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stanknotstark · 3 years

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The first time Loki does it is after 3 months of being teammates. Loki pulls you aside and his eyebrows are knitted.

“Have you taken your medicine today? Did you drink enough water to counter balance the dehydration it causes?”

Ok first of all how did Loki know your meds cause dehydration, even you didn’t know that. Second, did he see you as a baby that couldn’t handle itself, what the fuck. You’re about to tell the God off for being so inconsiderate when you truly see the look on his face. It’s full of genuine concern but otherwise there isn’t a sneer or contempt, just worry and inquisitiveness.

“Yes, I took my morning pills and I’ll get a bottle of water soon.” You smoothly say to placate the God. He nods and the frown of concern drops to a neutral look.

“How did you know I take meds by the way?” You ask.

“Stark told me that you take anti depressants daily, what could happen if you missed them.” Loki says flippantly.

You hum thoughtfully but leave that conversation in the dust.

The next time Loki asks you it’s in the heat of battle. You’re both fighting off some new bots that Dr. Doom had managed to build. The amount of bots surrounding the area makes you wonder how much free time the man has or if the bots are made in a factory setting, either way both are concerning.

You had been feeling a little off all day and there was something on the edge of you mind that you knew you had forgot but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was you had forgotten. Feeling off you had made a few remarks depreciating your body and even some vague remarks to the robots about ending your life. You hadn’t noticed Loki’s concerned looks but you had heard Stark’s concern when he asked if the both of you were ok. He was clearly asking about you but included Loki so he wouldn’t single you out. Loki answered positive then when you had taken out the robots in your section pulled you into an alcove and asked, “Did you take your pills today?”

Bingo! You had forgotten to take your medicine!

Groaning and face palming you told Loki, “No, I completely forgot, that’s why I feel so weird today.”

Loki hummed then his hands worked his magic and he had two familiar pills in his hand which he offered to you. You looked at him suspiciously but thanked him and took the pills.

Later on when you were working your way through more robots you grunted from impact of your fist into the robot then asked Loki, “You just carry everybody’s medications on you or something?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Months later you find yourself in a precarious situation. You’re an Avenger so it comes with the title and all but you were kidnapped. Some group that went by The Ten Rings, someone which Tony had dealt with in the past if you remembered his reports correctly.

You were strong you could handle torture, Shield had prepared you for it, intensively. What thy couldn’t prepare you for was the deep depression that would hit you when you hadn’t taken your pills in a week.

You’re on day 7 of not having your pills and while you try to stay optimistic you can’t help the small voice in the back of your head telling you the Avengers weren’t going to come for you, that you were alone, that no one liked you enough to save you. You would simply shake your head and think of all your fond memories of the Avengers, of a newfound family that was yours.

Depression isn’t a reasonable argument though. Trying to argue with clinical depression is like arguing with a brick wall. So your thoughts became dark. The Ten Rings set you up in a room, you alone in a chair, crying, and a video camera in front of you. Most likely the Avengers were going to see this but your hope was dwindling too fast.

“Please let me die, let me rest, they don’t care, they’re not going to come for me, so just kill me already!” You started softly pleading then it turned to a sobbing yell. Struggling against your bonds but giving up too fast.

“I can’t-I can’t do this anymore, kill me, please.” You breathed out, closing your eyes tight and letting yourself fall forwards as much as your bonds let you.

The Ten Rings stopped the recording and took you back to your room where you cried intermittently. You weren’t sure if it was hours or days that passed considering they had left you in a dark room but there was an unmistaken rumble from the ground. Then the walls started shaking and you could hear yelling outside your room.

“Where is she?” A fevered voiced yelled above everyone screaming. It was only a few minutes longer then the door to your room opened and you squinted at the figure blocking some of the light through the doorway. The figure quickly made their way to you and kneeled next to you, their hand cupping your jaw and bringing your eyes to their green ones.

You let a sob tear out of you and laid your head on his shoulder as he cut your restraints, your hands automatically curling around him as he picked you up and carried you away.

Once you were back in the tower, showered, and laying in bed, Loki came and sat at the edge of the bed with a glass of water. Handing you two of your pills and the glass of water, he watched you take your medicine and smiled softly when you nodded to him in thanks, handing him back the water.

Closing your eyes you sighed and fought the lump in your throat to say, “I didn’t know if-”

“We never stopped looking for you, the minute we knew you were gone we were all on a hunt.”

You swallowed and looked up at Loki.

“Did you see...”

“Yes.”

You flinched but Loki laid a comforting hand on your head then began stroking his thumb over your temple.

“You couldn’t help the thoughts, you had been without your medicine for a week, don’t feel guilty for something you can’t control.” Loki said, his eyes looking over you as if checking to make sure you really were ok. When they came to rest on your eyes you gave a small smile.

“Thanks.” You said with a big yawn.

“Sleep, I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

You tried to reply with at least an ‘ok’ but you felt yourself pulled into sleep before you could say anything else.

---

@imagine-loki i forgot to tag you so sorry! Im not sure if this was your imagine or a submitted one but I really liked the idea of it and since im trying to figure out loki I wrote something 😋

#loki x reader #prompt #i feel like i could have written maybe one or two more scenes but i didnt want this to become unbearably long so :p #loki odinson #clinical depression #fucking sucks ass dude like if i miss my meds shit gets bad #one shot #loki #my writing #prompt fill #didnt follow the prompt exactly but ive been wanting to write something like this for awhile #imagine-loki

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xz017 · 5 years

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#entry #rip okay so ive been writing in the journal that i rediscovered whilst cleaning lately i thought itd be a dignified alternative switch until #you know if we actually gave it to her rip big shame oof so today i woke up and then stayed in bed starin at the ceilin tryna think out #my plans n routes cos umm not spendin 30+ on lyft 💀it's either time or money lads and i chose to spend time n effort n not money✌🏽️i spent #an hour waiting for the second bus so my first trip was 2.5 hrs🙃 rip ive never been here so lil anxiety #but whilst i was waiting she texted rip she thought I was the one singing as if i could be shameless like my RM singin whilst there are ppl #like...oof got i hate my RM even when she has her headphones on it's super loud i can hear💀n i have to put my headphones on just not to hear #what already should be quiet💀🗡🗡🗡anyway rip she texted me and 💀she didnt get to go do what she planned to do yesterday cos her lungs🗡🥺bein #rude af like dskæsns let her breathe proper im so!!! annoyed like legit i was so fired up i redecided to be a savage capitalist ready to #walk over people to get to the top and bypass waitin and bureacracy just to get her the best healthcare 😒🗡like !!! ughh rip n she thought #i was just tryna be cute like first of alli cant even be cute even if i tried like...most of the things i do is for her or Us someday 💀#but like rip i felt bad she said i changed her 🥶 n it didbt sound good like rip i was writing about it last night the coinkidinkerooni oof #i dont exactly remember what prompted me to think that line of thought but i was just like what if she follows all these productive steps #that i want her to follow but she ends up miserable anyway rip i mean there are people who cant not be miserable whatever they do i.e. Me #but like💀idk what i wrote resonated with what happened today like she was safe n cosy at home but she got invited to a bar n she said no tnx #and they were makin fun of her a lil and i was like all dont worry theyll suffer n she was like im sufferin now ye dont gotta say that abt #them i already said no n i was like 🥺oof but like she said she didnt wanna go anyway rip like before i go somewhere or do something my #brain takes me through the likely experience like oh. noisy. loud ppl. talkin n laughin loud with each other.alcohol. body heat. too many #ppl--thats why i say no like 91% of the time people actually ask me if i wanna go somewhere with them cos it's just not enjoyable but rip #she gets lonely so idk and rip some Man asked to walk with her at midnight like...wat man casually asks a woman if midnight walks are okay #lil creepy but okay🗡 but rip idk she been inside all day n i feel bad meanwhile i let her go to chill i was tryna finish the Work of love #rip thats lame but like 5ppl at least kept passing bye and complimenting me n i was like...😒🗡thanks i mean i hope so rip but lowkey i was #like...dont...look at it it's not meant for you like imagine i believed in compliments and the person it's for the most important person is #like...its nice not bad! id be like 💀 anyway rip ppl kept passin by n sayin stugf about it n i was like 🥶thanks 🗡 ugh i hope it turns out #well i tried to scrape off thick paints so it wouldnt pull in the oven oof id cry if some be smeared n overlap #couldnt reach n fix the inside heart doe😞 but i finished!!! weeks of work💀💓i asked Her what else she wanted in the parcel rip n we got to #talkin about old clothes vs new clothes i send her rip shame im poor😖😰so i invest in unique stuff for her normal stuff are usually mine rip #i hope thats not creepy yikes💀she said she was feelin better n im like rip i hope n she went off to charge n read some history stuff!!! 🥰#tomorrow she said she'll do what she planned today n try n tackle EH oof i saw them equations yikes i h8 bless her #gonna make my way home rip im a lil anxious cos time n darkness fallin n whathave ye but 🤷🏻‍♂️it be like that✌🏽️

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

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december 22 - chris motionless

title: holiday hangouts

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sorry again this is late, this is the first day this week ive been able to sit down, write, edit, and even post so i hope you all will forgive my uncertain circumstances lol. i hope you all have had a good holiday season so far though and i wish you all a merry christmas eve!

prompt: "If i wanted a date to the christmas party i wouldve asked." "so it that a yes?" "...yes"

request from: n/a

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @theoneandonlykymberlee @cynic-spirit @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @xyours-eternallyx @thisplace-ishaunted @joeynihil

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i walked quickly around my room in my towel, trying to figure out what to wear. i had done my makeup and hair already, fairly natural so it could match anything, but i still didnt know what i wanted. the company Christmas party was tonight and i wasnt exactly sure if i should go more casual or not. i pulled a few dresses out and tossed them on my bed before flipping through my shirts. when i heard a knock at the door i drew my brows, jogging into the Living Room and looking through the peep hole. to my dismay chris was standing there and i immediately smacked myself mentally. i opened the door slowly.

"hey chris."

i said bashfully and his eyes went wide.

"well thats an interesting surprise."

he said through a laugh and i stepped to the side to let him in.

"if im being honest i forgot you were coming over today."

i said nervously, trying to keep my towel tucked under my arm.

"oh, well uh, do you want me to go? we can hang out another time."

he said pointing to the door and i shook my head.

"no, no, its fine. i could actually really use your help."

i said, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall to my room.

"okay?"

he said a little skeptical. when we got into my room he stopped and drew his brows.

"the company Christmas party is tonight and i am at a loss. you always like my looks but i have no idea what to wear."

i said in defeat. i looked to him and watched him stroke his chin, staring down at the bed. he picked up the one knee-length royal purple dress and held it against his chest.

"ya know, if you wore this one, we would match."

he said and i raised a brow.

"Chris, If i wanted a date to the Christmas party i would've asked."

i said and he gave me a suggestive look.

"hey, you asked for my help, we were supposed to hang out today. im just saying, i could go with."

he said, holding out the dress for me with a knowing smile on his face. i sent him a look before sighing and snatching the dress from him.

"so it that a yes?"

he asked as i walked into the bathroom. i stood there and thought for a second.

"...yes"

i said in defeat, watching him fist pump the air as i closed the door.

"i cant believe you even wore a black button down for us to sit on the couch and watch movies."

i said through the door as i pulled the dress on. i heard him laugh a little.

"well i guess i just know you. you always pull something out and i thought i should be prepared. you still have that tie laying around?"

he asked and i opened the door.

"yeah, its hanging in the back of my closet but could you zip this first?"

i asked, turning my back to him.

"who wouldve thought your ex leaving one thing behind would actually help us."

he said and i laughed, watching him disappear into the closet.

"does this count as a friend date?"

i asked, pushing earrings into my ears as he came back out into the room, fixing the tie into place.

"yes, yes it does."

---

"y/n! glad to see you could make it, a few of us have been waiting for your expertise on something."

my boss said, rushing to the door of the large house as one of my coworkers greeted me.

"oh, uh, okay."

i said lightly, surrendering my coat to the hostess and following carol into the living area. there, a few members of the accounting team were sat around the coffee table, a board game in front of them.

"and whos this?"

Des asked, nodding to chris as he came into view behind me.

"chris."

he said, stepping forward and offering his hand to shake.

"So, is this a boyfriend?"

my boss asked as she sat back on the couch, picking her glass of wine up off the side table. i laughed lightly, looking to him in confusion as he slipped his hand into mine.

"only just."

he said with a smile and i sent him a look.

"oh, well you two watch out for the mistletoe then, wouldnt wanna get too caught up."

jerry said, raising his glass to us. i laughed nervously.

"right."

i agreed, taking my hand back from chris.

"hey, you wanna go find us something to drink?"

i said suggestively at him and he nodded.

"ill be right back i guess."

he said to all of them before taking off down the short hall to the kitchen. i turned and looked back at all of them.

"so, what was it that you needed me for?"

---

as i walked with chris back out to the car he held my hand tightly. i could feel him shivering as snow started to fall around us. if anything the temperature dropped significantly since wed arrived and you could definitely tell.

"m'lady."

he said, letting go of my hand and opening the door for me.

"thanks."

i said as he shut it, me watching him jog around the car to the driver side.

"it is way too cold out there."

he mentioned, starting the car and rubbing his hands together. i turned the heat up and did the same, trying to warm up.

"agreed."

i said as he pulled slowly out of the driveway.

"hey,"

he said after a while and i turned to look at him.

"thanks again for letting me tag along."

he said and i smiled.

"no, im glad you did. im sure things wouldve been much more awkward. i am sorry for all the questions though."

i mentioned and he shrugged.

"its no big deal, i shouldve figured it would happen when i told them we were dating."

he said with a smile and i laughed.

"yeah, now im gonna get questioned around the office about my non-existent boyfriend."

i said and he shook his head.

"eh, it seemed like the most logical reason for me to be there."

he said and i nodded slowly.

"yeah i guess youre right."

i said with a side nod.

"besides,"

he said, drawing my attention.

"ive been wanting to ask you to be my girlfriend for a while but it just never seemed like the right time."

my eyes went wide as i stared at him, him looking to me quickly before turning his gaze back to the road.

"you want me to be your girlfriend?"

i asked and he let out a nervous laugh.

"i mean, if you want to."

i nodded quickly, taking his free hand into mine and interlocking our fingers.

"id love that chris."

he sent me a quick smile.

"great cause this wouldve been one awkward drive home if not."

i laughed, nudging his arm with my elbow.

"good thing you dont have to worry about it anymore then."

i said and he nodded.

"you are absolutely right. and now you dont have to worry about lying to your coworkers."

he said and i shook my head.

"no i dont."

i said leaning over the console and kissing his cheek quickly.

"what was that for?"

he asked and i shrugged.

"just a thanks."

he looked to me with a brow raised.

"thanks?"

he asked and i nodded.

"for making this Christmas a special one."

i said as he pulled up to the stop light slowly, finally looking at me fully.

"its the least i could do."

he said and i laughed.

"merry christmas chris."

i said, leaning in and giving him a quick but proper kiss. he smiled at me before turning back to the road and taking off as the light turned green.

