the bodies around him suddenly starting reacting, moving and jumping as excitement filled the air along with the odors of spilled beer and bodily sweat. Cursing, her gripped your slightly more awake form and shuffled towards where your lover was.

Now more awake than even before your drinks, jostled by the sound immersing you, you pulled back from the blonde holding you. Roger, losing your heat against him, turned back and spoke to you in the form a confused expression, arms raised as a question of why you disconnected. “Be my kiss,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. You hadn't seen your other half, half awake at the end of the room. The time was ticking down and you were ready to give into booze filled bad ideas instead of overthinking this just as you had everything else tonight. “I don’t even know where John is,” you threw your hands up as you took a step towards Roger, who couldn’t take his eyes off you, “and it’s just you, Rog, he wouldn’t mind.” A smile graced your face with a small laugh, aiming to wash away the awkwardness of the suggestion, though it was meant to be innocent.

Or was it? Roger shuddered as another crack spread through his heart. Truly, this must have been a cruel joke. Kiss you? No, you only suggested it because you saw him as someone non-threatening and there would be no consequences. You saw him as someone you weren’t attracted to, he thought. True or not, that interpretation of your words hurt him, he hurt himself in thinking it. He wanted this so badly, but you and John were not even 20 ft from one another and neither of you saw each other. Maybe fate- No, he thought again, this wasn’t his place and it pained him to turn you down.

Without a word to you, the drummer turned and waved his hand in the air, calling your lover’s name. “John! JOHN!” Your hand was slipped into his in the process and together you made it to wherever it was Roger had seen the quiet man. Your face had lit up upon hearing John’s name and you eagerly followed your guide.

John was pulled from the deep recess of his mind as he stood entranced by the ceiling tiles, assuming you had found friends to party with and he hadn't wanted to intrude. His name was being called by an unmistakenly high pitched voice and he knit his brows, bouncing off the surface behind him to search the bobbing heads of the crowd counting down. A sweatband clad wrist waved excitedly at him and, what do you know, attached to that hand was a certain short-tempered drummer leading behind him-

“[Y/N]!” John called after you. The second he caught you in his sights, it was tunnel vision and he ran in your direction. Roger led you out of the densest mass and gave you a swift friendly swat on the backside as encourage you to meet your fiance. You squeaked, both at the swat and the sight of your lover. When he reached you, he completely engulfed you and you were left with nothing to know besides him. He was everything to do and every anxiety you had was gone at that moment, disappeared in a poof of smoke. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your face in his hair, smelling the drinks on him and loving every second of it. His large hands spread to shield the small of your back and hold you as close to him as possible.

The countdown began and the hundred of voices throughout the house chanted in unison, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

John pulled away enough to look at your face and his own was distressed, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier, I assumed you were having a good time elsewhere-”

“I’m always having a better time when I’m with you and it’s fine!” You laughed sympathetically, yelling over the loud countdown, “I got lost in the evening- In everything that was going on, and I-”

“I’m sorry!” He said, smiling weakly. He was so sweet and soft in the colorful lights melting over him.

“Four! Three! Two!”

“Shut up and kiss me-” And your lips collided with his. The clock struck midnight and it was a new year. The cheers around you, throughout the house, were earsplitting and no doubt the neighbors would have complaints, but no one cared. At that moment, everything was wiped clean. There was nothing but new opportunities and potential ahead of them and you finally came to terms with that. It helped to have your future husband caressing you and kissing you with such a passion you thought your lips would go numb. Nothing could have been better than being there in his embrace, you thought, and you mentally thanked Roger for dealing with you, distracting you, and helping you get to this point.

From behind you, Roger looked on with a smile, but as you two remained connected well past 12:01 AM January 1st, he left the scene. He tried to remember he had a woman, albeit one in a difficult relationship with him, and that he shouldn’t be having those thoughts about you at all. There were so many reasons why you were such a contradiction, so right yet so wrong, and it all made him crazier for you. He stepped back out onto the quieter space of the balcony where he’d been with you before. The cold felt like something he deserved. Not being able to stand to watch you exchange hot, open-mouthed kisses with someone else, though he’d never had one from you, was a ridiculous reason to leave his dear friend’s party, he thought. It didn’t stop him from stepping out, though.

The party inside died down as people passed out or left and the sun rose early that morning. Roger watched it, dark bags beneath his eyes a sign of his state. He remained outside, at some point having been given a blanket by a drunken guest immediately before they puked and passed out in said puke. The blanket was clean, thank God, and it was the only thing allowing him to stay where he was so long. The sunrise made him think of you, how bright you were. The birds that rose with the daylight reminded him of the harmony of your voice and the warmth he felt made him think of your body against his in any way possible What it year it was already, he thought, losing himself in inappropriate images of you. It was January 1st and Roger Meddows Taylor had started the year without a kiss and with an aching pain in his chest instead.

BONUS:

Upon finding himself the only one awake so early in the morning and having nothing to do, the lead guitarist instinctively began picking up. Streamers and bodies littered the floor among the confetti, sparkles, the leftover stick of shattered and spilled sugary drinks surrounded by a dangerous array of broken glass that shone with a misleading glimmer of beauty in the midmorning light. The trails of colorful debris had led him to the sliding glass doors of the balcony that open and closed with a low muffled click. Outside, though, was a sight the tall man hadn’t expected to see. His drummer, small and angry, was sound asleep on the bench coddled in a well-loved blanket. Head thrown back and mouth open, drool sliding down his cheek, he looked like a child and somewhere the standing man’s paternal instincts kicked in. Brian sat down beside the snoring blonde and put his arm around him. He was cold to the touch, the thin cover clearly not being enough to trap the heat to keep him comfortable.

His long languid fingers played upon his bandmate’s shoulder until it stirred him from his slumber. He jolted awake with a fearful, high pitched string of swears, frantically looking around until he saw the person beside him then proceeded to swat away any contact that had been made between the two of them. Brian laughed heartily and jumped a bit at the tired man’s reaction. “Fuck are you doing, mate?” Roger said, adjusting his posture and attempting to compose himself. He gingerly pulled the blanket tighter around him and shivered, now realizing how cold he was, as the new sun did very little to warm his aching body.

Looking on with worry in his eyes, though amusement ran through his face, Brian sucked on his teeth as he contemplated what would be the best curse of action in this delicate situation. “Fred told me he saw you with-”

“Oh, don’t start.” A disgusted Roger scoffed and turned towards his friend. Though he would never admit to the emotion behind his voice, the rings of hurt around his eyes made it clear something painful came from his heart.

Brian sat back a little, the cold of the metal bench sneaking through his coat and stinging his back. He understood the space Roger occupied, having once been there himself and it all seemed to work out wonderfully, but this, he admitted, was a bit more complicated. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, as his friend sniffled and wiped at his nose discreetly. He couldn’t hide his quivering lip, though.

Though he’d pushed him away before. Brian went again to wrap his arm around the drummer, tightly this time so he couldn't be removed, squeezing and rocking him back and forth as a method of comfort. Roger choked back a sob and his eyes wet against his will. He kept face, though, and remained still, staring out upon the bright melting snow of the growing green garden that reminded of so much of her. A rattled inhale preceded a raspy confession, “I love h-”

“You love John,” Brian interrupted, pretending not to hear what the shorted man was about to say, knowing if he let it out he would regret it and he wouldn’t let his friend make that mistake. “He’s one of your best friends and you love him, hm?” Sitting beside him, the curly mop of long dark hairs towered over his companion’s messy blonde wisps. He looked down at him with a stretched smile, but the other avoided making eye contact. “You love,” Brian sighed, “that he has found someone who makes him so happy. Sometimes they mess up, but don’t we all?” Knowing to raise his brows as he spoke, the guitar player gave his childish friend one last squeeze on the arm then rose and looked out over the greenery below with him. “Don’t h-” He trailed off for a moment, then pushed his eyeline down, turning halfway to the still sitting musician. His hand held his chin in thought before he continued, “Don’t make any mistakes you’ll regret.” The response was thought out and he sends the percussionist a message of sympathy and understanding in his lopsided grin and squinted eyes. With a nod, he exited the balcony, leaving one last pat on Roger’s shoulder.

Roger took a moment to consider the ominous advice of his friend. He thought of all people to tell him something nice, it would have been Brian, for whom a situation much like his own actually ended well. He was disappointed in what he’d said. He did love John, like a little brother. Aren’t brothers just awful, though? The chilly air dried out his tongue as he breathed open-mouthed, nose blocked with clear snot that he would deny was ever there. The tears he couldn’t stop though. One by one, silent streaks cleared their way down the sides of his face from his soft blue eyes. “Quite the predicament,” he said softly to himself, biting back any unattractive noises that dared to climb up his throat. He let out a final conclusion in a pained smile and quiet voice, “Fuck.”

102 notes · View notes

cutesuki--bakugou · 6 years ago

Text

Shameful

Pairing: Bakugou x Koge (OC)

Koge’s Tag

Rating: Teen, for cursing and suggestive conversation

Word Count: 4,309

Me 3:09 PM: Hey love, I just got off the train. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, okay?

Cutesuki 3:11 PM: ok. just show the guard at the door your id, theyll let you in.

Me 3:11 PM: What, they don’t know who I am by now? （＾ｖ＾）

Cutesuki 3:12 PM: utsuro theyre just following my rules. you could be a shapeshifter coming to try and kill me.

Me 3:12 PM: Ooh, true. (¬‿¬) But what if I have a fake ID, too?

Cutesuki 3:14 PM: they can tell. ill order you an access badge.

Me 3:15 PM: So I can come whenever I want?! (⊙ᗜ⊙)

Cutesuki 3:15 PM: not if you act like that you cant.

Me 3:16 PM: Oh, sorry. I’ll be stoic. (・∀・) And mean. All your employees will hate me.

Cutesuki 3:16 PM: probably

Me 3:17 PM: Uh, I was joking! (ｰｰ;)

Cutesuki 3:17 PM: lol

Koge gave a small roll of her eyes, placing her phone back into her jacket pocket. The chill of the mid winter air fogged her breath, making her feel like she was walking through clouds. Why the weather decided to get so awful on her day off was beyond her, but she hated it. Not only was it her day off, she also had special plans that involved a lot of walking. The act of walking isn’t want got to her, but the fact that it was so cold her nose felt like it was frozen solid did. Even though she was wrapped head to toe in warm clothing, the petite woman felt like an icicle, and the thought of stopping at an approaching coffee shop peaked her interest.

Hm, coffee sounds good, she thought to herself. I wonder if Katsuki would want something. It’s a bit late in the afternoon, but he’s probably worn out. I’ll get him one.

Ducking into the shop, Koge got herself a nice hot cup of straight black coffee and Bakugou his odd mixture of what he always preferred. The man liked spicy coffee, which really wasn’t all that much of a surprise to her, though she couldn’t help but pick on him for his enjoyment of it. There was always the retaliation that she was a freak for liking straight black coffee, which was just as bitter as her personality.

‘That’s okay,’ Koge would always tell him, sly grin on her face. ‘You’re married to me, so you must like my bitter personality.’

Sipping on the hot bitterness from her cup, Koge continued down the sidewalk after her purchase, her body warmed by the drink. She wasn’t the only one to relish in the joy, however, as there was a series of movements from her swollen abdomen. “Oof, chill out there, girl.” Koge whispered quietly to the frozen air. “You always get way too excited when I drink coffee.” Rounding a corner, Koge’s gaze was pulled towards the large building across the street at the end of the block.

Damn, it was ugly. A huge, industrial style with very few windows, and it almost made Koge think that it had popped right out of a post-apocalyptic movie. The thing looked like it could withstand a bomb, with thick dark grey concrete, pipes and steel decorating the exterior. Yes, it was architecturally brilliant, but that didn’t make Koge thing it was any less ugly. Still, it was noticeable, recognizable and marketed perfectly for who worked inside. This had been the first time she had seen this new building, as her lover had just finished construction of this new firm headquarters and moved his entire team just a week ago.

After carefully crossing the street, Koge made her way to what she assumed was the entrance, noticing the two guards standing outside chatting. They seemed quite lax, something that Koge knew Bakugou might snap at them about, but she decided to keep it to herself. Conversation coming to a halt as she approached, one guard whom she was familiar with gave her a welcoming smile. Although this middle aged man had a kind face, Koge had seen him take down people with no mercy or hesitation. She liked him enough, and if Bakugou trusted him, then she could as well.

“Hello, Koge! Come to see the new building, eh?” He held out his hand, not in a way to shake hands, but was silently asking for her ID. Koge nodded, handing both of the coffee cups out towards the other guard, who took them from her. “Hold those, please? And yeah, it’s finally my day off so I can come see it.” After digging through her pocket, she removed her wallet and fished out her ID, giving it to the waiting man before her. He took it, turning on a small flashlight and shining it on the plastic.

“How’s the kiddo?”

