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insomniamamma · 3 years ago

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Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

"You did this on purpose." "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--" "You don't have a right hand," "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations." "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm. "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins. "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception. "You sure?" Asks Ezra. "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade." "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--" "No." "No?" "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring. "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do. Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled. "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab? He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him. "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you. "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid. Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest. "Hi Ez," "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder. "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer. "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes. "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?" "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?" "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-" "The wrapping was mutual-" "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head. "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch. "Tickles." "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him. “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

"She's late," says Ezra. "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board," "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair. "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you. "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair." "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee. "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her. "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully. "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though." "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile. “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big. "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something." "I look forward to it," says Ezra. "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug. "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit. "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee. "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs. "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit. "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee. "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra. "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?" "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about." "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

#ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee #ezra and cee #soft!ezra needs his own warning #don't look at me #this is so soft

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10blue10 · 3 years ago

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The Night Lights should have been dappled, and here’s why

Okay, so, the Night Lights. Piebald pug faced panda dragons. As we all know, the actual reason they look like that is because it’s what Dreamworks thinks little kids will find cute. Aww, they look like pandas! Aww, they look like kitties!�� However, that’s the Doylist explanation. What about the in universe Watsonian explanation? Is there a genetic way to explain the black and white patches? As a matter of fact, yes. According to scientific research, the classic ‘piebald’ pattern is caused by a mutated gene. Now it’s true that there are animals who have evolved black and white colouration for countershading or as a warning to potential predators, but here’s the thing - the Night Lights didn’t evolve. They’re hybrids, not a new species (despite what the nine realms might want to think). (Speaking of the nine realms, the same mutation that causes piebaldism can also be linked to other genetic problems, which doesn’t bode well for Thunder). By now you’re probably curious about the title. Here’s the first reason why the Night Lights should have been dappled - because their parents are. Or at least, Toothless is supposed to have dapples, and in some scenes the Light Fury has such markings too (albeit faint, pink and glittery, but we can’t have everything). That’s the in universe explanation: at least one or both parents have dappled markings, therefore it only makes sense that their offspring would. Even if you want to head canon that the markings fade with age, that’s all the more reason for fledglings like the Night Lights to have dapples when they’re younger! As for the Doylist explanation…well apart from resembling Bengal cats or Dalmatians and thus still being cute, it would have given us a chance to see the markings and patterns in detail. You can really only see them on HTTYD1 Toothless and not very well in most scenes. Imagine a white dragon with black rosettes and tiger stripes across its body and wings - it could’ve been lovely. (Tumblr won’t let me add an image & I can’t draw, so you’ll have to imagine it.)

#httyd headcanons #HTTYD analysis #night lights #night light redesign

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xdollydoodlesx · 3 years ago

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Tried drawing Hug, not completely satisfied with the patten thingy on them but otherwise it’s not that bad 🤔

Tried to make them look different but not too different from Huggy… I failed to truly capture their cute derpness tho lol

EDIT: Almost forgot to list info/headcannons! Sorry ^^’

Hug is one of a few defective Huggy’s still alive today (haven’t been able to think of their Ex#), essentially the doctors were trying to boost the desire to give/receive hugs and manipulate other less pleasant genes to make the perfect ‘easy to manage’ creature… it worked, sorta.

Like with the dog breed Pug this led to both good and bad results…

Good because the creature was in fact addicted to giving n receiving hugs, lacked claws, had a smaller second set of teeth, was easier to deal with temper-wise, and had a mind that was simple in ways they liked for the most part.

Bad because they were mostly deaf, had weak vocal cords, and was considered too ‘slow n simple’ to properly be trained… tho they still had their characteristically strong grip. (Their mental problem is pretty much a form of Autism, got personal exp so I’ll base it off mine for comfort reasons)

After a few ‘incidents’ they are ultimately locked up and left all alone until the disappearances occur finally releasing them once more. From there they were left to wander the bowels of the factory always in the desperate search for someone to love n be loved by. Sadly his strength n lack of understanding ends in him being a big threat to both humans and fellow living toy’s.

‘Hunting strategies’ are pretty much just them looking n feeling for vibrations then giddily rolling n sprinting towards their target, a trick they taught themselves btw.

In a AU where they need to eat they are a scavenger who often ends up eating the crushed remains of their deceased ‘Cuddle Partners’, they often end up forgetting the other was a living being once they die n begin to rot… could be a coping mechanism or just them being a simple lad.

Since he will usually remain with the victim til they either fall apart or rot. This detail makes him a bit of a stinker which doesn’t help since they have parts of their body that have thicker (Persian cat inspired) fluff ^^’

#poppy playtime #my art #oc related

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my-brothers-corrupted · 4 years ago

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Chapter Four: Intro

A week after Peru, we find our characters together again. Time to play this game one last time.

tws: choking, threats, mentions of torture

Intro

Cold light drifts in through the window of Trickshot’s nest.

He sits with one hand wrapped around Dok’s gun and the other wrapped around Dok’s hand. Clear blue eyes stare out at the cold grey pavement and the sheen of the bulky cars arranged like guardians around the motel with an intensity that has been his as long as you have known him.

And only growing, these days - the steel in his face.

At his side you can make out the familiar shape of his twin, pressed close to his body. Dok is holding him like he’s a rock-climber and Trick is the last thing keeping him pressed to the side of this steep and shifting mountain. You can hear him breathing. Exhausted. Trick plays quietly with his gun.

Maybe, once Anti comes back, he will sleep, but for now he watches, he watches, he watches. Nothing, he promises himself, will take Dok from his side again.

No matter what is coming.

cest-mellow asked: hey trick. you doing okay tonight?

Trick jumps at the beeping and whirls with Dok’s gun gripped, but it’s only Anti’s bag making noises and he rolls his eyes, calming again. You’re watching them through a camera high up on the wall of the hotel, but none of them look up at you.

“Mhh?” comes a confused noise from the other side of the room.

“It’s just the cameras, Blue,” Dok murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

Blankets shuffle and go quiet again.

“Are you going to get the camera?” asks Dok, who’s mostly squished under his twin’s weight.

Trick purses his mouth and shrugs, turning back to the window. Dok doesn’t protest. He extricates himself from his brother’s limbs and pads over to take you gently from Anti’s bag.

“Hi,” he says, carrying the camera back to the window. “We’re okay, right, Trick?”

“Better when the others come back and we can get out of this shithole,” grumbles Trick.

But for someone who’s putting on a grumpy front, the way he reaches out to push a curl of Dok’s hair from his face sure is fond.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! Are you guys relatively okay? How are you doing?

Henrik shifts uneasily, gripping his stomach for a second, but his smile comes back quick. “Trick and I are good, yes?”

“We’re fine,” says Trick. “Jet-lagged, tired. Bored. But things are looking up. Anti is finding us a real place to stay. Which is, like, weird, but I think maybe great news?”

“Usually he just finds the first empty house or warehouse or something and we stay there,” explains Dok.

“But this time he says we’re going to stay somewhere nice cause he’s got to help the others to - I mean, to help Dap to readjust. But he’s already doing better than he was a few days ago.”

“I wish Anti wouldn’t take him out for dirty work, though,” grumbles Henrik, turning back to the window. “Not good for him.”

“Oh, come on. There’s nowhere he could be safer than with Anti.”

“Emotionally, though.”

“Emotionally? Anti loves that little shit.”

There’s a slight tension between them. They stare at each other for a second, and then turn away awkwardly, looking back out the window.

“Blue’s not doing so hot, though,” adds Dok after a second, and Trick turns uncertainly back towards the bed behind them, his eyes dark.

Anonymous asked: Blue? Are you okay?

“Blue. Blue!” calls Henrik gently, turning back towards his brother. With both of the twins angled towards you, you can see them better. They’re wearing the same outfit, green jackets over white t-shirts and dark jeans on their legs, but Anti has yet to cut their hair identically again. While Trick’s is vivid green and long and curly in the front, Dok’s is trimmed short, short, short, leaving just a little on the top to stick up. Just the way he likes it. “The cameras have missed you.”

The blankets shift. You hear Blue breathing sleepily.

“You’ve been sleeping all day,” Dok prompts him gently. “Let’s get up and walk around a little.”

Blue groans and tumbles over in bed. Dok smiles and gets up, padding towards him, taking you with and leaving Trick watching uncertainly from the window.

bupine asked: what's wrong with blue?

“What’s wrong with you?” teases Dok, putting you on the bedside table and leaning in over Blue’s blanket-wrapped body, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Lazy? Sleepy? Just love bed?”

“Siiiiick,” groans out Blue, pushing irritably at his brother’s prodding hands.

“Yeah, he’s been very tired,” says Dok, petting his short white hair. “He - he struggles in the world.”

“They were with me in Singapore,” mumbles Blue. “They know. Just more of the same.”

“I don’t know,” answers Dok, his amusement fading. “I worry you’re only getting more tired.”

The blankets don’t shift. Blue is trying to go back to sleep.

“You are resting too much, love,” Henrik prompts him softly. “Come on, up we get.”

“Too tired.”

“You can do it. Come on. Doktor is in. Give me a hand.”

Reluctantly, Blue allows himself to be pulled up to sit on the bed, his grey face listing wearily.

pine-storm-season asked: Hey, Blue, how are you doing? There was some chaos happening when we last saw you guys.

“Lots of chaos,” murmurs Blue, and he manages to wince and smile at the same time, clutching Dok’s shoulder as he helps him to his feet, pressing his cane into his hands. “What a miserable day.”

“Dap’s okay and we’re okay and it’s going to be alright,” Henrik answers softly, squeezing his palm.

“Mmhhh,” sighs Blue, resting on his shoulder as he rises.

“Walk around with me.”

“There’s nowhere to walk in here.”

“Just around the beds. And then tomorrow we’ll be somewhere new, with a little more space.”

“Or chained up in a basement somewhere.”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens. For now, we hold to hope.”

Henrik gives him his arm and they walk back and forth between the bathroom and the door of the motel room, heads pressed close together. Trick is staring at them with a sort of silence on his face, his eyebrows bunched together and his mouth uncertain. He glances at you and seems to remember you’re there, scowling and turning away from his brothers, curling up in his nest, waiting for Anti to come home.

pine-storm-season asked: Are you okay, Trick?

“Great,” says Trick flatly. “Can we just - why did Anti turn them on again? Now?”

“Stop being a little loser,” chides Blue, stepping over to ruffle his hair.

“Hey!”

“Look at this mess,” giggles Blue, leaning his weight on his back.

“Blue! Get off! Dork, haha!”

He’s smiling when he pushes Blue away, touching his brother’s cheek fondly. “Dumb-ass pretty boy.”

“Aww! You think I’m pretty?”

Despite the teasing, Blue looks genuinely buoyed.

“Yeah, Blue, course you’re pretty. We have the same face, after all. Except Dok, he’s pug-ugly.”

Dok jabs Trick in the side hard enough to make him yelp and Blue is left steadying himself on his cane as Trick lunges for his twin, trying to get him by the ear while Dok yells his protest and tries to dig his fingers back into Trick’s side.

“Hey,” warns Blue suddenly, tearing his eyes away from his brothers’ play-fighting. “Someone’s coming.”

cest-mellow asked: still got those necklaces, henrik?

Henrik turns to you as Trick pulls away from him, his blue eyes flashing. “You bet your ass,” he tells you with gritted, smiling teeth, bared the way a dog bares his fangs. “He keeps burning his fingers trying to take them off me. They’re not going anywhere.”