"a merry christmas indeed."

#25 days of christmas requests #x reader #chris motionless #imagines #one shots #miw

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a-pretty-nerd · 5 years

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Oopse Part 2 (Rodrick Heffley x pregnant reader)

Request: "Hi, i was wondering if you could do a part 2 to the Rodrick x Pregnant!Reader where they tell Rodrick's parents about the babie?" ~ anonymous

*cringes* okay ❤

A/N: I'm not gonna lie, I hate this prompt, the original was meant to be funny but it got SO MUCH ATTENTION. The idea of telling parents that you're pregnant at 16 is terrifying, and its not gonna end well. But Im writing this because I feel like Ive been rejecting too many asks latley and people aren't responding well to that. So I hope you enjoy this. Just a warning, I refuse to sugar coat this topic and make it so the parents are happy and supportive. That's a trope I truly hate and if that is what you are looking for, I can name like 3 other amazing blogs that will happily write that for you.

Warnings: Teen Pregnancy, Parental confrontation

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So Rodrick knew. Not only did Rodrick know, but he stayed. Not only did he know and stay, but he confessed his feelings for you. NOT ONLY did he know, stay, and love you, but he was supportive and shockingly mature about things.

Rodrick was not mature, he just wasnt, that wasnt him. You thought that as time went on that maybe his immaturity would come out and he would get scared or he would be stupid about things and it wouldn't work out. But, that didn't happen.

A few weeks had passed since you gave him the news. The only thing that had changed, was that the two of you were now offically going steady. You told Rodrick to keep things a secret for now. Your parents didn't know, his parents didn't know, no one at school could know. You kept it that way until you figured out what to do.

You hadn't really disgusted it with one another either. Rodrick, while kind and supportive, didn't have a clue as to what to do about it. You feared about what keeping it meant, what adoption meant, or abortion. Where the hell do you even get one of those anyways? You were so conflicted and confused, and most of all, scared.

You walked around the high school campus with Rodrick's arm firmly placed around your shoulders. He walked with a proud smile, standing up straight like you were a trophy. Amungst your peers, you weren't exactly at the top, you had your fair share of friends and enemies. You were absolutely perplexed by the way your new boyfriend presented you. You weren't a trophy girlfriend, you weren't a prize, even if you were the idea was insulting. You pulled yourself awat from him at lunch and hid in a secluded hallway linned with lockers.

You sat on the floor and held your knees to your chest. You felt your heart race and your stomach turn.

"There you are, hey..." Rodrick slowly approached and knelt down, "are you okay?" He asked softly.

"I'm fine."

"You look pale," he leaned in, "is it making you sick?" He whispered softly.

"ITS fine!" You barked. His eyes widened and he pouted for a moment before sitting down beside you.

"Whats going on?" He asked often a long pause.

"Why do you do that?" You asked.

"Do what?"

"That thing you do with me."

"What thing? C'mon Y/N I can't read your mind." You could tell he was fustrated, but he kept himself calm.

"The way you get when we're around friends and at school. You parade me around like I'm some kind of prize! I'm not like those girls who dool themselves uo everyday, I'm not Heather Hills!" He watched you as shouted away from him, you didnt want to face him. He paused and thought for a moment.

"You don't like being a prize?" He asked, genuinely confused and concerened.

"No! I'm not some prize to be won, I'm a person with thoughts and feelings and...and I'm not even a prize to begin with! I'm-I'm I'm ruined." You cried.

"Oh no, no no no, you're not ruined you're- don't cry, don't cry." He tried to pry your hands away from your face so he could dry your tears and hold you close. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry if I hurt you, I didn't mean it," he paused and waited for you to take deep breaths and relax before he started talking again, "I just, I really like you Y/N. Like I...really really like you. I've told you I love you a hundred times. You're not a prize, I know that now, But you make me feel like a winner. Having you, makes me feel like I have something to be really proud of. I'm sorry if me showing you off makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. But I can't help but gush about you a little."

"But Rodrick...I'm pregnant." You whispered to him.

"So? I can't still be proud of my super smart, super hot girlfriend?" He smiled. You paused and held him close for a moment before letting go.

"We have to decide what we're gonna do." You changed the subject.

"Whatever you want." He'd said that so many times, it was driving you mad. You didn't know what you wanted.

"What do you want?" You asked him. Rodrick paused and leaned his head against a lock as he thought.

"I don't know," He admitted, "maybe we should tell someone."

"What? No." You argued.

"We can't keep it a secret forever. People are gonna find out eventually and maybe our parents can help!"

"Not my parents!" You spat. They werent bad parents, you just feared the worst.

"Then lets tell mine, they can help, they'll help us." He pleaded.

"No, no, they'll want us to keep it and get married. They won't understand."

"...Trust me, they'll understand. Please. I want to tell them." You starred at him as you thought.

"...fine." You made a plan, that night at dinner. You went home with Rodrick, and awkwardly shuffled around the house behind him. You had met the Heffly family before, you had stayed for dinner before. But not as Rodrick's girlfriend, and not pregnant.

They greeted you with big smiles, they were happy to have you for dinner. You sat at the table and picked at your food as your leg bounced under the table. At one point, Rodrick placed a hand on your leg to keep is firmly planted. When dinner was over, Greg went to his room, and Manny was put to bed.

"Can we talk to you guys for a sec? Before I take Y/N home." Rodrick asked as his parents sat back down at the dinner table.

"Oh god, somethings wrong." His mother spoke.

"Well, Uh, We-"

"You're pregnant!" His father cut him off. His eyes wide, they starred at you for a long moment. Yout heart raced.

"What?" You spat in shock.

"I knew it, whenever teenage couples sit their parents down, they're pregnant." His mother told her husband.

"How could this happen- Well, I think we know how but you two have only been dating for a few weeks!"

"How could you be so irresponsible?"

"We messed up, you don't have to be so angry at us." You croaked.

"Its true...you are pregnant?" His mother asked softly. You slowly nodded.

"Oh my god..." His father muttered. The room feel silent for a while. Rodrick looked at you, and held your hand tightly.

"What are you going to? Rodrick can't be a father." Mrs. Heffley chuckled.

"We don't know, we thought maybe you could help." You told them. They looked at one another.

"We never thought this would happen." She sighed.

"Me neither!" Rodrick laughed, you gently swatched as his arm.

"Well, how far along are you?"

"A month, maybe."

"Do your parents know, Y/N?" Mr. Heffley asked you. You shook your head.

"We'll figure this out don't worry, it'll be fine." Mrs. Heffley spoke to calm the room.

"What are you going to do, Rodrick? You can't play in that band anymore with a baby." His father told him with a knowing look. Rodrick's expression turned sour, he looked sad but then he held his up.

"I know." He spoke.

"Wait what? No you don't have to stop playing, its your passion." You argued.

"Y/N, a baby is a lot of responsibility, if you keep it, your dreams and your passions take a back seat." Mrs. Heffley warned.

"Well who said I'm keeping it? And who said you can't follow your passions in life? Plety of people do that! Rodrick isn't quiting the band." You were firm. You looked up at Rodrick who starred back, his eyes were lit up. Sparkling as they watched you. "What?" You asked him defensivly, he smiled.

"I love you." He blurted.

"Love you too." You mumbled.

#Rodrick Heffley #Rodrick Heffley x reader #Rodrick Heffley x pregnant!reader #Rodrick Heffley x pregnant reader #DOAWK #Devon Bostick #Oopse

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chnsfairy · 5 years

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name please ? | han jisung

words ; 3,441

genre ; fluff, a bit of crack

requested ; yes, who prompt 1;iv ( @skzrequests )

warnings ; barista!reader, guitarist!jisung, like two curse words

a/n ; ok so i bent the prompt juST a lil bit but it has the same general idea and i think it turned out ok so i hope you enjoy it lovely !

m.list in bio

“you know y/n, one day you’re gonna have to learn how to make latte art properly,, (￣￣|||)” woojin complains before once again guiding your hand over the small mug which at this point is just a huge mess

“and on your own”

(￣ε￣＠) (￣ε￣＠) meanie

“you’ve been what ? working here for half a year and you still dont know how-” woojin tried to continue, but unfortunately for him, his attempt to teach you how to correctly use steamed milk has come to a crashing halt as a loud bang followed by groans was heard by the front door

you turned on your heel and headed towards the front of the counter,, trying to figure out what exactly caused the ruckus in the usually peaceful coffee shop

excluding your’s and woojin’s bickering in the back

“uhhhh excuse me ???” you ask,, carefully peering over to the giant mess that was now on the floor

“you ok sir ?” (・人・)

sprawl across the floor, carrying a guitar case, it seemed as if the stranger misinterpreted both the speed he was entering the door at and the size of the case,, cause it seemed he got caught at the door ahfjksadhfkjsa poor kid (｡╯︵╰｡)

he came dressed in some simple ripped light jeans, white t-shirt, and light jacket, plus his fluffy brown hair messily laying atop his head as if he just got out of bed

i mean who knows maybe he did

yes he did

“aH ! im um,, so sorry im late....”

after finally collecting himself the stranger stood up and picked up his guitar case,, pink tinting his face from embarrassment and like...you know... he kinda cute (*/ω＼)

no tea no shade

especially when he started messing with his already messy hair yeah there was no use trying to fix that mess but uWU LOOK AT HIS CHEEKS AND SPARKLY BROWN EYES AHHH !!!! (/▽＼*)｡o○♡

woah woah there cool in y/n he just walked in

it’s not your fault he just happens to be absolutely adorable

but maybe it would be best to stop staring at him,,,,

when the boy started walking towards the counter you found yourself quickly shuffling behind woojin, who was now confused, as you pushed him up front to handle with the newcomer,,

CAUsE SORRY BUT THERE WAS NO WAY YOU WERE GOING TO BE GETTING THROUGH A FULL CONVERSATION WITHOUT MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF SO WHY DONT WE STOP THAT POSSIBILITY NOW

“hi so i was hired a couple days ago to play a few nights a week ?? this is the right place yeah ? im sure i got the address right....if n-”

woojin interrupted his ramblings before he could continue any further,, bless him

“ oh !! so thats who the boss was talking about !! yeah let me just head back to make eveything’s in order, um y/n can you get him a drink or something ?”

walking away from you he left you completely exposed,, giving the other boy across from you an awkward laugh you grabbed woojin’s shirt quickly to stop him from leaving

“woojin you didnt tell me we were getting a new guitarist !!” you whispered harshly

“ᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ”

“well sorry i didnt think it was important ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”

“does our friendship mean nothing to you”

woojin laughs quietly as he walks through the the door leaving you alone with the cafe’s new guitarist who just so happens to be looking like a whole ass model

“so um,, ” you started nervously,, mAN who thought this one person you make you so fLUSTERED JHASKKSAFKL

“want anything to drink ?”

after staring at menu up on the wall for a couple seconds the guitarist gave you a small smile JHFJKAGJISFIJEHUIGH before nodding his head

“sure can i have an iced latte ?”

out of habit you immediately asked “name please ?”

“oh you know... just your friendly neighborhood squirrel”

(・・ ) ? (・・ ) ? (・・ ) ?

you eyed the boy who was now leaning up against the counter smiling to himself

“i- oh come on wh-”

“thats the name,, you better write it down”

sighing to yourself you carefully wrote it down,, not necessarily sure if you even need to but who cares

as the musician pulled out his wallet to pay you put up your hand to stop him

cause no way you were letting this cute boy pay for his drink

plus he’s an employee as well

“it’s on the house”

“no please let me pay for it ( `ε´ )”

“nope”

so without anyone else there to help, you stepped away from the register and started prepare this strange guitarist’s drink

quietly laughing to yourself as you do so

moments later woojin walks back through the door and out from behind the counter and motions for mystery boy to follow him towards the small stage the cafe had

it was small and shoved into a corner, all wooden as most of the cafe was and it was covered with many different plants and decorated with fairy lights

vv aesthetic if you do say so yourself

then in the center of it was a stool and microphone for performer to set up with and use when they were performing

a couple months ago you had a band play here on friday’s so you had some other equipment in the back but it seemed unnecessary for a simple acoustic guitar

you watched as the boy looked at the fairy lights and the actually quiet beautiful set up in awe

the musician started to unpack his guitar case as you finished off his drink and started walking towards the stage where woojin was showing him where everything was

“you know now that i really think about it ‘squirrel’ kinda suits you”

the sparkly eyed boy laughed as you handed him his drink,, unknowing of what you should say you ended up standing there awkwardly for a few seconds before realizing there was another customer back at the register

“ah- i should,, probably go” you said jabbing your thumb towards the counter before awkwardly heading back

what was tHAT AHHH !! STOP BEING SO WEIRD Y/N OK

ITS REALLY NOT YOUR FAULT HIS HAIR JUST LOOKS PERFECT AND HIS EYES ARE BRIGHT AND HIS SMILES CUTE AND OK TIME TO STOP NOPE NOPE NOPE

you dont even know his name....(｡•́︿•̀｡) (｡•́︿•̀｡) (｡•́︿•̀｡)

lil thot wont give it to you

but thats ok

if he wants to play it like this then thats fINE

you can deal with that

hopefully....

by the time you had finished helping out the other customer you started to hear the sweet sound of an acoustic guitar being played throughout the coffee shop

“you know he’s not half bad,,,”

woojin had returned from helping the musician get settled and soon found his regular spot on a stool in the corner

“yeah,, he’s pretty good isn’t he”

and then a few minutes later you found yourself completely absorbed in the brunette’s angelic voice filling the shop, his guitar only making it even more beautiful

your staring was soon interrupted by woojin pushing you off to the side so he could help a lady who had walked in about a minute ago,, which you hadn’t realized (＞﹏＜) oops

“y/n would you like to go take your break ?”

(´♡‿♡`) (´♡‿♡`) (´♡‿♡`)

!!!!!