“Ah, he’s with his grandparents today. The other is still latched to me.” Koge patted her swollen belly gently, waiting patiently for the return of her ID. With a small chuckle, the guard handed it back to her, turning off his flashlight and placing it back into his pocket. “Not for too much longer. Head on in, I think he’s in his office on the top floor. If not his secretary will tell you.” While Koge put her ID away, he flashed a badge to a sensor on the wall, the large glass doors sliding open with a beep. Koge took her coffee back, heading inside after thanking the two men.

Ooh, secretary. How spoiled. But, he deserves it. He’s worked so hard to get to this point, and so quickly, too. He’s only twenty-seven and his hero firm has grown this huge! I’m so proud of him.

Much to her surprise, the inside of the building was a much more modern industrial style than the outside, with polished concrete and stylish brick walls. The furniture in the lobby matched the style, with red, orange and army green accents. How cute, he sure did decide to keep to his brand. I love it.

After a quick trip up the elevator, Koge followed the signs to Bakugou’s office. Before she could get in, she found she had to stop at a large desk, with three women sitting behind it, all doing computer work. Only gaining the attention of one of them when she approached the desk, she had to stand up on her toes to see the woman better. “Hi, I’m here to see Katsuki?”

The woman had visible surprise on her face at the use of Bakugou’s first name, cocking her head to the side a bit. “I’m sorry, but he’s in a meeting at this time with his Public Relations Manager. Were you… Did you have a meeting with him as well?”

Koge felt a twinge of annoyance at the mention of the PR person, giving a small cough to clear her throat. “I’m his wife. He’s expecting me.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but--”

“Yeah, no buts. Buzz me in, please.” Koge started towards the large doors that she assumed were the entrance, stopping at them when they still did not open. She glared over her shoulder at the women, who were glancing between themselves in confusion. “Buzz me in. Believe me, he likes me a lot more than caring about the slight inconvenience it would take to replace you.”

The woman that had spoken to her first gave a small cough to clear her throat, trying to stay firm. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but his Public Relations Manager stated that they should not be disturbed.”

Koge gave an annoyed click of her tongue. “I’m sure she did. You’re really going to fight with me on this one, huh?” Placing both cups of coffee down on a small decorative table that rested at the edge of the doors, she pulled out her phone.

Me 3:32 PM: Your little brats out here won’t let me in. They say your PR lady told them to not let anyone in.

Within the minute, the doors opened, an obviously annoyed Bakugou standing in the doorway. His glare was immediately locked on the women at the desk, who shifted about nervously in their chairs. The main one spoke up, quickly standing to show him respect. “I-I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that Ms. Ito--”

“I don’t care what she said. I gave you permission to let this woman in, did I not?” Bakugou approached Koge, noticing the coffee and picking it up for her. “Yours?” He addressed her directly, his expression softening. Koge smiled, giving a small nod. “And yours.”

The woman at the desk he had addressed gave a low bow. “I’m sorry, Sir! It won’t happen again!” Bakugou started back through the large doors, Koge at his heels. “We’ll discuss it later.” Koge didn’t have time to see the reactions of the women as the doors snapped shut behind them, looking up at her lover curiously. “Are they new?”

Bakugou sighed, giving a nod as they made their way down a small hallway, which displayed his awards, trophies, paper certificates and permits. “Yes. Well, a few months at least. But they are scared of Ito. Everyone here thinks she’s vice president or some shit when she’s literally only the PR person. Irritates me.” In his frustration, he brought up one of the cups of coffee, taking a sip before Koge could tell him it was the wrong one. The cringe that crossed his features as he swallowed the bitter black water made her giggle, and he quickly handed the cup to her. “Ugh, fuck that shit is gross!”

Laughing, Koge took the cup, watching as he downed a large gulp of his coffee to rid himself of the taste. “Aw, it is not. Yours is the one that’s gross.” Bakugou shook his head, giving a satisfied hum. “No way, it’s good. Thanks.” He held the ID that hung around his neck up to a sensor, the door opening for them. Once open, Koge’s gaze immediately landed on the obviously flustered woman that stood beside a large dry erase board, impatiently tapping her foot.

Koge couldn’t believe how much she wanted to kick this womans ass, just from looking at her. Sure, she knew that anyone who worked so directly with Bakugou needed to be strong willed and stubborn, but this woman wasn’t just that. She truly was the definition of a bitch.

“Sir, please, this really can’t wait.” Ito addressed Bakugou the instant he returned, pointing a marker to the board to bring attention to her writing. “I need you to approve these appointments so that I can get them paid for and scheduled.” Bakugou sighed, placing his coffee down on his desk before glaring at the annoying white board that he hated. “Why do you have to bring that stupid board in here? I hate looking at things on it, why can’t you just give it to me digitally.”

“This is the best way for me to explain myself to you, and I can easily put posters or flyers on the back side for you to see. It’s not the same when looking at them digitally.” The woman adjusted her glasses, tapping the board with her marker. “Just come read these ideas and let me know what you think.”

Koge read the information on the board as she removed her outer layers of clothing, setting them down on a couch against the wall. “He said that he would prefer the information digitally. Don’t you think you should listen to your boss?” Ito shot a sharp glare at her, tapping her nails against the plastic of the marker in her hand. “I know what works best for him, I’ve been doing this job for ten years, three of them being for this firm. I’d appreciate you keeping your comments to yourself.”

Bakugou shared a glance with Koge that told her to keep it down, to which she begrudgingly agreed with a huff. Arms crossing over her chest, she let them rest on her swollen belly, making her way closer to Bakugou’s desk as he read aloud what was on the board.

“Poster series… Blankets and shit…. More magazine stuff? No--” Bakugou shook his head, moving around the desk to his chair. “After the last magazine shoot, I don’t want to do that shit again.” He pulled the chair out from under the desk, motioning for Koge to sit. She did so happily, leaning back in the plush leather that comfortably supported her aching back. “Oh god, that last magazine thing was terrible! When they were done it didn’t even look like him.” Koge reached up to take his hand gently, which he allowed. “He looked better in the one before that, but… It was so saucy we couldn’t even show our son, who has been excited that his dad is in magazines since he knew what they were.”

Ito cleared her throat, removing Koge’s chance to speak again. “The last magazine was a huge hit. Another series is in serious demand, the public want more of that content.” Koge narrowed her eyes, a bit suspicious of this. “The public… or women? You do realize that Katsuki’s main demographic is teenage and young adult males, right?”

“The men go for the interviews and the women go for the pictures. If it makes money and doesn’t ruin his image, than it works.” Ito grabbed the top of the whiteboard, pulling it down so that the other side was visible. Koge let out a sharp laugh, annoyed and amused at the mock posters and photographs taped to the board. “Doesn’t ruin his image? Do you even realize how those types of things make him look?” With quite a bit of effort, she stood, waddling her way towards the board to see the images better.

Bakugou took her place in the chair, rubbing his temple. “Koge, it’s alright, it does work.” With a shake of her head, his lover pointed to one of the posters that had him displayed in a provocative pose, with just his mask on as the image stopped right at his hips. “No. This doesn’t even look like you at all. Look how skinny! You’re not thin like that.”

“What? I’m not fat—“

“That’s not what I’m saying! You’re… you’re buff Katsuki, you’re not a rail like this. I’m not saying you’re fat. But you’re body doesn’t look like this.” Koge looked up at Ito, the woman towering over her. “Why do you let them photoshop him so much?”

Ito gave a small huff, looking away from Koge, as if she were an eyesore. “I have no control over what the magazine company wants to do.”

“Not true, you have to approve it, like you are now. Katsuki, you haven’t noticed that?” Koge looked over towards her husband, who looked like he was about to throw them both out. “I don’t usually give a shit. I don’t notice how much they change me, if they do.”

“They do. I don’t know why they would. This is so much better.” Koge moved her finger to another poster, of Bakugou in mid battle. “This is how he should look. All scuffed up, angry and strong. He’s not a little sissy boy.”

Ito shook her head, pointing to a number above the sexier poster. “Look at this number, it’s higher than the one for that poster. That means that this style is more sought after—“

“By that demographic. By young adult women and teenage girls.” Koge made her way back over to Bakugous desk, opening a marketing binder that rested there. “You have numbers in here I’m sure and percentages based on different groups of people…” Bakugou watched her, but didn’t intervene. “Hm, you’re right, Koge. I’m pretty sure that eighty seven percent of my fan base isn’t into that shit.”

“They’re not! They can’t be—“ Koge was cut off by Ito snatching the binder back, holding it to her chest. “That’s company data! You can’t look at this.”

“I’ll have you know she can.” Bakugou snapped back. “Who do you think helps me with numbers and making decisions? I trust her more than a room of CEO air heads any day. Show her your numbers, I’m interested in what she’s talking about.”

“But Sir—“

“Fine, then let me see them.” He held his hand out towards her, to which Ito reluctantly handed the binder over. Bakugou flipped though it for a minute as Koge came around the desk to join him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I’m pretty positive that data is being pulled from demographic percentages depending on age, gender and location. Here, see.” Koge put an accusing finger on a chart. “Eighty seven percent of women from age sixteen to twenty three want more of that photoshop nonsense. But that age group is only thirty something percent of your fan base.”

Koge gave Ito a glance, noticing that she wasn’t going to give in to this. “I think you’re trying to cater to a group of people that doesn’t really matter all that much. Or maybe…” She placed her hand on the top of Bakugou’s head, ruffling his hair gently. “Maybe to things that you want to see, huh?” Ito’s face instantly flushed red. “What?! Who do you think you are, to say something like that to me! That is absolutely ridiculous!”

“I don’t think it is. I think you’re taking advantage of his ignorance when it comes to the marketing side of his brand. That’s why he hired you, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He may be smart, but he has no time to deal with that type of nonsense.” Koge moved her hand down to Bakugou’s back, a bit surprised that he was so quiet about all of this. “You say you know what’s best for him? You aren’t even listening to what he wants, what he likes, or even what the majority of his demographic wants.”

Heading back to the board, Koge pointed at the image of him in battle. “Look at this. Look at how both sexy and strong he looks. His body is completely unedited, his costume is a bit ripped in places. He’s sweaty and grungy and that glare is enough to make the ladies need to change their underwear. But that is a woman looking at it. A man, or a young boy aspiring to be a hero, would look at this and think, he looks so cool. So badass. So strong. Okay sure, some men might fight him sexy and a lot of women will find him powerful.” She shared an amused glance with her lover, who only glared at her with his ears red in embarrassment.

“You release that?” She gestured to the more sexual image, disgust crossing her features. “You’re only going to hit a small percentage of his fan base. But this?” Again, she slapped her entire palm over the more powerful poster. “You release this and you will hit everyone. Because this is sexy and powerful. If you respected him and his image, you wouldn’t be making him do the sex appeal thing.” Koge let out a long breath, feeling a bit winded from her ranting. “He might be attractive, but not in that type of way. That’s more of a pretty-boy type of thing.”

Ito shook her head, hands firmly on her hips. “I don’t agree. I think you just don’t want your husband half naked out for the world to see.” Koge sputtered an amused laugh, both hands on her stomach as the child inside wiggled about. “Listen lady, I could care less what other women see of him. Because only I get the full show. Get it? That man on the poster isn’t even my Katsuki. It’s a fake. Where are his scars? They even smoothed out some of the muscle lines to make him look less muscular!” Koge glared up at the taller women, who finally seemed on the edge of breaking.

“You have no right to come in here and criticize me for doing my job.”

“But you’re not doing your job. You know, I don’t like you.” Koge made her way back over to Bakugou, who stood and once again gave her his chair to sit, which she accepted gladly. “Ever since Katsuki hired you. For petty things at first, like at one point I was really upset that you and him were constantly going on trips. I was jealous that you got to see him all the time when I didn’t. But now, I just realize that you’re awful.” She took a sip of her coffee, glad to see that it was still warm. “It’s so obvious that you’re taking advantage of his ignorance of what needs to be done for his image. I’m not going to let you do that to him.”

Ito was red faced now, completely flustered and embarrassed at being called out. Koge didn’t care. But, she also didn’t want to cause discourse in Bakugous firm.

“But… I will admit that on the things that don’t involve him with his tits out, you do very well. The meet ‘n greets, the autographs, his book, his interviews, they’re all fantastic. So you do know how to do your job. I truly think that this is just a hiccup driven by personal desire.” Koge closed the binder in front of her, pushing it back over towards Ito, who was staring at Koge in surprise.

“You can have a crush on my husband all you want.” Koge spoke quite curt, planning on getting her point across the first time. “But you won’t have him. So if that was your goal, this little sexy series? I truly hope it stops here. Every once in a while, sure, let him model underwear for an ad because he’s got a nice butt. I won’t be quiet the next time I see him being degraded like that.” She looked up at Bakugou, who was staring down at her with intense focus. She gave him a small smile, effectively breaking him out of his daze. “Do you agree with me, Katsuki?”

