#Brian without his eyebrows makes his face look so empty like where did your features go 😭

[papasmistakeria]

Oh this picture of Weezer is so cute! Rivers and Pat playing games, Matt is sitting there, and- Where the fuck are his eyebrows

#weezer #rivers cuomo #pat wilson #matt sharp #brian bell #papas mistakeria special #I WAS LIKE 'Since when did Weezer had female singers' 😭 #LIKE I FR THOUGHT THAT WAS A BEAUTIFUL BUTCH LESBIAN SITTING WITH THEM BUT NO IT'S JUST THE TWINK FROM WEEZER /ref #Brian without his eyebrows makes his face look so empty like where did your features go 😭

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 16

Day 16 - When your soulmate listens to music or is singing, you hear it in your own head as well. (Songfic, Crazy = Genius by PATD)

Pairing(s): Romantic Intrulogical, Ambiguous/Romantic Analomus, Background Roceit [the Janus part is ambiguous but whatever], Familial Logicality, Familial Virremile, Background Remile [again hinted]

TWs: swearing, sexual themes [light but they’re there], makeouts, Remus being Remus, drunken behaviour, pyromania, vomiting [not graphic just mentioned]

–

“Either of you pyros got a lighter I can borrow?”

Logan sighed, not making much in the way of eye contact with the emo sitting in the cell next to him and his soulmate. He dug into his jean pocket and lazily tossed the lighter to the boy clad in so much black and purple he looked like the sapient embodiment of a bruise.

“Keep it.”

“Oh. You sure? This is a pretty sweet lighter-”

“I insist.”, Logan groaned, running his hands down his face, “It’s not like I’ll be needing it ever again after this.”

From beside Logan, Remus slung his arm to the side, flopping it about limply to swat at his soulmate, “Shuddafuckup”, he slurred, hauling himself upright from his slumped over position, “S’gonna be fiiiine. Roman said he’d bail us oooouuuut, so fuckin’ chill-”

“Your brother told you last week that he would give us a ride to Dairy Queen but instead he was too fucking busy getting to third base with his boyfriend!!”, Logan snapped. Ugh, he would regret that in the morning. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously slicking it back. How had the night gone wrong so fast?...

-

‘You can set yourself on fire! You can set yourself on fire!’

Logan wasn’t sure what it was about the glowing ember embrace of a flame that drew him in toward it like a moth with a death wish, but as he allowed his soulmate Remus to haul his ass towards their usual hangout with the promise of some pretty choice items to burn, he found that he couldn't care less.

As he approached the overpass with his soulmate chugging a whole half a bottle of tequila without blinking, Logan wondered how he ever survived before without this whirlwind in human form.

‘She said at night in my dreams

You dance on a tightrope of weird

Oh but when I wake up you're so normal that you just disappear

You're so straight like commuters with briefcases towing the line

There's no residue of a torturer inside your of eyes’

“Check it the fuck out, babe! Did I bring the goods or what?”, Remus grinned nearly as brightly as the shine on the rather expensive looking crimson car - he guessed it might have been a Mercedes, but car brands all looked the same to him really - parked under the overpass. Logan didn’t have a particular favourite item to burn, but when Remus walked over in his lime green hoodie that barely covered his black leather shorts and fishnets to pose seductively on top of the hood? Logan hadn’t wanted to incinerate anything more in his life.

“You… How on Earth did you come by this?!”, he ran his hand along the curve of the hood, unashamedly letting his hand roam over Remus’ thigh. 

His soulmate hummed, leaning in to steal a kiss, murmuring softly against Logan’s lips, “If I told you I might’ve hotwired it just this afternoon? Is that a turn off or a turn on?”

Goddamn him, Remus knew just how to speak right to Logan’s soul.

“The latter, and you know it.”, Logan all but growled into their kiss.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Brian Wilson’

In the back of his mind, Logan did wonder what his father and morally conscious little brother would think; if they knew he snuck out to satisfy his pyromania, make out with his feral cryptid of a boyfriend, and engaged in petty acts of vandalism and thievery from time to time. What would Thomas and Patton think of their stoic, orderly son and big brother who - instead of studying for his undergraduate degree in astrophysics - would rather spend the night getting dangerous and dirty alongside his soulmate who had literally just admitted to auto theft  to acquire a ridiculously expensive car for him to burn?

The thought was there for all of two seconds until Remus’ tongue licking into his mouth banished it away. The only thot he needed tonight was the one driving him crazy with a kiss alone.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Knowing they came here for a reason, Logan reluctantly ended their makeout session and grabbed for his trusted blue lighter.

“How full is the gas tank?”, Logan made sure to ask, popping open the door to the driver’s side to see what was left in the car. Might as well keep anything worth selling.

“Not sure.”, Remus shrugged, twirling the keys around his finger excitedly while he finished off their first bottle of the night, “Wanna help me make sure there’s nothing left?”

‘She said darlin' you know

How the wine plays tricks on my tongue

But you don't seem to change when you stuff all of

your feelings with drugs

Other boys you may have dated serrated your heart with a slice

But the cut of your love never hurts baby, it's a sweet butter knife’

Logan wasn’t sure how Remus managed to look even more majestic every time he looked at him, but as he clung tight to the hand rest above the passenger window while his soulmate pulled off his sixteenth donut in a row, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have him. Like a trickle of water turning into a river, Logan recognised the beginning of Na Na Na starting to play in his head. Of course. He knew Remus well enough by now to know that was coming. The humming under his soulmate’s breath also gave it away somewhat. 

While Remus kept trying to empty the tank, Logan couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for their first meeting; Remus’ older brother Roman had asked Logan to stand in for the theatre department’s regular dramaturge when Logan began to hear the beginnings of Avenue Q’s The Internet Is For Porn begin to invade his mind. Luckily for him, it hadn’t taken long for Remus to saunter over and try to flirt with him, humming the exact tune Logan had been hearing the whole time.

From there, they’d begun dating though it took a good few months before Logan would join Remus in his fantastical ramblings. He lamented on how he felt trapped by a father who meant well but expected so much from him, how stifled he felt having to be a role model to his living marshmallow of a little brother. How Logan just wanted the fun, exhilaration of doing something extreme for a change.

With Remus’ encouragement, Logan opened up about his pyromaniac tendencies which his soulmate was 110% onboard with. Ever since, the underpass had become their dirty, out of the way, graffiti scarred home away from home. Where Logan could indulge the urge to burn away his stresses and lose himself in Remus’ mantra of doing whatever the fuck they wanted.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Dennis Wilson’

With the car finally seemingly out of gas as it shuddered to a stop, Remus fluidly slid out of the open window - you know, like a normal functional human being - and slid across the hood of the car to open the door for Logan, “Alright, time for this bitch to burn!”

Logan was more than happy to get down to the main event after doing a last quick sweep of the car. All he’d found worth keeping was the planet shaped air freshener; so sue him, the sweet scent of mixed berries was delightful. Whipping out his lighter, Logan escorted Remus a safe distance away and pulled out the hairspray he’d swiped from his room earlier. He aimed the spray towards the car - making sure it wasn’t against the wind or pointed back at himself, he preferred to keep his eyebrows, thanks - and watched as the plume of fire engulfed the car’s seat cover. 