“ can i ???”

woojin motioned you to go once again,, and as you were already so distracted it wouldn’t have made much of a difference

you found yourself sitting at an empty table in the corner,, you’ve heard some other guitarists perform many times in your life but this one takes the cake

you’re not too sure what it is about him but,,, he just looked and sounded so sincere with every word he sang ??? the guitar and him looked like they were a single creature,, knowing exactly how to work as one

it was just really beautiful

he was playing a cover of a song you’ve heard a few times before called ‘better days’ by jaie,, he also seemed to have ended up adding some extra elements to fit his voice better and overall it made an incredible impact

almost everyone else in the cafe had their eyes on the musician singing up front who looked so immersed in his music there would’ve been no time for stage fright

“i’ve had my better days, and you’ve had your better days too” he sang quietly

soon after the song had ended there was a light applause from the customers in the coffee shop,, including you who soon.... realized that you need a paycheck....

yeah ok the cute boy is gonna have to wait we gotta get that bread kids

(╥_╥) (╥_╥)

after making the short walk back to your position behind the counter where woojin found his spot once again on his stool until he had to go make up some drinks you started to hear an acoustic version of million dollar man by lana del rey flow through the cafe

it was simple and elegant and you felt kinda sad you couldnt sit and watch :(((((

there was only a couple hours left before you had to close up so you guess it wasnt that bad,, at least you got to listen to some pretty music during the normally slow and quiet closing shift

honestly at this rate you might fall asleep if the guitarist kept the atmosphere this peaceful,, i mean you weren’t complaining bUT THAT PROBABLY WOULDN’T LOOK GOOD TO THE BOSS

so instead you ended up reading for the most of the time until all the customers had all left and woojin had begun wiping down tables and sweeping floors as mystery boy packed up his guitar and papers

then after you finished cleaning up the counter and throwing all the trash out back you collected your own belongings and changed back into your own plain jeans and sweatshirt before clocking out for the day

as you headed back towards the front you saw woojin talking to the unnamed guitarist and waved at the pair before finally walking out the door and into the early spring air

“bye jinnie !! i’ll see you tomorrow !”

nodding his head woojin continued to chat with the brunette as you started heading down the block and towards your apartment

man,,, why did he have to be so cute ??! >:((((

its not fAIR HE DIDNT EVEN TELL YOU HIS NAME HES MEANNN

(ノ_<、) you’ll have to get it from him tomorrow

aAAH even if it’s the last thing you have to do

ok so maybe you went to sleep thinking about the sparkly eyed boy who played beautiful guitar and had an aMAZING voice but like ajdhjsahd who wouldn’t

the next day was mainly the same,,, you had your regulars and a few newcomers who just so happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped in for a drink

and of course the guitarist walked back into the shop a little after 4,, this time slightly more put together

his hair was styled a bit and looked even better but how the fuck is that possible,, today he was also wearing a leather jacket over a yellow hoodie and black jeans

although you hadn’t realized he’d come in yet ahjksfhasdjk

but when you finally looked up you were pleasantly surprised

but jeSUS HI YOU’VE SEEN WHAT AN ANGEL LOOKS LIKE BYE YOU CAN GO TO HELL NOW YEET

“what are you a ninja ? ”

“yes y/n,, i am in fact a ninja ”

“hEY WHY DO YOU KNOW MY NAME >:CCCCCC”

its nOT FAIR hE JUST- HNGGG

“it’s on your name tag”

“oh yeah”

you slightly pouted at the boy in front of you who had become slightly amused by your reaction,, you were cute uwu

“and what would you like today ?” you proceeded as you tried to keep the conversation going

“hmm how about a cappuccino”

he responded after a couple of seconds

“nO i cANT DO THE FANCY ART THINGYYY (╥﹏╥)”

you sighed once again before talking out a paper cup sharpie in hand

“and name ?”

"you said it yourself,,, im a ninja”

you laughed again before rolling your eyes as you scribbled down ‘ninja’ on the cup

“you’re funny you know that ?”

the male shrugged his shoulders and picked up his guitar case once again

“actually no beCAUSE MY JOKES ARE NEVER APPRECIATED”

he then laughs hysterically before heading back towards the lit stage,, leaving you puzzled

“heY uM woojin ????” you needed to find that man to help do the steamed milk,,, or maybe the whole drink all together

luckily he just came back from his break when you shoved the paper cup into his hands

“ninja ?”

“dont ask. pretty art. make. plEASE ? (ಥ﹏ಥ)” you had started tugging on your friends sleeve because you just really didnt want to give a cute boy a cappuccino without pretty art on it :(((

“fine fine fine,, but this is the LAST time,,, im teaching you this weekend i swear...”

“woojin i loveeeee youuuu” (´ ε ` )♡

“(￢_￢) i know”

minutes later after the musician had gotten set up and with his pretty decorated cappuccino the sweet sound of his voice and guitar filled the air,, having all other customers in the room turn their heads to find exactly where it was coming from

especially as he started doing a cover of instagram by dean,, which was yA KNOW AMAZING

he continued to play for a couple hours until you had to close up,, although every so often he ended up glancing your way,, to find that you were also watching he quickly turned away as he felt his face heat up (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

lucky you,, he didnt see you freak out at the exact same time

and thats basically how it went every day for a while

the still unnamed guitarist would walk in some time after 4, ordered a drink and then played for a couple hours before it was time to close up

nothing out of the ordinary

i mean maybe nOT GIVING HIS NAME

CAUSE GODDAMNIT YOU’RE GETTING ANNOYED BY ALWAYS WRITING SOME RANDOM NAME ON HIS CUP

HE CUTE OK YOU WANNA KNOW HIS NAME AHHHH

oh why dont you ask, you question ????

YOU’VE TRIED

“ok real name this time”

“y/n i’ve already told you”

ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ NO

“well tell me again”

“yeah i decided that it changed today”

sighing you completely gave up on this argument and motioned back to the sharpie in your hand

“kermit the frog.” he said before crossing his arms in a fake pout

“fuck you i love kermit the frog”

“oh i didn’t know you loved me”

((╬◣﹏◢)) aAHHHH NDHFJKJK WHY CANT HE JUST LEAVE YOUR HEART ALONE ALREADY HUH

“nO I- HNGG T^T ....φ(・∀・*)”

you once again angrily scribbled down this boys fake name,, damn you just wanted to knoW AHHH !!! (╥﹏╥)

those were days where five minute arguments were involved with the name picking yet there were others that lasted only 30 seconds

“ __〆(￣ー￣ ) and name please ?”

“ironman”

“yeah no im just leaving this here today”

so after a couple weeks it was just a thing between the two of you

it was your bit per-say

ok maybe you have a tiny crush on the guy but like ???? who wouldn’t ???? he’s just AHhfhasjkf

words cant properly explain it

the two of you clicked almost immediately and you dont feel as if it would be completely wrong to call him a friend

except most friends know each other’s name...so there’s that bit to work out

iF HE WOULD JUST GIVE IT TO YOU

so after a month of random names on paper cups you had a mission today to get this cute boy’s name on his drink today >:(

“ok please please please please please please your name????”

he gave you another one of his bright smiles before simply saying “han”

(￣_￣)・・・ “han what?”

“just han”

(¯ . ¯٥) the lil liar

you know it’s a last name you’re nOT STUPID

“it’s my stage name”

“＼＼٩(๑`^´๑)۶／／ WELL THAT DOESN’T COUNT”

“TOO BAD Y/N”

you pouted once again at your failed attempt to get his real name,,, the meanie,,, why does he tease you like this >:ccc

but you gotta get paid so you grumpily write down his stage name on the cup as he walked over to the stage

“get his name yet ?” woojin comes up from behind you as you hand him the cup

“no :((( bUT why cant you tell me ????”

“i’ve been sworn to secrecy”

“wHY IS KEEPING A NAME A SECRET” you argue as you watch woojin prepare the drink

“because he finds you cute when you get flustered like this”

“bECAUSE IT’S JUST A NAME LIKE- wait what (・・ ) ”

“oops that was another secret soRRy”

you turned back around and grabbed your friends shoulders and shook him probably a bit too violently

“WOOJIN YOU DONT KEEP THINGS LIKE THIS FROM YOUR BEST FRIEND OK WE HAVE A PACT”

“what pact ?????”

“it was an unspoken pact.”

“thEN HOW AM I- you know what never mind i shouldn’t question your insanity” he waved you off so he could finish making ‘han’s drink leaving you both flustered and confused behind the counter as his guitar soon started filling the empty sounding coffee shop

about two hours later there only remained a few other people left so you decided to take your break for the evening as by now there probably wouldnt be much to do

soon a new song had started playing throughout the cafe and your head turned to see the guitarist giving you a shy smile

it was one you had never heard before so the gentle acoustic guitar and han’s comforting voice drew you back towards one of the shop’s tables where you then sat until all other customers ended up leaving

as the two of you were completely unaware of woojin cleaning up the shop, han continued playing and you continued listening to the mystery song before woojin shouted from the back room, forcing you to break eye contact and awkwardly smile at the guitarist

“y/n im clocking you out ok ?!”

“ ok !!” you shouted back before once again turning towards han who was now packing up his case

“what was that last song?”

he muscician scratched the back of his neck before laughing sightly

“uhh it was an original although i haven’t actually titled it yet,, i just wanted to test it out”

“oh wow !! well it was really good, you have my approval ☆⌒(≧▽° )”

“woah really ? thank you that mean a lot...”

(・人・) (・人・) (・人・)

ok woojin it would be great if you could just walk in here and break the awkward silence by now hnNG

“jisung”

∑(O_O;)

“sorry what ??”

“han jisung,,, thats my name”

(O.O)(O.O)

“i think you deserve it by now”

Σ(°ロ°) Σ(°ロ°) Σ(°ロ°)

“aWE A CUTE NAME FOR A CUTE BOY LOOK-”

oh shit (o_O)

well you certainly did not mean to say that out loud

“oops sorry heheheheh”

jisung was GONE

this barista who he had been secretly pining over for a month just called him cute all his insides are just HJSADHKJAKDSA

help the poor boy

his stomach is doing flips as we speak

i mean he couldn’t just leave it as is

cOME ON WHERE’S YOUR CONFIDENCE ヾ(。＞＜)シ

“so um,, does that mean i can take you out to coffee sometime ?”

(;;;*_*) (;;;*_*)

“although unless you dont want to-”

“yes.”

“i get that like you kinda just learned my name”

“yes.”

“not too sure why that was kept a secret so long but- what?”

“jisung 1. ahhh cute name, 2. yes, i’d love to (／。＼)”

jisung gave you another one of his adorable bright smiles that felt as if it could light up a whole room,, which is did as always,, although this time he looked almost even happier

and for once you went to sleep without racking your brain for ideas as to what his name could be

bonus ;

“although if you give them something other than your name i will leave”

“y/n”

“like did me saying ‘name please ?’ cause you to freak out or something ?? honestly i’m very curious”

“wELL when it just so happens to be someone looking very cute...yes i did,,,,”

“aWWEEE JISUNG”

362 notes · View notes

benhardyroger · 5 years

Text

My Light (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor)

Summary: You and Roger have have been in a relationship for a while and you started to feel like you should take your relationship further, since things were getting more serious. On your way back from a lovely evening out, you ask him to meet your parents before both of you leave on your trip to France, only you were struck with some terrible news.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Woo I finally wrote something again!! This was written for @bensrogers 3k celebration, congrats dummy :) The prompt inspiring this fic was “distance makes the heart grow fonder” and I’ve honestly been procrastinating on writing this for Years and I didn’t really proofread, so please excuse grammatical errors. I kinda feel like this one sucks and it could’ve been better, but with that said I hope you guys enjoy My Light!

Roger had been humming the tune you’d heard at dinner the entire way home. You hand was loosely intertwined with his as he swung it back and forth to the the slow romantic rhythm of the tune. He opened the door for you and let you lead him in. The room was cold and pitch black. Roger continued humming and raised his arm and twirled you under it.

You giggled, “Roger hold on let me find the light switch, I can’t see.”

He stopped humming. “Who needs light when I’ve got you, you’re my light,” he said pulling you closer to him by your waist so that you were against each other.

You rolled your eyes, not that the lack of light allowed him to see you do it anyways. “Alright, you may have had a bit too much bubbly, Mr. Corny.” You pushed yourself away from him and made your way to the wall to feel around and turn on the light. “There, much better. See?”

“Too bright,” he said, squinting his eyes. You rolled your eyes once more and led him up the stairs by his hand to wind down after an eventful evening.

When you got to the bedroom, Roger immediately flopped onto the bed and you took a seat on the bench across the room facing the small vanity mirror. You could see Roger behind you through it looking absolutely exhausted.

“Hey Rog, I uhh- I wanted to ask you a question,” you said, taking off your earrings. “Hmm?” he replied, eyes still closed sleepily. “I was thinking before we go on our trip you could maybe meet my parents?” you suggested timidly.

He sat up upon hearing that. His expression was slightly stunned, but overall unreadable.

“I just think it makes sense, we’ve been together long enough and we’re going on a trip together and that way, if it goes great we can start France off strong, and if it goes terribly, and i’m sure it won’t but if it does, we can just leave and forget about it and go eat some croissants or baguettes or whatever they have there,” you were rambling now and you didn’t hear him try to get your attention, “and you know i’m super excited because I know I’ve said this a hundred times before but I’ve always wanted to go and it’s going to be so fun and we’d get to see all the sights, the Eiffel Tower, the-”

“Y/N!” he said again slightly louder this time.

You blinked at his interruption, confused.

He bit his lip and his eyes fell downward. “I’ve been-“ he sighed, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You could tell by his expression and tone that it wasn’t going to be good. The excitement in your face dimmed as you prepared for what might possibly come next.

“The boys and I, we’re uhh- we’ve got another tour coming up...” he trailed off, unable to continue his thought.

“Well, that’s great, you love touring,” you replied supportively, but still cautious.

“Yeah but the thing is... look, it uhh, it’ll get in the way of France. I won’t be able to go,” he said quietly.

Your expression fell completely. What he had said didn’t register immediately but when it did your emotions were jumbled.

Before you could respond he continued, “But I want to meet your parents, we can still do that, I’d love to meet them.” It was a vain attempt to soften the shattering news you’d just received.

You still couldn’t say anything, though a number of options were running through your head. You couldn’t sort out if you were angry or sad or a combination of both.

“Would you please say something?”

You turned around from the mirror to look at him. “What would you like me to say? I can’t say anything, can I?” You got up from the bench and stood facing him head on.

He looked at you apologetically. “Y/N-” he started, getting up as well and making his way to you.

You interrupted before he could continue, “We’ve been planning this trip for a year, Roger. You’ve already cancelled it once before because you needed to focus on your album and recording, and now you’re going to leave for tour again?”

“I’m sorry, I know, but you know I can’t do much about it, I wish I could,” he said, reaching for your hand as if establishing some sort of physical contact would ease your anger.

You pulled your hand away before he could touch it. “You can’t do anything? I’m sure you could’ve done something earlier, you’ve known we were going for so long!”

“Come on, love, don’t be like that.”

“You knew it would come in the way didn’t you? You knew! And you kept it from me!” Your voice was getting louder now, but you didn’t care. “You don’t even want to go with me do you?”

He frowned at your remark. “You think I don’t want to go with you? Really?” he said quietly.

Your face was getting hotter and you felt the threat of angry tears making their way out. “Yes! That’s exactly what I think! You can’t expect me to think otherwise when you’ve cancelled it not once, but twice!” The two of you were getting closer now as the argument continued.

His voice was beginning to get louder too. “You know how important these things are, Y/N! I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be like this!”

That made you even angrier and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. “‘Like this’? How do you want me to react? We don’t keep things from each other, Roger! And that sure as hell isn't a good excuse! You know how badly I wanted to go on this trip with you! I just wanted to spend time with you, don’t you get that?” You were practically in each others faces at this point.

“Please, you don’t care about that, you only want to go for croissants and the goddamn Eiffel Tower and all that stupid shit,” he said, quite obviously with the intent of taking a jab at you.