Bakugou turned his crimson glare to Ito, who was standing there red faced and leaking guilt. “This is something I just didn’t even notice… I just thought it was all normal, I hear about that half and half bastard doing this shit, and even Deku.” Koge nodded, opening one of his drawers to peek into it curiously. “Mhmm, but that’s a part of their look. Of their brand. They’re pretty boys. You are raw power, Katsuki. Believe me, women find that just as attractive as your fake photoshopped abs.” She pulled out a stress ball that resembled his gauntlets, beginning to squeeze it and pass it between both hands. “I love these. Another good decision you helped make, Ito.”

Ito only gave a small nod. “I won’t let it happen again. But… these are already almost finished contracts. We can’t back out of them, now, these companies will never work with us again.” Bakugou sighed, moving to stroke Koge’s hair gently as he thought. Then, as she looked up at him, an idea crossed his mind.

“Koge. We’ve never done anything, have we?”

“Eh?” Koge felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks, giving a small shake of her head. “N-no…” Bakugou looked back over towards Ito, nodding to motion her to come over. “Change the contacts, to do do a family shoot and interviews.” Koge took his hand, a bit of worry creasing her brow. “Are you sure? Is that safe?”

“No one knows where we live, not even the people that work here. I want to do it, with you and Matsu.” He held her hand tightly, the excited interest on his face filling Koge’s stomach with butterflies. Smiling she kissed the back of his hand. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

As Ito came up to take her binder, Bakugou put his hand on it, stopping her. “Make it happen, Ito. Though, we will have to discuss your behavior further. I can’t just let it go.” Ito nodded, taking her binder when Bakugou released it. “Yes, sir. I’ll have the contact sent to you digitally for review. Thank you for… not firing me right off the bat.”

“I wouldn’t want him to fire you.” Koge spoke up, catching the womans attention. “Like I said, you do your job well. All of this that he has is with your help. But you gotta stop the thirst.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am. I don’t want to be rude, but… for someone so small, you’re kind of scary.”

“I’m married to Katsuki. I have to be a little scary, right?”

“I suppose…” With another bow, the woman left with her dry erase board in tow, the wheels making an annoying squeak as they rolled. When she was finally gone, Koge sighed, turning the chair to face Bakugou. “Holy shit, Katsuki, what was that creature.”

Bakugou scoffed, leaning over the chair a bit, gripping the arm rests for support. “Utsuro, that is what is known as a woman with a huge crush on the big boss who’s married and is still trying to get into his pants.”

“She’s icky. I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“You were right, though. Thanks.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head, moving his hands to caress her belly. “How’s she?” Koge placed her hands over his, smile crossing her lips. “She’s great, Katsuki. She’s been a little wiggly thing all day, though.” Bakugou nodded, able to feel the child against his palms. “It’s because you’re all worked up. How about a tour?”

“I’d like that, Katsuki. After a kiss. Or two.”

“Or ten.”

“You know me too well.”

#bnha writing blog #bnha scenarios #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x oc #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #fanfiction #oc #original character #koge #cutesuki scenarios #personal writing

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godaime-obito · 6 years ago

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my fill for @kakaobiweek2019 day 8:time travel. Kushina takes care of things; on ao3 and under the cut!

Kushina isn’t particularly happy about dying. She imagines most people aren’t, but unlike them she’s not going to put up with it. The Shinigami can bite her, she wants back in. Honestly once she woke up she didn’t remember much of being dead, so she can’t really say how she got back to life again, just that she did.

She awakens spooned against Minato. It takes Kushina a long time to convince herself to move. The worst part of being pregnant was not being able to be big spoon properly anymore.

...Is she pregnant? She’s not sure how far back she is. Maybe she just isn’t showing yet? But, maybe, she got lucky and she’s farther back than that. If she gets up and runs through Konoha she might find Rin or even Obito. On second thought, the Shinigami better hope she’ll fin Rin and Obito.

“Pretty boy,” she shouts as she hops out of bed, “I demand an emergency ramen dinner for your team.”

“What? Kushina it’s the morning. It’s too early for dinner,” Minato says bewildered.

“It’s never too early for ramen,” she retorts and throws his usual uniform at him.

Kushina and team Minato arrive at Ichiraku’s as soon as it opens. The kids are exhausted from morning training and Minato is exhausted from delaying Kushina until the stand actually opened.

She decides to sit smack between Obito and Rim instead of her normal spot, but she’s still barely able to contain her enthusiasm at seeing them.

“How’s it going kiddos?” she cheers. Now to keep them from dying somehow.

“I’ve made a lot of progress on my mystic palm efficiency,” Rin volunteers, “Obito’s been working very hard on his kanton and we’re sure Kakashi’s going to be a jounin soon.”

“Wow,” Kushina says with a smirk, “a jounin already Kaka-chan? But you’re still so cute.” He puffs up in response and gets ready to go on one of his little rants, but Kushina can’t hear him over her own laughter. She missed these little rants, after Obito died, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good luck kid,” she says after her laughter dies out, “but don’t get so caught up on your rules that you forget your teammates. When you’re a jounin you’re a leader and you have to consider your subordinates.”

“They’re not my rules, they’re the ninja rules,” Kakashi retorts.

“Look here little punk,” Kushina growls, “I’ve been a jounin years and I think I know a bit more about how the rules work than you. If I hear you’ve been leaving your teammates in the dust I’ll make you regret it.”

“Kushina, darling, I’m sure he’ll give your words plenty of consideration,” Minato reassures her. Trying to diffuse her temper before she gets more worked up. She quiets with a huff and the rest of the meal passes by with the normal sound of Kakashi and Obito bickering, which cheers her up a bit. It feels good to be back.

Kushina tries to believe in Kakashi she really does. But… she knows what a stubborn brat he is. She may take some time off to us to stalk them around on the Kanabi Bridge mission. It isn’t easy to find the time or avoid being seen, but she’s able to help pick off the Iwa nin. Obito makes it home with his two sharingan eyes, and Rin and Kakashi come back intact too. Well, Kakashi still ends up losing his left eye, but you win some you lose some.

Naruto is going to be born soon, which brings her to her second goal: not dying. Things go wildly different. She thought there may be some ripple effect from the things she’s done differently or from Obito surviving, but this is a bit much. She really isn’t sure what she did to cause this. It’s October 10th and instead of the masked man with a sharingan there’s some kind of plant demon with what may be mokuton. They seem like opposite problems, but they must be connected. Thankfully Kushina was ready to be attacked and this fucker isn’t capable of teleportation and phasing the way the masked man was. The kyuubi is still safely sealed in her, and if she could just get it to stop regrowing when either Minato or she kill it they’ll be golden.

Just when she’s worried it might wear them down before they can kill it backup arrives. Mikoto arrives flanked by a few of her clansman. Kushina couldn’t have a better best friend. The literal fire power of their kanton turns out to be just what they need. Either they successfully burn away the plant demon or they at least manage to scare it off. Kushina can’t say what happens immediately after because she just gave birth and then fought a demon, so she very reasonably fell asleep as soon as it was over.

Kakashi and Obito are late to Naruto’s second birthday. Obito’s been rubbing off on Kakashi ever since Kanabi Bridge, when they finally learned to get a long, and it’s not that surprising they’re both late. She’s still annoyed though. She will find both of those brats and drag them here.

It turns out she doesn’t have to look very long, because they’re together. They’re lying on Obito’s couch, while Kakashi is, from what Kushina can see, attempting to discover how far down Obito’s throat he can get his tongue. Fucking Sixteen year olds.

“Boys!” she screams as she climbs through the window. “Stop being horny and celebrate my son’s birth!” she adds, smacking them both over the head, “Ingrates.”

“Kushina-neechan,” Obito stutters out, rapidly turning bright red. “It’s not what it looks like,” he insists.

Kakashi just looks smug. “It is what it looks like, if it looks like I was about to get lucky,” he says, “until you interrupted.”

“Kakashi!” Obito shrieks and reflexively sucker punches him in the gut.

“You can get as lucky as you want after the party,” she says, “Get moving.” She stalks out the front door and Obito pops up from the couch to run after her, grabbing their gifts off the table as he goes. Kakashi follows after them once he regains his breath.

Obito and Kakashi are both late to their commitments the next morning, but Kakashi is big spoon and really doesn’t want to move. Obito is still happily snoring and while they’ve slept in the same bed or on the same futon before it was never like this. Never in this context. He wants to stay a while and just watch Obito’s untroubled sleeping face. The last few years have gone unexpectedly well and strangely he for some reason feels like he owes Kushina. Maybe he should take her with them to get ramen later.

#kakaobiweek2019 #kushina #minato #kakashi #obito #minakushi #kakaobi #fanfic #my writing #naruto

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h3llostrang3r · 6 years ago

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A Lifetime to Remember

Perfect Match

Pairing: Dames x Mc Summary: One-Shot.Melina Park is searching for Dames. Word Count: 3,800 Warnings: Language,Sexual content implied(I don’t think it’s anything more explicit than what you would find in a Choices 30 diamond scene.) Notes: I miss Dames. I still haven’t forgiven PB. I give them all my monies and they couldn’t give me Dames during the finale.

Do you ever have the feeling that someone is watching you? You know, when you get those urges to look over your shoulder even though no one has called out your name. Did you really see something out of the corner of your eye or was your mind playing tricks? Or when you suddenly look up from whatever you were concentrating on because you could just feel a pair of eyes locked on to you. Like you can just feel the heat from their body and it sends a thrilling chill right through you? I have been feeling this more and more every day for the past few months.

Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. But it feels so incredibly real to me.

I’ve spent countless hours online searching for him…

Keegan hasn’t spoken to me since we took down Rowan and Cecile. She won’t give me any information on what happened to him. I’ve reached out to her and those I’ve found connected to her, but nothing. I don’t know why she’s ignoring me, I proved myself to her before - that I’m on her and all the matches side.

No signs of him and no body found. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can’t think the worst. I refuse. I know he’s stronger than that. I need to know if Keegan or someone was able to fix his programing, he could have lost so much of what he had by now. He has to be out there somewhere …

That’s why I have spent so much of my down time online. Throwing myself out there. My online alias spreading like wildfire, ThePurpleHairPark. I’m in chat rooms, forums, social media outlets - there’s always someone watching,reading,lurking from behind their screen. The world knows about the matches and there are so many out there helping them. So there has to be someone that has seen him. All I need is one person to point me in the right direction. Or he can come find me. I know he knows how to. Or at least his past memories would.

Can anyone help me? Actually help me? The conspiracies, the theories, they’re insightful, but I need something more.

Where are you, Dames?

Please. I need you …

Melina sits back in her chair staring at the screen. She sighs heavily before she deletes the plead and publishes her newest post to her open forum. Her purple hair slightly covers her face as she hangs her head low. Some strand clinging to her cheeks as tears start to roll down her face. After a deep breath she wipes the tears and gets up to refill on her iced tea.

Melina was at the coffee shop close by to her apartment almost every day. Always getting looks from the customers coming in and out of the shop. She was never quite sure what they thought of her and her laptop sitting in her favorite spot by the window. She didn’t really care, she just wanted to make sure that she could be seen. Her goal was to be seen by him, by Dames.

As Melina stood in line, she checked her phone. No missed calls or texts from Damien. He had been so busy with work since they saved the President, she was thrilled that Damien’s business was booming, but it made it harder for them to make time for each other. They didn’t mind their low-key nights in just them, some takeout (Melina’s cooking still not improving, whoops) and a movie while snuggling on the couch. Yet, with Damien’s ever growing case files he would often come home, grab a snack and head straight to bed. Damien was still supportive of Melina spending time with Hayden, but even she seemed to be too busy for Melina lately.

Melina orders her iced tea - which is on the house, her friend Lily is now working at the register. Lily gives her a wink and flashes her a smile as she shoos Melina along. Melina mouths a, “thank you” as goes to wait for her drink.

Melina never minded being alone and single. There was always something to do, always a way to entertain herself or keep busy until she heard from one of her friends. So why was it now, when she had two loves in her life she felt most lonely? Even Nadia found time to be with Steve and his… abs. Luckily, her cousin would always make time for her at least once a week. But ever since they came out from hiding from Eros’ radar , life never went back to being carefree for Melina.

Her heart had been so full from being loved without judgement from two amazing people in her life, but now that love - where did it go? Had she expected too much? Was it unreasonable of her to want to see them more than 2 or 3 times a week? Melina’s mind often drifted to Dames when she was alone. There was still that spot in her heart reserved just for him. Which often ached at the thought of him, not knowing where he was or if he was even okay.

She had to find him. She needed the answer. Even if he didn’t want to see her again or even want to be with her, she just wanted him to be okay.

Her name is called and she grabs her rather large drink and heads back to her spot. She stares at her computer a few moments - and there. That feeling. Her face grows warm, her heart begins to beat a little faster, the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. Her eyes look up from under her long eyelashes - slowly scanning the faces in front of her, nothing. She slowly turns her head to the left, no one looking at her. Her back is against a wall so it definitely was not coming from behind. Melina bites her lip as she returns her gaze back to her computer. No, no, that feeling is still there.