He wraps his fingers around the three little bumps underneath his shirt.

spicydanhowell asked: blue, dok, i'm so sorry about what happened to you. this isn't forever.

“It is Anti, finally!” cheers Trick, leaping up onto the windowsill and watching for him to reach the door, waving at the trio of brothers coming up the way. “Look, Red’s doing his dreamy thing again.”

Blue and Dok exchange looks, Dok moving to support him again. Blue hides against his hair for a second, breathing in the smell of him again.

“This isn’t forever,” Dok repeats quietly.

“One month, right?” Blue grips his hand.

“One month. I’m with you.”

“I’m with you. I’m here.”

Anonymous asked: How’s noodle doing trick?

“Oh, my gosh! The only question that matters! I’ll get him real quick before Anti comes back!”

Instantly perked up, he races to the middle of the room, where an extra door connects the motel room to the one beside it. He pulls it open - “oh, Dok, give me the camera!” - and carries you inside, where a slinky golden cat races up to greet him, purring and butting his head against his ankles.

Anonymous asked: Cat? Cat? You have cat, noodle cat?

“Who’s my good kitty? Who’s my good baby? Noodle cat, mwah, mwah.”

He scoops his cat up and smothers his head in kisses, devolving into cooing baby talk and rocking his cat against his body while Noodle meows. As reluctant as he is to see you, he loves showing off his cat.

“Okay, baby, stay in here, papa will be back. Yes, you have to, muffin, you know Anti doesn’t want to see you. Who’s my baby? Yes, there’s my Noodle.”

Anonymous asked: How is everyone Trick? Are you doing okay?

“I’m okay! Everyone looks okay, I think.”

Leaving Pot Noodle behind, Trick closes the door gently and returns to Blue’s room, where his siblings have relegated themselves to the bed, watching the door cautiously. Trick steps forward to open it before the others have even reached it, grinning out at the world.

“Hi, Anti,” he says cheerfully.

Anti moves into his space and kisses the side of his head, his eyes boring into Blue and Dok’s as he presses his mouth to Trick’s fervently green hair. Blue turns his eyes away and Dok shrinks in on himself, clutching Blue’s hand.

“Hi-ya,” answers Anti pertly, his eyes flickering from black to blue. His hair grows out fluffy and green to match Trick’s and he draws back to smile at him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, Anti. Everything okay with you guys?”

“No hitches at all. Not a scratch on anybody. When was the last time you had a kill that easy, Dap?”

Deep blue eyes stare back at Anti from the doorway. Dapper’s hand rests on the wall outside the motel like he can’t quite make himself step in.

But he does.

“Can’t remember,” he signs back in slow movements, removing the jacket from his shoulders. You see Blue stiffen as though injured. Dapper’s dress shirt is soaked in blood. He pulls it off, his expression mildly unhappy, and takes another shirt out of Henrik’s backpack.

“You’ll need a shower first, Dap,” Blue tells him. “It’s on your skin.”

“So it is.” He stares down at his hands.

“Go clean yourself up,” Anti orders. “Go, go. There’s a good boy. You check in with Dok before you fall asleep tonight. Where’s his medicine, Dok?”

“Here, Anti,” replies Dok, patting the bedside table.

“Good, good. So yes! Everyone is okay. Everything is okay. And now that we’ve got that done, we can move in to a new place tomorrow.”

Trick straightens up. “Really? Like a real house?”

“Oh, you’re going to like it, Rikki-Tricki-Tavi,” answers Anti smugly, glitching the blood off his hands. “You’re all just going to love it.”

Anonymous asked: Why does anti not want to see noodle trick? D:

“Anti doesn’t like animals,” Blue reminds you in a whisper, curled up at Dok’s side.

cest-mellow asked: what do you mean by “dreamy thing” trickster?

Red’s behind the others, moving slow and steady, kicking peacefully at a rock. Trick laughs to himself and points you at him, sitting down on the bed with Blue and Dok while Anti moves over towards his computer on the second bed. Everyone watches Red come into the room, his eyes unfocused and faraway, a faint smile on his face.

“Red?” calls Blue.

Red doesn’t answer, shutting the door gently behind him and moving forward - promptly smacking his hip into the minifridge. “Ow!” he yelps, stumbling back and looking up in alarm, confused to see everyone staring back at him.

Trick bursts into laughter, mimicking the way Red’s head was bobbing, as though he were listening to music.

“You spaced out again,” Blue tells him.

“Fuck,” hisses Red, rubbing his hip. “Shut up, Trick!”

“Fucking idiot,” laughs Anti. “Pay attention. Still dreaming of your boyfriend?”

Red flushes, humiliated, and moves towards the door to the other room.

“Camera,” Anti reminds him pointedly, and Red rushes back to grab one from his bag before darting back into the room and shutting the door beside him, leaving Blue staring worriedly after him.

bupine asked: red, are you ok? if you're worried about max, he's ok as far as we know.

“Oh, great,” says Red, still the color of his name, not quite meeting the gaze of you. He’s irritated and fast-moving, shaking his hands out again and again. “Well, that makes everything just peachy, then.”

He forces himself to sit down, staring out the window.

“Sorry. Things have just been weird lately.”

cest-mellow asked: jaki3 are you alright? has anti hurt you, do you have to stay in a separate room?

“No, no, I’m okay,” sighs Red, running his hands through his hair. “I mean, I just watched my baby brother tear this helpless fat guy to shreds, but hey, that’s just my life. Nah, Anti hasn’t hurt me, he just keeps making fun of me. And I can handle that. I think he’s pissed I was with Max at all when he found us. That I let Dap near Max.”

He puts his chin in his hands, his eyes drifting a little again. “Doesn’t like for me to talk about it, so I don’t…”

A smile floats across his mouth. He stares dreamily out the window, his legs swinging over the side of the bed when he sits down.

“Oh! Why am I in a separate room? Anti just got two, that’s all. And we gotta keep the doors closed cause of this little guy.” He pats Noodle’s head and the cat purrs, crawling into his lap. “Blue will come in and sleep with me tonight, though, so I’m not alone.”

pine-storm-season asked: Yeah, they probably have been. Is this a common occurrence, Red?

“I’ve been spacing out a lot, yeah,” grumbles Red, cheeks dark. “Stupid. I keep getting in trouble cause of it. Anti doesn’t think I’m listening to him. So now Trick’s been telling me what to do.”

He rolls his eyes. “Blue and me got in too much trouble lately. Not really top dogs anymore, I guess. But it’s almost a relief. I don’t think I want to have to push anybody around anymore. Anti says I’m going soft on him.”

pine-storm-season asked: Are you and your brothers more equal now, then?

“No, uh, well.” Red laughs. “When I say we’re not on top anymore? Trick’s in charge now. And he’s wrapped around Anti’s fucking pinkie these days. He’ll snap at Dok himself if he thinks he’s getting short with Anti.”

Red’s eyes fall for a moment. He picks at the raggedy sheets on his bed.

“I’m worried about him. Not acting like himself.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Red! What's got you distracted?

He shrugs and gives a small smile, though it’s equal parts sad and happy.

“Don’t know,” he says. “I space out sometimes when I’m overwhelmed and stuff. But this isn’t that. I used to be able to focus pretty clearly on right now. But now it’s like… I don’t know. I just keep thinking about different things. I guess I’m thinking more about the future. And not just about making sure everybody’s going to have enough to eat. I can just… imagine things, now, I guess. That I didn’t before. I imagine a different future than I did before.”

He scratches Noodle’s tummy, letting out a low sigh. “But it’s just dreaming.”

The door to his room swings open and he turns to smile at Blue, but it isn’t Blue there.

Trick holds his backpack to his stomach nervously, staring at Red.

“What?”

“Um. Anti told me to stay in here tonight.”

Red straightens up, blinking. “What? In here?”

“Yeah.”

“What, like, share the bed with me? Where’s Blue? And Dok?”

“I don’t know, staying in that bed, I guess,” says Trick, looking stressed.

“Anti wants you and me to stay together?”

“That’s what I said!”

They stare at each other, seeing each other’s discomfort mirrored.

“Anti’s not… taking us away from Blue and Dok, right?”

Trick shrugs, chewing on his lip. “I just got him back,” he mumbles.

cest-mellow asked: anti, why are you separating the boys from their twins..?

“Trick, tell the cameras I don’t answer to them.”

“Cameras, Anti doesn’t answer to you.”

Anti laughs. “You little kiss-ass. I was kidding.”

“Okay, but actually I would… not mind knowing the answer either,” offers Red weakly. “If that’s okay, master.”

“I’m still figuring it out. You’re still twins with your twins. Don’t ask questions, just do what I say.”

Trick stares at Dok, their eyes meeting. Dok tries to reassure him, but his smile is small and afraid, his hands stretched out towards him. Trick tries to smile back.

“It’s late,” says Anti. “We’ll move early tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

Trick swallows and signs good night at Dok before slipping into the second room. Red stares back at him, looking tense.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” says Trick.

In the other room, Anti’s smile has not changed. He stalks towards Blue and Dok. Before they have a chance to say anything, he has a hand on both their throats, pushing them down onto the bed. Blue closes his eyes, trying to breathe slow and calm. Doktor stares back at Anti, his eyes furious and scared.

“You two,” breathes Anti, his eyes drizzling to black, teeth sharpening in his mouth. “Are still trying to be my little trouble-makers, aren’t you? You think I’m going to give you free reign with your twins knowing what you know? Knowing how you feel?”

“Hurt me now and I’ll shout so Red hears me,” threatens Blue, panting.

Anti shoves against his throat, making him choke. “Right. Good luck with that. No, Blue. I still need your body at nights to get me through the sickness I get otherwise. And you, Dok…”

He moves his hand to Dok’s stomach and squeezes. Tears well up in Dok’s eyes, but he does not make a noise.

“Good,” growls Anti. “You know what will happen if you tell him?”

Dok nods swiftly, closing his eyes.

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut. Sooner you break back into shape, the sooner I’ll let you sleep next to Trick again. For now, you stay with me at nights, and you’ll look after Dapper and Blue. Understand?”

Dok nods again, tears washing down his cheeks.

Anti shoves him off the bed. Dok crashes to the ground and scurries into the corner, hiding his face in his thighs.

Blue chokes again, beginning to get desperate for air. Anti crawls over his body and leans down on him, gripping his head to turn his eyes towards him, and there is nothing Dok can do to stop him from possessing his brother once again.

“We’re playing this game just one more time.” Anti licks Blue’s lips, throwing his head and adjusting his clothes, sitting up in the fragile body no matter the strain he causes it. “Just one more time, like Red said. And I intend to fucking win.”

Dapper steps out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair. Doktor will not look at him. Anti looks back at him with Blue’s eyes.

Something hot and painful twists inside his gut, but when Anti reaches out for him, he goes quietly, and he lays down at his brother’s side like he always does.

Playing this game just one more time.

Henrik wraps his fingers around the ravens on his chest and he grits his fierce teeth in his mouth.

Well, then. Let’s play.

Dapper waits until Anti is asleep.

He does not like to be touched by him, these days. He does not want to be held. He does not want to share a bed. Especially when it is Blue beside him, trapped beneath Anti’s power. He does not want to see his sibling in pain.

Anyway, he can see Dok trembling in the bed beside his own.

He slips out from beneath Anti’s arms wrapped around his throat, pausing to make sure his breathing stays heavy and thick. When Anti does not wake, Dapper slinks to his feet and touches Dok’s shoulder.

Dok jumps so hard he nearly slams their heads together. Dapper holds him gently down and rubs his shoulder, waiting for him to calm.