You took a step back and blinked causing warm tears to fall down your cheeks. Roger had ripped you a new wound. “Yeah? Okay.” You nodded, looking away from him as more tears fell. As stupid as what he said was, it stung. Saying that you didn’t care about him made you want to punch him in the nose, and worse, it implied that maybe he didn’t know you, that you didn't know each other as well as you thought you did.

“If you think I don’t care about you being there.. If you think I don’t care about you, after all this time, then maybe we’re just not…” You sighed. You couldn’t finish, but you didn’t have to, he knew what you were saying. You turned and walked towards the door. Your hand rested on the doorknob and you turned your head slightly to look back at him. “Have fun on your tour, Roger,” you said, opening the door and leaving without another word.

When you stepped out, the rain was pouring and you braced yourself under the protection of the front door overhead before running towards your car. The rain temporarily camouflaged the tears on your face, but when you sat in your car they rolled down uncontrollably. You slammed your hands against the steering wheel, yelling curses, then finally collapsed onto the wheel with your head in your arms.

Meanwhile, in the house Roger was throwing things in anger at the walls, that somehow weren’t suffering any damages from his rampage.

Neither of you were going to sleep that night.

***

It’d been over two weeks since you’d left Roger’s house. In the aftermath of your argument you found yourself spending the time at your parents’ house about an hour away. You didn’t think your mum even liked the idea of him anymore after seeing what a wreck you’d become the past few days. It was ironic, only a little while back you wanted him to meet your parents and now you weren’t sure if they’d even look him in the eye if they saw him, but neither would you.

For the first three days you’d cried all that you could, the mixture of disappointment and anger and sadness and hurt had washed over and become more of a dull ache in your heart. The fact that you’d had no contact with him in the past two weeks helped, you wouldn’t be able to stand it if you had to hear his voice.

You’d been staying in for a while, not in the mood to go out or do anything really, but now you thought you were finally ready to leave the house. You took a long, almost boiling shower and came out feeling more refreshed than you have in a while. You threw on some fresh clothes and pulled your wet hair out of the towel.

You heard the doorbell from upstairs, but your parents were out, so you ran down the stairs to get it, ruffling your wet hair to break up the clumps. “Coming!” A trail of water drops followed you down to the door.

When you pulled the door open, your eyes met with his baby blues. Your heart dropped and you stepped back in shock. “R-Roger…” You swallowed hard.

“Hey, Y/N.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but his eyes were sad. “Can we talk?” His demeanor was that of a guilty puppy.

You wanted to slam the door in his face. In your mind you knew you should’ve, and seeing his face reminded you of the nights spent in tears. But thinking back to the events of that night, you felt a twinge of regret. Maybe if he’d come to you sooner you wouldn’t feel this way, you probably would’ve undoubtedly turned him away, but now you thought if anything you should at least let whatever this is play out, just to know. “I-uhh… yeah.” You opened the door further and stepped aside to let him in. “Yeah, sure.”

He stepped inside and you closed the door behind him. “These are uh- these are for you,” he said holding out the bouquet of white roses that were in his hand.

You took them from him timidly, but couldn’t bring yourself to thank him for them. You set them down on the table. “Rog, what are you doing here?” you asked, rather bluntly.

“I missed you,” he said, looking at the ground. “And I had to see you.” He met your eyes with his. “I kept thinking about how we left things and you haven’t been answering my calls and I couldn’t just-” he sighed, “I couldn’t just leave things the way they were.” He stepped closer to you and there was only about a foot between you. You were looking down to avoid his gaze.- “Y/N, I am so sorry. And I know that doesn’t cut it, I know we’re past that, but I had to say it. I’m sorry I was such a jerk, I’m sorry for not telling you, I’m sorry I didn’t just put you first.” It had seemed rehearsed, the way that each apology rolled into the next one.

Your eyes began to gloss over, part of you was still angry, but you wanted to forgive him, you wanted the pain to end. Your head was going back and forth like a pendulum trying to figure out if you should forgive him, if that really is the right decision for the both of you. Every negative emotion you felt in the aftermath of your argument boiled back up and you took a deep breath in, as if sucking in the air would keep the tears from surfacing.

As if he could hear the thoughts running through your mind, he continued, “You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to.”

“I want to…” you said softly. “I want to forgive you so badly. But every time I think about it, I remember that you lied and you kept secrets, despite the fact that you knew how important it was to me.”

“I know. I know I did, and Y/N I wish I could take all of it back, I do.”

You finally looked up at him, the pools slipping from your eyes. “If you knew I wouldn’t forgive you, then why did you come here,” you asked demandingly.

He bit his lip. “Just because I don’t expect you to, doesn’t mean I’m not hoping you will.” he replied quietly. “Y/N I need you. You’re my better half, you’re my light. And…” he trailed off.

You raised your eyebrows at him, silently urging him to continue.

“And I’m catching a flight tomorrow morning. I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

The tension in your face released at that and you blinked in confusion. “You-You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

A silence fell between you. His words, ‘you’re my light’ rang in your head. The awful feeling that came over you when he revealed that he was leaving made you realize that you need him, too. If you let him go without fixing things, you might lose him forever.

“Roger…”

His face lit up slightly with hope.

You looked up at him and lifted yourself up on your toes, holding on to him by his arms and pressed your lips against his. After the initial surprise, Roger bent down a bit to allow you to get off your toes and deepened the kiss. When you released you wrapped your arms around him, your cheek against his chest. “I forgive you,” you said.

You could feel the tension in his body loosen at your words.

“Thank god,” he said, resting his chin on your head. You stayed in your embrace for a while. “I missed this.” His eyes fell closed.

You pulled away suddenly to look him in the eyes, “but you aren’t getting off that easy, you need to promise you won’t ever, ever keep anything from me ever again.”

“I promise,” he said.

“I’m not done. You also have to make up for a lot when you get back. I’m going to hang this over your head for long time, so get ready buddy.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”

You sighed. “I don’t want you to go, Rog. We were going to spend a trip with no one but each other and now you’re going,” you said, knowing that it wouldn’t really make a difference.

“And I promise I will make up for that, but you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, whoever said that was stronger than me.”

He grabbed your hand and held it in his. “You’ll do fine and besides,” he pulled a stiff piece of paper from the inside of his jacket, “you’re going to meet me along the way.”

He handed it to you and you unfolded it. It was a plane ticket.

“Is this…”

“Yup” he confirmed, face gleaming.

The destination written on it: Orly Airport, France.

As you were about to say something else, your mother entered the room. Her smile fell when she noticed Roger in the room by your side.

“Who’s this?” she asked rather sharply, knowing in the back of her mind the identity of the blonde stranger.

“Mum- This is- Uh-” you sighed, “This is Roger.”

She frowned at the mention of his name. “What is he doing here?” she asked politely, but with a coarse undertone.

“I came to give Y/N here, these flowers,” he added in, picking them up from the table.

You looked up at Roger with a smile. “Yeah.” You turned your gaze back to your mother. “We’re alright,” you said, reassuring her.

Her expression softened. Roger stuck out a hand which she took hold of and shook softly.

“Rog?” He turned to look at you. “Would you like to stay for dinner? My mum makes a mean spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I’d love to.”

You and Roger helped set up the table, him placing the forks and knives slightly crooked, and you going behind him and fixing them.

From the kitchen you heard your mother, “Roger, honey, could you help me in the kitchen?”

He gave you a slightly nervous look and you smiled reassuringly at him. “Go, she doesn’t bite,” you said nodding your head in the direction of the kitchen.

He headed over to the kitchen and your mother was busy over the stove. He stood off to the side of her while she worked. “You need help?” he asked.

“Roger I called you in here to talk to you,” she said, still focusing on cooking.

He felt a pit in his stomach. This can’t be good.

She turned to him finally, “Y/N said that you’re both okay now, but you didn’t see her these past few days. My baby was really hurting, I need you to promise me that won’t happen again.”

He felt a pang of guilt at hearing that. Having to face you after hurting you was already difficult enough, but hearing it from your mother made him feel a new level of terrible.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I am so sorry I put her through that. I made a mistake, it was stupid and selfish of me. But I love your daughter, more than anything. I promise I won’t ever hurt her again.”

His voice was sincere and apologetic, and you could hear it from the corner outside the kitchen where you were eavesdropping.

“Right then,” she said. She turned to the cupboard and grabbed the bowls. “Here,” she said, plopping them into his hands with a smile.

He smiled back at her and exited the kitchen. When he turned the corner he saw you, leaning against the wall outside the kitchen. “Hey, whatcha doing there?”

You straightened up quickly. “Uh- nothing…”

He chuckled a bit. “So how much of that did you hear?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards. You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Just enough,” you replied. You took the bowls from him, turned around, and walked briskly towards the dining table, leaving him smiling behind you.

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

morning light {John Deacon}

Anon asked: do you think you can write more fluff for deacy like a lil “morning after”ish bc i’m sad and i love him

A/N: 1877 words. I’m in sever pain and my ankle Hurt. I just want BoRhap’s Another One Bites The Dust!Deaky to tell me it’s going to be okay so picture him, and also just pretend he’s not married please and thank. Not exactly what the prompt asked for but God i’m a sap.

It’s... it’s weird waking up in the morning, and he’s still there, sprawled out beneath the duvet, morning light peaking through the curtains. Not weird bad, just weird. You didn’t really think you’d get this far; you’d been working as an assistant for the company that produced a majority of their music videos, and somewhere along the way, they’d started remembering you. Well, actually, John started remembering you.

It had started with ‘We Are The Champions’, in which you had the tedious job of being more or less an usher for the audience, though it was just a small crowd. While you were seating a particularly excited bunch close to the front, you look up for a moment to see the band warming up, and John Deacon smiling fondly at the excited audience members, before he looks to you. For just a moment, you share a look, and he gives a single nod of solidarity, which you return, before you both go back to your jobs.

When you show up to the filming of ‘We Will Rock You’, practically freezing your ass off in Roger’s backyard, you debate ever getting in to the music industry, and offer to go get coffee and tea for everyone as something to keep you moving.

“I remember you.” You’re so focused on the warmth of the drinks in your hands that you’re surprised when someone says more than ‘thank you’ when you give them theirs. It’s John, smiling at you, shivering, and holding the styrofoam mug so tightly you’re a little afraid it might burst.

“You do?” You answer, and his smile turns amused, before your brain kicks into gear. “I- yeah, I was there for the last shoot.” You agree. “I’m Y/N. I’d shake your hand but-” You gesture helplessly, both hands holding trays of drinks.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you, Y/N, I’m John.” He says, as if you don’t know, and you have to bite back a giggle. It’s then, when he sees the way you smile, and can feel his answering smile brighten, that he decides he likes you.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you too.” You nod at him and he thanks you for his tea before you move on to the others, only preening a little bit when they praise you for bringing them warmth on the cold, winter day. ‘I remember you’ plays in your head on repeat; you can’t stop thinking about it, about the way he grinned at you like he’d know you his whole life, and you realise a few days later, when you’re still dwelling on it, you don’t even remember how cold it had been, just his smile.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” On the set of ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ you’re the one everyone turns to as the go-between for the band and the crew, seeing as how you’d been working with them for over a year at this point. Now, you’re holding out a water bottle to John, pulse a little quick when he fixes you with a surprisingly affectionate grin of thanks, “I was asked to give you guys these.”

“Is that the water I asked for? That was quick; Y/N you’re a bloody legend.” You hear Roger call from behind you, bounding down from behind the drums to snag one of the other three bottles from your arms. John stays quiet as he takes the drink from you, watching Roger with an amused smile.

“I’m parched, thank you, dear.” Freddie takes the second, and after you and John share a look, an endeared smile at the grabby but thankful nature of the others, you turn, raising the final water bottle above your head.

“Brian?” You call, and he looks up from where he’s been tuning his guitar.

“Is that for me?” He asks, and you nod with a smile. He comes to collect the drink, and they all disperse back to their original places.

“We really do have to stop meeting like this; it’s what, the fifth time?” John finally agrees once they’re out of earshot, and you turn back to him, grinning.

“Sixth, actually.” You say, and he nods, making a face like he’s cataloguing the information in the back of his mind.

“Six, wow,” and after a beat, his gaze returns to yours, “six videos and I’ve never seen you at a wrap party?” At that you duck your head with a chuckle.

“I work during the week.” It’s easy to admit; it’s not that you dislike parties, persay, but you’re also not fond of turning up to your day job hungover. John hums, low and thoughtful.

“You should come to tonight’s.” He says, and you hesitate for a moment, looking up in confusion. “You don’t have to drink or anything - ignore whatever Freddie and Roger say - but it’d be nice to have you.” After a beat, he shrugged with a small smile. “But only if you want to, of course.” And you can’t help the small, pleased smile that makes it’s way onto your face as you head back to your station.

You do attend the party, squirrel yourself away on a sofa in the corner of the room, nursing your drink and talking to a revolving door of people who are getting progressively drunker as the night goes on. It’s getting close to midnight, however, when John finally joins you. The two of you had had a few conversations during the night, but he was inevitably pulled away by someone else, and you didn’t like to admit to the sinking sensation in your chest.

He asks you if you’re enjoying it, but your answering smile and nod is unconvincing. Truth be told, you were feeling a little lonely, a little out of place, and a little Cinderella having to still get up tomorrow at a reasonable hour. As soon as you admit you’re thinking of heading home, he offers to join you, to make sure you’re safe, telling you it’s no trouble when you try to wave off his kindness.

Your home is within walking distance, and you’re thankful for the breezy Spring air as you walk through the streets talking about everything and nothing with John by your side. He’s got his hands tucked in his pockets, and at one point you tuck your arm into his; he doesn’t comment on it, but you can see him smiling.

You’re an adult enough to admit to yourself that you’d developed a crush on him, observant enough to know he liked you well enough too, unsubtle enough that Roger had told you to get a move on, though he had been quite drunk at the time. As you walk, you’re not sure what’s holding you back, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

It turns out, you don’t have to, at your doorstep, he hesitates after saying goodbye, before quickly leaning in and kissing you on the cheek.

“Sleep well.” He says fondly, turning to leave. You reach out, grabbing his hand and he turns back in surprise, and you step forward to press your lips to his, soft and chaste. He’s actually blushing a little when you move back, seems a little surprised.

“You too.” You tell him, voice gentle and fond, and you head inside, catching his flustered smile as you look back over your shoulder.

He gets your number during the next video shoot, or rather, after.

“I should have your number.” Is what he actually says, voice serious like he’s been musing about it for a long time, despite the fact that he’s naked in your bed, a little out of breath, fingers linked with yours as you both take a moment. You’re heart’s still racing and you’re still in quite a heady state, and all you can do is laugh, warm and bright into the darkness of the bedroom.

You wake up the next morning and he’s still there, one arm around you where you’ve got your head on his chest. There’s an anxiety, an uncertainty in your chest, tension creeping into your muscles due to this change, this development in your relationship. But then he wakes up, voice rough with sleep, giving you an easy grin in the morning light as he greets you.

He’s warm and secure, he always has been, but it’s strange to have such solid confirmation, to feel his arms around you and feel like nothing could move you from that spot if you didn’t want it to.