She froze - too scared to turn her head again. Move your damn head, Melina. Do it. She ordered herself internally. Did her body know something her mind didn’t? She blinked and a tear began to fall. Exhale, Melina - slowly she let out the breath she was holding. Her body relaxed and she allowed herself to look to her right, out the window she always had to sit by.

There he was across the street, just staring at her with his hands in his pockets and a sad look on his face. That creep, that handsome fucking creep.

“Dames…” she breathlessly says out loud. Her eyes grow wide, she has to hurry or she’ll miss him. RUN she screams in her head, RUN MELINA. She scrambles out of her seat, almost knocking her laptop off the table, but she doesn’t care. Her feet threaten to trip over each other, but she corrects herself. She pushes the coffee shop door open hard and fast, if there was someone about to get hit there was no way she was going to notice. She looks across the street again, he’s not there.

No. Fuck this noise. He’s not getting away without saying a word to me.

Melina’s feet take her to the busy New York street. Her first few steps are in the clear. “Dames” she cries out with every ounce of her heart and soul. “Dames, please.” Her next few steps just miss a car passing by. Her head is spinning, the cars honking in the background seem so far away. The yelling from the other pedestrians not even registering. Her feet stay planted in the street as she frantically looks as to which direction he could have gone.

The honking becomes louder and louder, her ears now pounding. That’s when she looks to her right and coming straight for her is a yellow taxi. Time starts to slow, her breath catches - she can’t move, she wants to scream. Then the feeling, when you can feel the heat of their body against yours. Except this time - it’s real. Her focus goes to him, but is blurred in a flash.

Dames grabs her at incredible speed and throws them both safely to the sidewalk. He envelopes her in his strong arms and shields her from the fall on to the hard concrete. Her legs sting, but that pain is far away from her mind. He holds her for a long time, her face nuzzled in his chest. Her arms tucked between their bodies, her hands gripping for dear life onto his jacket. She inhales his scent, that mix of cologne and rum that reminds her of that blissful night in Paris. In his arms felt so right, she could melt into his touch and not move for hours - but she could live without the dirty sidewalk.

“Dames…” She manages to whisper, “I thought I lost you.” Her body trembles in his arms as the reality hits her. He is here, he is real, he is alive. She lifts her head from it’s safe space. Oh what she would give to kiss along that jaw and to his mouth. To sink into his lips and wrap her arms around him and never let go.

“Melina what the hell were you thinking?” His face so close to hers, his eyes filled with concern. He brings his hand up to her face to brush back her hair and it lingers as he cups her jaw. Did he dare move his face any closer? Threatening to crash his lips against hers and tangle his hands in her hair, bringing her closer to him and never leave her again.

Before she can answer they are being helped up by onlookers. Her gaze doesn’t move from him, she’s not losing him again. She thanks them and brushes them off as she moves closer to him - if he tries to run she thinks she can be quick enough to grab him by the jacket.

“Please, Dames. Just come to my apartment. Y-you don’t have to s-stay. I …” She drops her head for a moment as she lets out a deep sigh. Looking into his eyes - God, is this real? Is he really in front of me? She says, “I just want to know you’re okay. Our last talk to each other, that wasn’t fair - it wasn’t right. That’s not how things were suppo-”

“Melina…” The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat. “I’ll come with you. We can talk, I promise.” She nodded her head, still in disbelief. Instinctively, her hand intertwined with his. “Do you want to grab your laptop?” He asked as he motioned to the coffee shop.

“I’m not crossing that street again, today. I’ll text Lily to hang on to it for me.”

The walk back to Melina’s apartment was silent, apart from the noise from the city, but it didn’t phase either of them. Absentmindedly their thumbs would graze one anothers - fingers still laced together. When they reached her apartment Melina led the way, giving her hips an extra sway for him as they climbed the stairs. She wanted him to watch, and she knew he would. It took her a moment to fetch her keys from her crossbody purse and unlock her door, the adrenaline was kicking in again. This is a part of her life Dames hasn’t experienced first hand. This moment would be intimate one for both of them.

They made their way inside, Dames moved towards her living room, taking it all in. With her eyes closed, Melina slowly closed the door imagining Dames moving closer to her. His hands on either side of the door frame, closing in on her. His chest pressed against her back, his pelvis against her backside, and his lips hovering so close to her ear. She would turn around to face him and that’s when he would press her hard against the door, his lips kissing hers and his hands gripping her hips as hers would tug on his collar.

“This is a really nice place, Melina.” Dames says, snapping Melina out of her thoughts.

“Ya, thanks. Over here is the kitchen… Where I keep the rum. I need a shot, do you want a shot?” Her heart is beating so fast, her hands begin to shake. She makes her way to the cupboards and pulls out two shot glasses and his favorite rum. He sits on a barstool on the other side of her counter, one elbow propped up.

“Melina, are you alright?” His voice is filled with concern as he watches her move quickly.

“Mmhmm. I just, need to calm my nerves. It’s been so long and it’s all happening so fast.” She pours the shots and slides one over to him. He takes his and stares at it for a moment before he returns his attention to her. She raises her glass to him before throwing back the shot. He quietly lets out a sigh, then follows suit. She’s already pouring herself another round and is quick to refill his. The second shot burns her throat, but seems to do its job as it settles her down. She looks into his eyes and she can see the pain in his eyes. The pain he’s been feeling since Paris, since they left him behind in Tokyo to fight Cecile and all those matches. Her breath hitches when he takes her hand into his.

“C’mon, let’s go sit down. Okay?” He says as he leads her from the kitchen to the couch in her living room.

They settle onto the couch, space between them, but their knees slightly brush against the other as they face each other. Her arms are crossed against her body, gently tucked beneath her heaving chest. His hands are placed on his thighs, rubbing back and forth - not sure how he should proceed.

“Dames, where the hell have you been?” Melina breaks the silence, he can hear the hurt in her voice. “I have been endlessly searching for you, hoping and praying that you were alive and until today I’ve had no fucking luck.” The tears start to form in her eyes and her voices begins to shake. “Why now? I know you’ve been in contact with Keegan. Why have you been avoiding me when you know how to get a hold of me? Why? Why?” The tears fall and her cheeks are wet, she can’t wipe them away fast enough. They just won’t stop.

He hates to see her like this, it hurts him to see her cry. He wants to just wrap her in his arms again and bury his face into her hair. He wants to make her pain end, but he’s the one who did this to her - it’s his fault. It’s all his fucking fault. Fuck it, he thinks as he reaches for her and wraps her into a hug. He gently rocks her and she cries even harder. He whispers “I’m sorry” over and over into her ear. It’s not enough, she deserves more than just his words, even if he means it with every ounce of his fabricated heart and soul. “I’m so fucking sorry, Melina.” He says before she pulls back.

She wants him to look her in the eyes when he tells her why. Why he hid from her all this time without one single word, even if those words were “fuck off”, but he didn’t even give her that.

“Melina, I’m so sorry. I was a coward. I was scared to come back to you when I knew my time was coming end. Knowing I only had months to retain all my past memories and feelings. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to be near you and lose you all over again.” Melina couldn’t believe what ehe was hearing. He didn’t even attempt to let them try -

“I eventually came into contact with Kaahn. I didn’t know if he could help me, but I couldn’t let Cecile and Rowan win. I couldn’t go down without some sort of fighting chance.” He sighed as he took Melina’s hands into his. They were so much smaller, and they were so soft. He loved how such a simple touch from her brought such warmth to him.

Her eyes grew wide, fucking Kaahn talked to Dames and he didn’t say a word?When Dames took her hands and it relaxed her for a moment, but she was still in shock. Who the hell did Kaahn think he was? “He attempted to fix my programming. Today is the last day before the original’s program was set to erase everything. Unfortunately, Kaahn doesn’t know if his override will work. I’m scheduled to… ‘reset’ if you will, at midnight. It won’t be until I wake up will I know if it worked. ”

Her world was flipping upside down. Her head was spinning, her heart was breaking, what was she supposed to do with this information? She finally had Dames back, but tonight he could be gone all over again. This wasn’t fair , Dames didn’t deserve any of this. He brushed her hair from her face, he wanted to comfort her as best as he could. He had already accepted what might happen to him, but this was all so much for Melina. He didn’t want her to have to endure all this. This wasn’t something she needed to worry about, she didn’t need to fuss over him.

“Stay with me.” Her eyes pleaded, her lips slightly parted in anticipation of his answer. “I know you wanted me to see you today. I know you weren’t expecting me to run like a mad woman into traffic, but …” she licked her lips and Dames let out a soft groan at the sight. “Please, stay. You’re finally here and I don’t think I can let you go.”

“What about Damien?” He questioned, his feelings for Melina meant the world to him, but he could never come between her and the person who he had to thank and curse for all these wonderful feelings.

She shook her head and said, “He’s surprisingly very open to me having intimate feelings for others. I don’t think you would be an exception. And it’s not about Damien right now. It’s about me and you right now, and right now I want to spend what could be last moments in your arms… if you want that too.”

That was all he needed to hear. He slowly closed the space between them, Melina’s sweet scent filling his senses, making his head swim. His lips found hers, they tasted like rum with a hint of peach from her iced tea that she had been drinking earlier. Her moan sent a tingle through his body. He needed more of her, but he was worried of what would come in the morning. Dames broke away from the kiss and asked, “Melina, are you okay with keeping it light? I want to be with you so badly, but it’s not fair to you if I won’t have any memories in the morning. I …” Dames hung his head low, scared to meet his gaze with hers. Her warm hands cupped his face and she lifted his chin until he finally looked her in the eyes.

“I am perfectly fine with being held in your arms all night long, but don’t stop kissing me.” Dames stood up and brought Melina to her feet and embraced her in a hug. He lifted her up and she hooked her legs around his waist holding on to him like she would never let go, burying her face in his neck. He led them to the bedroom where they laid in bed all night intertwined. Both Melina and Dames fighting the urge to fall asleep. Their eyelids heavy, but their lips still finding each other. Both whispering each others names on their skin, and their lips. They both succumbed to sleep, the mental exhaustion too much for them to bear any longer.

When Melina wakes up she’s not sure what time it is. She can feel the warmth of the sun peeking through her curtains. Her face is still buried in Dames chest, her new favorite place to rest her head. She’s afraid to move, not knowing what will happen if she wakes him up. Will it be him? Will he remember her and the enchanting night they just had. Just him and her wrapped in each other, never letting go. She wants to cry, the anticipation driving her mad, she didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want to lose Dames again.

Moments passed and finally, he began to stir. She held her breath, this was it, the moment of truth. What would she even say if he didn’t recognize her - she guessed she could call Kaahn or Keegan and they would know what to do. Fuck. Why did it have to be this way? Why did this even have to be a thought?

She felt pressure on the top of her head. Was that? Was that a kiss? Another, and another on her temple. She couldn’t move, does he remember?

“Melina.” He whispers in her vibrant purple locks. She looks up, and he’s smiling the brightest smile she’s ever seen. He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s ….

“I remember. Everything.” He can’t stop smiling, his head clear of the fog that was his limited programing. Lifetime upon lifetime worth of memory just waiting to be stored. Kaahn did it.

“Stay with me.” Her voice gentle, she didn’t ask, she wanted him to know she wanted him.

“As long as you want me, I will always be here for you, Melina.” His lips found hers over and over again. They trailed along her jaw and down her neck. She moaned his name and begged for more. Piece by piece their clothes made their way to her bedroom floor. His groans grew louder the lower his kisses wandered. Her skin was soft, she was so beautiful and her taste was like ecstasy on his tongue. Melina’s moans drove him to please her harder and harder until she was trembling against his mouth.

“I want all of you, Dames. Please. I need you..” She begged between her panting breaths.

Dames kissed Melina ever so gently as he made his way between her legs. Their moans mingling as they moved against one another. Melina savored the pressure of Dames’ muscular body on top of her’s. She held him close, not wanting to let go. He was finally back in her life and to stay this time.

Dames is here, he is real, Dames is alive.

#perfect match #dames x mc #playchoices #30 diamond scene #long post #h3llostrang3r writes

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reesewestonarchive · 6 years ago

Text

chapter seven / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

Twenty five cents seems so much heavier than it should. A weight in his pocket, in his palm, and Nakoa knows getting the heaviness from him will only make him feel better, but…

He still can’t pick up the receiver.

Rain pelts against the side of the phone booth, and Nakoa shivers. Across the street, Rem sits in the van, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, smoking. Nakoa can just barely make him out through the foggy window panes.

They haven’t talked all morning. Not even so much as a hello.

With shaking fingers, Nakoa drops the coins into the payphone and lifts the receiver. Dials home, and waits.

If his father picks up, Nakoa will hang up. He’ll return to the car, he’ll ride off into the sunset with Rem. If his father picks up, Nakoa won’t listen, won’t even speak. He’ll let the fucker wonder.

“Hello?”