Crackling flames. Straining metal. Hissing fabric burning to a plastic like mess. It was a symphony and Logan was it’s conductor.

With his boyfriend wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Logan tilted to kiss him once more as the heat of the fire caressed their skin. Remus’ eyes never once left Logan, seeing his soulmate delight in an act of pure mindless vandalism, watching the way Logan looked truly free, sent his heart racing. In compliment, Logan turned back to Remus, grinning already at the shades of orange and yellow that painted his handsome features. He always thought Remus was at his most beautiful that way.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Logan couldn’t tell you what happened next; one minute the two of them were watching the flames while his soulmate continued his campaign to destroy his kidneys with alcohol, the next Remus was sitting in his lap leaving hickeys all over his neck while Logan let his hands roam around under Remus’ hoodie. In the back of his mind, Logan could make out the beginning of a song he didn’t recognise at first, but as the lyrics kicked in, he let out a breathy chuckle. Of course, trust Remus to pick a thematic piece of music for the night’s events. As the song got louder - and Remus marked him more needily - Logan found he rather liked the song. He’d have to ask Remus what it was called later.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire’

The next thing either of them knew, there was a vague clattering noise followed by a  thunderous metallic bang. Followed by another, then another. One after another for a total of seven times before it finally quieted down. No music, no bang, just the fire crackling away. Thoroughly shaken, Remus and Logan untangled themselves from each other, the former demanding all too loudly, “What the creme fresh fuck was that?!”

“I-! I have no idea-”, Logan began. There wasn’t anything that would’ve done that inside the car, he’d checked. However, as he rounded the car, giving the flames a wide berth, Logan noticed someone laying on the ground on the other side of the car; dressed in a dark, patchy hoodie and ripped jeans, a plume of purple dyed frizzy hair poking out from the hood. He looked like your run of the mill emo. For a second, Logan was worried he and Remus would have to dispose of a body, but fortunately the young man groaned and began to sit up. To his side, Logan winced at a metallic glint blinding his vision.

The spray can doing so had clearly rolled out of the bag full of other cans, all in different colours. At least now Logan could put a face to the rather beautiful graffiti that tattooed the underpass as well as what had exploded in the fire as he noted the burst open paint cans under the car.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened?”, Logan questioned firmly, though he knew the disoriented emo on the ground likely couldn’t answer right away. He assumed from the way the young man rubbed the back of his head that he’d taken a rather nasty fall. The anxious artist seemed to remember exactly where he was, eyes blown wide in fear, 

“Dude, get outta here quick-”

“There he is!”

Three officers rushed towards the two of them prompting the emo and Logan to make a break for it, being sure not to run into the inferno. Remus pretty quickly got the idea and joined the two of them. It seemed neither of the three of them knew exactly where they were trying to run to, but a silent, unspoken agreement saw them all heading for the same direction. Looking back on it, Logan wondered if parting ways and heading for his car with Remus could’ve at least seen them with a better chance of getting away. 

But hindsight is a bitch that wakes up seven hours late and didn’t even bother to bring Starbucks. 

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)’

Before long, all Logan could hear was his sneakers scraping the ground and his own breathing competing against his heartbeat to dominate his ears. The urge to stop and breathe was intense but it felt as though doing just that would send the world crashing down around them. 

Of course, prolonged exercise and a stomach full of alcohol wasn’t the best combination. 

“‘M gonna fuckin’ puke-!”, Remus huffed, trying to cover his mouth with his hand. 

“Just hold on, Remus, we’re-!”

Logan watched in horror as his soulmate stopped to empty his stomach, unintentionally doing so in a way that blocked off the hoodie clad young man trying his best to keep up.

“Ah sHIT-!”

He didn’t need to look back; the clattering of the satchel, the mutual yelps of surprise and pain, Logan kept running even as two of the officers apprehended his soulmate and the hooded lad. The guilt would catch up to Logan before the third officer did, or it would have if he didn’t mistime his turning around the next corner only to end up nearly getting run over. How poetic; from making out on a car hood to being cuffed against one. Had Remus not been busy insulting the officers’ mothers rather colourfully, Logan theorised he would’ve no doubt made some innuendo about it.

Exhausted from their chase and thoroughly cuffed, all Logan could do was let himself be loaded into the back of the cop car with Remus and the anxious emo.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’ 

-

“Mmm… Logan, can you-”, Remus burped a little too wetly for it not to make Logan feel as queasy as Remus looked, “Can you stroke my hair? Pleeeeeease?”

Sighing in that playful kind of annoyance only true love can allow, Logan did as asked. The night may wind up with him being harshly reprimanded by his father and possibly losing his come-and-go privileges, but at least for now he had Remus.

“...... I’m sorry.”, came the rough voice of the emo in the cell next to theirs, “You both wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t for me.”

Remus just gave a dismissive grunt in reply while Logan assured their cell companion, “While you may have led the police to us, I doubt our proclivity for fiery vandalism would’ve kept going undetected forever.”, he looked the emo up and down, “Might I ask,...?”

“Virgil.”

“Virgil,”, Logan repeated, “Might I ask how you ended up stumbling across us?”

Virgil shrugged, “I’ve been painting the underpass for years. Pretty much everything down there’s something I’ve done.”. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I had a shitty night so I came down to paint something when I walked in on you two getting all ‘friendly’,”, he airquoted, “So I went to go home but I got stopped by an officer and started panicking. So I just…. ran.”

His posture curled a little while he twirled Logan’s lighter between his fingers in a stimming action, “Then I realised I was way too fucking close to the fire and I blacked out.”, Virgil embarrassedly pulled his hood up, “Fire scares the shit outta me, always has. Next thing I knew, I woke up with you staring at me. You both know the rest.”

Logan nodded quietly. It really did fill in a few gaps, “I can’t blame you for not wanting to stick around. I do apologise that we inadvertently ruined your night.”

Virgil shrugged, “Eh, it’s alright, it’s just gonna suck having to have my dads bail me out again. Not that dad would mind but pops will probably gimme another lecture about ‘unhealthy coping habits’ again....”

At that, they sat for the most part in silence. Then that song began to trickle into Logan’s brain again. As nice as it had been in accompaniment to their antics before, Logan found it almost grating now. He sighed and gently nudged Remus, 

“Re-”

“Logan, babe,”, Remus groaned, beating him to the punch, “Can you fuckin’ give it a rest with the music? M’fuckin’ head hurts.”

“....But you’re the one who’s been thinking about that song, right!?”, Logan’s concern was obvious. Remus caught on as well.

“No!? I thought it was you!?”, he sloppily hauled himself onto Logan’s lap, pressing their foreheads together, “Issokay babe, I won’t let-”, he stifled a burp though it did nothing to save Logan from Remus’ drunken breath, “Won’t let fate change our soul bond! I’ll fuckin- I’ll whip out my brain surgery skills right here if I gotta-”

“Remus!”, Logan sternly held him back a little, “Calm down, let’s just try and think rationally, okay!?”