He calls you, actually follows through and asks you out, and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting in a fancy restaurant on an actual date. He’s so unwavering genuine, in his smile, his words, in the warmth he gives off; when you talk, you knows he’s actually listening to what you’re saying.

You learn he’s an engineer; he sort of fell into music, but he’s always had a passion for electronics, and after a few weeks, he shows you the amp he built (and then the false one he built for his mini fridge, which delights you). And then he’s plugging in his record player into the amp, puts on some old jazz single you didn’t really think he’d own, and he’s offering you his hand.

Taking it, you do actually giggle at the whole situation, a little bit flustered by the sweetness of it all. You’ve seen him dance on stage, of course, in videos, but here he wraps an arm around you, swaying gently in his studio, the carpet soft beneath your bare feet. As the music picks up a little, he gently prompts you to twirl, and when you’re back in his arms, there’s nothing but adoration in his eyes. You can’t help but kiss him.

The music keeps playing, but it’s like the two of you are frozen in time, the world falling away around you as you kiss him. Still holding each other like you’re dancing, his grip tightens just a little on your waist, his thumb brushes yours where your hands are linked before he lets go, moving to hold steady on your other hip while you wind your arms around his neck.

The song comes to an end, but neither of you break apart. The world feels right, here.

So even now, almost a year later, it’s weird to wake up in the morning, sometimes, and see him there, after everything he’s done in his life, all the places he’s been, and he’s still by your side. He takes your breath away sometimes, when he doesn’t even mean to, like now he’s not even awake but he’s so serene and you woke up holding his hand and you felt like your heart might burst.

“Good morning, darling.” Voice scratchy, he yawns, and you press an affectionate smile against his shoulder, a little embarrassed for still being so sappy after all this time. His free hand is gentle when he coaxes you up, pressing a kiss to your lips, amused and endeared. “What’s gotten you all smiley?” He asked, and you kiss him again.

��I just love you is all.” You tell him, and his smile brightens in the early morning light.

“I love you too.”

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #queen #queen imagines #queen imagine #fluff #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #the angry lizard writes

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 5 years

Text

Author Meme! tagged by @purplepencilshades, thank you!!

Author name: Swift~ Ao3 link is on my blog already but im SwiftIsHere there (and p much everywhere)

Fandoms you write for: whatever im hyperfixating on atm! which is mystery skulls rn and hopefully for a good while longer. the one wolf 359 fic i have up is leftover from.... That

Where I post: Ao3! i usually crosspost to here too, either as a link or the full fic.

Most popular one-shot: uhhhh, lemme check... in terms of hits, that would be for all the friends that we have lost. only one for me is technically more popular, but I don’t count that and I’m p sure it’s just bc it’s been up longer.

Most popular multi-chap story: only got the one! it’s Little Magenta Lies. i’d like to post more multichap stuff but none of it is... done per se...

Favorite story you wrote: ah geez... published, i think i’d probably say The Darkest Place. it’s so soft and i really like the characterization. as for unpublished, i really like the royalty au that i keep talking about and am working on in theory

Story you were nervous to post: ooh, this is a good one. magenta lies makes me nervous every time i update it lmao, but Step in the Right Direction might actually be the one i was most nervous about initially posting. it’s so small and i didnt know if it would. count?? i guess?? it’s barely even a story and more of a retelling of canon events?? i really like it but??

How do you choose your titles: i dont choose the titles the titles choose me. seriously tho? i dont know i just kinda go with whatever string of words comes to mind. i like to follow what i call the “world of goo” naming theme, which is “just throw some word spaghetti at the canvas it’s fine just go with it” (this is a DIRECT call out for world of goo, whose names i love so much for being completely inane)

Do you outline: i try to? i don’t as much for oneshots, but id never be able to continue anything long if i didnt. i just can’t think the story through in my head. i dont know how some people do it.

Complete: i dont know that word sorry

In progres: yeah

Coming soon: i have over 40 wips in my msa writing folder. does that answer your question. more specifically:

-some writing prompts i’d really like to finish

-aforementioned royalty au which has the most in-depth plot i think ive ever written? its VERY good i really want to share it but unfortunately i have to actually write it first

-some more drabbles, including but not limited to: another “first time something goes very wrong” fic along the lines of darkest place, some self indulgent “rsd is a Grade A Bitch” arthur stuff, a sickfic bc this fandom doesnt have nearly enough, some post-canon stuff about lewis and arthur making up, the list goes on

-a longer post-hellbent thing about lewis killing art, coming back to the rest of the group, and erasing vivi’s memories of arthur (i think ive either posted about that or talked abt it w/ someone? i dont remember exactly tho, anyway its ANGSTY)

Do you accept prompts: yes!! whether i will finish them is another question entirely

Upcoming story you are most excited for: royalty au again. also i forgot to mention for “in progress” but im also writing a very canon divergent fic where after the cave, lewis knows what happened as soon as he wakes up and he goes home and doesnt blame art at all... its good

i’m tagging @doodletrashcan, @ghostly-business, and @yepiamthesmileyface! (sorry if any of yall have been tagged already, & you dont have to do it if you dont want to!)

#the nemesis speaks #long post

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i-beg-your-parsons · 5 years

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[Shreya] wasn’t in last week’s chapter, so have a fic (#1)

Relationship: Shreya Mistry/F!MC (Celestine Leblanc)

Count: 1775 words

So I’ve decided that I’m going to make this a series where I update this whenever a character (in this case, Shreya) is swept under the rug (so am I updating this every week, multiple times then? Who knows! 🙃). It’ll be good practice for me to get back into writing. But maybe not every week exactly, I’m starting my undergraduate thesis lol.

Apologies if they’re OOC, especially Aster? (She’s good friends with Shreya in this fic!!) I haven’t tried writing them much and it’s been a while since I did a fic lmao. Hope you peeps like!! Let me know if you want to be tagged for subsequent ones.

This uses the following prompts:

“My cat is more sassy than you’ll ever be.”

“Watch out! I can’t slow down! Move! Move! Move!”

“Am I good at skateboarding? Pfffft! Of course I am!”

Tags: @jellymonster, @deeohno, @coolios-beanios, @h-doodles

“Watch out! I can’t slow down!”

Shreya is startled by a panicked voice, almost dropping her hand mirror on the sidewalk. She whirls toward the direction of the sound. What the -

“Lady, please move, move, move!!” A blur of blue, red, and brown was hurtling towards her before her brain could really process anything. They make a sharp turn, just barely brushing her skirt, so thankfully she avoided being pummelled into the wall. Her three-inch heels, however, threw her off balance, making her stumble into a large potted shrub situated outside the facade of Maison D’Yew.

Wonderful. How fucking elegant.

“Oh my stars, are you hurt?” A feminine voice calls out to her, presumably partially responsible for what had just transpired. Shreya inwardly huffs to rein in her annoyance. It would be extremely unsightly for a Mistry to throw a tantrum. At times like these, she was thankful for those dry etiquette lessons her parents made her take when she was seven.

“I-It’s quite alright! I didn’t get hurt; just much too close and personal with this plant,” Shreya assures worried girl in her haughty ‘humble’ voice.

(Well, something had to channel her anger. The thick branch digging into her back was not helping keep her head cool.)

She could feel the girl’s slender hands firmly grip her arms and try to pull her up. It was gentle and slow, but jagged twigs were poking her everywhere, “Ow, ow, ow!”

The sounds of her distress halt the girl from pulling her, but she still kept her grip. Her voice sounded more apologetic, if it was even possible, “I am so, so sorry! I told Zeph it was stupid to try riding the broom like a skateboard, but he didn’t really care because he said it would look cool.”

Everything was so fast and panicked and ridiculous that Shreya couldn’t help the wild giggles that bubbled up her throat as she nodded, “I can definitely vouch for the fact that it was stupid.”

Shreya could hear the girl grin, “Nice to know someone sides with me.”

A comfortable lull settles over them before the girl clears her throat. “Maybe I could try magicking you out?”

She seemed capable enough, so Shreya finds that she doesn’t mind.

“OK, go for it.”

Flashes of green and brown lights from the Wood magick circle peek through the gaps between the leaves obscuring Shreya’s vision. Slowly, the twigs and leaves retract, revealing the face of her saviour as she leaned closer to pull her up by the shoulders.

And fuck: She was exactly Shreya’s type.

The blonde had her eyebrows furrowed in panicked worry as she gently picked off leaves that had gotten into Shreya’s hair and clothes. “Again, I am so sorry. I’ll be sure to give Zeph hell for dragging you into this.”

Shreya could feel the warmth creeping up into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Her touch was so soothing. “It’s no problem. Is he going to be okay?”

The girl’s face scrunches up at the concern for Zeph. “Yes, probably… I think.” She opens one pale blue eye to find that Shreya was still looking at her, waiting for… what exactly?

A furious blush colours the girl’s pale cheeks.

“I… should probably go make sure he’s okay. Have a good day, miss!” The blonde turns at the direction Zeph went off and starts at a sprint. It was only then that Shreya sprung into action, hurriedly calling out to the blonde before she left, “M-my name’s Shreya! What’s your name?!”

The blonde doesn’t look back at her, but she yells, “Celestine! See you around!”

—

“So that’s why Aoi was so grumpy when we stepped out,” Aster chuckles as she sipped her sencha tea. They’d been friends for a while, as Shreya was a regular at Maison D’Yew, despite having people who could easily run the errands for her at Mistry manor. Whether it was just a Shreya thing, or an excuse to visit Aster, the wood nymph didn’t mind.

It was always nice to see one of her only friends.

“For what it’s worth, I apologised to Aoi the shrub before I went inside the shop,” Shreya offers. “And besides, it wasn’t all that terrible.” Her face warms at the memory of the girl — Celestine, she reminds herself — and the concern she showed for her. Shreya absently stares at the steam coming off her drink, remembering the blonde’s delicate blue eyes which were, fittingly enough, the colour of a strontium sulphate mineral, celestine.

Her parents must be familiar with Attuneless science. I should ask her next time.

Silence descends over the two girls as Shreya spaced out and Aster observed her. She blows at her tea again, before taking a sip. “So when are you going to see her again?”

Shreya almost spills her hot drink and shoots Aster an incredulous look. The green-skinned girl pauses with a blank look of her own and blinks, before giggling as she realises her friend’s thought process.

“For the last time, I can’t read your mind unless you’re a plant. I just know what you look like when you’re excited about something.”

Shreya grips her mug a little tighter, in an attempt to fight down her worsening blush. Aster continues to observe her reactions over her cup of tea. “Or someone, in this case.”

“… She was really cute, okay?”

Aster can’t fight off the grin on her face. Checkmate.

She reaches out a woody hand to pry off Shreya’s own from her grip on the hot cocoa and pats her friend’s manicured nails. They were painted a deep crimson today. “You should ask her out.”

Shreya sighs, “But what if she’s not into girls? I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.”

Aster tilts her head slightly and blinks. It wasn’t like the heiress to resign herself to the possibility that the girl she was interested in identified as heterosexual. “But what if she is? And more importantly,” Aster leans into her friend’s personal space to whisper in her ear.

“What if she’s into you?”

Shreya jerks back from her friend, clamping a hand over her ear. She shivers like she was just put under a shower of ice cold water. She narrows her eyes are the wood nymph as she tries to calm her breathing. “Why are you being so cheeky today, Ass?”

Aster simply shrugs with a pleasant smile. “One of us has to bring the cheek to move the conversation along. It’s obviously not going to be you, what with this smitten state you’re in.”

Shreya rolls her eyes, “Spare me; my cat’s sassier than you.”

Aster blinks, “You don’t have a cat.”

Shreya throws up her hands in exasperation, “That’s the point!”

The two continue to lock gazes in a contest of wills: Shreya with a piercing glare, and Aster with an amused sparkle. The competition was intense, as if the winner would have their argument proven right.

“Zeph, slow down! You might bump into someone again!”

Shreya’s attention immediately strays to the voice. Could it be…?

“No can do, Leblanc! Those croissants might get sold out!” A voice, presumably Zeph, answers as the front door of the café is slammed open by said male. “Hannah, my bro! Two croissants on the double!”

The short-haired blonde at the register rolls her eyes before shaking her head. “Alright, Denim. But sit your ass down, okay?”

Zeph flamboyantly stands at attention, before giving a dramatic salute. “Roger that, Pixie cut!”

“You’re being way too dramatic,” Celestine steps into the shop, putting her hair up in a ponytail, presumably to cool herself off from running after Zeph. Her hair tie is held between her lips, giving Shreya the perfect excuse to look at them.

Celestine seems to notice the stares directed at her, as her gaze connects with Shreya’s. Her eyes light up in recognition, and her hand immediately comes up to wave at the Fire-Att.

“Why hello, Shreya! Fancy seeing you again,” Celestine walks over to their table, then rocks back and forth on her heels as she stands.

Shreya brings up a had to wave back, feeling the clamminess that had suddenly developed. “Hi, Celestine. I’m usually here every Saturday with my friend Aster here.” She gestures to Aster, who was absolutely buzzing with excitement. The flowers in her hair were blooming.

“As she said, my name is Aster and it’s so wonderful to meet you, Celestine. Shreya was just telling me about the incident this morning with my Hydrangea macrophylla, Aoi.” The wood nymph managed to get up from her seat and move towards Celestine within that sentence to grasp and shake the girl’s pale hand with her pliant fingers. “He’s thankful for your wood magick because it fixed the branches Shreya broke when she fell into him.”

Celestine draws a blank look, before looking over to Shreya for help. The heiress simply nods, but what does that even mean? She decides that it’s better to play along. “Well, he’s very welcome. I didn’t get the chance to tell him that his flowers were a very beautiful shade of blue.”

“Honestly, Aster, how many times do I have to apologise?” Shreya complains from her seat on the table.

Aster grins at Celestine’s response while pointedly ignoring Shreya, “I’ll be sure he gets the message.” She stares meaningfully into the confused blonde’s eyes, bringing up a hand to hover over the other girl’s cheek. Celestine can feel the coolness of her skin, a plant-like material that felt much like the stem of a flower. Her eyes suddenly darken into a tar-black, seeping into the veins of her translucent skin, “It’s not often that you find humans — Attuned, especially — who care as much for plants.”

Sensing the newcomer’s shock and exponentially growing discomfort, Shreya interrupts. “Hey, uhm, Celestine, would you guys like to sit with us?”

And just as suddenly, Aster is back from her Branching, “That’s a wonderful idea!” She moves to pull out the chair next to Shreya (and if it ends up skewed a little too close to her friend’s seat, well, Aster doesn’t know anything about that).

“I’ll go ahead and assist your friend there are the counter. It seems like he’s having a bit of trouble,” Aster points to where Zeph is gesturing wildly in a conversation with Hannah (aka Pixie cut), who was managing the counter. “Don’t eat her up while I’m gone,” she grins at Shreya, who blushed at the insinuation, but kept her cool this time.

She fires back with a grin of her own.

“I make no promises.”