“What?” whispers Dok, astonished. “Dap, are you - ”

He holds a finger to his mouth and takes Dok’s hands, pulling him out of bed and leading him to the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Dap?”

“Sit on the counter.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats, pushing him. “Sit, sit.”

Dok has been crying. His face is still red. He turns his head away and hoists himself onto the counter, staring at Dapper like he might be the one possessed.

“What, I never given you an order before?”

“I don’t believe you have,” replies Dok. “Or woken me up for anything.”

“Usually you have Trick to look after you,” answers Dapper, and he reaches for Dok’s shirt.

Dok’s hands grab his own, his eyes wide.

Dapper looks back at him, not letting go.

“Don’t look,” breathes Dok, his voice shaking. “Don’t, there’s… I’m self-conscious, I…”

Dapper laughs again, his random, wild laugh without any noise but a humorless huffing.

“Did Anti tell you?” asks Dok, feeling his cheeks heat.

Dapper snorts and shakes his head. He helps Doktor pull the shirt over his head.

“Anti doesn’t have to tell me anything,” he replies shortly, taking the med kit from beneath the sink. “I know everything he does. You shouldn’t have tried to stitch this up yourself.”

Dok closes his eyes as Dapper’s hands run over the deep cut in his stomach, coated in struggling stitches.

“They’ll hold.”

“Since when do you know anything about stitches?” whispers Dok.

“Since I’ve bandaged myself and Red up a hundred times before, that’s since when.” He gets antiseptic from the bag and begins cleaning the wound. “I don’t like to be under-estimated, my darling.”

“I thought that was how you survived,” Dok pants back, staring at him.

Dapper doesn’t answer.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you these days,” says Dok, coughing at the pain as Dapper cleans the wound Anti gave him. “I’m scared you’re still suicidal and you won’t tell anyone. Your expressions are always wrong and I don’t know if it’s the schizophrenia or something else going on with you. I want to say you’re not acting right, but the truth is, I don’t remember how you used to act. Or who you used to be… I think a different person than this.”

Dapper looks up at him for a second, and then away.

“Are you angry, Dapper?”

He gets a bandage out of the bag and begins pressing it onto the wound, tearing away the sticky sides of the big white band-aid.

“Are you still suicidal?”

“No one here knows me,” Dapper tells him suddenly, his hands nearly in his face. “Let’s not pretend that you do.”

Henrik stares back at him, his face still hot from crying.

Dapper softens again, brushing water from his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says. “I know how to take care of myself. You should do the same. Tell Anti what he wants to hear, take the necklaces off, and go back to your twin. Be grateful you have the chance to earn one.”

“Don’t say that to me,” whispers Henrik. “I know that’s not what you want. I know. We all saw how badly you wanted things to change on the side of that cliff, Dapper. Don’t lie to me.”

Dapper watches the floor.

“I love you,” Dok adds, touching his cheek. “Even if I don’t know who you are… whoever that person is, I love him.”

Dapper closes his eyes for a second. He looks up again a moment later, his eyes tired, and he leans in to kiss Dok’s cheek, holding the back of his head.

“I love you too. But Anti is going to keep doing things like this to you. And I know you won’t tell Trick.”

“I can’t watch him get hurt because of me.”

“I know.”

“You looked after me just now. I want to look after you too. And Anti says I can. Promise me you’ll be honest with me, Dapper. I can’t watch you go back to the place you were in last week.”

Dapper stares at him for a long time.

“And I can’t watch you go back to being Anti’s favorite thing to hurt.”

Henrik’s mouth parts. He isn’t sure what to say.

“None of you know how hellish Anti could make your life, really,” whisper Dapper’s hands. “You, and all of our siblings, and anyone on the cameras - none of you know. I am the only one who remembers. I am the only one who still has the nightmares. I am the only one who still carries that. Doktor. Don’t make Anti angry again. If you think that what you remember is bad… you don’t want to remember the rest.”

Dapper kisses him again, on the heel of his palm, and for a second, the emotion on his face is real and right and true, and he does not laugh.

“Go back to sleep, H-healing,” he signs. “And don’t risk your life and your sanity on the promises of ravens.”

He draws away from him, his blue eyes dark. Henrik sits on the counter for a long time, in silence, his hand over the bandaged wound in his side.

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thelifeofprettycommitteealpha · 4 years ago

Text

How to Act Like Massie Block

Steps

We'll start with attitude, by far the most important aspect of being like Massie Block. If you only take one thing from this, remember that you must always show, radiate, and have CONFIDENCE! This means not pointing out your flaws to others, (ex: "My hair is so frizzy today!" or "Is this top cute? 'Cause I'm not sure...") having good posture and always looking straight ahead, (never at the ground) and not ever letting people know when you feel unsure of yourself or your opinions. Never appear to be upset. Don't cry or make comments about how "your life sucks." You must always make it seem as if you have everything together, and that your life is perfect, or else people will never idolize you. Even if you're majorly embarrassed about something, you have to just laugh it off and forget it (don't make it a big deal). You can never show weakness!

Another crucial part of your Massie transformation is looking the part. Massie is gorgeous. She has straight, extremely shiny brunette hair, about shoulder length, sparkling amber eyes, and perfect skin. You don't have to look exactly like this, (always choose the look that works best on you) but you must always appear your best.

Without a fabulous wardrobe, Massie would be nothing. Be a true fashionista and wear expensive clothes from stores/designers like BCBG, Coach, Juicy Couture, Ralph Lauren, Seven For All Mankind, Guess, Lacoste, C&C California, Marc Jacobs, Joie, True Religion, etc. Always dress to impress! Never leave the house in sweats and a T-shirt (unless they're Juicy!). Even if you can't afford uber-expensive clothes, make sure to always look pulled together and stylish, with coordinated accessories and cute shoes. Don't tell anyone where you got your cheaper clothes unless you have a social death wish! A final note on inexpensive clothes: don't ever wear anything that looks cheap. This means don't go for the Wal-Mart or Target look when you can be buying low-priced (and way cuter) clothing from Forever 21 or Wet Seal. Oh, and no too tight/too big tacky clothing please. Wear stuff that fits you and looks good. Not sure? Get a second opinion. Make sure your underwear/bras are cute, too, from stores like Victoria's Secret or underglam.com. Trust me, people do notice in the locker room when you're changing. Never wear the same outfit more than once every two weeks or more: if you double up, people will think that you are thrifty and don't have very many clothes...and we wouldn't want them to think that, would we? No.

Massie is the queen bee. Popular. Worshipped. And how does she do this? By looking fabulous, having the right attitude, and establishing her dominance by using intimidation. Get together a clique of the prettiest and most fashionable girls in the school, 3-4 others. Make sure you are their leader. Your beta (second in command) should be the most loyal. The other girls should also be loyal and reliable; make sure you have at least one nice-ish girl to keep the peace in your clique. If you don't all get along, you will never rule. It's all about unity. This doesn't mean you can't boss them around though--it's what Massie would do! Test the waters by starting off really nice, then gradually getting a bit harsher. If they stick with you, you'll know you have 'em forever. Lighten up a bit if they start to stray. Make sure people are somewhat scared/intimidated by you, so that you know they'll do whatever you want. Be totally snobby to the losers at your school (a.k.a. basically everyone outside your group). Chances are, you'll be so fabulous by then, it will only make them idolize you more.

You must be thin to maintain your social status! This means very little or no fatty/sugary foods like chips, soda, candy, fried chicken, pizza, etc. It's a tough sacrifice to make, but well worth it in the long run! Work out regularly on a treadmill, doing crunches, squats, or playing the specified sports below. Chew sugarless gum. Never be too skinny or develop an eating disorder. Not only will many rumors be circulated about you, but you could even die from it!

Get super shiny hair by using shine shampoo, (such as Citré Shine or Brilliant Brunette Shine-Release) shine serum or spray, (know your limit--don't use too much or your hair will look greasy) and rinsing out your conditioner with cool water (as cold as you can stand it!). Straighten your hair with a good-quality flat iron and consult hair magazines or a hair stylist to find the best cut for your face (but never shorter than shoulder length!).

If you desire brown eyes, (and you don't have 'em) experiment with color contacts.

Achieve your best skin by washing your face morning and night with a good cleanser (Clean & Clear works great) and exfoliating and moisturizing daily. If you have dry skin, wash your face once per day and use more moisturizer; if you have more oily skin, skip the moisturizer. When you're drying your face, remember to pat, not rub, (rubbing pulls the skin and causes wrinkles). If you have bad acne that cannot be fixed by this skincare regimen, see a dermatologist.

Now for make-up...it can do so much for your face, turning you from plain to perfect in a matter of minutes. But be careful not to wear too much--you want to be like Massie, not Nina! Wear an eyeshadow in a natural color like brown, gold, or beige, (or whatever subtle color compliments your eye color) thinly line your eyes with a black or brown eyeliner, add a coat or two of blackish-brown mascara, and conceal all of your blemishes with the right shade and amount of concealer. It's also very important to remember your lip gloss--Massie would never leave home without hers! Buy a variety of different good-smelling flavors and bring them everywhere you go.

Make sure your teeth are bright-white and perfect. If your teeth are crooked, use "Invisiline" rather than getting braces (a lot more attractive!). Whiten your teeth with laser procedures or Crest Whitestrips. Brush at least twice a day with whitening toothpaste, and remember to floss!

Tips

Get a super cute dog (the smaller the better) such as a Chihuahua or a Pug, in black, light brown, or honey color (they're the cutest). You can also get a kitty; they're ah-dorable, too. Tell your pet everything, (yes, you can talk to her about your insecurities!) and love her as your child. Dress her in the cutest fashions, (this works best if you have a dog) and take her on walks in the evening with your Louis Vuitton leash.

Use words like "ah-mazing," "ah-dorable," and "ah-nnoying". Say "ehmagawd!" when you're shocked, surprised, or excited about something. When something is well-known and "ah-bvious" to you, say, "Given!". When you have the same opinion as someone, say, "Ah-greed". When something someone says strikes you as reasonable, say, "Point!" and draw an imaginary "1" with your finger if you desire.

Have the best and biggest room. Go with Massie and have everything be white, no exceptions! Make sure you have a queen-size bed, (you are one, right?) an Apple computer, a giant walk-in closet to store all your ah-mazing clothes, and a leather chaise by your bay window to have long phone conversations and brush your pet before going to bed. Vanilla scented candles are a nice touch, too. Have everyone refer to your room as the "iPad".

Sports are luh-ame unless they are something classy and don't involve getting dirty like Tennis, Horse-back Riding, or Volleyball. And shopping, of course!

Purple is the official color of royalty. Therefore it's your favorite color. Wear it, love it, decorate everything from books and pens to your cell phone with it (purple rhinestones, of course!).

Speaking of cell phones, you need one! It's the perfect way to stay updated on gossip and keep in contact with your friends. Make sure you have a texting plan so that you your clique can silently dish about stuff in class, detention, wherever! Cover it in Swarovski crystals and bring it everywhere you go.

Get together a carpool with your clique. Taking the bus is so ew!

Wear a charm bracelet with charms such as a shoe, Eiffel Tower, dog or cat, (whichever you have) star, and most importantly, a crystal-encrusted crown! Make sure the charm bracelet is gold, and never have any of the charms be silver (tacky much?). Buy it from Tiffany if you have the money.

Always have your fingernails and toenails perfectly manicured! I highly suggest a french tip for fingernails, because it coordinates so well with everything. Have them done at a fancy salon with your clique afterschool or on a weekend for a fun activity.

Throw a fabulous party to increase your popularity. Invite everyone.