“.... Have you ever MET me, you stupid sexy science bitch?”, Remus cackled at the alliteration.

“Please be serious for once.”, Logan sighed, fixing his glasses in a self calming gesture, “Do you know the name of the song in your head?”

“Yeah, iss fuckin’ um...”, Remus clicked his fingers in thought, trying to place it, “S’fuckin Scream In The Club, or some shit who sings it...”

“..... You mean, Panic At The Disco?”, came Virgil’s voice from the neighbouring cell.

Remus pointed dramatically, “THATS THE BITCH!”. He put his fist to his chest to stifle another burp, instead taking a second to turn and spit out some of the awful taste on his tongue, “Fuckin’... the lyrics were like…. “You can set yourself-””

“- On fire?!”, Virgil finished, looking rather interested in the conversation now.

Logan nodded between the two of them, “Yes, that’s the same opening line I remember. Virgil, I take it you’re familiar with the song?”

“Well yeah, and I’ll do you one better. Uh,....”, he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’ve had that song stuck in my head all night.”

Remus and Logan shared a look of shock. Could Virgil really be their soulmate? It would explain the times when they would hear music that didn’t seem to line up with each other’s tastes. Before Logan could propose a test, Remus was way ahead of him; he rolled his eyes as the music flooded into his skull. 

Virgil brightened up, “Ashnikko, huh? Good choice-”

“HOLY SHIT, LOGAN, WE GOT-! WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!!”, Remus screeched, wriggling excitedly in Logan’s lap, almost causing his boyfriend to drop him.

“Indeed.”, Logan sighed fondly as he tried to get Remus to sit back down on the bench instead of his lap, “So now you better call Roman and see if he can bail us ALL out..”

----------

... I know I won’t probably be able to catch up but hell with it, I love some of the prompt ideas, I’ll just stop tagging the blog if I run over at this point.

A big thanks to @accidental-sanders for the idea for this one, it was really fun to do.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom

#analomus #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #my fics #fanfics #logan #virgil #remus #crazy = genius #songfic #soulmate september #I'm still going I s2g #I miiight put these all up on my ao3 tbh

[thecassadilla]

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 4,202/AO3

Summary: Jealousy rears its ugly head as Anna and Kristoff each bring a date to a charity gala.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 4 - Green! It’s a bit of a doozy in terms of length XD The title comes from the Keane song of the same name (I was in the midst of a Grey’s Anatomy binge while writing this lol). Enjoy!!!

As Kristoff sat in his car outside of the banquet hall, he wondered how he’d gotten himself into this situation. Donning a suit, and waiting for his “date” to arrive, he contemplated leaving and never looking back. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for Anna’s sister giving him a job with her company, he wouldn’t be here. And truth be told, he only accepted the job because it meant he’d get to stay close to Anna.

Luckily for him, Anna would always come to his office while he was hard at work and the other employees were packing up for the day. She’d perch herself on the edge of his desk, cross her ankles and fold her hands in her lap while she patiently waited for a sliver of attention from him. When he was finally able to give her the attention that she desired, she’d always brag about her weekend plans or the dates she was going on. He tried his best to play the role of the “supportive best friend who definitely wasn’t in love with her,” despite the fact that that notion couldn’t be farther from the truth; he’d had feelings for her for years and had never found the courage to act upon them. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because he was certain his feelings were unrequited.

The day she’d brought up the gala was different, though, and he recalled their conversation in his head. 

“Hey, sorry for staying late again, I just have one more thing to do and then I’ll leave.”

“I’m not here to scold you for staying late - although you probably should go home. I just wanted to let you know that you’ll be sitting at mine and Elsa’s table at the gala.”

He looked over at her for a split second before dragging his eyes back to his work. “I’m sorry, did you just say that I’m sitting at the CEO’s table at a charity gala?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“I should be sitting with the other people in my department, no?”

“Well, we were friends before you started working here, so you’re sitting with us.”

“Great,” he muttered, trying to focus on the numbers in front of him. “Now they’ll all have a real reason to hate me.”

“If anyone hates you, you can refer them to my sister.”

He shook his head, sighing.

“Anyway,” she continued in a sing-song voice, “I just need to know if you’re bringing a guest or -”

“Yes,” he cut her off mid-sentence, without thinking about the repercussions. 

“You are?”

“I’m allowed to, right?”

“Of course,” she answered in a strained voice. “I’ll be sure to put down that you’re bringing a guest.”

She hopped down from the desk and made her way to the door without saying another word.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from his work and looking over at her. She normally waited for him to finish so they could walk out together. 

“Yeah, uh...I have plans to meet up with someone.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” 

What brought him back to reality was the sight of a car pulling into the spot next to his. He glanced over to find that it was his date, Lauren - who also happened to be his happily-married neighbor. Lauren and her husband, Matt, were the only people who knew about his feelings for Anna, and he often went to them to vent or seek advice. He went to them the same day that Anna came into his office so he could complain to them about about running his stupid mouth.

“Okay, so there’s this stupid charity gala thing coming up at the end of the month. I don’t want to go, but I’m kind of obligated because of the job thing.”

“Uh huh,” Matt nodded.

“And today, Anna came into my office, like she always does, and told me that I’m not going to be sitting with my department, but with her and her CEO sister. And she asked me if I’m bringing a date, which I said ‘yes’ to without even thinking.”

Lauren and Matt exchanged a glance. “What exactly is the problem?” Lauren asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t have a date!” he exclaimed. “I lied about having a date, and Anna is going to have a date, because she’s Anna and she always has a date.”

“Maybe the reason Anna always has a date is because you’d rather complain about her having dates than actually ask her on a date.”

“You’re really not helping.”

“You seem...desperate,” Lauren commented.

He picked his head up and looked over at her. “Do you think it’s too late to get out of it? I could just...not show up, right?”

“Or you could go and just bring a date.”

“Where am I going to find a date?” he scoffed. 

“I’ll go with you,” Lauren offered. “It may be my one and only chance to actually meet the object of your affections otherwise known as Anna.”

A set of fingers tapping on his window snapped him out of the flashback. Lauren was standing there, motioning for him to step out of the vehicle. With a sigh, he opened the door and climbed out.

“Thinking about making a run for it?” she teased. 

“Sort of,” he answered. “Thanks again for doing this.”

“If I wasn’t so eager to meet the woman you’re in love with, I would’ve have even offered,” she laughed before motioning to her long black dress. “I had to dig this out of my closet. I’m surprised it still fits - I wore it years ago when I was a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding. I think it’s the only dress I own aside from my wedding dress.”

He blushed at her mention of his feelings for Anna, but decided to brush it off. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad, yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, what’s the angle I’m working with here? Do you want me to give her the third degree?”

“I think you should be yourself,” he said.

“Where’s the fun in that? It’s not like these people will ever see me again.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, we should go inside.”