––

#playchoices #choices #the elementalists #te #shreya mistry #aster #te aster #zeph hernandez #zephyr hernandez #shreya x mc #mc x shreya #wilwcshaf

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sadrien · 7 years

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goodbyes & hellos

on ao3

im so so so late but hey this is for first day of prompt week for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare!!!! day one: wrong number

this was a lot of fun tbh and ive been dying to write this ship. alyas texts are italicized, adriens are underlined on ao3, just bold here bc tumblrs a butt. shoutout to @reyxa for the title <3

enjoy!

Alya narrows her eyes at the new message that lights up her phone. It’s an unknown number that she doesn’t recognize — not that she’s given her number to anyone recently — and it’s also seven in the morning . Anyone how knows her at all should know that she doesn’t wake up before at least nine on the weekends. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that she doesn’t sleep during the week and tends to go to bed after two in the morning.)

She groans as another message shows up on the screen. She squints and lets the messages flow in, figuring she can tell the person they’ve got the wrong number after they’ve finished whatever they have to say. Or she can decide that it’s unimportant and ignore it and go back to sleep.

She likes her second plan the best.

unknown number: Hi!

unknown number: Just wanted to let you know the start time for today has been moved from 10 to 9:15

unknown number: My father has a meeting at 1300 so he wants to get it all done as soon as possible

unknown number: And I know you mentioned wanting to have him on set yesterday

unknown number: I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience! Your agent should be calling you soon, but I thought I’d give you a heads up

Alya squints at the screen. She doesn’t want to care but she’s curious. And curiousity killed the cat and all that but she’s used to letting her nosiness get the best of her.

unknown number: agents???

unknown number: 1st of all srry u have the wrong number

unknown number: 2nd of all were u talking to a movie star or smth???????

unknown number: book writer??

unknown number: what kinda person needs an agent

unknown number: Oh I’m sorry! I must’ve gotten the wrong number from someone

unknown number: I’m really sorry if I was bothering you

Alya rolls her eyes.

unknown number: u woke me up but its chill cause now im curious

unknown number: Curious? About what?

unknown number: way 2 keep avoiding the question

unknown number: ???

unknown number: u said the person u meant to text has an agent

unknown number: how fancy r they

unknown number: Oh! She’s a model!

Alya’s eyes widen. The most famous person she knows is that thirteen year old that was in her school who has ten thousand subscribers on YouTube because she makes lyric videos. The second is a boy who has a few thousand instagram followers because he has nice abs and lots of white boy clothing and muscle shirts.

unknown number: u kno a model????????

unknown number: Uhh

unknown number: I’m not sure how much personal information I should be giving to a stranger

Alya sighs. So close.

unknown number: its fine dude (dude? u good w that? lmk if u arent) i getchu

unknown number: u can just stop responding if u dont wanna talk

She locks her phone and slides it back under her pillow. She stares at the ceiling for a few more minutes, wondering if she’ll be able to fall back asleep. As much as she’d like to take the train back to dreamville, she can’t. Because now she’s awake and now she’s wondering. And once she stops wondering, she doesn’t stop.

She’ll probably stop thinking about this random wrong number in a few days and in a few months, she’ll forget about them entirely but…

Ugh.

Sleep definitely isn’t an option anymore.

Leaving her phone in her bed, she pads to the kitchen, twisting her hair up into a messy bun as she does so. No one is up yet — of course they aren’t, it’s seven on a Saturday and everyone is taking advantage of every precious minute of sleep they can get — so she has the run of the house to herself.

So she makes herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and turns to television on. Her initial plan is to just leave it on whatever channel that’s playing when she first turns it on, and luckily the twins were the last ones to use it. Saturday morning cartoons. Score.

Alya stirs sugar in her coffee as Cyber Chase plays in the background. It’s not much more than background noise, it’s the middle of an episode and she doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she does snort at a few of the bad jokes.

“You’re up early,” her mom says before dropping a kiss on the top of Alya’s head.

Alya hums. “Got a few text messages and they woke me up.” She notes how her mom purposefully avoids eye contact as she opens a cabinet. Alya rolls her eyes and eats a spoonful of cereal.

“School friends?” her mom asks carefully.

“Yes,” Alya lies. Better than her mom asking more questions. The biggest one being why were you talking to a complete stranger?

“Are you going to see them before we leave?”

Alya glues her eyes to the TV. “If they’re around.”

Her mom makes an unimpressed sound and Alya resists the urge to roll her eyes. She texted a few of her friends the other week, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. They all had the same sort of idea about cutting ties.

Alya sighs and puts down her spoon, twisting around in her seat to face her mom. “I promise I’m talking to them.”

Her mom gives her that look— the one where her lips purse and a crease between her eyebrows that’s becoming more and more permanent; the one that says she wants to push for more details, but won’t unless they’re volunteered first. Which Alya is not doing, thank you very much. “If you say so, honey,” her mom says, turning her attention to the breakfast she’s making.

Alya stares down into her cereal bowl.

Time to evacuate to her bedroom.

She finishes her cereal as quickly as she can without choking and dumps her bowl and spoon in the sink as she passes it, taking her coffee with her to her room. New plan: curl up in bed with her laptop and hope her mom just leaves her alone until they move.

Alya’s almost forgotten about her phone by the time she flops onto her bed. It vibrates almost as soon as she opens her laptop. She frowns as she pulls it out from under her pillow.

unknown number: Dude is fine for me

unknown number: He/him pronouns please

unknown number: Thanks for asking I really appreciate it, actually

unknown number: People don’t always ask

Plan trashed. This is a better plan.

unknown number: she/her for me

unknown number: and no prob man

unknown number: i wasnt gonna assume ur gender

unknown number: ok that mightve sounded bad but i didnt mean it in a bad way like the ‘lol dont assume my gender’ way jerks do sometime i meant it in like a genuine

unknown number: if u have smth u wanna say u should say it because i am very tired and i can go on for a while

Whoops.

Alya can’t say she’s known for her stellar first impressions but she usually doesn’t ramble her way into an awkward corner. She mindlessly flips through apps as she waits for a response.

unknown number: Don’t worry about it! I didn’t take it the wrong way or anything

Alya smiles to herself as she responds. He keeps leaving her openings which is nice. Based off his initial reaction, she thought he’d shut this down as fast as possible.

She realizes this is probably a little weird. But it’s the most exciting thing to happen to her since school let out so…

unknown number: so whats up stranger??

unknown number: b4 u ask im just sitting in my room doing nothing but text u so thats my morning

unknown number: I actually have work soon, so that’s fun

Alya raises her eyebrows. She forgot age was something else she didn’t know yet.

unknown number: oo work that sounds fun

unknown number: what do u do???

unknown number: I work for my dad, it isn’t anything special

unknown number: But it gives me something to do with my time so I don’t mind that much

unknown number: If I randomly stop responding without warning, that’s why

unknown number: good 2 kno

unknown number: can i ask what u do 4 ur dad or is that 2 personal

unknown number: I uh… I just do whatever he needs me to do

unknown number: I don’t get paid or anything but

unknown number: ay it still works as a resume builder

unknown number: Yeah exactly!

unknown number: thats cool that ur dad can get u a job!! my mom and dad could never w their jobs so i just suffer

unknown number: not that thats any different from what i would do anyway as a teenager

Alright, perfect. She’s brought up the age question in a really clunky and awkward way. Better than nothing.

unknown number: Oh how old are you?

unknown number: I’m 15

Alya lets out a sigh of relief.

unknown number: ayy same!

unknown number: just ur fav teenage superhero blogger

unknown number: doing nothing with her life

unknown number: You like superheroes?

unknown number: yeah!! i love comic books. you??

unknown number: I don’t have time to read many but yeah! I’ve always loved Spiderman

unknown number: wonder woman is my g i r l

unknown number: superheroes are just so cool

She waits a few minutes before she decides that he must have gone off to work. Bonding over superheroes, that’s good. A shared interest. She scrolls through their conversation, rereading some of the earlier messages before she creates a contact for him. She makes the name ‘stranger’ and leaves it at that.

It’s not like they’re meeting up or anything. Even if he is an ax murderer, can’t kill her if she never sends him her location.

Alya spends the next couple of hours avoiding her mom as much as possible. She takes her sisters to the park and then goes to the library after she brings them home.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She’s clicking through a webcomic that she missed a few weeks worth of updates when her phone buzzes. She glances down, expecting it to be a text from her mom asking if she has any plans or to do chores or something, but is pleasantly surprised to see a message from her stranger.

stranger: Sorry about that, work ran long

stranger: Admittedly, I don’t know very much about Wonder Woman, but she looks very awesome

unknown number: !!!!

unknown number: when ive got more time remind me to tell u all abou t her

unknown number: and to rec some comic books even if u dont have time

stranger: Is she your favorite?

Alya sits back in her chair. This conversation is going to be a long one.

Alya finds herself randomly texting her stranger for the next few days. He doesn’t always respond quickly, but he responds eventually, no matter how weird her original message.

That’s more than she can say for most of her friends.

She texts him as she’s sitting on the counter in her kitchen, stirring a pot.

unknown number: hey stranger whats up

stranger: Just reading, you?

unknown number: making box mac n cheese

stranger: Sounds fun

unknown number: yeah im gonna eat it straight from the pot

The three dots bounce on the screen as the stranger takes his time with the next message. Alya snorts and turns off the stove, straining the pasta and moving to the fridge to find butter and cheese. He’s found his words by the time she’s letting the butter melt in the pot.

stranger: Straight from the pot? Why?

unknown number: because i live life on the edge

unknown number: and also because im too lazy to clean the dish later

stranger: You know what? That’s fair

Sometimes, Alya thinks that she probably shouldn’t think about someone who she doesn’t even know the name of as often as she does, let alone text him as much as she does. But sometimes she’ll see something, and she’ll immediately think of him. Or she’ll just be randomly upset and feel the strong urge to pick up the phone and see if he’s available to vent to.

She knows it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help herself.

One night, at around two in the morning, she finds herself messaging him.

unknown number: hey did i ever mention i was moving

She’s almost asleep, slightly more okay than she was before she sent the text, when he responds.

stranger: You haven’t but we also don’t talk about where we live

Alya stares at the screen for a long moment, the bright light in the darkness making everything on the screen blur into nothing. She just feels kind of numb.

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: like 8 hours away from where i live now

stranger: Wow that’s a big move

unknown number: yeah

stranger: I’m guessing you don’t want to go?

unknown number: not really

unknown number: did u know ur my only friend right now

stranger: I am?

unknown number: me and my other friends sort of cut ties

stranger: The internet exists

stranger: Phones exist

stranger: FaceTime and Skype both kind of suck, but they exist

unknown number: yeah i guess

unknown number: i guess its just too hard for any of us to try

stranger: I have no idea how far apart we live

stranger: We’re doing just fine

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: yeah ur right

One of Alya’s small comforts that comes to mind whenever she thinks about moving is the fact that she’ll have her phone on her and a portable charger. Her stranger will be with her every step of the way.

He’d managed to get her to talk to some of her friends. She doesn’t really think it’ll last once she’s in Paris, but the attempt is nice. And it gives her other people to talk to for the rest of the summer.

It’s too early in the morning when they leave for the last time for her to get really emotional about moving. All she has the energy to do is to take a picture of her old apartment, caption it ‘one last goodbye to marseille’, and save it before sending it to her friends over Snapchat. Before she falls asleep against the car window, she texts it to her stranger.

She wakes up to a new text among the goodbyes from her friends.

stranger: Have a nice car ride! I’ll let you know when I get back from work <3

Alya hides her smile from her sisters and screenshots the text for later.

She texts him from the floor of her new bedroom while her dad starts moving boxes. They’ve been in the process of moving for a while now, shipping most of their things to Paris beforehand. Now all that remains is the actual unpacking.

Alya doesn’t have the energy for that. She just lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling for a while. Then she picks up her phone and sends him a text.

It’s been about an hour since they last talked. She’d talked to him for a good majority of the car ride, only stopping when he was busy and ending the conversation when they arrived so she could get her things out of the car and help her sisters with theirs. She’d sent him a picture of her empty bedroom and said ‘let the unpacking begin :P’. He’d responded with a ‘Good luck!!’ and ‘I’ll let you get to work!’

Alya’s thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. She’s never really pushed him for any sort of personal information before.

New city, new Alya. Or something.

unknown number: hey just wondering

unknown number: what do u have me in ur phone as??

unknown number: i have u in here as stranger

stranger: Your contact name?

stranger: Uh awkward but you don’t?

stranger: You’re the only one I just have the number for, so I know who you are that way

Alya reads his texts a few times before she responds. She doesn’t know what she expects in return, but she figures she has nothing to lose.

unknown number: im alya

unknown number: in case u were wondering

stranger: Hi Alya

stranger: I’m Adrien

#adrien agreste #alya cesaire #alyadrien #outsidethelovesquare #miraculous ladybug #my fics #oof its done

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theoneandonlysaucymo · 7 years

Text

Once Upon a Dream

Prompt: Steve Rogers X Reader oneshot

Words: 1,500

A/N: Im working on these fics heres a little oneshot ive been working on for a few months now......school is a joy kill for writing then getting back into it is tough too lol. Well enjoy!

Tags: @hymnofthevalkyries @mylittlefandomfanfictions @feelmyroarrrr @angryschnauzer @hellomissmabel @hollycornish

My MasterPost

He didnt remember falling asleep, he remembered the burst of cold, glass shattering around him gasping for air at the shock, his body hurt but then in a flash went numb. He couldn’t remember anything else just easily falling asleep the freezing temperatures taking over.

Then it was like he never went to sleep. He was in a small cafe, sitting right outside looking at what appeared to be New York? It sounded like New York, cabs honking away, cars idling far longer than drivers would’ve wished to, sound of different shoes all walking down the street. The streets looked different, however, large screens displayed ads, the buildings were mostly made of glass and metal, the bricks replaced with stronger material. There he sat looking around glancing to his right as a woman with Y/H/C and bright Y/E/C worked over some books. She had a strange device she was typing away at then flipping away at a large book. He at least knew a textbook when he saw one but even then...that book was massive. She was lost in her own little world and something about that mesmerized him, she was beautiful messy bun, no make up, tired eyes and all, he could've stare at her all day. She had seemed to notice the time, closing her strange device she was typing at, gathering her things, and it all seemed to fade away to black.

It didnt stay black for long. The next place, he was in central park sitting on a bench near the statue of two eagles and a ram. This place at least had not chanced from his memory, he remembered coming here walking the park and seeing that statue many times. It wasnt the statue that caught his eye, that woman was here again this time sitting on a blanket in the grass, warm sun shining down to help light the pages of her book again. It was another textbook, she must've been a very dedicated student but a bark caught his attention as he saw a small corgi running towards her being led by another. The womans face sitting down, lit up as she greeted the dog her textbook closed and forgotten for the time being. He watched her hair shining in the sunlight throwing a ball for the dog who happily bounced back with it. It was her smile he couldnt take his eyes away from, it was bright taking up her whole face as she looked relaxed and happy.