You must always be prepared with a witty comeback for if, on some rare occasion, a wannabe insults you. One of my favorite Massie-style ones is, "Did I invite you to my barbecue?...Then why are you all up in my GRILL?" Consult the Clique books for some other great ones, or make some up yourself. Never let anyone get the best of you or think that they have won. Remember that YOU are in charge. YOU make the rules.

It helps to have an AIM account, or MSN, you'll need it to keep in touch with you friends one-on-one!

The magazines Teen Vogue, ElleGirl, and Lucky are your bible. Read them religiously(but not in a creepy way...)

Warnings

Be prepared to receive some backlash from the people that wish they were you. In other words, the jealous people. They may spread some pretty nasty stuff about you, but respond with something positively catty (your beta will help) to show them who's really the boss.

There may be occasions where controversy arises in your clique. Like a power-trip, where a girl in your clique suddenly wants the throne. Start by putting her in her place by telling her off in the hallway (preferably with many people around). If she still doesn't get the hint, kick her out the group and recruit someone new. Chances are, she'll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. Let her back in after a little while, and ditch the temporary.

Many people will probably think you're a mean person. But they'll still love you, and wish they were just like you (they'll love to hate you). This is inevitable if you want to be on top like Massie. You'll get used to it.

#lifestyle tips #beauty tips

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ryqoshay · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Life: How to Walk a Familiar

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~2k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime during their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Someday I’ll get back to the other YohaRiko scenes I’ve started, including the one that this one was supposed to be...

“Ne, Yocchan!” Riko called as she left her room on her way to the living room, her pug in tow.

“What’s up, Riri?” Yoshiko responded as she paused her game.

“I’m going to take Prelude for a walk. Want to come with us?”

“Definitely!” The blue-haired girl made to jump up from the couch before realizing there was a purring furball in her lap. “Uhm… one moment… Sorry, Phobetor.” She nudged the cat gently in an attempt to have him leave of his own volition.

For his part, Phobetor took his time getting to his feet and stretching with a sizable yawn before stepping down onto the cushion beside Yoshiko. He glanced among the other three occupants of the apartment as though trying to determine the purpose of his nap being interrupted.

“We’ll be back in a little bit.” Yoshiko assured, patting the kitten’s head before moving toward the entryway.

“Merow!” Phobetor uttered, rubbing up against Yoshiko’s leg as she knelt to tie her shoe.

“Be a good boy while we’re out.” Yoshiko responded, petting her cat. She frowned, however, when the meowing continued as she stood. “We’ll be back before you know it.” She assured.

Phobetor switched tactics and moved toward Prelude, bunting against her while his vocalizations became more pleading.

“C’mon, Prelude.” Riko started to open the door and was about to step out when she felt resistance at the other end of the leash. “Prelude?” She turned to find her puppy sitting squarely in place. “Do you think we should let him come with us, Yocchan?” Riko inquired of her girlfriend.

“I’d like to bring him.” Yoshiko admitted. “But I don’t know how we would do that. I haven’t even bought a collar for him as I wasn’t expecting to take him anywhere other than the vet on occasion. I should probably get one…”

“Hrm…” Riko considered, watching the protesting pets for a moment. “I wonder if…” She trailed off as she closed the front door and opened the closet instead. “Ah, here we go.” She said after a minute or two of searching. “I wonder if Prelude’s old collar will fit?”

“Maybe? It looks a little big.” Yoshiko took the collar and knelt. Phobetor immediately stopped yowling and moved to sit in front of her. “Usually owners use harnesses on cats because they’re harder to get out of and there is less risk of the cat choking. Huh, just barely. Still pretty loose...” She commented as she used the last hole in the leather to secure the collar.

“Perhaps we can add a stop at the pet store to our route.” Riko said, holding out a spare leash. “Maybe Ryoushi-kun will be there and can meet him?” She mentioned the name of their favorite associate.

“Sounds good.” Yoshiko agreed as she attached the leash to her cat’s collar. “You’ll be a good boy and not pull out of this, right? We just need to make it to the store and we’ll get you one that fits better and a proper harness. Oh, and a nametag too!” She knocked her knuckles atop her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to get one earlier.”

“Well we haven’t really let him out…” Riko tried to reason.

“Yeah, but there was always a risk that he could have gotten out at some point.” Yoshiko lamented. “I don’t want anyone thinking he’s a stray anymore now that we’ve given him a good home.”

As if responding to her change in mood, Phobetor ran himself against her hand, earning a couple pets.

“Well, better late than never, right?” Riko offered. “Anyway, we should head out so we have enough time to get to the park and back in time for dinner. Let’s go get Phobetor a tag worthy of his status as Yohane’s familiar.”

That seemed the brighten the younger girl’s mood. “Indeed!” She jumped up. “A fallen angel’s familiar deserves nothing but the best!”

Riko smiled and opened the door again to lead everyone out.

“Ah, Riko-san, Yohane-sama.” A boy greeted the two girls as they moved down the store aisle. “Good to see you as always.” He knelt and produced a small treat as their dog hurried over to him. “Welcome back, Prelude-chan.” He smiled as he patted the pug before standing again.

“Hi, Ryoushi-kun.” Riko returned the greeting.

The young man’s attention turned to Yoshiko’s shoulder. “Pray tell, might this be the legendary familiar for which Yohane-sama hath sung many a praise?”

Yoshiko grinned. “Thou hath a keen eye, Choukyoushi!” She intoned. “Indeed, this day, Yohane hath summoned forth my most faithful of servants to honor you with his presence! Meet Phobetor!”

The cat reached out a paw and leaned forward as though to jump.

“He loves meeting new people.” Yoshiko explained as her voice returned to normal.

“Well it is indeed an honor to finally meet you in person, Phobetor-kun.” Ryoushi replied, taking the kitten into his arms. “Let’s see what I have for good little familiars.” He shifted the cat to cradle him in one arm so he could retrieve another treat from his apron. “Are you four here for normal restocking or for something specific?” He turned his attention back to the two humans.

“Phobetor wants to join us when we walk Prelude,” Riko spoke up “so we need a harness for him.”

“And since we’re here, I want to get a proper collar and tag for him.” Yoshiko added.

Ryoushi nodded. “I believe we can find ones that will suit him.” With that said, he turned and lead the way with Phobetor still purring in his arms.

“Yocchan, look” Riko said soon after the group had found the display “doesn’t that one look a little like the symbol you used during our time with Aqours?”

Yoshiko leaned in to inspect the tag in question. “It does!” She cried excitedly, pulling it from the rack. “Good find, Riri! Ne, Choukyoushi, can you etch a demon face on this?”

“Our machine does have a custom setting.” The store associate confirmed. “Let me show you how to use it.” He lead them to the device at the end of aisle where he pulled up an image representing the tag.

Yoshiko hummed happily to herself as she used the touch screen to draw eyes and a fanged mouth on the digital blank.

“Alright, now use this button to flip it over.” Ryoushi explained. “Then type his name in the upper box and your address in the lower one. Perfect. Now while this does its thing, go ahead and pick out a collar to put it on.”

“Back in a moment, Phobetor.” Yoshiko called to her cat before practically skipping away.

Riko and Prelude followed at a more normal pace. By the time they caught up, Yoshiko was already inspecting a collar in her hand.

“Is black really a good color?” Riko inquired. “Phobetor’s fur is black, so won’t the collar blend in too much?”

“Hrm…” Yoshiko pondered.

“Maybe this grey one will stand out better?” The redhead selected a different one. “Grey was your color as an idol after all.”

“Riri makes a good point. Alright. I’ll get this one.” The blue-haired girl took the offered collar. “Phobetor!” She called, moving back to the end of the aisle. “Look at what I got for you!”

Phobetor looked over from his position on Ryoushi’s shoulder and cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He seemed fine until Yoshiko reached toward him, at which point he turned his head away.

“Just let me get the old one…” Yoshiko said.

The cat eluded his master’s hands again before retreating to Ryoushi’s other shoulder.

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko chided.

Another attempt was made to remove the old collar but this time, Phobetor jumped down and scampered over to Prelude, pressing in against the larger dog as though using her as a shield.

Yoshiko handed the new collar to Ryoushi before kneeling down in front of the two animals. “Are you sure you want to keep that one? It might be a little heavy for a while and loose until you grow into it.” She asked, reaching a hand forward and smiling as her cat stepped forward cautiously but eventually rubbed against her palm. She looked up at her girlfriend. “Can he keep this one?”

Riko chuckled. “Of course. He seems to like it.”

Yoshiko grinned and stood. “We’ll put the tag on the collar he has now.” She announced to Ryoushi as though it wasn’t already obvious.

“Alright.” The associate replied, popping the small metal plate out of the etching device. “Here you go.” He handed over the tag as well as a pair of pliers.

“It came out perfect.” Yoshiko marveled at the design. “Here, Phobetor, will you at least let me put this on that collar? If you want to go out with us, you need some sort of identification.” She knelt again in front of the cat.

This time, Phobetor did not retreat, instead he lifted his chin to allow easier access.

“Good boy.” Yoshiko praised as she opened the jumper ring attached to the tag, secured it to the collar and bent it back into place. “There we g- oh, hey…” She caught her cat as he jumped up into her arms. Giggling, she scratched him behind his ears.

“Shall we look at harnesses next?” Riko inquired.

“Those are right here on the other side from the collars.” Ryoushi pointed out. “Let’s size one out for him.”

“I think Phobetor likes his new gear.” Riko commented as she watched their cat strut proudly beside their dog.

“Definitely.” Yoshiko agreed. “I’m so glad he can join us for our family walks like this.”

“As am I.” Riko agreed. Though not just for his sake, she thought to herself as she also took pleasure in seeing her girlfriend this happy.

“So, we’re headed to the park next?” Yoshiko inquired as the group came to a stop at a crosswalk.

Riko nodded. “I figured we could toss a ball a few times for Prelude and just enjoy the weather for a bit before we head back.”

“Alright. Oh, the light chang- eh?” Yoshiko paused with her foot a few centimeters off the ground as their cat suddenly jumped onto their dog’s leash. “Phobetor wha-?”

A box truck careened through the intersection against the red light, plowing through the crosswalk where the four of them would had been had they stepped forward. Yoshiko’s leg came down awkwardly and she overcorrected her balance backward, tipping herself over in the process. She landed roughly, but otherwise safely on the sidewalk.

“What jus… Riri, are you alright?!” Yoshiko looked up frantically to see her girlfriend frozen in shock.

“I’m… f-fine…” Riko’s movements were like a marionette with missing strings as she reached down to help the other girl back to her feet.

“Did Phobetor… just stop us from being isakai’d?” Yoshiko stared at the cat who was now playing with the leash that had been dropped.

Phobetor rolled onto his back held the braided nylon with is front paws while biting it and kicking at it with his back legs, seeming to be completely oblivious to the reactions of the two girls.

The chuckle that escaped Riko’s lips from her girlfriend’s bad joke felt odd, yet somehow still managed to ease some of her tension. She swallowed before asking. “Are you okay, Yocchan?”

“Well, either my familiar has a strange way of saving us, or the luck of my angel ascended did the trick.” Yoshiko knelt to retrieve Prelude’s leash. “But so long as Riri and her familiars are alright, so is Yohane.”

Of course, Yoshiko would be calmer about the situation, Riko realized, this was by no means her first close call. Heck, she fell off a balcony back in high school and was back to normal in moments, or at least as much as normal applied to her.

Something stirred in the back of Riko’s mind, but when she tried to focus on it, it was gone. Same as always.

“Shall we go?”

Yoshiko’s voice pulled Riko back to reality and she looked down to see the other girl holding out her dog’s leash.