The hallway of the venue was bustling with activity, but he was able to locate their seating card right away. 

“I’m going to run to the restroom to put on my lipstick and I’ll be right back,” Lauren said after they arrived at the empty table. 

As Kristoff looked around the crowded room, he thought for a split second that he’d be able to survive the party and go on with life as usual. Until he spotted Anna and forgot how to breathe. 

She was radiant in a long, satin, emerald green a-line dress that hugged the top half of her body and flared out at her hips, only accentuated by a slit that ended mid-thigh. Her hair fell in loose curls that framed her face and her lips were painted a stunning, dark red. A pair of pearl earrings adorned her ears and a matching necklace hung from her throat, but the most noticeable accessory was the arm of the man she had brought as her date, which was interlocked with hers. His jaw tensed up and he was grateful that she wasn’t yet looking in his direction, because his face would certainly give away how envious he was feeling.

But of course, as soon as she saw him, she was rushing over, dragging her handsome mystery guy along.

“Oh Kristoff!” she exclaimed, pressing her cheek to his and making a puckering noise. “You look so handsome!”

“Stop it,” he blushed. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she gushed, looping her arm around the man’s. “I’m being so rude! Kristoff, this is Brian. Brian, Kristoff.”

Brian extended his hand out and though he hesitated for a moment, Kristoff eventually reached out and shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” Brian smiled.

“Same here,” Kristoff said, though he was focusing on the other man’s features; dark hair, beard, glasses. 

“So, where's your date?”

Anna nudged him. “Brian -”

Kristoff cut her off before she could finish. “Lauren? She’s around here somewhere.”

He swore that he saw Anna’s face twitch, but he convinced himself that it was just the strobe lights playing tricks with his eyes. 

She smiled then, he was certain of that, and patted Brian’s arm. “You haven’t seen Elsa around, have you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“I should probably go find her. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

Before he could utter another word, they were shuffling away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, Lauren tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“Horrible timing,” he remarked.

“What’d I miss?” she laughed.

“Anna came over, with her date.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ryder interrupted, his voice startling them.

“Hey,” Kristoff replied, shifting to face him.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m Lauren,” she answered for herself, reaching out her hand.

Ryder grinned widely and shook it enthusiastically. “Wow, I can’t believe you brought a date.”

Kristoff glared at him but just as he was about to open his mouth, Lauren refuted the younger man. “Where’s your date?”

“Oh, I don’t -” he started, before throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m really only here as moral support for my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Speaking of, have you seen your sister? Or Elsa? I know Anna was looking for her.”

“Elsa’s probably in the bathroom, puking or something and I’m sure Honey is with her,” he shrugged. “Speaking of Anna, have you seen her date?”

“You should probably talk less and smile more,” Lauren proposed, immediately sensing Kristoff’s discomfort. “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Whoa, was that a Hamilton reference?”

“Ryder,” Kristoff warned, grabbing his attention. “Just...keep it cool, okay? We’re all adults here and this night isn’t about us.”

“I have a feeling that this dinner is going to be very interesting,” he remarked, before taking his seat at the table.

“He’s right,” Kristoff murmured to Lauren. “He’s going to be the only normal one at the table, and that’s saying something.”

“You should really take your own advice, you know. Keep it cool.”

He motioned to the group that was approaching their table; Elsa and Honeymaren holding hands in ice blue and beige gowns, respectively, and then Anna and Brian, whose arms were still linked. “Here they come.”

“Holy sh*t, why didn’t you tell me they were all literal goddesses?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look at them, all tall and leggy and gorgeous,” she said. “They’re supermodels and I didn’t even bother to dye my roots!”

“What happened to keeping it cool?” he teased. “And you look great.”

“Hi,” Anna said once they’d reached the table. “You must be Lauren.”

Lauren smiled. “I am. And you are?”

“Anna,” she answered, her face falling. The two women exchanged a simple handshake. She didn’t bother to introduce Brian, who took his seat at the table, and instead kept her attention on Lauren. Without skipping a beat, she asked, “How do you and Kristoff know each other?”

“We live in the same apartment building,” Lauren explained. “Kind of hard to ignore a guy as big as him in the laundry room. How do you know Kristoff?”

Anna glanced over at Kristoff, as if she had expected him to have told Lauren this stuff in previous conversation. “We’ve been friends for like, ever,” she smiled tensely before looking at him again and clearing her throat. “Really good friends.”

“I was kind of asking how you met,” Lauren chuckled.

“Oh. We met in college. He didn’t want to be bothered and I just...kept bothering him.”

He smiled at the memory of her insisting on sitting next to him in class while he was trying to be invisible. His first impression was that she was a little too perky, but that opinion vanished within a week when he realized how charming and friendly she was. She had had nothing but good intentions, after all. 

Anna, on the other hand, seemed to be out of character in the present moment. He was having trouble reading her face as well as he normally could, but something seemed off about how she’d responded to Lauren; he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or resentment or something else. He became worried that this event would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in terms of their friendship, and he couldn’t imagine his life without Anna in it. 

For most of the night, the table was tense and unusually quiet. In between the dancing and speeches, there was little socialization with the exception of Ryder, who was relishing in the ability to be the center of attention for a few minutes at a time. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his eyebrows were drawn tightly together and his jaw was clenched as he watched Anna and Brian whisper to each other. Whenever Anna wasn’t speaking, he caught her looking over in his direction, lips pursed.

“She looks like she’s trying to choke back vomit,” Lauren whispered at one point, looking in Anna’s direction. “Is she okay?”

“I have no idea, she’s normally very talkative. I’m worried about her.”

“Ask her if she’s okay.”

“No, Brian is next to her. She’ll tell him or her sister if something’s wrong.”

Towards the end of the night, the dancing resumed once again, and thankfully, Lauren was as disinterested as Kristoff was, so they hung back at the table while everyone else departed.

“Is it always like that with them?” Lauren spoke up as soon as the others were out of ear shot. “Tense and awkward?”

“No,” Kristoff answered, shaking his head. “I have no idea what that was about. Especially Anna - on a normal day, she’d talk your ear off.”

“She really didn’t look well. Something is eating her alive and I have a feeling that I know what it is.”

“Huh?”

“Is it possible...and just, hear me out -”

“What?” he asked, impatiently.

“Is it possible that the reason she parades all of those guys around you is because she wants attention from you?”

He looked at her solemnly, unable to muster up a response. He shrugged instead of answering.

Her face softened. “Something is not being said here.”

“I don’t know, Lauren. I really don’t know.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but the only way to resolve this is to talk to her. And to be honest, about everything.”

“Yeah, but what if it goes horribly wrong?”

“What’s the absolute worst that happens? You quit your job and stop talking to them? You have a very employable job and you’re a good-looking guy - the ball is in your court no matter which way it goes.”

As if on cue, Anna appeared behind them. “Uh, Lauren, I hope you don’t mind me asking to take your date away, but Kristoff promised me a dance,” she said, before looking at Kristoff and adding, “If you’re up to it.”