That world faded out again, next it was an apartment dimly lit, he could see the woman again this time at a kitchen table still dressed in what looked like scrubs. Papers were thrown about, crumpled sheets lined the floor around her as she wrote another word before crumpling that paper as well. She was so focused on the work infront of her it seemed she barely noticed how late it was. She let out a cute yawn sitting back finally and rubbing her eyes looking up at the clock sighing in defeat for the moment before he saw her close a book and head off down the hall. He waited not sure if he should follow but before he could move her phone went off and she was rushing back down the hall grabbing her jacket and keys and quickly leaving the house. He was suddently in a hospital busy night from the looks of it and there she was running around with medical charts, bags heavy under her eyes but she still had a smile as she went from room to room.

The fading seemed to come quicker now, he didnt spend as much time as the first time. He couldn't hear noises anymore, the things arounud him started to blur and he heard a faint sound of a radio. He was at the cafe again, this time sitting across from her. She had headphones in tapping her foot in the air to the song. She just had a cup of coffee in front of her, no books, no massive amounts of paper, just a woman relaxed. Well mostly relaxed, she was still in scrubs so whatever she had been studying for she apparently had passed. The normal calm of a busy city was quickly interrupted when he heard screaming, he didnt know exactly what was happening. Buildings were being blown to bits, debris falling below, cars over turning as what looked like gunfire was the cause. He wanted to look around but it was all a giant blur, only thing he could see was that woman again, same small café this time she was trying to help someone. Everything around him continued to fall into chaos this woman continued to try and help. Then he saw something he tried to react to, he tried to stop getting in the way of the flying debris but it went straight through him hitting her. He turned around but didn’t see her at first, panic set in as he couldn’t find her and as hard as he tried to stay in this moment everything was turning black.

The next time his eyes opened...Steve was in a room a baseball game playing on the radio and the sun shining through a window. Something wasn’t right, he had been to that game sat in the nose bleeds but....he had been there. A knock at his door startled him, he was starting to process this time....this time wasn’t a dream. He could smell the woman’s perfume, feel the stiff sheets below him, he could vaguely hear other sounds....not the radio but other things muffled. His mind went to that girl again, just everything here felt so wrong he had to get out. Little did he know...that room had been the most normal thing. When he ran out of the building the whole city had changed his senses were overwhelmed....this was certainly not a dream anymore.

It took awhile....a very long while for Steve to even slightly adjust to his home city again. Everything had advanced he was still excited about seeing Stark technology now.....that was something he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Everyone carried around a phone in their pocket...not on a wall...no more chords attacked, accept to power it up again, and they were addicted to them. This world had advanced so much he just felt like a man out of his time. He sat at a coffee shop notebook on the table sketching trying to remember what this city used to look like. People a bit more friendly, not as much of a tourist spot, and more green space too. He had been visiting every coffee shop around New York he could. He knew all that before was a dream but....he could hope anyways, hope to see that girls smile again. He was just about to give up when close to Tony’s building he managed to get a glimpse of her. It was brief and he had almost missed it, dressed in scrubs name badge he could finally see, he had held the door open for her as she carried a large order of coffee. She smiled thanking him looking up at him with bright and shining Y/E/C eyes before heading back down the street disappearing in the mass of people. Steve could have kicked himself but at least now he had a name, Y/N.

Trouble seemed to always find Steve and sure enough another part of his dream was starting to come true. He could now see those blurs flying around were these aliens from another world. People were fleeing from every corner trying desperately to get away from the chaos. An all too familiar scene was starting to play out as he darted through the streets trying to get people off them and into the underground. He stopped dodging a crashing ship before he looked over spying the Café. His eyes went wide when he saw her just as before helping someone getting them out of harms way before going back for someone else. His body reacted rushing for her events playing out just like that dream a large piece of debris falling right above her, she was clueless again too busy worrying about others. He reached out this time he could touch her as he pulled away from where she was behind him, his shield coming up as he took the brunt of the weight of the falling debris protecting her from him. This time when he turned around she was safe, her Y/E/C looking up at him with a bit of shock not sure what had just happened and where this guy came from. Steve held out his hand to help her off the ground.

“Thank you...have we met?” She asked looking at him with a bit more detail now. His face looked familiar.

“Steve Rogers, and I don’t think so,” Steve lied through his teeth but smiled at her blocking a blast from a ship whizzing by. “Let’s get you and these people off the street.”

“I'm not sure how I can thank you,” She smiled as Steve followed her in helping the last person to the subway entrance and she paused looking at him before she too was to head down.

“How about coffee with me after all this?” Steve smiled, “May need to pick a new place.” She smiled up to him and laughed with a nod

“I think coffee may be a fair enough trade Mr. Rogers.”

#Steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #fan fiction #captain america #"#steve rogers oneshot #on look i wrote something #shocking #only took me forever #started this back in march #its almost july and just now done #what is life

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

And All The Queen’s Men {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 5486 words. Okay wow. Please bare with me, this is a long one and also a bit of a different one. Written in the style of a Rolling Stone article. Finished it at 7am. Prompt & support from the lovely @ginghampearlsnsweettea

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

Warning: Minor character death, in both senses, it’s a baby, it’s not graphic it’s just mentioned, but just thought I should let you know.

And All The Queen’s Men: how the lines blurred between Queen and and the Queen of Jazz Rock.

An article almost two years in the making, after their last tour, which I was invited along to in order to write the initial article, the rock sensation Queen split, a decision, I am lead to be believe, was instigated by front man Freddie Mercury, and though Giselle Jones had continued to make music, even before her very public, on-stage breakdown, her lawyers had me keep the article to myself. Now, with the band’s reunion, and Live Aid having been a massive success with both powerhouse musical names coming back into the public eye, I’ve invited them back to my office for one last interview, but mostly to beg them to let me publish this article.

Which, obviously, they allowed.

It’s 1985, and with them all sitting in front of me, I feel a sense of deja vu. There are some changes, of course, Roger Taylor’s hair is shorter, Giselle Jones is wearing jeans and a sweater rather than her well-known cocktail dress, but John Deacon’s still smiling at me, Brian’s looking about the room, perhaps seeing if anything’s changed, and Freddie Mercury’s draped casually on the left of the only non-Queen member of the bunch.

But before I get into the past two years, maybe I should take you back a bit, to when Giselle and Queen began collaborating.

Giselle Jones began in the late sixties as the front-woman of a swing band in a thirties theme pub known as Modern Glamour. Tall, elegant, with a voice like honey, she had a small following of regulars that frequented the pub, but had kept her passion from music from her family, claiming she was merely a waitress at the establishment, since her father was an executive at EMI, and she didn’t want to seem like the subject of nepotism.

However, one fateful day, her father brings music industry giant to the pub for lunch, hoping to catch Giselle at work and introduce her, but as you know, they both got a lot more than they bargained for. Foster sees potential in her, and offers her a contract if she’s willing to modernise her act, and as we all know, she does.

When Giselle releases her first album in 1970, Velvet Roses, which would be the first and only “Jazz” record to hit the Top 40 charts for that year, Queen are still playing pub gigs around London, though they’re looking at recording their first album, which would eventually get EMI’s attention, but that’s still not for a while. At this point, they’re the biggest fish in a very small uni-pub pond, and they need the means to grow. So out goes the band’s van, for one night in a recording studio.

“Like, in retrospect, of course it was the right decision.” Taylor leans against the back of the sofa he’s sitting on in my office in 1982, voice contemplative and fingers locked together as he looks into the past. “But I was twenty-two at the time, selling my van was a big deal.”

“A big enough deal that you wrote a song about it.” Giselle adds, sitting beside him in the middle of the sofa. Deacon hides a smile though May doesn’t hide his snort of laughter.

The smirked remark is at odds with her look. While the boys are all in various states of brightly patterned shirts and jeans, looking casual and comfortable; Giselle wears white, sequinned, off-the-shoulder gown that hugs her figure and hits the floor, a slit in the thigh where her leg crosses, dark skin a stunning contrast to both the white fabric of her dress, and the leather of my sofa. Hands folded in over her knee, there’s not a singular hair out of place where she’s got it slicked back; I can’t look at her directly, she’s so focused and well put-together that it’s like staring at the sun.

The contrast has always been apparent in their various works, though Mercury has, in the past, cited her as an early inspiration for his desire to add a certain classical gravitas to rock and roll, and though she hasn’t publicly stated anything, the amount of covers Giselle has performed lived could fill an album. And now, here they are, about leave for a double-billed tour of the US, which I have been asked to join.

But their connection goes back much further than this, all the way back to 1975, to the release of the smash-hit single Bohemian Rhapsody That very same year, Giselle releases her fifth single, Dinner and a Show, a lyrically dissonant, heart pumping anthem that’s a metaphor for the way any type of review fuelled her, since it meant people were talking about her work.

You serve yourself on a platter; your putrid delights, / yet how can I refrain? / You don’t come to flatter, you don’t want to go / so come on baby, / don’t you know? / You’re treating me to dinner and a show.

Giselle’s usually silky performance is turned into a masterclass of vocal gymnastics as she slides easily from the rough intensity of rock and roll, to the smooth purr of jazz as she sings about eating critics for breakfast.

They say a free mind makes the meat so tender / now you’re on the menu and I’m a big spender

The song itself comes as a response to her former manager about how her “aggressive” move to music that more stylistically rock and roll was alienating older audiences, though Foster, still her producer at the time, was pushing for her to skew to a younger audience, and it seemed as though he had gotten his way.

The real change, however, was the B-Side of the record. After speaking to Jim “Miami” Beach, Queen’s lawyer, regarding potentially covering one of the band’s songs, Giselle reveals that she was eventually told to just ask them directly.

“I gave Miami a letter that basically explained that I’d like to cover one of their songs for my new album,” Giselle gives me a thin smile, and I feel like I’ve done something wrong, even though I’m assured by Brian that her public persona “is just like that sometimes”.

“- and I thought it was a joke! I said ‘yeah, sure, what’s the worst that could happen’.” Mercury laughs, leaning forward elbows on his knees and eyes shinning with amusement. “I did not believe for one second that Giselle, Giselle-” repeating her name for emphasis, his hand comes to quickly rest on hers where she still has them perfectly still on her knee, a moment of solidarity, “wanted anything to do with us. Hand Held Heart had been at the top of the US charts for almost three whole weeks the year before.” Letting out a long, wistful sigh, Mercury sits back, still grinning, though he’s got this far away look on his face now.

“So we’d been stuck on a farm, recording A Night At The Opera for weeks with no outside communications, ” May fills in where Mercury’s faded into his own memories, and Taylor slings arm around Giselle where she’s actually relaxed somewhat, hands now in her lap. Curiously, she doesn’t shrug him off. “And when we get back, it turns out that she’s put a jazz cover of Jesus, yeah, that song from our first album, on the B-Side of her newest single.”

“Freddie practically had a heart attack.” Deacon adds, patting Mercury’s shoulder fondly.

In her own way, she was continuing the trend that Dinner and a Show had started, and that seven-inch single would bestow upon Giselle the title of Queen of Jazz Rock. It hadn’t been the first time she had acknowledged the band publicly, by the time she had released the single, her public persona had gained enough traction that, a few months prior to her recording of the cover, a reporter had asked if Killer Queen, Queen’s biggest hit at the time, had been written about her. The question had been caught on camera by the reporter after one of her tour stops in the Midwest of America; the footage is a favourite of fans, including myself, of the way she doesn’t even turn, simply calls over her shoulder, ‘they should be so lucky’, and she gets into her waiting car.

“I never took offence,” Mercury tells me, both in 1982, and 1985, as I bring it up both times to consolidate the origins of their musical partnership.

“You wouldn’t, you were all starry-eyed for her back then.” Taylor leans back to address Mercury behind Giselle’s head, but only when he says it the first time, in 1982.

“It was a bit of a dig at us,” Deacon agrees with the drummer, nodding before shrugging. “A lot of good came out of it, though.” The others seem to agree, but Giselle herself has stayed quiet. For the first time since the interview started, she looks away from me, gaze dipping as she seems inclined to speak, though she takes her time to weigh up her words before she says them, wondering exactly what will and will not be printed.

“It was a bit of s**t thing to say. I was twenty-four and I panicked, I had to keep up my... this persona.” She gestures now to herself, breaking the entire physicality as she lets herself lean back, and I feel like I can breathe, seeing her act so human. Adjusting, she lets herself rest of the slightest of diagonals, shoulder to shoulder with Taylor’s arm still around her, now with Mercury petting her knee in solidarity.

Once in the tour bus, the difference between Giselle Jones, the woman, and Giselle, the singer and personality, becomes almost jarring to see. As soon as we get into the bus, she strips off the gown she was wearing, I turn away, though the others don’t seem to be bothered by it, May takes the dress to a waiting assistant by the door, and when I turn back, she’s in a pair of sweat pants and Taylor is tossing her shirt several sizes too big for her. For the first time since I’ve learned about her, Giselle looks comfortable, looks approachable and, for lack of a better word, non-robotic, taking a hairbrush from a drawer and flopping onto one of the beds as she brushes out the gel, apparently not bothering with a shower just yet.

“I showered this morning.” She seems to have caught my confused look, and explains herself. With her guard lowered in the familiar situation, her natural voice shines through, a rich, yet feminine alto, reminiscent of her singing voice. It adds to the list of things that add character to her beyond what her “persona” could ever convey. Or perhaps that’s the point.

The bus itself is almost too small for the five performers, and I’m certain it won’t fit me, but Giselle and I watch as they cram a blow up bed onto the kitchen table. It looks stable, and for the opportunity to experience living in such close quarters with such big names, I’d take anything.

“Sorry, darling, Paul takes the only spare bed.” Mercury informs me as I shimmy up onto the bed to test if it would hold. I had thought that the vehicle was at capacity, though it does make sense that the band’s day-to-day manager, Paul Prenter, would be travelling with them. That being said, I hadn’t realised there was even a spare bed, there was only five, perhaps none of them had wanted to be subjected to the blow up bed and decided to share instead.

When we finally get on the road, I get to finally see their true dynamics emerge. We all know the Queen dynamics by now, brotherly yet volatile, at times. I had worried for Giselle at times, the concept of living with four men (five if you count Prenter, who Giselle does not seem to, when I ask her about it, though I don’t think that’s a subject I should pry about, judging by the look on Taylor’s face where I can see him lounging at the back of the bus). However, I should have not have been worried; first of all, despite the youthfulness of their appearances, performances, and spirit, these are all men in their 30s, Giselle herself being 31 at the time of writing (1982), and they all have experience living with women, and with each other.

“First tour was a nightmare.” Deacon’s joined me on the blowup bed, is sipping tea as we travel along. “We learned real quick how disgusting close quarters can be.” He’s a quiet soul, but observant, and honestly I really enjoy his company. Anyone who can weather over a decade of rock and roll and come out as calm as him deserves some sort of recognition. “It’s much better now. Mostly.” He smiles like it’s an inside joke, but won’t elaborate. Giselle and Taylor refuse to clarify what he means by that, May just laughs when I ask him, directing me back to ask Taylor and Giselle, and Mercury calls them all gossips.