“Right…” Riko replied, taking the handle as the four of them resumed their walk.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

#YohaRiko #YoshiRiko #Sakurauchi Riko #Tsushima Yohane #Love Live Sunshine #Happy Life #fanfic #Tsushima Yoshiko

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creepypso · 5 years ago

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Creepypso, is it possible to be half coast and half deep sea monster because I’m drawing my OC half coast and half deep sea?

Mhmm.. so far there are none mixed breed characters.

However I can imagine the child between a coast and a deep sea monster having a lot of problems and it maybe even dying really young because of the traits..

Of course there could be combinations of traits that wouldn't just kill the child as soon as it was born but it definitely would cause it to never feel welcomed with either species.

For example a coast monster with the trait of not being able to breath air or a deep sea monster that can only breath air.

These could work but would for sure cause a lot of suffering to the being. The coast monster wouldn't be able to truly socialize with others since coast monsters spend a lot of time over water as well and since being social and with others is very important to them, these would definitely make the mixed monster feel left out and lonely.

And the deep sea monster wouldn't be able to hunt due to his lack of holding his breath long enough. Hunting is the base of a deep sea monster and not being able to do it definitely takes away the pride of the monster.

The thought of a dangerous looking coast monster or a harmless deep sea monster just isn't looking right in my head if I'm honest. Neither could use how they look to their advantage.

And of course there is also the problem that these two species despise each other. Just imagine the reaction of the coast monsters seeing the child.. Their whole life's are build on trusting one another and the child would be a clear sign of betrayal.

Honestly the child would be safer with the deep sea parents and growing up in the deep sea since they care more about themselves than what others do.. but.. if the child doesn't have enough defense and weapons like teeth, claws, poison, etc. It's going to be laughed at or maybe even killed pretty quickly by the others. There it's not usual for others to look out for one another.

There is also the option that the child could swim away and start its own life, not caring about rules and others (like reaper does) but that would basically mean that the child wouldn't be a part of the story/world.

In conclusion: I think is better to choose one of them for your oc. I didn't plan any mixed breeds for the story/world and I made the two species so different that mixing them would either turn the child into an abomination looking at the traits or.. a normal mermaid like we know them from other stories.

I don't want to say that it's like breeding cats and dogs - not possible at all - since they are different species but it's more like that you could do it and it would produce something... But are you really sure about this? A pug was created this way

#Sea monster au #Deep sea monster #coast monster

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moonlightoverthehorizon · 4 years ago

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compilation of my favorite otp prompts 9

tag

dumb otp AUs [x]

“You always said it looked like you were blushing when you talked to me because of the heat but I just saw you talking to someone else and your face looked fine so what is the truth” au

“I was goofing around with your phone while you were in the bathroom and why do you have heart emojis next to my contact name” au

WEREWOLF AU’S [x]

“you being part dog has its perks, mostly for me because whenever i toss something away your eyes follow it and you perk up like you want to chase it but restrict yourself and its honestly the cutest fucking thing ive ever seen”

“babe you know i love you and i would give up my life for yours but i sWEAR TO GOD IF YOU GIVE ME ONE MORE DOG TOY FOR MY BIRTHDAY IM GONNA PUNCH YOU SQUARE IN THE FACE”

a werewolf getting personally offended when someone says they’re not a dog person

“as a werewolf i can personally talk to dogs and boyohboy does ur little pug have some tea to spill…"

“alternatively, i find you to be really superduper adorable and whenever i come over your little dog goes off on rants to me about the cute embarrassing stuff that you do when your home alone and honestly I wake up every day for these chats”

“when I saw you climbing out of the stream I was fishing in dirty, wet, and naked, I assumed you had just survived some kind of intense mob hit or something but really you had just detransformed from a werewolf after you were playing in the water trying to catch a fish, and ultimately failing. nice ass, by the way.”

one cannot have enough of cute and random aus so here have some more [x]

“You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU.

“It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m single and you want to cheer me up but you can’t cook nor bake to save your life so you make me hot chocolate instead and it is delicious and I think I love you???” AU.

“You’re the jerk-face customer that keeps on thumbing through their phone while ordering their drink so I exact revenge by spelling your name wrong on your cup and drawing phallic pictures on your coffee” AU.

“Our mutual friend invites us to go shopping with them and it’s kind of awkward and now you’re pushing them around the mall in a shopping cart and you’re both screaming like excited children and I’m paying the cashier and pretending I don’t know either of you” AU.

“You and I are both baristas at a coffee shop and one day I step out of the café to take a break and walk in on you gleefully drawing phallic pictures on the chalkboard outside that no one pays attention to so what are you doing?” AU.

“We’re both strangers sitting in the same booth at an eatery because all the other booths are full and you’re drawing smiley faces on your plate with ketchup and wow your concentrated frown is cute” AU.

“I’m sick so you make me chicken soup and I’m really grateful but I’ve also seen you read books on magical spells and potion-making so I’m not sure if I should drink your soup in case it turns me into a toad” AU.

“There’s a scrawny black cat in our neighborhood that hates everyone and everything but follows you around for some reason and I see you pet it and feed it fish fries are you a witch” AU

BAKING IDEAS [x]

Person A and Person B decorating cookies/cupcakes/etc. together and Person A’s turn out looking amazing while Person B’s look like a toddler did them.

Person A trying to show Person B how to perfectly crack an egg, but Person A messes up and makes a big mess.

Person A tipping a bowl of meringue mixture above Person B’s head to prove that it’s ready but it turns out that it’s not actually ready and spills all over Person B’s head.

Person A really struggling to open a jar but not letting Person B help them until they eventually give up and Person B gets it open on the first try.

AU prompts i wish i was talented enough to write part 2 [x]

it’s 2 am and i can’t sleep so i grab a book and go lay on my roof, but who knew i had a hot neighbor who does the same thing when he can’t sleep

omg please wake up i can’t lose you please don’t die... oh you’re not dying? this is awkward

we recently started sharing a flat but one of the showers are broken and we run out of hot water quickly... no we can’t shower together!

i moved to a new city about a month ago and my coworker sets me up on a blind date and it turns out my date is my ex... this is awkward

i show up late to the school assembly but there’s no seats and you offer up your lap to make fun of me with your friends but you didn’t think i’d actually sit on your lap and i think you might have a little problem down there ;)

we dated years ago and one day i’m going through my old stuff and i found some of your old stuff i kept and i found all the romantic old letters you used to write me but i remember i never read the last letter cus i didn’t want us to be over but i end up reading the letter now

#writing #writing prompts #prompt list #au prompts #otp prompts #compilation of writing prompts #otp aus #queue

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

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Nothing Serious (Parts 7 & 8)

SUMMARY: You and Roger decide to make a go of it and behave ‘like a normal couple’ in the wake of The Sun running a damning exposé on Roger’s love life and his divorce – and your disastrous attempts at dating other people. He also drunkenly makes you an offer you find hard to refuse.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

NOTES: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on this; I honestly didn’t think anyone still gave a shit about my fics anymore, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[Part 7]

The morning after that awful date, you and Roger decided to – in his words – “Make a go of it.”

This meant him sleeping over at your place every other night. According to Roger, this was to avoid rousing suspicions. But actually, Roger just loved being around you.

Your habit of neglecting your dishwashing duties didn’t bother him. And you couldn’t care less that he was more of a morning person than you; you enjoyed lying in bed, listening to him singing Taylor Swift in the shower. His day didn’t start until his bandmates kicked into action, so with time to spare, he always made you breakfast in bed, and packed you lunches to take to work. He insisted. When he learned that you always skipped breakfast, he was dismayed. This became a habit for him, looking after you. Mornings, evenings, everything, ran like clockwork.

Even sex.

That promise Roger made in Ibiza about teaching you a thing or two? That was long gone. Tamed and domesticated, he loved missionary and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he pumped you full of baby batter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays – with double helpings on Saturdays. And neither of you minded.

What your sex life lacked in kink and depravity, it made up for in a kind of intimacy that you doubted you’d find elsewhere.

So that was love. Finally.

A fortnight on from the Night of Terrible Dates, a sunny Sunday morning, Roger slid out of bed. He fumbled in the dull orange glow, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tattered t-shirt; he didn’t bother to comb his hair. It didn’t matter. He was only going to the end of the street to bring you your Sunday coffee. A proper one.

Roger gently kissed your forehead and left you in a sweaty heap in bed.

You shot him a dumb, delirious smile, watching him leave and trying to psyche yourself up for the notion of getting out of bed. You only knew one move in the bedroom, but you sure knew how to tucker yourself out, you huffed to yourself.

You got up, slipping on one of Roger’s t-shirts. Then you padded through to the bathroom. Your makeup from the night before had burrowed into caked lines around your eyes, and your foundation flaked around your nose. Drawing your cheeks up into a measly grin, you assessed the damage. And wondered how Roger put up with seeing your ugly mug in the morning.

You had no idea how he did it.

You got a bit carried away, though, feeling the last of Roger’s seed dribble down your thigh. Staring down at the offending swimmers in disgust, you fumbled for some loo roll to dispose of them once and for all.

Above the flush of the toilet, you heard the door slam. Roger was home. And it made your heart race. Kind of like the way dogs get excited to see their owners when they come home from work. You laughed at the thought.

“Hey, Roger… Am I a pug or a lab?” you asked, watching as he slipped off his shoes.

“Huh?” he asked, turning around. He looked gormless, peering at you through his glasses with his mouth hanging open.

“I was thinking,” you began, throwing your arms around him, almost sending your coffees flying, “About how excited I get when you come home. I’m like a dog that gets all hyper over seeing its owner.”

“Right?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“So I was wondering whether I’m a pug or a labrador. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes, a goofy smirk spreading over his lips. “I think you’re more of a terrier. Small and yappy.”

“Well, in that case,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re a chihuahua.”

“Very funny. We all know I’m more cat than dog,” he quipped. When he safely managed to remove you from him, avoiding any spills, he made his way into the living room and slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table.

The bold, red stripe at the top made your heartbeat accelerate. “What are you buying that muck for?”

“Brian texted me this morning. Dom’s told them everything. That Charlotte girl’s sold her story. And they have eyewitness accounts of how I forced a crying girl out of the toilets in a French restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, folding your arms and trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“All of it,” you said. “This is just our luck, isn’t it? The girls at work are constantly pestering me for information about you and I don’t even know what to tell them anymore. They know more about us than we know about each other.”

“How are we supposed to be a normal couple if this is going to keep happening?”

And then a lightbulb dinged above your head. Your eyes lit up as you threw yourself on to Roger’s lap. “Why don’t we do that?”

“Do what?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Be a normal couple. Keep our noses clean. Do everything normal couples do.”

Roger tucked strands of your hair behind your ear as a smile broke across his face again. “How do you propose we do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. See our friends. And if they talk, they talk. We need to be careful about what we say, though. But it might go well for us.”

Roger nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “This could definitely work. But if we fuck up, they’ll never stop hounding us.”

“It’ll die down soon, though, won’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Remember, I’m going to Montreux at the end of the month. So, you’re on your own if anything goes wrong.”

Feeling defeated, you sighed. That had slipped your mind. He’d be gone for two months. Maybe even more if arguments got the better of his bandmates.

Roger stroked the base of your back. “I’m only thinking about you,” he said, his baby blue eyes turning more and more watery. “I want you to be safe and for no one to bother you. And if anything else got out, how are you going to take it?”

You cupped Roger’s face in your hands. Your noses touched and your bodies pressed together.

“We’re going to need to get your friends on board,” he sighed, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers.

“Do you want to meet them?” you asked.