He nodded - even though he was certain they’d never talked about sharing a dance - and moved to stand up, before Lauren placed a hand on his arm. “I’m actually going to head out now. I have work in the morning and I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Don’t worry about it,�� she answered. She stood up, then, and he quickly followed suit. “It was really nice to meet you, Anna.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Anna whispered as Lauren walked away. 

Kristoff held out his arm, and she looked up at him for a moment, as if she were unsure of what to do before finally accepting. They walked quietly to the dance floor, and once there, they locked their hands together. Anna draped her free arm around his shoulder and his free hand fell to her waist as they began to sway back and forth.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But it was really great to see you with Lauren, she’s a really nice girl.”

“Anna -”

“I did promise myself that I would be honest, though,” she said, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were brimming with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t positively green with envy the entire time.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” she retorted, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You came with Brian -”

“Brian’s my friend,” she confessed suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I’m not interested in him at all and I only asked him to come with me because you didn’t ask me.”

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to ask you.”

“I tried to make it obvious, but you said you were bringing someone and you brought Lauren, so clearly you weren’t going to ask me anyway.”

“Lauren is married.”

“She - what?”

“She’s married. She lives in my building, and I watch football with her husband. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Oh,” she croaked, gripping his jacket tightly in her hand. 

“I think we…I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He reached up to brush it away, allowing his hand to linger for a moment and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, Honey drove me.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

She shook her head, lip quivering. “I don’t want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” he assured her. “We can talk there.”

She nodded, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and walked her toward the exit, not bothering to say goodbye to any of their friends. When they reached the glass doors that led to the parking lot, it became apparent that it was torrentially raining outside.

“Wait here, I’ll go get the car.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re going to ruin your dress,” he said, but it was too late. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the torrential rain, instantly soaking her dress and hair. With a sigh, he followed her out and pointed in the direction of his car. “I parked over there.”

By the time they made it to his car, they were drenched from head to toe. 

“I’m going to put the heat on so we can dry off a little,” he said, before reaching inside the center console and pulling out a stack of napkins. “Here, so you can wipe your face.”

She sat motionless, strands of her dampened hair clinging to her face for a moment, before finally accepting one and wiping her face. The ride back to his apartment was silent, and the second walk in the rain was equally as unpleasant as the first. The water dripping off of them left a trail in the carpet and puddles in the elevator, and he was relieved when they finally made it to his apartment. She kicked off her heels at his front door, and he did the same with his shoes and socks. 

“I’ll get you some dry clothes, okay? And you can take a hot shower to warm up.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted. “I can go after you.”

She gave him a small nod and he led her into his bedroom. He retrieved a clean, dry set of clothes that she could wear, fully aware that they would swamp her petite body, and laid them on the bathroom counter along with a few clean towels. 

As soon as the door closed and the water turned on, he stripped off his own clothes, exchanging them for dry ones. He wouldn’t be able to take his suit to the dry cleaners until tomorrow, so he’d have to hang it from the shower rod and hope that it wouldn’t somehow be ruined overnight. 

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her head, and he smiled at the sight of it. As predicted, his clothes were hanging off of her, but she looked quite adorable. “I’m going to jump in, I’ll be out in a few.”

As promised, he showered quickly, relishing the comfort of his dry clothes. He made sure to hang Anna’s dress from the curtain rod in addition to his suit. When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Anna sitting on his bed, and he took a seat next to her. They were quiet for a long, long time, and he worried that this was going to be the end of everything for them.

“I talk about you,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“What?” she asked, her voice wobbly.

“I know Lauren made it seem like I never talk about you, but I do,” he confirmed. “A lot. I think Lauren and her husband know more about you than they know about me.”

She sniffled. “That’s so nice.”

“And I...I would’ve asked you if I had known that was what you wanted.”

“You didn’t…” she started, before closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve asked you, or I could’ve - there are so many things I could’ve said or done.”

He shook his head. “You said you were being obvious about it -”

She cut him off mid-sentence. “You were working and I was bothering you.”

“No, you weren’t bothering me. You never bother me. I jumped to conclusions,” he admitted, hanging his head. “I thought the reason you brought up the charity gala that day was because you were rubbing in the fact that you had a date. You always have dates. To quote Lauren, you’re a goddess. It isn’t that hard to believe that men are throwing themselves at you.”

She sighed, trying to maintain her composure. “Kristoff, I know that I always talk about my plans, but I don’t go out as often as I’ve led you to believe. In all honesty, I was trying to make you jealous.”

“It worked,” he frowned. “I never said anything because I wanted you to be happy. And I believed that if you viewed me as the type of person that you could share stuff like that with, then you wouldn’t be interested in me as anything more than a friend.”

"Tonight, I got a taste of my own medicine and I can't say I didn't deserve it. Watching you with Lauren - well, there was a part of me that was happy you found someone, but I wished it was me. I wished that I was Lauren, and that you were paying attention to me, and whispering in my ear, and touching me."

"How do you think I felt all this time? Every time you were bragging about a date? Or even tonight, when you brought Brian?"

“I’m really sorry,” she whimpered. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.”

He exhaled deeply. “I think we’re both equally to blame.”

“How did we get to this point? How do we fix this?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “I think we both have to be honest about what we want. No more lying, no more games, no more trying to make the other person jealous.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and wiped away a fallen tear before saying, “I want you.”

“And I want you.”

“So we both want the same thing? We can be together?”

He smirked. “I think it would be foolish if we didn’t get together.”

She smiled genuinely for the first time that night, before asking in a small voice, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

He nodded. “Of course.”

They crawled to the top of the bed and nestled under the covers after he turned out the lights, a safe distance between them until Anna spoke up. “Will you hold me?”

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.

She curled up against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, determined to keep her safe and warm. He certainly hadn’t expected that this was how they would end their night, but he was so glad that it had gone in this direction. The alternative - the one he feared would happen - where their friendship would end and there’d be nothing left but broken hearts and falling tears was much scarier. Now, there was no more jealousy and no more fabrications, just the simple-yet-complicated thing they had between them. And he selfishly hoped they could stay this way forever.

“I really missed you tonight,” she said. “I missed talking to you, and spending time with you, and I never want to go through that again.”

He tightened his grip on her. “I missed you, too.”

“Don’t let me go, okay? Please?”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. And he intended to keep that promise for as long as she’d let him.

#kristannaweek2020 #kristanna week 2020 #kristanna #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

[adrenaline-roulette]

Dining at The Ritz we’ll meet at 9

So, I’m kind of going on a posting spree, sorry ‘bout that! I have a few Queen fics that are up on my AO3 page, but I figure people may want to read them hear too!