It’s something about the tour lifestyle that must bring out the childishness in them all, which comes out strongly during dinner. They shove my blowup bed into the sleeping quarters when dinner is served, and the five of us manage to cram into the tiny booth the bus allows. May, Deacon and Giselle are in charge of cooking dinner, sausages, potatoes, and peas, since apparently Prenter and Mercury have taken lunch duties, and Roger has put himself in charge of getting coffee and tea for everyone in the morning.

“We should really eat breakfast.” Giselle muses through half a mouthful of food.

“I do!” Deacon, next to me, comes back with, pouring some more peas onto his plate.

“You just eat cereal from the box, Deaky, that’s not breakfast.” Taylor counters him, which just causes the rest of the table to devolve into an argument about what counts as breakfast. Prenter, who has joined us for the meal, looks like he’d rather be napping or still driving, and makes quiet work of his meal.

Roger Taylor goes to sleep after me, and wakes up before I do, and I’m not sure how he does it. Or where he sleeps, the other beds seem taken. He wakes me up on the first morning by shoving my bed, which slides a few centimeters, but isn’t about to fall off it’s perch.

“You want coffee?” I’m barely functioning at this point, and his question baffles me. “Tea? Coffee? Deaky’s cereal? We got some left over sausages.” He lists off, probably due to my clear confusion, he seems exasperated, even though he’s definitely wearing pyjamas too. He’s still scowling a little when I tell him how I like my coffee, but he doesn’t complain, and it tastes exactly like I like it when he hands it over. The bus is stationary, so he can put the cups by the bedsides of those they are for, but interestingly enough he joins me on the table/bed.

I know the origin story of Queen, I think everyone does at this point, so I ask him instead about the subject of my article; how Queen got involved with Giselle.

“You wanna know how I met Giselle?” It’s not exactly what I asked, but he’s already thinking about it, looking past me to the sleeping quarters with a frown. He plays absent-mindedly with the chain around his neck, and with the ring attached to it. “I thought everyone knew about that, the whole thing where we hated each other from the start?” When I ask if it was true, he actually laughs, though it’s more a snort of derision, if I’m being honest. “Of course not. Mostly.” They all seem to like that word, I hadn’t taken them all to be vague.

“I told him to take a long walk off a short pier.” Giselle will clarify for me later that day, joining me as I take a smoke break at one of our bathroom stops, not that there isn’t a toilet on the bus, they just try to avoid using it as much as possible. She doesn’t smoke, claims she never has, but enjoys the company, while the boys are buying snacks at the gas station. I ask when it was, she gives me another thin smile, but not like it had been in the office. Here it’s the punctuation to an earlier joke rather than a judgement.

She tells me about how she actually met them all, recording her second album, after her 1972 performance on Top of the Pops, you know the one. It had cemented Giselle’s now iconic aesthetic of an off the shoulder, floor length sequinned gown, silk gloves, and bold red lipstick, dark hair falling victory curls, the whole look reminiscent of an old Hollywood star, though there was red glitter trailing from her lips, and on her gloves in a theatrical fabrication of blood. It had been a look inspired by her musical roots, and the theatricality of the then-popular glam rock, a movement which would inspire many of Mercury’s tour looks also.

She was twenty-one at the time, still “developing her persona”, when she found that the in-house recording equipment at EMI was being used by the then-still quite unknown Queen. Or rather, according to Giselle, just Taylor.

“He was packing up the last of his equipment, and he makes a pass at me, thinks I’m an intern.” We can see the boys leaving the gas station, Taylor himself heading the pack. “So yeah, told him to take a long walk off a short pier.” She laughs, seems to hold the memory quite dear. “That b******d has the gall to look me in the eyes and ask who I am.”

“Did he know who you were?” When I look at her, she’s still smiling, tipping her head to the side as the boys draw close. She seems to be paying attention to me, but not a lot.

“Yeah, told me later he was just pissed I didn’t throw myself at him. That’s why I said that, ‘they should be so lucky’ thing, actually, that motherf****r right there.” The way she says it, raising her finger to point at him, makes me think it’s a story she’s told before, one that he knows about.

“You talking about me?” Taylor yells, and Giselle is quick to answer that she is. “Don’t spill all my secrets.” It sounds like an order, but his smile says it’s not, it’s weirdly playful, a dynamic I didn’t expect from them, especially considering their history. I raise the point. She laughs at me.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Prenter calls for everyone on the bus, and Giselle doesn’t think to clarify once we’re back on board.

The tour, I should have mentioned earlier, is a double feature; Queen is promoting their album Hot Space, while Giselle is promoting her own, The Bend Before the Break. When I ask her about the album itself, she talks happily about a few of the songs, however when I bring up my personal favourites, Ache and Heaven Sent, she turns very quiet.

I will end up watching most of her performances, and to this day, I have never seen something as raw and spiritual as Giselle performing Ache.

The lights dim as the joyful Meant to Be finishes. On the studio recording, a double bass starts the song, long, grieving and angry notes that pick up in tempo as it’s joined by drums and a piano, and finally, her voice, low, bitter and seductive in equal measure. Here, there’s silence, as she gently croons the open lines, face illuminated by only a single gold light, as swirling red and purple lights move about the stage.

While saying you were sorry, / you burned me from the outside, in. / Now I’m calloused all over, / And too tired to feel the sting. / But I feel the ache, / feel the ache / feel the ache. / I’ll still let you back in.

She plays the piano herself for this song, a skill, I later learn Mercury had taught her many years ago. It’s a song that tugs at your gut, gets you thinking about how you keep people in your life who aren’t the best for you. She ends the last chorus with a long, mournful wail that you feel in your bones.

I’ve never heard a crowd so quiet as when she finishes Ache, the penultimate song of her set list, unless you count encores.

The final song of the night is always Heaven Sent, a bright, headbanging anthem with the musical gravitas of a full jazz band. It was her single from the album, it topped most charts. You know the one. The radio won’t stop playing it.

Divinity with a neon glow / it hung above his head, / promoting his next show. / Didn’t even try to find my light, / just the darkness he’d bestow. / Heaven sent me the Morningstar.

“I was cheated on.” Was all she will say about the songs.

The others steer clear of those songs as well, when talking about the album, as well as the titular song, The Bend Before the Break, though Giselle claims she has moved on from the feelings associated in all three songs.

“I wrote them first on the album, I’ve moved on.”

Each of the boys seems very protective of Giselle at times, though Taylor is by far the worst. If I’m being honest, was weird to me, they’d been at each other’s throats publicly and professionally for almost a full decade after Giselle’s initial comment, however the vitriol had died down in the past few years, so I enquire about that about halfway through the six week tour.

“We set them up.” May is the first to answer, sipping tea with myself, Deacon and Mercury. Since both Giselle and Taylor adjourned to the sleeping quarters. I ask him what he means.

“They tell it better.” Mercury interjects, but May argues that they’re asleep anyways so it’s not like it matters. Deacon agrees with Mercury, but quiet enough that May ignores him.

“So by ‘79, we’ve collaborated together, us and ‘Zelle, I mean,” the nickname is mostly used by May and Taylor, though Deacon uses it on occasion, “a couple of times, and we love her, right boys? We love her-” looking around, both Mercury and Deacon are nodding along, responding to a story they’d both heard before, though it was interesting for my first time hearing it, “but Rog is about ready to stab her with his drumsticks, but that’s just how he is.”

“Threatened to stab me once.” Deacon adds the unnerving information with complete serenity, focused on his cup.

“Me a couple of times.” Mercury shakes his head, as if it were some schoolboy prank rather than a stabbing threat.

“Like I said, just how he is. So we decide to send them to a place where they can bond over complaining about everything else, apart from each other.” I asked how it worked out for them and I watch as their faces fall. This terrible blind date idea must have gone horribly. “They hate the restaurant, which is good, but he goes to leave and bumps the table, spilling beer all over her dress, which is bad,” well, obviously. He pays me no mind, “and she elbows him in the face when she’s putting her jacket on - still don’t know how that one happened - but he still says he’ll take her home because it’s late, except-”

“To preface,” Deacon jumps in here, adding a little more milk to his tea, “she hates I’m In Love With My Car.” The song? Deacon nods. “Rog wrote it.” I can connect the dots, but I’m still confused as to how that lead to them being friends.

“Friends.” Mercury actually laughs into his cup.

“He takes her home anyways, she tells him the song’s s**t bu the sentiment wasn’t far off.” May finishes, shrugging.

“It was a real nice car.” Deacon shrugged, before looking straight at me. “And she still hates the song to this day.” There’s an air of finality to his words that is entirely unwarranted. That isn’t the point of the story; how are they friends now? Did they hook up in his car? Is that what they’re implying, I feel like such a gossip asking these questions.

“Did they ho- ? Yeah, of course.” May laughs, and though it clears some things up, I’m still rather confused. It’s probably reading on my face, because it looks like something else is dawning on him. “You know they’re married, right?”

No. No I did not know. Now I feel like an idiot.

I wonder if The Bend Before the Break is about Taylor? I can sense I’ve touched a nerve when I ask, and Mercury abruptly changes the subject, though the air still doesn’t feel right. When I head back through the sleeping area to get a new pen from my luggage, I catch a glimpse of Giselle napping in her bunk, Taylor too, asleep with his arm around her. She’s even wearing a wedding ring. I’m kicking myself for not noticing sooner. The chain with the ring around Taylor’s neck makes sense now. A lot of things make sense now.

For the next four days I feel like I’m being shunned, I’m the last to be told about dinner and have to eat the leftovers, Giselle barely says two words to me, Taylor just keeps glowering, and someone let the air out of my bed on the second night. It’s childish, but it’s in line with what I expect from them, regarding this sort of issue, I’m just glad Taylor hasn’t poured my coffee on me in my sleep, or spat in it. He just didn’t make it, which I suppose is probably the safest option for me.

The only apology I can think of is to offer to buy them all drinks, but it works well enough, and the next morning I wake to a fresh cup of coffee, and a very hungover Taylor. At least he’s dedicated to his job.

The rest of the tour passes without further incident. I still stand by Ache as one of my favourite musical performances of the decade, though I don’t mention it to Giselle, and now that I know the dynamic between her and Taylor, I can’t stop seeing it. Honestly, readers, they’re all over each other, which is expected from a man of Taylor’s reputation, but it’s still a little jarring to see the two of them so cozy. I must have been blind not to see it before.

When we part ways, Giselle is a little stiff with me.

“You brought up some feelings that I just... hadn’t actually dealt with at the time, which f******d me up.” She tells me in retrospect, sitting in my office with the rest of the boys in 1985. Live Aid was a few weeks ago, and since they all returned to the spotlight, I asked if they wanted to come and reflect on the past few years. The one thing that hasn’t changed is the fact that Giselle still swears like a sailor.

“A lot’s happened in the past few years.” Taylor’s still very protective of her, and after everything that’s conspired, at least from what I know, it’s warranted. We talk about the band splitting, how it had hurt the band as a whole, and even Giselle, who was at the time seeing a counsellor with Taylor. I’m hesitant to broach the topic of their relationship, though they seem like a solid until now, sitting before me, holding hands and leaning against one another.

I ask if Giselle’s breakdown was due to the band splitting, though I’m hesitant if I’ll get a response. Her smile is sad, which is mirrored by the rest of the band. I can guess her response before she says it.

“No.”

You all know the moment I’m talking about, the last concert for her last album, as of this publication, Finally, Sunlight where she had receive pleas from the audience for an encore. When she came back out, part of her makeup had been smudged around her eyes, and you can hear her sniffle over the microphone. (”I’m so sorry, I lost someone close to me, I thought I could keep it together for one night.” Dabbing at her eyes, she sits at the piano and laughs, but there’s no heart in it. “But I’ve got five more minutes left in me, let’s go, Atlanta.”) The song she plays is Somebody to Love, a slow, soulful cover, and the audience is almost unanimous in their raised lighters and slow swaying. As she goes on, she just starts crying harder, missing notes, hands shaking; the extended ‘Looooord’ before the chanting becomes a desperate wail, a plea to the heavens, and she collapses onto the piano, sobbing audibly as the instruments all come to uncertain halt and lighters go down in confusion.

From the crowd, a single voice begins to chant ‘Find me somebody to love. / Find me somebody to love.’ and a single voice turns to a theatre, full to the brim, as they sing when she can’t, still crying against the piano. Lighters go up, and together the audience and the band finishes the song where words have failed her. It was televised locally on the night, and still brings me to tears when I watch it now.

“We lost our daughter.”

For those of you reading this who are shocked, I am too. Sitting there like a fool, not saying anything.

“I was on tour, and Rog was at home with her,” even now, Giselle is getting a little teary-eyed, not that I blame her. Both Taylor and Mercury have an arm around her, and May has a hand on her shoulder, Deacon sitting on the back of the sofa right behind her. A unit. A family. “I wanted to go home, she was getting really sick, and I know he was doing everything he could, but I just- I wanted to be there... but my label threatened to sue me for... millions.” It sounds like it’s hard to say, and she’s wiping a tear from her eyes. I offer her the tissues on my desk. “But I should have gone home. I should have been there by her side, I should have done more.” Taylor whispers something to her and she leans against him, taking comfort in him.

“I had to call her, tell her that... that she’d passed. The day of the show. She’d been so upset for week, ‘Zelle that is, and everything just-” Taylor manages to get a great handle on his emotions, despite his misty eyes and shaking hands. “We’re alright now though, see? Nothing can tear us apart.” Though his voice does drop, so I think he’s saying it more for Giselle’s benefit. I give them all time to collect themselves, stop to get hot drinks for everyone, and everyone finally seems happy enough to answer when I ask what’s next for them.

“Music, of course.” Mercury says, now holding what was Giselle’s free hand. The rest of the gathered musicians agree. I ask if we’ll be hearing any sort of collaboration between Queen and the Queen of Jazz Rock. Taylor snickers, pulling Giselle close.

“Yeah, but not in the way you mean.” He ignores the rest of the men’s shouts of disgust, as well as his wife’s own gagging noise, which I can see on her face she regrets as she covers her mouth with caution, before giving the okay.

“No, we’re okay, we’re good.” She assures everyone, before looking at me. “What he meant to say is that I’m pregnant.” She clarifies. Taylor is still grinning.

“Don’t be gross, Rog.” May calls from the other side of the sofa, and Taylor has the gall to look accosted.

“What’s next for me, after everything that’s happened, is family.” Giselle says over the sounds of her husband’s indignant huffs, though his expression turns soft at her words, and they ignore the ‘boo’s of everyone else as they kiss.

“Could you be less gross around company?” Deacon asks, still mild-mannered as ever. This seems to be the cue for the interview to end, as Taylor of Giselle-

“It’s Giselle Taylor, by the way, I’m sorry I hadn’t corrected you earlier.” She corrects me now, as [Roger] Taylor leads her out of the door. The rest of the band seem mildly exasperated at their antics, but still ready to answer my questions. After everything that’s happened, I’m a little overwhelmed, I’m not sure where to go from here.

Perhaps my next article will be on Live Aid.

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