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

A week later, you and Roger sat in his Panamera outside your building. It looked so out of place parked on a rammed residential street; it belonged outside a mansion or an opulent Notting Hill townhouse. You were dressed to the nines, poised for Roger to meet all of your coupled off and drowse-inducingly dull friends. He vibrated with nervous energy, but that much you could deduce from how he talked.

“Now tell me again what I’m not supposed to say to Cassie?”

“Don’t crack dead baby jokes in front of her. I, personally love them. But her and whatshisface have been trying for over a year and they’re looking at IVF now, which is going to wipe them out. She’s had like three miscarriages.”

“Got it,” Roger nodded, chewing his lip. “So is there anyone going tonight that’s actually… you know… fun? Do they have a sense of humour?”

You shook your head, loathe to admit that these people were your friends. You collected them back when they were much more adventurous; in high school when the only things that bothered you were which Charlie body spray your mum was going to buy you that week, or how you were going to score a packet of cigs on your lunch break. Now they were all paired off with kids. Some of them dropped out of uni when they met ‘the one.’ Some of them didn’t even make it to uni. “None of them are particularly funny. Their humour got dumped out of their uteruses.”

“Right,” Roger said, starting the car. “This is going to be a long night.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fizz in the fridge for when we get back. Thought we’d need it.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What? The mild drink problem or the disdain for boring people?”

“Mild? I’ve seen how much you swallow on a school night.”

“Impress my pals and I’ll swallow more than a bottle of prosecco.”

“You mean, you’re actually going to shove the whole bottle down your neck? Now that, I need to see.”

You and Roger sat side by side as your friends grilled you. It felt like you were on trial. They asked him everything. Why he got divorced. Why he was on Tinder. Why you. And then. The question of your thirteen year age gap came up.

It was Grace. The gossip. She leaned over the table, as far as she could, with eyes bulging out of her head. Her stubby fingers gripped her glass of gin and tonic.

“So, he’s so much older than you,” she guffawed, darting her eyes between you and Roger. “Bet it turns him on.”

Roger’s fingers found their way to your lap, and tangled with your own, locking your hands together. “Actually,” Roger began, glancing at you, “I think she’s lovely. She could be twenty-four or eighty-four and I’d still adore her.” When he finished that sentence, he looked so proud of himself – flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He gave your hand another squeeze.

But that wasn’t the answer Grace the Gossip was looking for. “Oh, come on! I’ve heard you like shagging younger women.” Then she turned her attention to you, jabbing her finger at you. “And don’t pretend you don’t like him because he’s famous and rich.”

“What are you?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of those rats working for the red-tops. Are you?”

“Come on, that’s enough. Both of you,” Jade said, trying to mediate.

“No, I want to hear Grace’s answer, actually,” you piped up. You and Roger exchanged smug looks, while Grace rolled her eyes.

She sighed. “I’m curious. There are plenty of men out there your age. And there are plenty of girls out there Roger’s age. Thirteen years is a lot.”

You sensed Roger slumping in his chair beside you; you felt his disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know, Geraldine–”

“It’s Grace, actually.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re both bloody adults and as far as I’m concerned, your mate’s more mature than most people my age.” He looked at you, visibly annoyed. “Are we done here, can we go home?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you huffed, looking around at your friends. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, by the way. All of you. You’re all coupled up and you constantly tell me that I should be too. And now I am–”

“It’s not that,” Lily – the mouthpiece – interrupted. “It’s him.”

“And that you met him on Tinder,” Jade added.

You regained your composure, painfully aware that your friends were beyond seeing sense. “And now that I am,” you seethed, “You don’t have it in you to be happy for me.”

“We are,” Cassie, the doormat, cooed.

“Is it because I’m not stupid enough to get myself pregnant within two weeks of meeting someone new?” you asked, glaring at Grace. “Or that I haven’t had to give up my career for a man?” you continued, shooting daggers at Cassie. “Or perhaps it’s because my boyfriend isn’t a fucking deadbeat?” you concluded, directing that remark at Lily and Jade.

Your friends looked at each other in stunned silence.

Lily slapped her hand on her husband’s. “He’s not a deadbeat. I mean he’s quiet, but at least I know when he gets bored, he’s sensible enough not to trade me in for a younger model.”

Cassie was next to refute your claim: “I quit my job by choice. He got a better job and he supports us both. I’m happy.”

James, her husband, nodded.

“Well, if you’d like to keep lying to yourselves, then I’m sorry but I’m out of here. I don’t have the patience for this,” you announced, throwing down you and Roger’s share of the bill, plus a tip. You got to your feet, stretching out your hand which Roger gladly took. “We’re going home.” You cast an eye over the stunned table. “And if any of you want to apologise, remember what you did wrong before you go bashing us. We’re happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you were any kind of friends, you’d support that.”

Your friends said nothing as you and Roger stormed out of the restaurant at breakneck speed. But when the pair of you got to the front door, Roger mumbled something, staring straight on ahead.

You didn’t quite catch it, so you leaned in closer to him. “What was that, Roggie?”

“You were amazing,” he repeated with a faint simper on his lips.

You gave his hand another fleeting squeeze, feeling a swell of pride in your chest. “So were you.”

When you were safely inside Roger’s car, you both sank with relief. “That was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Roger said.

“Yup.”

“Suppose that’ll end up in The Sun?”

You turned in your seat to face him, wearing a serious expression. “Hope not.”

“You never know who to trust,” he warned, speeding off in the direction of home.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the journey back. Choosing to drown out the thought of your horrible evening, he turned his playlist up. The one he made for you. And belted no less than five love songs at you on the journey.

It earned a few cautious laughs from you, too. But the seed of doubt grew in your mind. What if you couldn’t trust your friends anymore?

The pensive silence stuck around like a bad smell well until you arrived home. You stood in the hall with your back to Roger as he shuffled your coat off your body and hung it up.

Then his arms snaked around your waist, his chin propped on your shoulder. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kitten. Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You exhaled, turning towards him. Your eyes had gone glassy and your lips curved into a frown. “It’s been a bad night, hasn’t it?” you lamented.

“It’s not gone that badly,” Roger reasoned.

“Yeah, but what if they hate me now?”

“They can’t possibly hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s…” Roger paused, shrugging, “Illegal?”

You rolled your eyes and stormed into the kitchen in search of something to take the edge off. “That’s the best you can do?” you asked opening the fridge and plucking out the bottle.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said, trailing behind you. “You’re lovely. And an amazing friend. They should be lucky to have you. And if they can’t see that, then I’m sorry, but they were never your friends to begin with.”

You grimaced, slapping the bottle down on the countertop. A deluge of sadness dropped on to your body like a lead balloon. “I’m twenty-four and I’m back at square one when it comes to friends,” you squeaked, leaning against the counter. The tears weren’t far off; you could feel the warmth burning your eyes. Not wanting Roger to see you in this state again, you bowed your head. Of course, it made the tears fall faster. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey,” he said in a low, warm voice. “You’ve still got years to meet new people. And makeup with everyone else. You’ve got me. And Freddie was saying the other day, he’d love to meet you. He knows a few characters. You’re only twenty-four. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure they’ll come round.”

Your whole body shook with grief as Roger held you close. “It feels like it is.”

The following day, you woke up to the sound of the intercom ripping through your empty flat. Your eyes shot open as you turned over, clawing at the empty space in your bed in search of Roger.

You heaved yourself on to your feet and padded through to the door, picking up the receiver. “Hello?” you spat.

“Hello, my love,” a sort of familiar voice beamed. “Is that Roger’s lovely girlfriend there?”

Your stomach sank. Surely Roger wasn’t behind all of this?

“Well, is it?” he pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Come on up.” You smacked the receiver down and sped through to your bedroom, slipping into more modest attire. With any luck, you thought, you might be able to brush your teeth before your guest arrived. But you were wrong.

Three loud knocks boomed into your home as you pulled on one of Roger’s shirts, earning a pained sigh from you.

And then another three while you hurried back to answer the door.

“Alright, alright! Hold your bloody horses,” you hissed. When you flung open the door, you found Freddie standing in the hall. He looked inconspicuous in his leather jacket and ripped up jeans, aside from the bottle of Moët he clutched. “Christ, it’s ten in the morning,” you remarked.

“I know,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to let me in, dear? This bottle’s getting warm and we can’t have that!”

You shuffled aside, allowing Freddie to barge in. “Make yourself at home,” you hummed, throwing your arm out in the general direction of your humble abode.

Freddie sashayed through to the kitchen like a wrecking ball through your lazy Sunday morning. “Roger says you were very down last night.”

“Oh, did he now,” you shrugged, following him. “Suppose he sent you here to make me feel better, then?”

He threw himself into a chair at your kitchen table. “No,” he began, popping open the champagne. “I’m here to talk to you about planning a party, my dear.” He held up the bottle, silently asking for glasses.

“A party?” You threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice; you couldn’t stomach straight champagne this early in the morning. “What kind of party?”

“Oh, I love mimosas,” he smirked. “Get some glasses and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Already ahead of you.” You opened the cupboard where all the glasses went to die and pulled out two mismatched flutes. You slid them across the table towards Freddie – along with the orange juice – and he got pouring the drinks.

“Well,” he began, placing your glass in front of you. “I’m sure you know, it’s Roger’s birthday next week?” It was more of a question than an explanation.

You nodded in response.

“Well, I thought it might be a nice idea, as one of Roger’s best friends, and you, as Roger’s very beautiful lady friend, to organise a party for him. It’d be nice to celebrate, and it’d be lovely for you to meet everyone. How does that sound?” Freddie asked with a manic look in his eyes.

You knocked back your mimosa in one swift gulp and sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Freddie excitedly clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I was hoping we could have it at my house. I have a few ideas for the cake, too! And invites! Yes, I’ve drawn these up,” Freddie rambled, scooting over towards you and whipping out his phone to show you some crisp, white invites with gold borders and greenery around the edges. “What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful!” you smiled. “I’m not sure they’re very Roger, though.”

A mischievous smirk emerged from beneath his moustache. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s make it filthy.”

[Part 8]

“I don’t see why we can’t stay at home and celebrate with a take away,” Roger grumbled, staring out of the window of the car.

“I thought it’d be nice to get a bite to eat somewhere nice,” you explained, brushing your fingers against his thigh.

The sweltering July evening seemed never-ending and the sun still hung high, even though the clock approached nine.

It was weather for light linen shirts and cropped jeans and sunglasses, hair that smelled like the beach and tanned skin on display. It suited Roger down to a tee, you thought, as your eyes wandered. He scratched at the undersides of his arms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Then, slipping his hand beneath his shirt collar, he sighed as he rubbed his aching shoulders. “But I love your cooking.”

“Would it stun you to know that I’m sick of cooking?”

Roger’s lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “But it’s my birthday. It’s as good as steak and blowjob day.”

“Well, you can eat some nice steak tonight and I’ll give you a blowie later. How does that sound?”

“Oh, alright!”

The pair of you went back to absentmindedly staring out the windows, every now and again, reaching across the seat to touch hands. The nerves in your stomach brewed, wondering what he would make of the party you and Freddie planned.

“Hang on?” Roger said, edging forward in his seat as he peered out the window. “Where are we going again?”

“For dinner, Roggie,” you stated. “Why?”

“Why are we going to Freddie’s?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Fred recently.”

“And what of it?”

“You’ve been planning something, haven’t you?” Roger asked, his voice streaked with giddiness.

“No!”

“Why are we pulling up in front of Fred’s house then?”

“We’re going to pop in and see him so he can wish you a happy birthday.”