It’s his mother. Nakoa’s heart clenches, nausea twists his stomach into knots. He voice cracks a, “Mom?” and he feels twelve years old again, the first time Michael hit him. Donna says nothing, though, so Nakoa says, “Did I lose you…?”

“No, one moment, let me get a pad…” Then, distantly, “Just someone from work, Michael, I’ll take this in the other room.”

Relief spreads through his veins, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. She’s keeping him from Michael, and—he chokes out a laugh. Thinks if she’s stood up for him years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Nakoa,” she says, her voice watery and weak. “Are you okay? I won’t ask where you are, but are you okay? Do you need money? I can—” She pauses. “I don’t know how I would get it to you, but I /could/, sweetheart, I could.”

Nakoa grips the receiver, closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of tears. Fuck. “I didn’t—No, Mom, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

A sigh of relief. “Now I know you’re safe, yes.” Another pause. “Why did you leave?”

“Don’t—this isn’t. I’m not—” He leans his head against the phone box. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I miss you so much,” Donna says. It feels like Michael’s hands around his throat, hearing her words. “I wish you would come home.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He swallows. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Okay?”

“You’ll visit, though, won’t you?”

Fear grips him tight around the throat. “No—I can’t—” Once upon a time, Nakoa thought maybe he’d never get out of his father’s sight. Now that he has, the idea of ever seeing him again…

He looks back at the van, at Rem playing air guitar in the driver’s seat. “I’ll—I’ll call again, okay?”

“Nakoa, wait!” Donna hesitates, then says, “He has people looking for you. You know your father is an influential man, I just… please be careful.”

People—why the fuck would Michael care about it. Why would he waste resources on finding his own fuck up of a son?

Nakoa shakes, anxiety rocking him apart. “I gotta go. Love you, bye.”

He slams the phone down in its cradle harder than he needs to, steps out of the phone box, and stumbles to the van. The rain’s at a downpour now, and when Nakoa climbs in the passenger seat, next to Rem, he’s soaked.

“How’d it go?” Rem asks, turning down the music. Then, seeing Nakoa’s expression, asks, “Hey, what the fuck—what’s wrong?”

Nakoa’s throat feels tight, tears burning at the corner of his eyes again. He blinks, says, “Nothing,” but then Rem’s hand is on his shoulder and Nakoa breaks.

His sobs are silent, quiet things sung to the backdrop of The Cure, and Rem pulls Nakoa into a hug, awkward from the angle but no less appreciated. He speaks against Nakoa’s ears, but the blood roars too loudly in his ears to be heard.

Searching for him. Nakoa thinks about the stories Rem’s told him, about the guy with a bat, the windshield, and, when he can speak, Nakoa asks, “Did you know?”

“Know what?” But Rem sounds sufficiently confused, and Nakoa doesn’t want to believe he’d lie to him, so he decides he doesn’t believe it. “Hey.”

Nakoa doesn’t look at him. Thinks back to all the stupid shit he’s said and done, the mixtape, leaving in the first place without a plan. “Rem.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is soft, and in the storm, Nakoa thinks this is the safest he’s ever felt. Locked away from the world in Rem’s arms.

Maybe it’s how lost he feels, maybe it’s Rem’s breath warm against his neck, but Nakoa still feels safe enough to say, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It doesn’t hurt to say them. Nakoa’s not sure if it’s because he already hurts so much, another piece of it won’t make it worse, or if it’s…

Rem’a lips brush against his neck, soft, softer than Nakoa’s used to from him, but he says nothing. After their morning, Nakoa’s surprised by his closeness, surprised by how easily he came to Nakoa, but.

“I’m an idiot,” Rem says.

Nakoa blinks. “That’s not exactly the response a guy wants to hear.” Rem laughs. “Neither is that.”

“It’s not… badly received, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Rem clears his throat, pulls away. “…you’re…that’s…”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Nakoa says. “That’s what the tape was for. Kind of let you figure it out on your own.” Without Rem’s body heat, the van’s cold. Nakoa reaches for the knob for the heater, fingers shaking again. “I didn’t wanna fuck this up.”

Rem’s voice is soft when he says, “You wouldn’t have fucked it up. Hell, if I haven’t fucked it up…”

But commitment’s a different storm than… whatever it is they’ve been doing. Intertwined, but Nakoa knows the feelings he gets from Rem, but he’s wanted to fuck plenty of people. Rem goes farther than that.

He always has.

“Hey,” Rem says, knocking his elbow against Nakoa’s. “We’ll figure this out. That’s what we do, right?”

Figure it out. A weight settles in Nakoa’s chest. “Right.” He turns away. The van no longer feels like home, but like a prison. Maybe he was better off at home, under Michael’s thumb, or…

With a frustrated sigh, Rem says, “I’m not. I don’t mean—”

“Can we just not talk about it? Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t say it back.” Rem gives a frustrated groan. “I’ll get there, okay, I will. Just, this is important. You’re important.”

Nakoa certainly doesn’t feel that way. He clears his throat, wipes a hand down his face, and says, “Can we just go?”

He splurges for a hotel on the coast. It takes half of what Nakoa has left, but it’s worth it for two nights of the view of the ocean, for two nights with the salty breeze.

For two nights of Rem getting decent rest in his own bed.

They arrive at 9am to the hotel. Nakoa’s kept his distance for a while, after his accidental confession, and he hasn’t touched Rem without being touched since. He’s passed out in the passenger seat, instead of sleeping with Rem on the mattress, because the closeness feels wrong in the aftermath of Nakoa’s words.

But he steps out of the van and closes his eyes at the wind coming off the ocean, and feels peace. Water droplets spray his face, and Nakoa imagines what it might be like to drift away on waves like these, away from Michael, from money and the concern of where they’re going to sleep next.

Rem takes two towels from their room for the beach, and Nakoa disappears with a fake ID to the nearest liquor st to surprise him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Aw,” Rem says, twisting the top off. Behind him a sign reads, NO ALCOHOL ON BEACH. Rem downs half the small bottle and hands the rest to Nakoa. “You spoil me.”

Nakoa shrugs, downs the rest of it.

With the people around, Nakoa keeps to himself a little more, thankful for the excuse. Still, Rem has other ideas. “No one knows us here,” Rem says, against Nakoa’s neck. “We could fuck on the beach if you wanted.”

“And get thrown into jail?” Nakoa snorts. “Actually, fucking you might be worth the public indecency charge.”

Rem’s mouth is warm at his neck, sends shivers down Nakoa’s spine. “You think you can take me?” His voice is low, rough against Nakoa’s ear.

“Bold words,” Nakoa says, but instead of turning around and pulling him into a kiss, Nakoa elbows him in the ribs and ducks away, laughing as he takes off down the beach.

They settle, finally, a good distance away from the others. Nakoa slathers sunscreen across Rem’s back after he writes ‘fuck me’ with the lotion, feels the reverberation of Rem’s voice against his own hands as Rem speaks.

“I thought we could head back through the mountains, right? Montana, then through North Dakota.”

Nakoa wants to tell him they should go back to Colorado, but the place still has Nakoa checking over his shoulder, so maybe not. Maybe this is best, this haphazard map searching.

“Maybe settle in for a week somewhere,” Rem says. “Get a job or something.”

“You mean I get a job. When was the last time you held down anything?”

Rem shoots him a look over his shoulder, reaching for the lotion. “Depends. When was the last time I fucked you?” He pushes Nakoa back against the towel, bites at his neck. “I miss handcuffs.”

Through the fog building in his head and the heat building in his stomach, Nakoa says, “You lost the keys last time!”

“They were plastic!”

“You had to cut me out of them with wire cutters,” Nakoa says, but he’s grinning. Rem’s pressing kisses along his torso as he goes down, his hands holding him up, sinking into the sand. Nakoa really doesn’t want sand in his business anymore than strictly necessary. “I’d rather not be locked up and at your mercy for the rest of my life.”

“No?”

“Gotta have my fun too, don’t I?” For a few seconds, he just stares into Rem’s eyes, hoping, searching… until Rem pulls back with a goofy grin, and the world rights itself.

“What?” Rem’s eyes are shining.

Nakoa shrugs. “Nothing, just…” His gaze drifts, over Rem’s eyes, his hair, his tattoos—down the horizon, down the beach, across the water. From their spot in the sand, it’s hard to see anyone at all. They’re almost completely hidden by a small spot on the beach which is hidden by rocks. Rem has a mischievous glint in his eye, and he unbuttons Nakoa’s jeans, fingers moving so slow Nakoa can barely handle it, before Nakoa shoves him away with a laugh.

“Come on!”

“I’m not fucking you here,” Nakoa says, grinning like a fucking fool at Rem. He thinks about the mixtape, about Rem’s response. He thinks about what Rem had said about not being able to say it back.

He thinks about Rem, about how much Nakoa does love him, in spite of his bullshit, in spite of the shitty things that he drags them through.

Nakoa’s hands ache for a joint, and all he wants to do is get high and fuck, slow and leisurely, until Nakoa’s not sure where he ends and Rem begins, but Rem, here, sober and smiling and pleased…

He’ll take it.

Rem covers him in sunscreen and presses open mouthed kisses along Nakoa’s shoulders, then pulls him up against a rock and leans against one of the shadowed sides. Sunglasses sit atop Rem’s nose, blocking out the sun. He’s already turning red, though, Rem.

With a longing glance towards the water, Nakoa crawls up to lie beside Rem. He sinks into the warm sand, like a backrub against his muscles, cramped from the van. If he lifts his head, just a little, he sees Rem.

The warmth, the breeze, the distant sound of kids playing. Rem sitting at his feet, his breathing quiet and steady.

It’s more like this than it isn’t, but it’s still not often enough that Nakoa won’t take the brief respite from the bullshit.

Nakoa dozes. Dreams of small ocean-side cottages and sex in motel rooms, in resorts. Working at a job he doesn’t hate, of Rem’s smile and his laugh and the cadence to his voice when he’s trying to turn Nakoa on (so, always).

When he wakes, Rem’s fucking with a Walkman, fumbling tapes between his fingers. “Hey,” he says, nudging Nakoa with his foot. “Come here.”

So Nakoa goes, because he always goes, settles in between Rem’s legs, his back to Rem’s chest, and waits for Rem to plop the Walkman in his lap. Rem shoves the headphones on over Nakoa’s ears and says, “Listen. Yeah?”

His hand brushes down along Nakoa’s arm, and, after hesitating for just a second, Rem presses play.

#road to nowhere au #my writing #I forgot about this oops #I mean I've been writing it #but I forgot about it

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bbhyuckie · 6 years ago

Text

love triangle part two

welcome to part two of this painful mark/reader/yukhei fic. heres part 1

genre: angst and slight fluff

words: 2.3k

warnings: theres a lot of cussing in this!!

you lean up without thinking and press your lips against his

and he is so so surprised but he’s been mastering hiding how he feels for years now

so he kisses you back like his life depends on it

and he doesnt care that you have tears trailing down your face or that he knows that this is all fleeting and an act of emotion from you

he just cares that right now he can be here for you

the kiss is chaste and sweet and despite the circumstances,, perfect

something about the contact makes the burning in your stomach subside for a moment

the stinging in your eyes is stopping

and even though you still definitely want to die you feel like you can stand on your own again

mark squeezes you tightly and places a kiss just above your eyebrows before he lets you go

your legs are wobbly and you miss him instantly

hes standing right there in front of you and you miss him

“stay here ok?” he says, running his hands up and down your arms “let me go grab my keys”

you nod your head

he turns away and youre left there alone with your own emotions for the first time

alone with the weight of yukheis laugh and that pitch in his voice you will never be able to unhear

left with how fucking stupid you feel because obviously he doesnt have an interest in you

left there feeling like a joke

and a bad one at that

you know that you must look ridiculous, standing out here like this

leaned against the sports building with your eyes puffy and your cheeks red and the bitter resentment for yourself staining your tongue

you dont want to be outside anymore

not when there are still people wandering around the campus with snooping eyes

you check your phone and see that theres no new calls or messages

and you think mark is taking too long in there because you want to be out of here now

you take a sharp breath in before pressing your palm to the door of the sports house and stepping inside

you dont know what to expect exactly, youve never gone in past the doors before

yukhei and mark always told you to just wait in the front after their practices or games

you slowly wander down the hallway until you hear something

and that something sounds an awful lot like the voices of both mark and yukhei

your blood runs cold as you walk up to the locker room you hear them talking from

and you realise they arent talking

theyre arguing

you push the door open slightly and peer in

yukhei is half dressed in his baseball uniform and if you werent violently stressed out about the situation at hand you would have appreciated his state of undress

mark looks like hes absolutely fuming

“--too fucking thick skulled to realise whats right in front of you” you catch the end of what mark is saying tightly, like hes trying not to yell

yukhei cocks an eyebrow and you know that look

youve seen it before and you always hoped you could forget it

when his eyes glass and his jaw tenses and his demeanor changes

youve only seen it a handful of times and every time it signalled the calm before the storm

yukhei walks closer to mark and it feels more like a prowl than anything

a challenge

“you wanna say that again, mark?”

yukheis words are cold and calculated as he peers down the bridge of his nose at mark

“which part” your skin crawls the minute mark opens his mouth, you know this wont end well “the fucking idiot part or the shallow slut part?”

yukhei stalks impossibly closer “look, mark” he says it like the name tastes bad in his mouth, “i don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you today, but you best figure it out on your own time.”

yukhei turns and makes for the door to the gym and you think it might be over

“are you actually that fucking blind?” mark asks, and he sound like hes genuine

yukhei keeps walking and mark follows and fuckfuckfuck

“i’m not done, yukhei,” mark says and he reaches out and shoves the taller boys shoulder

yukhei stumbles but catches himself

and as he turns you swear you could die

because the calm before the storm has passed

and suddenly its a downpour

yukhei lunges back at mark and grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls hard

in heartbeat mark is up against a locker with yukheis hands caught up in the fabric of marks uniform and theyre both yelling and theres no way they can possibly hear what the other is saying and its so much

you dont remember when you walked in the room fully, but youre there now, just in time for the grande finale

“--if you want to keep pushing away the only person on campus that’s worth a shit, then be my fucking guest, yuk! maybe now she realizes what a piece of shit you are-- maybe, maybe now that you’ve shown your true colors she’ll get that you’re only interested in someone you can crawl into bed with and fuck a few times before you get bored!”

yukhei tightens his grip on mark, “and what if its true? why should you give a shit, huh?”