Any ways, this is just a bit of fun, and i hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 5k +

❤❤❤❤❤

People moved around you at lightning speed, staff dressed in crisp white shirts, with black waistcoats carrying various trays, some topped with assorted beverages, whiles others with silver domed lids held lavish, piping hot meals. It seemed as if all hands were on deck tonight, when you had looked over the roster at the beginning of your shift, it appeared that just about every member of the wait staff were working tonight. From what you could tell, there was no real reason to have this many people working, the restaurant being no busier than any other Friday night. You gazed down at your left wrist, spotting the time on your watch. The moment it hit nine o’clock, a commotion broke out in the main foyer of The Ritz, the dull buzz of conversation growing in intensity until it had become a subtle roar. You look around the dining room, a frown crossing your features as you try to see who or what could be causing such a fuss!

You turn your attention to your fellow waiter, Brad, who was looking just as confused as you were currently. Given his raised eyebrows, and slow blinking, you would wager a guess that he was just as clueless as you, though you saw no harm in finding out for sure. “What on Earth is going on out there?” Your voice is somewhat raised, to make sure Brad can actually hear you.

“I have no clue Y/N! Someone’s obviously here though, check out those photographers.” He gestured towards the double glass doors as they were swung open, a mass of people stampeding into the dining room. Bright flashes from the paparazzi who had followed the new arrival in, momentarily blinded the unfortunate already seated diners, who had the misfortune of sitting too close to the doors. The swarm of people moves as one, until coming to a stop before a large table set for eight. Within the group of photographers and fans, eight men take their seats, two of the men representing a recording studio, another two the manger’s and finally the remaining four comprising of the band.

There’s a loud crash from behind you, and you, Brad and all the other staff who had been watching the scene unfold from the kitchen, turn on the spot, coming face to face with the manager, Mr Turner. He stood at over six feet tall and managed to intimidate anyone around him with just a look, the very look he was currently sporting, his bushy moustache hiding the snarl on his lips. “Right then! You all know which sections you are looking after tonight, most of you are with different tables than usual to keep everything running as smoothly as possible tonight. As you can see, we have some rather special guests tonight. There is a meeting occurring between some very important people at table seventy-five, so I need my best staff looking after them tonight.” His deep, gravelly voice commanded the room, and everyone hung onto his every word. “Y/N! You’ll be looking after seventy-five tonight, with Miss Clarke as your back up, in case you need any assistance.”

Your eyes glaze over for a moment, as you take in Mr Turner’s words. He wants you to look after these incredibly important guests? There was a mixed feeling of excitement, with growing dread within you, you had a bad feeling about this.

“Hey, looks like we’re buddies for tonight, huh?” Emily Clarke grins as she steps up beside you, while the other staff return to their designated tables. Emily was relatively new to working at The Ritz, though she had had previous experience as a waitress, she had never worked in such a fast paced environment.

“It looks like it, we’ll do well together.” You grin at her, despite not knowing if you would require her assistance with the group. “I should probably get started on their drinks order then.” You shrug, as you check over your uniform, ensuring your shirt was still tucked into your black skirt, your waist coat covering the join between shirt and bottom. Emily smiles once more as she helps to straighten your tie, giving you a thumbs up at the finished result.

With a deep breath, you plaster your best customer service smile across your lips, making sure you have your order book and pen with you before making your way towards Seventy five. Time seems to slow down as you step ever closer, your heart rate picking up speed as you arrive at the table. The square table had you stood behind four of the men, one with dirty blonde hair, and the other three with varying shades of brunette, one of which had his falling in wild curls down his back. You couldn’t help but find his hair somewhat familiar, which even for you was an odd thought. “Good evening Gentlemen, I’m Y/N, and I will be your waitress for tonight. May I get you started with any drinks?”

One of the men from the opposite side of the table looks up at you from his menu, he had an aura of authority about him, and you turn up the brightness of your smile, in an effort to impress him. “ Two bottles of Moet & Chandon, and glasses for all please.” He replies curtly, before returning to his conversation with the group. You nod in understanding, before turning on your heel and making your way to the bar. As you walk away, you don’t notice as the curly haired man leans back in his chair to watch you depart, a faint look of recognition on his face.

It only takes a few moments for the bartender to fill the order, and you’re soon heading back to your table, the bottles in ice buckets to keep them chilled during the duration of their meal. Placing the ice buckets on the table, you quickly leave then return with eight champagne flutes balanced on a silver tray, placing that too on the table. In one swift motion, the cork is popped from the neck of the wine bottle, and you look at the man who had placed the order, keeping your back to the other side of the table, not that they would have noticed, as all four young men were too busy looking over the menu, trying to decide what looked best. “Would Sir like to taste before I pour?”

“No, thank you. Just pour a glass for everyone.” He replied, and you did exactly that, filling the glasses with liquid golden bubbles. You place a glass before the four men who you had been facing when you had taken the drinks order, then move to face the other four. Instantly you can feel bile rise in your throat, this was not happening. Queen was not here, not now! And you could not be serving them! As fast as you can, you place the glasses in front of the band, miraculously without and spills on the table cloth. Just as you place the glass in front of Brian, he begins to raise his head, and you grab for the now empty tray, flinging it up in front of your face. “Thank you…” He offers, and you can almost picture the confused look on his face, upon seeing you holding the try in such an odd manner.

Brian nudges Roger beside him, nodding his head in your direction, both men now wearing equal looks of questioning. It only takes a moment before both Freddie and Deaky have looked up also, Freddie trying hard not to laugh at the strange sight. “I’ll be back shortly to take the rest of your order.” You say quickly, before racing away from the table, ignoring the voice in your head that begged you to turn back, to see if Roger was looking after you.

You burst through the kitchen door, slamming the tray disguise onto a nearby counter, startling a few of the chefs and wait staff who were close to the impact zone. “Emily! Thank God you’re here, you have to keep looking after my table for me! I cannot go back out there!” You practically yell, the young woman looking at you in shock, as she rests a hand on your shoulder gently.

Having heard the commotion, Brad makes his way over to you both, folding his arms across his chest as he grins at you. “Y/N, what is going on?”

You’re trying to calm your breathing down, but it doesn’t seem to be working, as you find yourself still puffing. “Seventy five, I can’t serve them.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s a band. Queen! I can’t go back out there!”

Realisation crosses Brad’s face as he looks across at you, though poor Emily looks terribly confused still. “Ah, Queen. Wasn’t that the band who you got friendly with recently at the pub? Didn’t that, as you described him, gorgeous drummer who had been sent from the heavens, ask you out?”

“Fuck you Brad, yes it’s that band!” You hiss out, holding your hands over your hips as you glare at the chuckling man. What you wouldn’t give to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“Well, what happened to your date? You wouldn’t shut up about Roger for weeks, now I hear nothing about him!”

“He asked me out to dinner, wanted to take me to this fancy restaurant. I didn’t feel right about saying yes, we had only just met, y’know?”

“Where did he want to take you?”

“Take a wild fucking guess.”

“Ahh, that would explain why you don’t want him knowing you’re working here.”

“So, can you help me Emily?”

“I’m really sorry Y/N, but I’ve gotten roped into helping Sam, he made an absolute mess of one of his tables meals, so Mr Turner forced me to take over.” Emily sighs, a look of genuine sorrow on her face.