“Oh great!” Roger tutted mockingly. “That’s half the night wasted then. No blowjobs for me.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded. You reached into your bag and handed the fare to the driver, then you both stepped out on to the street outside Garden Lodge.

“This better be quick! I’m fucking starving,” Roger warned, rubbing his tummy.

You knew how grumpy he could be when he was in the throes of hunger and you hoped the catering and free booze would be enough to sustain him through the night. But there was one thing you were certain of: Roger loved a good party. “Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the large wooden door that insulated the mansion within. You jabbed your finger against the intercom. “Fred? We’re here!”

Fred’s laughter came over the intercom, and then he finally spoke. “Come in, darlings!”

You and Roger exchanged puzzled looks at how jovial he sounded, but then you shrugged and pushed open the gate.

“SURPRISE!”

The garden was packed with anyone who was anyone in the music business. Producers, musicians, even actors and actresses, and models, too. They had all assembled to celebrate Roger’s birthday. You were certain Roger hadn’t even met half of the guests – most of them looked like Freddie’s circle.

Roger laughed nervously as he took in the sight of the garden, decked out with strings of twinkling gold lights and picnic benches. And then, his face settled into a look of wonder, eyeing the waitresses in knee high boots and leather bikinis, doling out canapés. One tall and stony looking blonde thrust flutes of champagne into your hands, and a friendlier flame-haired floozy moseyed up to you and Roger, popping tiny cherry pies into your mouths. “Good?” she purred, relishing how flustered Roger became.

Roger mumbled enthusiastically, catching crumbs that tumbled from his mouth. He had turned a delightful shade of pink as he took in his surroundings. He shuffled up the garden path towards a pair of oversized inflatable legs, spread eagled. Between them, in lieu of the female anatomy, was the door to Freddie’s house. Roger marvelled at them, open mouthed.

From the crowd, ever the perfect hostess, Freddie emerged with a cake. You and him had spent days in bakeries all over London, sampling their wares. But you had finally decided on one. Two glorious mounds of chocolate cake, moulded into an ample bosom, complete with a set of erect, rosebud nipples. The number 38 blazed away beside it. The throng surrounding Roger erupted into a bout of ‘happy birthday.’

Roger looked at you, bewildered and wondering what part you played in this, but you nodded towards his cake.

Roger was always the life and soul of the party, and it didn’t take him long to bust a few moves that you feared might seriously injure him. After all, 38 was two years shy of forty. And that would be really old.

You admired him from one of the picnic benches, as you drained another glass of champagne. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and you felt completely at home and relaxed on the sidelines. Until Freddie burst into view, dragging none other than Elton John with him.

“My dear, there’s someone I need you to meet!” he beamed, throwing a rather drunk Elton down opposite you. “This is Elton!”

Elton waved and nodded, giving you a quiet, “Hi.”

“Elton, this is Roger’s girlfriend, isn’t she a peach?”

“She’s lovely, yeah!”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted,” Freddie cooed, wandering off to pester someone else.

Unsure of what to say to Elton, you searched your brain for something, anything, to make inroads into a conversation with him. “So,” you began, dragging out that vowel. “How do you know Fred?”

“Me and Fred go way back! All the way to the nineties, would you believe? Back when I was practically bald. You probably don’t remember that, though,” he slurred. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” you mumbled.

Elton’s eyes bulged. “I knew Roger liked them young, but you’re half his bloody age! I heard you met on Tinder, too? Bold move on Roger’s part!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about some of the experiences he’d had before he met me,” you laughed. “Must’ve been desperate. Hence why he set the bar this low.”

“Oh not at all,” Elton said, flapping his hands. “It’s nice to see him with a girl who doesn’t look like she’s in it for the money. God knows, that’s all Roger’s got going for him.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that.” You glanced over at Freddie and Roger, who were huddled in a corner of the garden, blathering away at each other like a pair of gossiping old biddies. You loved the way Roger laughed with his entire body when Freddie presumably told him a dirty joke and the way Freddie’s eyes bulged when he embellished his stories with theatrical action. “He’s kind and does everything he can to drag me out of my shell. And he doesn’t seem to mind that my friends hate him or that the world feels like we shouldn’t be together. He’s always so positive. I love that.”

“So you’re smitten, then?” Elton said, leaning in. “And you’re serious?”

Your cheeks burned as an awkward smile cracked over your features. “I think so,” you said, nodding with youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elton said, grabbing your hands and speaking to you with the wisdom of an old babushka. “I hope this works. Because you clearly make each other happy. And don’t let anyone or anything, take that away from you. Fred and I know what it’s like, having everyone out to get you.”

On the other side of the garden, Roger was busy gushing to Freddie about his party. He had already sunk a bottle of champagne all to himself, and, having loosened up, he was prepared to tell anyone who would listen how glad he was to be spending his thirty-eighth birthday, surrounded ‘by people he cared about.’

“This is so different from last year,” he smiled, looking out at the partygoers. “And it’s the first birthday in a while that I’ve actually been happy. Remember how Dom and I used argue at these things?” He turned to Freddie, looking bleary eyed. “I love her, Fred. I fucking love her.”

“I know you do,” Freddie said, linking his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This was all her idea, you know? The legs and everything. I think she knows you better than I do!”

He shook his head, wearing a cute, dumb expression. “I think she gets me. And to think she thought she wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of way. “Why ever would that beautiful thing think that?!”

“She was nervous because she’d never really seriously dated anyone before. And then I went and told her how many women I’d slept with. And she got cold feet.”

“Did you tell her how many men you’ve shagged too?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said bashfully. “I mean it, though. I could definitely see myself really making a go of it with her.”

“She loves you very much,” Freddie explained, bolstering his friend. “She told me you make her a nice breakfast every day before she goes to work and that you have her lunch packed for her. Sounds like you bloody well do everything for her. Spoilt little thing.”

“I just worry about her,” Roger admitted, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, when you look at someone, do you ever see that tiny flicker of sadness there in their eyes? And then you promise yourself, you’ll never allow it to really get a grip on them? Because I see that all the time. I want to look after her. I never ever felt that way about Dominique.”

Freddie glanced at his best friend. “You did all those years ago. I remember you used to make any excuse to see her. Hell, you even sprawled yourself across her desk in Richard’s office one Monday morning, a big fucking rose between your teeth.”

“But this is different.”

“How?”

“I thought I wanted sex and filth and something to take my mind off the whole bloody thing. All that excitement you get when you first meet someone and you fall for them. But I don’t. I don’t have that with her,” he slurred, gluing his eyes to you and only you.

“What do you have? A sore arse? I bet she’s good with a strap.”

“No.” Roger glared at Freddie. “I have this overwhelming need to protect her, like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you should tell her before you go to Montreux.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s soon, isn’t it? Why – has she told you anything?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“But she did tell you something…”

“Yes and no.”

“What is it then?”

“I think she’s worried it might be a bit too soon for you to be apart.”

“And she told you that, did she?” he asked with a pout.

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

“Do you think I should invite her out?” he asked, turning his head to look at Freddie again. “To Montreux?”

Freddie’s eyes widened as soon as he heard Roger’s plan. “That’s a bloody wonderful idea! I’m planning on bringing my new man, Jim out with me. He could probably do with the company when I’m holed up in the studio with you.”

“You think so?” Roger asked, patting his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I think you should go and ask her now!”

Roger stood up straight and puffed out his chest like a great, brave emperor penguin, ready to journey across a continent. “I think I will!”

“Go get her, tiger!” Freddie called, sending all eyes at the party on to Roger as he staggered up the garden.

You were still deep in conversation with Elton, but silence fell as Roger approached.

“Does he look drunk to you?” Elton asked.

“He looks fucking wasted.”

Roger wore that dreamy look in his eye that could make you do anything, even if he was three sheets to the wind. When he arrived at the table, he almost fell over as he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, birthday boy!” you cooed. “I see you’re having a good night!”

“Elton, my man!” Roger exclaimed making finger guns at him. “I’m gonna need some alone time with my woman. Can I steal her away?” he slurred.

“Excuse me?” you blinked. “Your woman?”

Roger flung himself down beside you and put his arm around you. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, I’d like some alone time with this absolutely delectable creature, where I shall seek to woo her with my potent, sexual allure,” he elaborated, dragging his palm down his exposed torso.

You gave Roger a glare that told him he was done for, and, not wanting to attract further attention, took his hand. You led him up between the pair of giant inflatable legs, through the vagina, and into Freddie’s kitchen. Much to your annoyance, there was a crowd of kitchen dwellers dotted around the room, so you continued your journey, further into Freddie’s not-so-humble abode. “Come on,” you said, pulling Roger up the spiral staircase in the hall. “There’s bound to be a room up here for us.”

“Oh, we’re going upstairs,” he purred, giving his eyebrows a knowing wiggle. “I know what that means.”

You continued to lead him by the hand through the tastefully decorated hallway, until you reached what Freddie liked to call the ‘Pink Room.’ You and Roger entered and stood in silence in the middle of the room, gawking at each other.

Roger obviously found the situation hilarious as he searched for something to focus on to take his mind off the fit of giggles that simmered away under his dishevelled exterior. His shoulders bobbed every now and again when a small laugh escaped.

“What’s so funny, Roggie?”

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, gauging how drunk your boyfriend was. “It’s something.”

“No, I’m thinking about how we’re gonna shag in Fred’s house.”

“We’re not going to shag in Freddie’s house, Roggie. At least not until you’ve sobered up and told me what you wanted to tell me in the garden.”

Roger’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as soon as he remembered why he wanted to get you alone. Then he nodded. He shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor to pluck the words out of his champagne-addled brain. “Fred and I were talking,” he began.

“Uh huh?” you urged him on, crossing your arms.

“And we were talking…” He continued, his eyes rolling up in his head as he still wore that boyish, naughty expression.

“You were talking and…”

“Well, all the other guys are bringing their girlfriends, and Freddie’s got his new boyfriend and I was wondering, if…”

Unable to contain your annoyance for Roger’s penchant for trailing off mid sentence, you erupted: “For goodness sake, Roger, spit it out!”

Roger puffed out his cheeks at your sudden outburst and exhaled. “Do you want to come to Montreux with us?”

Roger’s proposal came as such a shock to you that you had to stumble around to find a place to sit. Eventually, you found a dusty pink chaise longue that overlooked the garden and flopped on top of it. “Jesus,” you muttered.

Roger dropped to his knees and shuffled over to you, pouting and silently attempting to convince you that this was a good idea for both of you.

“How long do you want me out there for?”

“However long you’d like. Montreux’s really beautiful. We could maybe even stay there?” Roger begged, clasping your hand in his. Shimmering gold flecks from the lights in the garden danced in his tired eyes. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“It’s a big ask,” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got work to think about. I can’t just quit. I don’t want to be like my friends.”

“I’ll look after you, though. And you’ve got all of us. We’re a family.”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you admitted. “I think I’m gonna need some time to think about this. I can’t get up and leave. It’s not that easy.”

Roger’s entire body deflated right in front of you, his disappointment palpable as he slouched. “Take as long as you need, Kitten,” he said. His tone became measured and calm now; the sparkle and optimism had disappeared. “Even if you’re able to come out for a day or two, it’d be better than nothing. I’m gonna miss looking after you when I’m out there.”

“I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit drunk,” Roger spluttered. “But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You’ve had a good birthday?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Best birthday in years. And I’ve got you to thank for that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You make me so fucking happy.”

The pair of you scrambled to your feet, your arms enveloping his body. Your head rested against his chest, so close you could hear his heart racing and his lungs slowly sucking in air as you danced together in the window of the Pink Room, and gazed down at the party below. “I love you, Roggie,” you whispered, burying your nose against his shirt to inhale his scent.