“because when shes too caught up in your dumb ass, she doesnt realize that someone here actually wants the best for her. so either figure it the fuck out or leave her out of your games.” mark nearly growls it out

yukhei looks stunned for a beat before he pulls his arm back and curls his fist.

“yukhei.”

youre a moment too late

the room falls quiet

yukhei yanks his hand out of marks uniform and turns around

“y/n, i--” yukhei tries

“mark, let’s go.” the shake in your voice cuts through

mark stares at you wide eyed for a moment before he wipes the blood from his newly split lip and grabs his bag off the ground

you turn and make for the door when yukhei tries again, weakly calling your name

and any other day under any other circumstances you wouldve stopped

wouldve listened

wouldve tried

but with the words he was yelling frenzying around in your mind

and the image of him slamming mark against the wall

and the image of blood oozing out of marks lip

you cant do it

“practice starts in five.” you echo his words from before and this time your voice is absolutely wrecked

you know youre crying again as you barge out of the locker room doors and nearly run down the hall to the exit

mark is behind you and he hasnt said anything yet

youre grateful for that

hes the only person in your life that seems to know when you dont want to hear anything more

by the time you get to marks car you cant tell what youre feeling anymore

overwhelmingly hurt, of course

but theres so much more underneath that

theres anger and longing and disbelief and just

an indescribable heartache

you never thought you would feel something like this

never wanted to

and all of it makes your stomach turn and if you hadnt been too nervous to eat at lunch that day youre sure youd be sick by now

you drop into his passenger seat and he climbs in the drivers side and starts his car

as youre pulling out of the parking lot he asks “do you wanna talk about it?”

“no” you say quietly

“okay” he says, nearly as quiet

he reaches over the console and rests his hand on your knee, gliding his thumb back and forth

the rest of the ride is quiet until he turns on a street heading to your neighborhood

“i don’t want to go home yet.” you say and it scares you how little you sound like yourself

your voice is shot and your nose is stuffy and it feels like youre in a foreign body with foreign emotions

“okay,” mark says in an instant, “where do you want to go?”

you think for a minute because you dont know

definitely not home

definitely not out in public

definitely not away from mark

“can we go to your house?” mark glances over at you “i can help clean you up” you motion weakly at his bust lip before you stare down at your hands

“yeah-- yeah of course we can”

mark knew he wasnt supposed to have anyone over when his parents were out of town

he knew good and well

and typically he followed that rule well and did his homework, played some video games and went to bed

but for you

for you he could make an exception

mark only lives a few streets away from you so you pull into his driveway soon after

he takes your bag for you and pushes the front door to his house open so you can go first

his house is perpetually new to you

you had only been over a handful of times, and always with the rest of your friends

it had never been you and mark before

it was always you and yukhei

your chest sank again as you realised that probably wouldnt be the case again

mark walked you through the foyer in to the living room

“you can get comfortable wherever. my parents are out of town for a while.”

you kicked off your uniform shoes and sank into his sofa

mark walked into the kitchen and placed both of your bags down on the island

“do you want anything to eat? drink?”

“water, please,” as the cottonmouth after crying began to set in

mark returned shortly after with water, a blanket, and the remote to the tv

as you sipped on your water mark threw the blanket over the both of you and clicked on netflix

you wondered idly how he remembered your favorite disney movie as he put it on the tv

you pushed yourself back into the couch cushions and pulled the blanket up to your chin as the emotional exhaustion hit you in full force

your body was screaming at you to go to sleep, to get some shut eye and stop feeling so awful

and the circumstances are perfect

youre warm and you feel safe and the theme song to your favorite movie is playing

before you know it youve dozed off

you dont dream and you dont really move very much

but you sleep deep and almost forget about all the shit youll have to deal with when you wake up

but when you do wake up

eyes drifting open

you really do forget about what you have to deal with

because mark is asleep and next to you and your head is on his chest and his arm is around you and its perfectperfectperfect

your phone buzzes from the kitchen and your bubble bursts, because you cant stay here and happy forever

slowly, you detangle yourself from mark and the blankets and tiptoe to the kitchen

you glance out the windows and see that its started to snow and its already dark out

you pull your phone out of your bag and wish for the blank screen you had seen outside of the sports house earlier that day

but luck does not seem to be on your side

theres three missed calls from yukhei, a string of message, and a text from your mom

you check your moms first, because truly nothing compares to mothers wrath

momma bear: hey sweetie, where are you? are you coming home tonight? the roads are getting bad

you typed out a quick response of “hey mom! sorry, i fell asleep doing homework at jennies. do you mind if i stay the night here?”

her bubbles immediately popped up on the screen and you were filled with anxiety

bubbles

momma bear: sure thing sweet pea, text me if you need anything. love you

“love you too!”

you breathed out a sigh of relief

and then remembered yukhei exists

yuk: talk to me

yuk: im sorry

yuk: what did you hear?

yuk: i didnt mean it

yuk: i didn’t know u were there i really didnt

yuk: y/n

yuk: at least talk to me

yuk: im so sorry

you clicked your phone closed and put it back in your bag before glancing back over at the living room

mark was still fast asleep, bloodied mouth slightly parted and head tipped back against the sofa

his arms and legs were situated a little oddly but you realized they were you shaped from where you had slipped out

without much thought, you grabbed a cloth and wet the corner, walking over to him gingerly

you succesfully washed away the blood and forming scab he had on his bottom lip without waking him

to be honest you watched him for a while

you watched the deep rise and fall of his chest

watched the way his hair moved when he readjusted

watched the way his eyes moved under their lids

and the memories of all he had said so much earlier in the day kept coming back to you

he could yell at yukhei all he wanted, but how could you be so blind?

of course mark was here

mark had been here from the start

always listening and never judging

awake at all hours when you needed him

guilt hit you in waves

because you knew that if you never came to the realization that he had feelings for you, he would have let you keep stepping on his feelings

because you thought you loved yukhei, but it had nothing in comparison to the way mark must have felt for you

a yawn racked your body and you looked up at the clock in marks kitchen

you had been awake for an hour, lost in your own thoughts and lost in mark

you decided that was enough for one day

so you tucked yourself back under the blankets, back into the couch, and back next to mark

you could worry about everything else tomorrow.

part 1, part 2, part 3

#text #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct lucas #wong yukhei #lucas imagines #lucas scenarios #nct mar #mark lee #mark imagines #mark scenarios #angst #i dont know why i keep writing this #probably cause yall love to suffer #love triangle

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lovemesomesurveys · 6 years ago

Text

On MySpace, what was in the last bulletin you posted? Most likely it was a survey. Man, I wish I could still access those. 15/16 year old me survey answers... yikes.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? In room a few weeks ago.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? Not scolded, but one told me to take my hoodie off once. ha. He was cool about it.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? I zone out a lot.

What’s your favorite thing to think about as you’re falling asleep? I don’t have much control over where my brain goes. It likes to go some weird, random, and sometimes dark places.

Is there anything that you want to do, but you won’t do because you’re too afraid? A lot of things.

Who was the last person to yell at you? Not sure. I don’t get yelled at, but like my parents and I have our disagreements and get frustrated with each other sometimes.

Who gets up the earliest in your household and what about the latest? My dad gets up the earliest everyday even on the weekends when he’s off work. The latest is me.

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No. My dogs have always been too big to do that.

Which political issues are you most passionate about? I don’t want to get into politics.

You’re going to your favorite foreign country, so what landmarks do you go see? I’d love to check out many places in Sweden.

What’s the longest amount of time that you’ve spent away from your home? A week.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional affect on you? I just saw Glass on Saturday, which was pretty crazy. In a good way.

What motivates you to go to school? I’m done with school, thank goodness.

How much caffeine have you consumed in one day? I used to always have coffee first thing and then a can of soda later on. Sometimes more coffee later that night. I haven’t had soda; though, in over year. Well, minus the sip I take with my medicine (I have to crush my pills and soda is the only thing I can take it with). Now I’m just about the coffee, twice a day. Nice, warm, big, delicious cups of coffee.

Are you more hyper and up-tight or laid back and relaxed? Hyper and upright don’t seem to go together in the way you paired these things, but I’d say I actually come off laid back to people who don’t really know me and probably just cause I’m pretty quiet, but really I’m more tense and anxious.

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? *shrug*

How did you pick out your last outfit? I just grabbed some leggings and a sweatshirt. Not much thought went into it.

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? I would be now.

When was the last children’s birthday party you attended? It’s been a couple years.

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I think so. I could be taking it the wrong way sometimes, though.

If you’re sick, do you go to school or do you stay home usually? It depended on how sick I was. Typically, I’d power through, but there were times where I just couldn’t. There were times in college before I had a pretty big surgery for something where I was sick a lot and went to school with a fever and chills. I’d have to pop some Tylenol before class, sometimes even during, and just push through. Weak me today can’t relate.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? No.

What’s one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? Usually I’m not much into anything because my taste buds are all messed up and everything tastes bland. And then depending on what kind of sick I am, I may not want to eat anything, really. I have to force myself to eat toast or soup in times like that.

Thinking of the last survey you filled out, did you enjoy it? It was okay.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? Yeah, before I learned how terrible it is for them. <<<< Same. :X

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a one or two-year-old? Yeah. Such a long time ago. D:

What set the tone for your mood today? It’s only 1:56AM. So far; though, I feel pretty crappy cause of this cough and cold thing I have going on.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else’s day? No. I would never intentionally do that.

Have you ever felt like the whole world was against you? Just like life in general, ya know?

What was the name of the last video game you played? Life is Strange.

What was the name of the last board game that you played? I don’t remember, it’s been too long. I love board games.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? *shrug*

How many times a day do you wash your face? I actually don’t. I just apply moisturizer sometimes.

If someone throws hot coffee on you, how do you react? Uh, well, I’d react to something HOT being thrown at me and be like WTF? I’ve spilled hot coffee on myself on accident, so I know it’s not a pleasant feeling.

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I’m doneeee with school.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? Duplex.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Yes. I get told how I’m “too skinny” all the time.

What’s a show from the ’90s that you miss? I mean, I still watch a lot of my favorites from that time.

Who provokes your sarcastic side the most? My brother and I sarcastically joke around all the time.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or “different” people? I was/am disabled and am quite familiar with the stares.

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? No...

Do weather patterns sometimes have an affect on your health? Rainy, cold weather can give me headaches and make me achy. Hot weather makes me just absolutely miserable.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t snow here. :(

When was the last time someone disapproved of something you were doing? I feel like my family disapproves of me not doing things I should be doing pertaining to my health. I know they get frustrated with me for that.

Do you consider yourself to be approachable? I’m not sure.

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? Laugh. I’ve been asked the whole, “aye girl, what’s your sign?” before.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? Fine.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? No. I may feel envious sometimes, but not jealous.

How would you describe a thought that’s sticking with you today? I’ve been thinking about how crappy I feel.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? No one in particular.

In a car, air conditioning or roll the windows down? Air conditioning.

Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered? I’ve come across some new music recently. I don’t really listen to music a whole lot like I used to, so I went on Spotify the other day and checked out some new stuff to add to my playlist.

What teacher gives you the most homework?

What type of personality do you find most annoying? Cockiness and arrogance.

Are you punctual? Yes.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? ...No.

Have you ever seen yourself on camera? Yes. EW. The most torturous thing ever was back when I for some reason took this “acting for the camera” class and we’d have to do monologues and skits that were filmed. The WORST part about that was the professor would play everyone’s tape in front of the class and we were to give constructive criticism. Omg it was horrible.