You feel yourself about ready to scream, but instead opt for stamping your foot on the ground, It does little to relieve the building frustration, but it does make you look like a petulant child. If you had been honest with Roger and the other’s straight off the bat, you wouldn’t have to worry about this. But no, instead, you just had to lie when you first met them, and now you’ve got to go and take their god damned meal orders!

                                                                                  *****

You had first met while sitting in a pub close to seven months ago, you were furiously scribbling in a notebook, when Brian bumped into you at the bar, spilling one of the beers he was collecting all over your work. You almost screamed right then and there, but he was so apologetic, and instantly started blotting up the spilt drink with napkins, you found yourself unable to stay mad for long. The page you had been working on was ruined, as was most of the front half of your book, while the back pages remained beer free.

“I am so sorry Miss, I thought I would be able to carry four glasses at a time. Turns out I’m not that talented.” He quickly said, blushing at the mess he had caused.

“It’s alright. It’ll dry soon enough. What are you doing trying to carry four beers at a time?”

He gestured over his shoulder to a trio of men all sat towards the back of the pub. “It was my turn to shout the band before we go on stage, and none of them wanted to help me bring the drinks over.” He shrugged, as the bartender poured another beer. “May I ask why you a writing in a dimly lit pub at the bar?”

You blink down at the closed book in front of you. “Just some work, that’s all. Here, did you want a hand bringing the drinks over?” You ask quickly, pushing away from the stool you had claimed as your own hours earlier, already reaching out to collect a few of the glasses.

“What? No way! I should be offering to buy you a drink as an apology, not asking you to be a waitress!” The man quickly interjects, just as you pick up three of the amber filled glasses.

“Well how about I bring these ones over, and you buy me one while you’re still there.” You grin, tucking your notebook under your arm, and making your way over to the three men. Once you arrive before the strangers, their conversation instantly stops, all eyes on you. “Here are your drinks boys, your friend is bringing over the others.” You grin, as you slide into the only empty chair, presumably once occupied by the man at the bar. You place your notebook back on the table to allow it to dry off some more, noticing as all eyes then fall to it.

“Not to be rude, but who the hell are you?” One of the men speaks up, he had bright blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair, and was wearing what could only be described as the most disgusting shade of puce jacket you had ever seen.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Y/N! Your friend over at the bar just spilled his drink all over my work, so he’s now buying me a drink.” You shrug, leaving out the part where you had self-invited yourself to join the group.

The three men nod along to your explanation, seemingly finding no reason to question your arrival any further. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m John, this is Roger, Freddie, and behind you is Brian.” The brunette man, now named John grins. Gesturing first to the blonde, then the other brunette, and finally to the man you had first met. You smile back at John, your eyes meeting for a brief moment, He has a sweet smile, almost cheeky, and you can imagine he has a wicked sense of humour hidden behind his boyish looks.

“Ah, so drink spiller has a name, does he?” You smirk, turning around to look up at the tall, lanky man behind you, his head a wild mane of curls.

“Please let’s not allow that nickname to stick?” He sighs, pulling a chair away from another table, so he could re-join his group of friends. “Sorry again for ruining your work. But I’m not used to people sitting at bars with notebooks.” Brian shrugged, placing a beer in front of you.

You wave his apology off, you could rewrite what you had, it wasn’t the end of the world. “If you don’t mind me asking, what sort of work would you be doing at a bar?” Roger asks, lifting an eyebrow down at the book before you.

You bite down on your lip for a moment, trying to think of a decent excuse. For some reason telling this band that you were here, writing down all the items in your small apartment that you could sell, to try and make rent next month just didn’t seem ideal. You were between jobs at the moment, the café you had been waitressing at had closed unexpectedly, leaving you jobless for the past near month. While you had been applying to various places frantically, nowhere seemed to be hiring, and you were struggling to make ends meet. If you had known the men sitting around you, you would likely have told them the truth. But they were a rock band, probably living glamorous lives, they wouldn’t want to hear about your plans to sell your dinner table and chairs.  But you didn’t know them, not in the slightest, so you had lied. “I’m a music Journalist. I scope out the local pubs to find the bands playing, get to know them a bit then bring them in for an interview or two.” You babble out.

If the men picked up on your lie, they didn’t show it, at least not in any ways you could decipher. If you did in fact know these men however, you would notice the way John’s eyebrows creased in the middle, as his eyes darted over to Roger, who was squinting slightly. Brian looked between the two, communicating silently, as he held his index finger vertically across his lower lip. The three men were all sceptical, though none dared to say anything, it was none of their business really. Freddie however had other ideas, paying no attention to the mental conversation of his band mates. “Darling that is amazing! Which magazine are you with? You must stay and watch us play tonight, our band is named Queen. You will absolutely love us, I’m sure of it!

Well fuck, now you’d done it. Freddie wanted to know who you worked for? You knew very little about the music scene, you had your favourite artists, and that was it, you never read any of the magazines about musicians. “Oh, it’s called… London Music.” You stammer, it sounded fake even to your ears. You hear Roger cough, not realising it was an effort to conceal his laughter, John pressing his elbow into his side to get him to stop.  Clearly there was a reason for your lying, he thought, but at least you weren’t saying anything harmful, just getting Freddie’s hopes up.

You blink slowly, creeping your hand forward, and resting it over the top of your notebook. “I’m sure you’re wonderful Freddie, but I’m not here for work tonight I’m sorry. I was just here speaking with the owner, asking about which bands regularly perform here.” Yet another lie, you have got to get out of here before you say something that will really get you into trouble.

“Well how about you stay and watch for the joy of good music then?” Roger grins, biting his bottom lip gently, as his eyes fall on the book in the centre of the table. He wondered if you knew the spine was literally falling to pieces, bits of the covering flaking around the table where it sat.

You take a large gulp of beer, perhaps more than you should have. You must look so suss right now, what with attempting to drown yourself in alcohol. “Alright, I’ll stay, but remember it has nothing to do with work!”  You repeat, looking directly at Roger, and missing the eyeroll John had directed at him at the same time.

                                                                    *********

“Y/L/N!” You whirl around on the spot as you hear Mr Turner yell out your name, fuck fuck fuckety fuck. No one ever wanted to be addressed directly by Mr Turner, typically it meant you were in trouble if he ever came looking for you in particular.

“Yes Mr Turner?” You smile kindly, looking up at his imposing form, he had his arms folded across his chest and one foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

“Have table seventy five ordered their meals yet?”

“Not yet sir, they asked for a few more minutes to browse the menu. I was just on my way back out to see if they would be ready to order.” You lie, why did lies seem to flow so easily when it came to the subject matter of Queen?

“Very well. Be sure to let them know we will make anything on the menu for them. If they would prefer and item from the breakfast or lunch menu, so be it, they may order whatever they like. Understood?”

  “Of course Mr Turner, I will be sure to let them know.” With that, he turns and makes his leave off to harass someone else you were sure. “Kiss ass.” You mutter, just loud enough for Brad to hear.

“You know the band, think any of them will order off the special menu?” Brad grins, passing you your notepad and pen once more.