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“How about we head home? Hm?” you asked looking up at him.

He swept the hair out of your face with a contented, heavy lidded smile. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll even bring you a nice breakfast in bed to thank you for this in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The following morning, you felt the bed dip beside you and the soft, warm sound of Roger’s voice. Bliss. Turning on to your back, you stretched letting all the tensed muscles in your body unfurl and your bones crack back into place with a groan. “Morning, Roggie,” you purred with your eyes still closed.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said.

You could see the smile behind his words inside your mind. And you could also smell bacon. Your eyes flicked open to find him wafting a bacon roll right under your nose.

“Knew that would wake you up in no time,” he grinned, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. “I’ve made you some tea, too.”

You grabbed the cup from Roger’s hands and took a swig like it was the holy grail. Your mouth was so dry from all the alcohol the night before that you almost finished the cup in one big gulp. “Thank you,” you sighed, sitting the cup down on your nightstand. Then you went back to the most important meal of the day.

Roger took small bites of his own, in between stroking your hair and admiring you in the golden rays cracking through the blinds. “Did you sleep well, Kitten?” he asked.

You gave a contented groan. “Like a log – how about you?” you asked, curling yourself against his body. “Hungover?”

“No,” he mused, “I feel good.”

“You look tired.”

“I am a bit, but that’s nothing a little siesta can’t fix,” he sighed.

But there was something off. You could tell Roger was holding something back; his body was tense and he had a habit of moving his lips to start a sentence with no sound coming from them when he was too apprehensive about asking you something. Then you remembered his proposition from the night before.

“About last night–” you both began in unison.

“You first,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically coy.

“No, no… you asked the question.”

Roger sucked his lips together, and stayed silent for a moment. Then the lightbulb pinged above his head. “I know I asked you to come over to Montreux, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to go. You’ve got a life here. You can’t abandon that. I was a bit drunk and over excited.”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I need to see how many holidays I can realistically take off work this summer.”

Roger nodded. “Ok. I’m not going to pester you about it, have a think. It might do you the world of good to go out there.”

You gave a haughty laugh, still feeling raw from the invasion of your privacy back in Ibiza. “What like it did when we spent that weekend at the villa?” you asked.

Roger’s features fell. “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Montreux’s not like Ibiza at all. Fuck, no one even knows where Montreux is. No one pesters us there. Not even Freddie.” He sounded hurt. “Please think about it.”

And then your phone rang. Convenient timing, if only to prevent an argument. You fumbled around on your nightstand for your phone and looked at the screen. It was Jade. “What the fuck does she want?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who?” Roger asked, peering over your shoulder. Then he scowled in disgust. “Her?”

“Should I answer it?” you asked, glancing up at Roger.

“It’s up to you.”

You answered the call, putting Jade on speaker for Roger to hear. “What do you want?”

“Please don’t read The Sun today,” Jade said, sounding panicked.

Roger sat upright, looking puzzled.

“Why?” you asked, feeling a pit of dread growing larger and larger with every passing second. “What have they done now?”

“Just don’t read it, please.” She repeated her plea with more desperation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”

Roger tapped away on his own phone and then showed you the screen. On the homepage of The Sun’s website, there were a series of articles about you and Roger. One about Charlotte and Lewis. Blurry phone photos of Roger leading you out of La Rouvenaz after your date from hell. A photo of Roger’s ex wife, with the headline: “Dominique Taylor: My Side of the Story.” And another headline. “Pals Spill the Beans on Queen Drummer’s New Squeeze.”

By the time you had finished reading everything on the page, you could hear Jade whimpering on the other end of the line.

“You fucking bitch,” Roger hissed. “You snake. How much did they pay you?”

“Please,” Jade cried. “I’m so sorry. They got it out of me without me knowing I–”

“I want to know how much they paid you!”

“Ten grand.”

Too stunned to speak, Roger verbalised exactly what was on the tip of your tongue. “Ten grand? Is that how much your best mate’s worth?”

“If I could come over and explain, I could make things–”

Without saying a word, you hung up. Still in a state of shock, you took Roger’s phone and began at the very top of the page, scanning every single article for opinions on everything from how much you weighed to what you wore. All of your friends had something to say. Some of them even surrendered photos of you from your school days, back when the gang was much more close knit – before life got in the way of your friendships. You were too exhausted to shed tears. Too humiliated to want to set foot in the office again. You turned to Roger, whose eyes had clouded over as he seethed. “Montreux doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all,” you said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I think you’re probably the only person that actually cares about me at this point.”

“I hope I’m worth it.”

Realising what was at stake, you spent the rest of your Sunday preparing yourself for Monday. You drafted your letter of resignation, organised boxes to empty the contents of your desk into, and you had packed a suitcase with enough to get by in Montreux until you found your feet.

The next morning, you and Roger sat in his car outside your office building in silence.

“Just remember, I’m out here,” Roger said quietly, stroking circles above your knee.

You took a series of deep breaths, doubting your ability to march into the office and drop the letter on your boss’ desk. “All I need to do, is give Stephen the letter, clear my desk and then we can go.” You nodded, walking yourself through the perfectly plotted road map in your brain. “What if someone stops me?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest. “I don’t know if I could face the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Just tell them it’s a family emergency and that you don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“But you’re better at these things than I am. You only have to breathe their air and people like you.”

“What do you care if those idiots like you?” he snorted. Then he grabbed your shoulders, ready for another one of his world class pep talks. “You’re never going to see them again. And if they talk to the papers, you’re not going to be in the bloody country to read it. You’re gonna be chilling on a lakeside promenade, with a cocktail in your hand, enjoying night after night of boring missionary sex with me, your adoring and very rich boyfriend. You’re better than that fucking dump behind you and you know it!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reluctantly agreed. Staring down that the carefully typed and labelled letter in your hands, you huffed. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this now, before everyone else arrives.”

“You’ve got…” Roger paused, looking at his watch. “Five minutes, to complete your mission, Agent Kitten. Good luck.”

You chuckled and grabbed the boxes in the footwell.

The walk into your poky marketing agency went well. Your legs managed to function and your head stayed high as you sauntered through the doors one final time. The nerves dissipated as you entered the office, weaving your way through the gigantic fishbowl, looking at all the soulless drones, sitting at their desks, tapping away at their keyboards on the company’s next big brand project. And you knew, in that moment, how much you hated it.

That swell of hatred spurred you on as you stopped by your desk to dump the boxes. Of course, Steph and Cheryl looked up from their computer screens with raised eyebrows.

“What are those for?” Steph asked.

“Nothing,” you spat, turning on your heel towards your boss’ office.

He sat in a glass room at the far end of the main office. He loved to look out on his sea of minions and watch them waste their lives while he collected a vastly overinflated salary that said more about his greed than his talent or work ethic.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised his office was empty. You were able to slip inside his glass tank and pop the envelope on his desk, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders once and for all.

Mission accomplished.

Time to clear your desk.

Like a panther on a hunt, you slunk back to your desk undetected, and cleared your personal belongings away, erasing the two years of your life you had spent at this very spot. You removed the photos of your friends from the grey partition boards, and ripped them up. You safely stowed your collection of cacti and succulents in one box. Then you moved on to your drawers; rifling through them for the essentials.

It astounded you how much crap you accumulated in two years. But then, you couldn’t remember the last time you tossed anything out. There were spare packets of star shaped confetti from your first Christmas party, birthday cards, five half empty jars of instant coffee, not to mention a stack of unfinished notebooks and pens in abundance. Knowing where your real priorities lay, you scooped up the bundle of notebooks and pens and dumped them alongside your plants.

You eyed your prized possessions with overwhelming satisfaction. Standing there with your hands on your hips, you realised that you managed this with no resistance from your co-workers. Until Steph lingered beside you.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, jabbing her finger painfully into your arm. “You’re leaving and you didn’t tell us! Did you get the sack?” she prodded.

“No, it’s an urgent family thing abroad that I need to get to. I don’t now when I’ll be back,” you bumbled, trying to remember the spiel Roger taught you, for use in emergencies.

“Won’t you have time for drinks?” Cheryl piped up, peering over the partition.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, shaking your head in an attempt to sound disappointed. Inside you were elated. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Flight takes off soon.” And with that, you grabbed your belongings and headed for the door as fast as your legs could carry you.

But then, your boss slipped through, his face falling when he saw the box in your arms. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your desk, I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

You barged past him. His mistake for holding to door open for you, you thought. You could still hear him bellowing down the corridor as you headed for the exit. “Fuck you, Stephen!” you roared, throwing up the middle finger behind you.

Roger was waiting for you as you practically ran to his car. He stood, leaning against it. Sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, pushing his thick, messy mane out of his face. “How’d it go, Kitten?” he asked, taking the box from you and looking inside at your loot.

“It was amazing,” you wheezed, realising how cathartic the experience was for you. “Threw my boss the middle finger as I left. It felt so fucking good. Better than sex. Better than driving one of your cars. I can’t even describe it,” you wittered as Roger put your box in the boot.

He closed it and turned to you, a smile trying to burst from his lips. “I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“So, now we go to the airport?” you asked, pressing your toe into the pavement.

“To the airport,” Roger grinned, getting back into the car.

“I’ve always wondered,” you pondered as the car hurtled down the motorway, “what happens when you leave the car at the airport?”

“I’m not leaving the car at the airport. Some poor intern at the label is going to come and collect it, and they’re going to put it into storage for me for when I make my return. Whenever that’ll be.”

“Right,” you sighed, remembering that you had a flat to empty. “And what about my place?”

“That’s easy. We can get some removal men in when we get to Montreux and they’ll put all your stuff into storage with my car. For when you make your return!” he explained excitedly. “Whenever that’ll be!”

“Fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” you sighed.

“Yeah!” Roger grinned, his eyebrows peeking out from the rims of his shades. “We really are!”

Just like the first time you and Roger boarded a plane together, your stomach stretched itself tight with apprehension. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t feel like you were making the right choice. Roger made you happy, you thought as he led you across the tarmac towards the small private plane. When you got inside, you realised it was exactly the same one as before and again, you took care not to touch anything, for fear that some other couple had done exactly what you and Roger had done between your trip to Ibiza and now.

You and Roger plonked yourselves down next to each other on the leather sofa as stewardesses flocked to you, offering canapés and flutes of champagne. Something to make the flight to Geneva go in a bit faster.

The plane took off, and the pair of you watched like excited children as clouds shrouded the plane, and then dissipated just as fast, leaving you soaring through the air, high above home and not knowing when you’ll ever return.

“Should we put on some music?” Roger murmured, twirling stands of your hair around his fingers. “Spice things up a bit?”

“What like last time?”

He grinned, looking utterly irresistible with his half-buttoned shirt and his dark sunglasses. “Exactly like last time. But better.”

You watched from the sofa as Roger got to his feet and wandered over to the stereo.

“Taylor Swift?”

“Nah.”

“Springsteen?”

“We always listen to Springsteen.”

“I know,” Roger giggled, waggling his finger in the air. “I’ve got just the song for this occasion.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to hit play on his phone.

The first few bars of ‘Danger Zone,’ boomed through the speakers, sending you into a fit of giggles. But nothing could prepare you for what came next as Roger moved towards you, swaying every part of his body to the beat.

“What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Just sit back, relax,” Roger said, turning away from you. He batted his hips from side to side, bending over to give you an unrestricted view of his bottom as he wiggled and writhed. “And enjoy the view.”

>>NEXT>>

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen

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