Do you give any consideration to what’s said in your horoscope? I don’t even read those anymore. Back when I used to, I was so opposite of how a Leo is always described. They’re always said to be confident and outgoing people and I’m just like, ahahahahah.

When was the last time you felt like you were being followed? Yikes. I used to feel that way sometimes whenever I had to go to the bus stop or was going home from the bus stop.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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softkimnamjoon · 7 years ago

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my notes when i watched the fake love mv

(this is so long oh my god i really tried to cut as many notes as possible but idk everything just seemed important

also some of these are supeerrrrrr obvious please bear with me)

flower in a jar/cage thing

the curtains in jins room are pink and the room is white

on the floor of the room in a fallen lamp (theres a reason i wrote this down aosdfju)

jin closes the curtain and the shot switches so we can see jk’s face disappearing into blackness as if a curtain was being drawn over him (wow karri poetic writing and totally not obvious from a cinematic perspective)

Side Note: there are 7 sets of curtains and they were all closed except the one jin closed in the beginning.. which is now closed (presumably)

taekook dance which featured a move which looked like tae was helping jk up by lifting him with his body

jin standing in the middle of the white room when the walls smash in. he covers the flower jar with his body (to protect it)

the debris isnt... debris. its lots and lots of ripped paper and you can see theres text on them but you cant read it

the scene changes to namjoon standing in a warehouse looking place that reminds me of where he was in the reflection short film

he’s standing in front of a mirror

a quick front shot of namjoon with his arm over his eyes. im mentioning this bc it has a weird pink distortion over it that reminds me of bs&t. (also pink is the colour of jins curtains and that feels important for some reason)

shot of jk fading through a keyhole, probably just a reference to him getting a key from the magic shop in teaser 1

hobi is in a room with lots of childrens toys particularly small carousels and carousel horses. it seems likely to me that this is because in the love yourself highlight vid his mum left him at a fair in front of a carousel.

he hits the very likely to be locked door with something and i cant tell what it is??? a small metal rod of some sort

Side Note: hobi being in a locked room and wanting to get out is also a focus theme in the mama short film

hobi and jk do a lil dance together in the chorey and they both do an action to each other thats strongly associated with telling someone off

a snickers bar falls through a hole in hobis door (this shot was actually really fast i had to go back and pause quite a few times to get it)

jimins standing in a dance practice room like in the ly highlight vid (you can tell by the mirror and ballet bar in the corner of the shot)

hes also standing next to a sink.. which is weird.. in my experience theres never been a sink in any of my dance practice rooms

jungkook is in complete darkness but hes kneeling over a fucking glowing book and reading it i guess (??? bts explain)

the shot switches between jin standing up from protecting the flower jar and jk standing up from reading the glowing book

the flower jar doesnt have a flower anymore but its got some sand in it now. jin walks away from the sand jar (leaving the room entirely im pretty sure)

scene moves to jk running towards a slightly ajar door with a light emitting from it (which is a concept we’ve also come to know from the awake short film)

jk runs through the door and right into the wall of a hallway. he immediately starts running left

theres a shot of tae standing in a strange room with what looks like phones and empty picture frames hanging from the walls

he’s also holding a phone and looking at the screen. the shot moves very close to his face and his eyes widen at whatever he sees on the phone

jk is running through the corridor as the floor falls behind him (to me it feels like a metaphor.. like hes running away from something inevitable)

taes phone turns to sand and falls through his fingers

jk is standing at the end of the corridor and in front of what i thought was a painting but is in fact a very very dirty mirror

Side Note: jk’s shirt says “blank mirror” on it. there sure is a lot of shit going on with mirrors in this story line

(ok this is getting ridiculous im putting a read more, pease keep reading tho ajsfhwhr)

the shot pans down from jks mirror shot through the floor to tae standing in that strange room

behind tae in the middle of the arch is “save me” and upside down it reads “im fine”

all the phones on the walls light up and flicker

it goes back to namjoon who is standing in front of the mirror. he raises his arm as if hes going to touch it

shot switches to jk whos doing the same thing to the mirror at the end of the corridor

back to namjoon again and this time its at an angle that we can see his reflection. his reflection is different to him. his reflections hair is slicked back and is wearing a cheetah style jacket (similar or the same as the one jimin was wearing in the dance room shot)

theres also a red/white badge on his reflections jacket but its too small to see if anythings on it

nj walks toward the mirror and the shot moves through the wall

on the other side of the wall yoongi is sitting at a piano

theres a broken lamp on the ground again like in jins room

yoongi throws a guitar (im pretty sure its a guitar correct me if im wrong) at the piano which mirrors the scene in the run mv where he throws a chair at a mirror

hobi is still in the locked room with the toys but now hes lying on a huge pile of snickers

theres a very quick shot of jk in the corridor from the mirrors perspective

jk looks through the cracks of the boarded up hole under the mirror and sees yoongis room with yoongi sitting in an armchair looking at the piano

yoongi turns behind him to see flames appear then disappear from behind the boarded up windows (this part isnt from jk’s perspective) he then looks at the fireplace

jimin turns off the tap in the dance room sink

jk walks towards a man-made/artificial waterfall which has 3 sections

theres a pile of sand and the flower-turned-sand jar on the ground

jk kneels to pick up two handfuls of sand

the shot moves to show the shadow of jks hands on the wall. we see the sand falling through his fingers but also something that looks like petals (but is actually pieces of ripped pages) flying out of his hands. (this part reminds me strongly of the just one day mv)

jk stands up and watches the paper pieces flying away

a tunnel starts to pull out from the waterfall towards jk

jimin stands in the middle of the dance room as water pours from 3 vents high up and to the left and right of his head (1 on left 2 on right) ((i think this is definitely connected to jimin turning off the tap but idk how/why))

the fireplace in yoongis room suddenly bursts into flames engulfing the piano (among other things)

hobi curls in on himself in the same way jin does in the i need u mv and the awake short film

yoongi smirks at the flames in front of him (this seems important since jimin kept a neutral expression the whole time)

jk starts walking towards the tunnel in the waterfall

Side Note: this isn’t really imporant but jin looks so good in this mv i love him

tae is walking around staring at the flickering phones on the wall. i cant read his expression it seems to range between fear/wonder/awe/curiosity

he suddenly focuses on something on one side of the room (here we go boys this connects to the ‘tae is the hooded figure’ theory)

shot goes to jk starting to open a pair of doors (which are assumed to be in the tunnel)

goes back to tae but this time hes looking at the ‘save me’ sign in the arch

in the chorey tae and jimin walk around each other then past one another while holding each others arms.

Side Note: jimin turns his head to look back at tae but tae just looks at the floor in front of him

jk walks through the doors into jins white room.

jin isn’t there anymore. all the curtains are closed. theres still paper on the floor from the explosion. there are 6 coat racks (there could be 5 but im pretty sure theres 6) in the middle of the room (from singularity)

jk walks over to the coat racks and you can see over his shoulder a figure wearing a dark cloak/hood. (there are pictures of tae wearing this cloak with the hood down and BOY)

in the chorey jin and jk stand facing each other with the other members in a circle around them. both jin and jk have their hands raised as if theyre reaching for something

the other members run forwards very close around jin and jk and freeze around them with heads lowered

at the very last second jk drops his head and his hand and leaves jin reaching up alone.

OKAY FINALLY THATS IT.

thanks for reading all the way through please let me know if anythings wrong or if you have anything else to add!

#fake love #bts #bts theory #fake love theory #ahhh this is a LOT #im sorry kwjhrfjdwahfr #my theorys #this isnt a theory its more a list of observations other people can use for their theories

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tobebugjewce · 3 years ago

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nightmare log

i dont remember the exact night i had this nightmare but strap in because its very detailed;

it starts off with me traversing an old crumbling building, it only has two or three floors, and me and my sister are leading a group of strangers. we’re all carrying flashlights, either its night time or the building interior is very poorly lit. its dusty, old-smelling and nearly every other surface is covered in thick cobwebs. we barely get a couple minutes into exploring until something happens; it feels like a bomb strikes the building, i dont know for sure but all i do know is the ground shook and there was smoke everywhere, and there was a really really faint small sounding alarm, almost as if it was coming from a long distance away. it was still audible though. my sister and i traverse the even worse state of this building, its now blocked up more than it was before, some rooms are impossible to enter or you have to crouch down to crawl underneath the collapsing walls. we move forward and the group of people that were following us stay behind, theyre very adamant about staying and NOT going further, theyre scared, terrified. we have no idea what for, so we keep going. we go up into a second floor, i think, but all i know is in the dusty, old, wooden floorboards match the doors of the rooms in the second floor. i crack open a door and it creaks so loudly, its so so dark in the room i look into, and in the room is a small wire framed metal bed, like ones you woudl see in an orphanage or an asylum. or a prison. i see a huge lump on the bed, wrapped in a linen blanket, it looks like a body. it is a body. its a frail, old old woman. she sits up and looks around, shes confused. lost. her eyes are sunken and she looks like shes been alive for more than a human should be. she blindly looks around, and she asks me “natalia?” its all she says. i say no, im sorry. im not natalia. my sister looks into another room as i close the door to the old womans room. she finds an empty room, and i go to the last one, its a weirdly small upper floor considering the downstairs areas were much much larger. theres only 3 rooms in this upper floor. i go to the other door that my sister isnt looking in, and i see the exact same layout as the old womans, except this time its an old man, just as old, just as frail and skeletal. he asks the same thing, “natalia???” i say no again, and that im sorry, im not her. i walk down the stairs, which feels like im in a different area, like the path behind me is an opposite staircase, but i walk down and go towards a door, one i assume to be the exit. its not. or at least i wouldnt have known because i hear my sister screaming for me, shes shouting so i turn around, but as soon as i turn my head, the building is different. its stark white. its clean, bright, too bright. there’s people walking around, in business clothing. dress shirts, slacks, pencil skirts, ties, holding clipboards wtih papers on them. there’s a woman that stands out, because not only is she dressed in an all white jumpsuit, shes frantically scribbling on the wall, which is a chalkboard, whcih i only noticed when i stepped closer. its like i was suddenly transported into an optical illusion. i tried stepping closer to the scraggly looking woman, her hair was frizzy, and she had a lot of it. she looked like she got struck by lightning because of how much her hair was sticking up and around and looking frazzled. she looked frazzled. i feel like i was looking at someone who wasnt natalia, but maybe knew her. or knew what was going to happen. she was scribbling nonsense on the walls, not words, not drawings, just sprawling lines and circles. i could sense that she felt like the only sane person in the building, despite looking like the most deranged one. i blink and suddenly the building is crumbled again. im back. i dont hear my sister anymore. the door i thought was the exit hasnt changed, but i was right, it was an exit. and i think now this is perfect, we can get the group out. we can get out. we go back up to see the old people again, it was exactly the same as last time. i open a door and i see the old woman again, she sits up again, she asks the same thing again. “natalia?” i dont answer her, i just close the door. i can still hear her frantically asking “natalia? natalia?” through the wall. the old man is exactly the same. i open the door, he sits up, he asks “natalia?” i close the door. i feel weirdly angered. my sister and i go back down to where the group was hiding, we have to go through a small hole in a closet to find them. we move to get them out, but i open the “exit” door, and suddenly im outside. im on a street, farther away from the building. it looks weirdly new again. like im back to where it was before it was a crumbled abandoned mess. i apparently was running, i feel like im escaping something. someone. im suddenly back inside the building. right in front of the door again. i step forward to try to leave, but i physically feel a restriction. i step back and feel warbled as im realizing im not in the pristine white building anymore, its rubble again. i step forward and feel like im pushing past a barrier, the more force i exude, the whiter and newer the building becomes. like im stepping into an illusion, a false reality where this building is back to its glory days, not a broken abandoned mess that only contains two living, old, old “humans”.

i dont want to write this post anymore.

but im going to continue.

its getting irritating now, but im back outside. i decide i want to escape this horrid building, i run. i keep running. im at a 4 way stop in this street, i cant tell what time it is because each direction i look its a different time of day. i run left and down, the road is watery, it then appears im standing in water that reaches up to half of my shin. its running but slowly, like a small creek. the asphalt below the water is cracked and crumbling, its no longer a road that cars drive on. i look to my left and see it flow into a lake, or an ocean. to my right is a collection of trees that are growing in this river road. the roots of these trees stretch out very very far. in between two trees are two women, they look like theyre just a little bit older than me. theyre so gorgeous. one is in all black, but has white hair, and the other is wearing all white, but has black hair. theyre holding hands. they refuse to separate the entire time they talk to me. they ask me if im lost, where i need to go, who or what im looking for. i can barely answer. i feel like im going to cry. but not of fear, not of anger, just the feeling of water swelling up in my eyelids and pouring down my face just feels like a separate emotion i wanted to happen as i kept talking to these two beings. i close my eyes and suddenly im walking down a steet into a neighborhood. it looks rich. i dont belong. the houses are all painted white and are disproportionately tall, too too tall and not wide enough. they look like huge cheese sticks. weirdly skinny. small black windows. even starker white window frames. im shaking. an old man walking his dog walks past me, telling me if i need anything hes got it. he tells me to have a good day, i try to say something polite back but i dont know what language im speaking in. i get frustrated trying to find my way out, the houses are so packed together and they spiral, i keep ending up in tiny backyards. i look down at the white tiles im stepping on, i look up and im back in the river road. the women ask me to follow them. we swim into the lake and i try grabbing onto the wood pillars of a rotting, broken pier. there’s heads on top of the wooden posts. theyre all talking, laughing, some trying to get my attention, one telling me i might beat a new record time for swiming fast. i try not to look at them. my eyes are filling up with lake water and salt-less tears. i see a figure, but my vision is so blurry the person standing at the end of the pier almost doesnt seem real. all i know is she has red hair, its short, she looks placid, she looks like a mannequin in uncomfortable clothes. its natalia.

i wake up.

#weird dreams #nightmares #lucid dreaming #confusing dreams #alternate reality #horror

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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ask your destiny to dance [15] {Roger Taylor}

A/N: Medium smut.

[masterpost]

The day Ash hears Doing Alright on the radio at her favourite cafe, she screams. This, of course, upsets the other patrons considerably, but before anyone can complain, she’s shoving her fabric samples and sketchbook into her bag, sculling her lukewarm hot chocolate, and is bolting down the street. Until, of course, she’s winded enough to slow down, and decides it’s easier to catch a bus to Brian and Roger’s apartment.

She’s been there before, it’s where they insisted on having their first fitting, since it was the apartment with the most room, and sometimes on afternoons she hangs out there with the band and Mary, sure, it’s not like she’s a complete stranger to the flat. Knocking on the door, she’s breathing heavily, still excited, and she’s not sure why she’s come here, rather than to see Freddie, but as soon as the door opens, she knows why.

“I heard you guys on the radio!” Barging past a confused Roger into the living room, she turns on her heel, still a little out of breath from having run from the closest bus stop, and her smile is blinding.

“Really? Which station?” And instead of asking her about her state, or the book bag on her hip, he’s elated, making his way to the radio in their little shoe box kitchen. Ash laughs, joining him, sheepishly admitting that it was about twenty minutes ago, but he’s undeterred. “Grab the phone; we can call them up and ask to hear it again.”

The station’s blaring some Beatles song by the time they get to it, but Ash is sitting on the counter, waiting patiently for the song to end so that the radio host could announce which number to call for requests. Roger’s buzzing about the kitchen, talking how apparently Mary’s heard them played at Biba too, and his mouth is moving a mile a minute, but then the number is said and Ash is dialing as fast as her fingers will allow. With her legs hanging off the edge of the counter, Roger taps at her knees, lips pressed together where he’s trying to keep his excitement quiet.

When the host picks up, and Ash says her name tentatively, only to hear it come out of the radio a few seconds later, Roger whispers ‘holy shit’ and Ash has to fight to not say the same. Clearly and carefully she requests Keep Yourself Alive, and specifies who it’s by and what record it’s on, and minutes later, the opening notes of the song waiver from the radio, and Ash hangs up, wide-eyed. Jumping from the counter, Ash dumps her bag beside their sofa, absolutely butchering the vocals where she struts around the room, pretending to be Freddie, loud and unselfconscious in her excitement. Roger’s matching her energy, throwing himself onto one of the metal folding chairs they had as dining room chairs, air drumming and providing harmonies that would have worked if Ash wasn’t almost completely tone deaf.

As the song moves to an instrumental section, Ash changes to enthusiastically air guitarist, jumping up onto the sofa, expression almost comically intense.

“Well, I loved a million women in a belladonic haze,” while Roger suspected the notes were entirely in her vocal range, she didn’t seem to be able to hit one, and after a moment, he’d dissolved into laughter, and wrapped his arms around her waist where she was posing with a foot up on the arm of the sofa, spinning her around before putting her back on the ground, and the drums kicked in on the radio, and she looks so fucking proud.

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” She says, grinning up at him, and he’s still got his arms around her.

“Unfortunately I can’t say the same about your singing, love.” He snickered, and Ash felt herself blush as she swatted at him, too excited to be properly annoyed, also too self aware to call him a liar.

“So you don’t think I could take Freddie’s place yet?” She asks, and Roger actually laughs at that, and Ash thinks she can feel his heart beating fast. “Where’s Brian?” She asks, voice dropping to a murmur, her own blood rushing as the song continues on.

“Still at class.” And there’s the hint of a question in his voice, and Ash’s smile stretches into a mischievous grin, something almost fond in her eyes.

“You guys are on the radio.” She murmured, pride in her voice, though her eyes are growing dark as her gaze drops to his lips. “Rog?” And he makes a hum of acknowledgement, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing or kissing her before she can finish her thought. “Does that make me a groupie?”

“Well groupies are usually throwing themselves at me.” He said with a cocky smirk, sitting them both on the sofa, sinking into the worn, brown fabric as Ash straddled him.

“I practically bolted to your house.” Ash had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, sitting back on his thighs. One of her hands was on his shoulder, the other playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Roger leaned into her touch, just a little.

“I’m not usually accosted by girls who wear the same clothes as my dad in summer.” Roger snickers, eyes drifting down to Ash’s choice of attire. She’s quiet for a long moment, and realises that he’s probably never seen her dress so casually; she’d just intended to get some sketches done at the cafe, she’d never intended people she knew to see her, and so her choice of oversized, pale blue button-down with rolled up sleeves and paint smudges all over it, tucked into navy cargo shorts, had been a perfectly acceptable outfit at the time. She’s even got her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and suddenly she feels like a mess, but the way Roger’s smiling at her, she can’t bring herself to care.

“I’m an artist, I’m allowed to dress tragically sometimes.” She shrugs, and Roger’s grip on her hips tightens as he laughs. It’s strange, mid afternoon and she’s in his house, in his lap, it feels like a whole new world. Their debatable hidden affair was usually confined to the wee hours of the morning, or the late morning depending on when they wake up, but now his hair catches the sunlight pouring in through the window, and he’s casual too. He’s wearing a pair of hideous, little red shorts that she’d seen him play in once, and a t-shirt with a faded design on the front, and for a moment she frowns, because god, does he have no sense of style? As soon as he asks about it, and she voices her thoughts, he gives her a shove, calls her a hypocrite. Leaning in low, she murmurs for him to just take the shirt off, but he doesn’t move.

“You first.” He’s got an eyebrow raised as a challenge, and Ash hums thoughtfully, before her fingers are unbuttoning her shirt, and untucking it. She’s wearing a bra that’s comfortable rather than aesthetically pleasing, and for all that he’s seen her naked, he thinks this might be the most honest he’s actually seen her.

He’s the one to suggest they move, not that it didn’t hurt a little, with Ash wearing only her oversized shirt unbuttoned, and her panties, splayed out against his ratty brown sofa, looking up at him with wide eyes that had been darkened with lust.

She’s never been in his room before, and she’s not quite sure what she expected. It’s bigger than her room, but not by too much, clothes strewn over the floor, and the end of the bed, which is also bigger than hers, a double, instead of her little single, a cheap looking bed frame and a small but solid desk shoved into the corner and stacked high with books, which intrigues her. Roger closes the door as she makes her way over, fascinated as she reads the spines of what turns out to be worn textbooks.

“You there for some light reading?” Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, his chest firm against her back. There’s notebooks that look well used, and a piece of paper with a whole list of numbers, letters, and symbols that Ash can’t decipher for the life of her, amid pencils and a pretty grubby looking eraser.

“You like, actually study, don’t you?” And when she turns, there’s almost something adoring in her eyes, endeared, and Roger raises his eyebrows at her unanticipated reaction.

“Always the tone of surprise.” He huffed out a laugh, his hands drifting lower to squeeze her bum, and when he leans in to kiss her, it’s sun-warmed and familiar, fitting together easily as he pressed her against the desk and she hopped to sit on it easily, legs parting to pull him closer as he kissed his way down her neck. He fucks her against the desk, even though she’s pretty sure she’s sitting on a notebook and also a pencil, but she can’t bring herself to care.

When they move to the bed, he snickers at the smudge of graphite on her ass, but she’s hit with a realisation she can’t help but voice.

“I never thought I’d be here.” And she’s a little breathy, gasping for a moment as he brings one of her legs up to her chest and eases back into her.

“Really?” His voice rises in disbelief, pausing in his movements as if to emphasise his point, and Ash rolls her hips once, biting her lip to stifle a chuckle.

“I mean, in the beginning, no way; I honestly never thought we’d last this long.” She says, and Roger’s quiet. Not needing an answer, she lets herself enjoy the moment, relaxing against the bedspread, whimpers and gasps escaping her as her eyes fall closed. She’s so fucking beautiful, Roger thinks, and even if he doesn’t say it, he’s so glad they lasted, after everything, if only for this moment.

And then they’re moving, Ash pressing at his shoulder, urging them to move, Roger laying back against the bed as Ash rode him, throwing her head back, with her nails digging into his chest. It’s enough to make him hiss, his hips rolling to meet hers, and when she looks down at him with a heady smile, she leans down and presses a kiss to the half-moon marks her nails had left, before she’s peppering kisses along his chest and throat.

When Brian walks in the front door and sees them both eating pizza and reading trivia to one another from the paper, he has to take a moment. Ash is wearing one of Roger’s shirts. Roger isn’t wearing a shirt at all.

“I know you two are sleeping together.” He announces from the doorway.

“Interesting accusation.” Ash responds without looking away from the paper. Roger makes a hum of agreement.

“You’re wearing his clothes.” Brian says, walking over and picking up a slice of pizza for himself.

“That is my shirt.” Roger agrees, finally looking up to Brian, and Ash takes a big bite.

“Listen, Brian, sometimes friends sleep together, it’s not the end of the world.” Ash said around her mouthful of pizza, which was lost on him, and Roger had to translate for her, much to Brian’s bewilderment.

“So you’re finally admitting it?” He asks, and Ash hums, swallowing before looking up at him.

“Admitting that I came over here excited about hearing your song on the radio, and then, I suppose, one thing led to another? Yes.” Ash agreed, and Brian looked like he was quickly forming a headache.

“Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are; I know this isn’t the first time.” He sighed, and Ash turned to Roger, who raised his eyebrows, feigning mock surprise. He’s about to say something, but it’s as if Brian can already tell it’s going to be irritating and dismissive. “Listen, Ash, you’re an adult, and you’re also our stylist, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Believe me, she does.” Roger says, reaching for some more pizza, ending his statement with a very pointed cough. Ash, looking supremely pleased with herself, watches Brian turn bright red and head for his own room, not slamming the door, but coming close.

“Freddie and John will know by the end of tomorrow I suspect.” Ash muses, and Roger looks at her, a little curious.

“Is that okay?” And he actually seemed like he would offer to do something if it wasn’t. Ash gives him a small smile.

“They were going to find out eventually.” She paused, but only for a moment. “We should probably keep it simple and say it started after you broke up with Kristin.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.” He said softly. Ash shrugs.

“It was like a month and a half ago; it’s believable.” She offered, and Roger hums thoughtfully, sliding across the sofa to rest his head in her lap. She’s tempted to rest her slice of pizza on his face, but ultimately decides against it. The way he’s smiling at her, grin just a little sharp, she’s pretty sure he watched the idea pass through her mind too.

“Do you know what time the next bus comes, I should probably get going before it gets dark and people are more likely to stab me.” She asks carefully, and Roger’s expression turns thoughtful as he watches her eat, quietly waiting for a response.

“Seems a bit extreme; you know you could just stay.” It’s so casual the way he says it, and Ash shrugs, accepting the offer without much thought. His bed is far more comfortable than hers, though he’s not living in uni housing, so you’d hope it was, and it’s big enough to spread out in. But they don’t. When they’re not fooling around, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, as they were sometimes want to do, and Ash gets around to asking him about his degree just as she’s about to fall asleep. They’re holding hands, which again, not necessarily something Ash had expected when they’d first started out, but she’s on her side with her free hand beneath her pillow. She’s just wearing one of his shirts and her underwear, and she brings their hands up to rest between their heads on the mattress, arm now at a more comfortable angle, and she drifts off as Roger gets in to complaining about one of his classes.

By the time he realises she’s not paying attention, she’s already mostly asleep. There’s something about the way she sleeps that makes her seem almost innocent, perhaps it’s that she’s not trying to put up a front, and her mass of ginger hair halos her, so soft it almost hurts. Roger’s never conciously thought of a woman as ‘sweet’ before, but it’s the only word that fits in this moment. He presses a fond kiss to her knuckles of her joined hand. Ash stirs just a little, making a hum of acknowledgement that Roger knew all too well as ‘completely passed out, just felt a sensation, can maybe spout a few random words’.

Except it’s not just some random gibberish. It’s two words spoken through a yawn:

“Love you.”

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