“Freddie will probably ask for breakfast, but I only say that because he likely only woke up an hour ago.” You smirk, before taking a deep breath in. You had heard Roger complain about Freddie’s odd sleeping pattern numerous times, and you had to admit, you rather liked it when he complained to you about his band mates. It only served to remind you, that these four men were just that, men. They weren’t the Gods the tabloids made them out to be!

“Off you go then, God speed!” Brad smirks, as you flip him off, before making your way back to the dreaded table. You had no idea what to do, could you stand behind the band again like you had done previously? How would that work when taking their orders? You could hardly hold a tray in front of your face again, that would not only stop you from getting any kind of a tip, but if Mr Turner saw you doing that, you would be unemployed on the spot! You clench your fist at your side, your knuckles turning white as you march towards seventy five.

‘You can do this… You can do this… You can-‘ You repeat the mantra in your mind, smiling politely to your colleagues as you pass them by, none of them any the wiser to your inner turmoil. Finally, you stop at their table, flipping your notepad open, and scribbling the table number at the top of the page. “Good evening again, may I take your orders, if you are ready?” The words come out fast, and your eyes are trained solely on the man who had ordered the drinks earlier. If you had looked to your right, you would see that Roger, Brian, Freddie, and John were all too busy looking through their menus still, and were none the wiser to your presence.

“I wonder if the chef would be good enough to prepare a banquet for us all? Perhaps with his favourite items from the menu?” The same man as before requests, looking up at you with a bored expression.

“I am sure the chef would be honoured. Would you prefer a breakfast, lunch or dinner banquet?”

You move around the table, and collect the no longer needed menus, as you would need to bring out fresh one’s at the conclusion of the meal, for the dessert menu. As you move around behind the band, leaning over their shoulder’s discreetly to collect the menu’s, Brian leans back in his chair, rocking on the back two legs like a child. “Do you mean to say, we can have a breakfast banquet?” He grins, looking up and locking eyes with you. His eyes go wide, his jaw growing slack as he recognises you instantly.

“Mr May, we will not be ordering breakfast at nine in the evening. Just the dinner banquet will do fine thank you Miss.”

Brian however is no longer listening, instead his mouth is opening and shutting as if attempting to form words. You purse your lips, and snap your notepad shut, just as Brian manages to speak. “What are you doing here?”

  What you did next was wrong, and in all honesty, probably rather dangerous, but you needed Brian to shut up right this instant! You reach forwards slightly, and rest your hand on his shoulder, no one was looking, you made sure of that, and ever so carefully apply pressure to his shoulder. Brian was already balanced rather precariously as it was, but with that extra weight he went toppling over backwards. He landed with a shriek, his legs ticking straight up in the air, as if he had attempted to catch himself from falling. Your hasty escape leads you back to the kitchen, where you put in the order for the table. The right thing to have done in that situation, would have been to stick around and make sure Roger was alright, but seeing as you had caused the ‘incident’ you thought it best to leave the scene of the crime. Besides, he had enough people around to check up on him, so he would be fine!

“I saw that…” You almost shriek, as Brad sneaks up behind you, grinning from ear to ear. Of course he of all people had seen what you just did, thank God it wasn’t anyone else though, if it had been, they surely would be telling Mr Turner right this very moment. “Alright, before you begin murdering the band, how about I take their dinner out when it’s ready? You can look after my table when their order is up?”

You want to cry, you can even feel the prickle of tears forming in the backs of your eyes as you look at Brad. “You’re a life saver, you know that right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far; I just don’t want you doing anything to the band before I have a chance to meet Freddie!”

You roll your eyes, though your grin never leaves your lips. You knew Freddie the least out of the band members, though from the few times you had spoken to him one on one, he was a good man, with an excellent sense of humour, and you could imagine him and Brad hitting it off, though after tonight you had a sinking suspicion you wouldn’t be seeing much of the band again.

                                                                            *****

“I’m telling the truth! I know what – Who I saw!” Brian groans as he picks himself up off the ground, straightening up his chair, and sitting back at the table, smiling as if nothing had happened. “It was Y/N!”

“Brian, just because the waitress and Roger’s friend have the same name, does not mean they are the same person.” Deaky sighs, leaning his elbows on the table before him.

Freddie can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head softly. “Friend? I think she’s a bit more than that.”

Roger frowns, looking at the grinning front man. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Y/N and I are just that, friends.”

“A friend who you will not stop talking about? A friend who you couldn’t stop grinning after she agreed to have dinner with you? Shall I go on?”

“Freddie, I will kill you if you don’t shut up!”

“You mean how Y/N just tried to kill me?” Brian pipes up, causing a collective groan to erupt from the three other band members.

 “No one tried to kill you Bri, you just need to learn how to balance better.” Deaky smirks, as he rocks back on his chair, mimicking the guitarist from moments ago, though he remains in one place.

Roger can’t help but consider Brian’s words, he too had thought the waitress was familiar. Her hair and voice all seemed to strike a chord with him, but it seemed so unlikely to actually be you. Although, you had been rather adamant in not letting him take you here for dinner…..

                                                                             *****

The remainder of the night went smoothly, Brad had taken over for you, and you had taken charge of his tables. Mr Turner appeared to be none the wiser to the table swapping, as he had found himself rather busy with apologising profusely to table seventy five, and assuring them he would have maintenance look into the flooring, believing that there was a raised bit of carpet that Brian’s chair must’ve slipped on. The band didn’t have the heart to tell him what had truly happened, and for that you were thankful, if they had, you would never work in the food industry again! “It looks like Queen’s leaving, I think you’re in the clear now.” Brad smiles, as you both watch the eight men stand as one, shaking hands before shuffling towards the doors.

You and Brad made your way over to clear off the table once the guests had left, they had been the last ones in the restaurant, leaving the staff now with the task of cleaning up for the night. The bill was left on the table, paid in full with cash, along with a poorly written note in hand writing you recognised all to well. ‘Meet me outside Y/N -R.’ It was short, simple and got right to the point. Roger knew it was you, and he wanted to talk. You prayed the Earth would open up bellow you and swallow you, but alas, you were not so lucky. Brad leant over your shoulder, reading the note with a smirk. “Go on, take ten, you haven’t had a break at all tonight.”

You turn to look at him, frowning slightly. “Neither have you.”

Brad simply waves off your protesting. “Yes, but one of us has a hot date waiting outside for them, the other does not.” You can’t fight with that logic, and simply shrug, undoing the tie around your neck and slipping it out from under your collar, rolling it over your hand as you make your way out of the staff entrance, through the kitchens.

You’re not sure where you’re supposed to be meeting Roger, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see him perched atop a closed dumpster out the back of The Ritz. He looked the picture of content, head tilted back gazing up to the skied, a lit cigarette between his parted lips, the faint glow of embers casting a heavenly light upon his cheeks. “Hey Rog.”

He looks across at you, a broad grin forming over his lips as he removes the smoke, stamping it out on the dumpster lid. “Hello yourself Y/N.”

You want to melt, just the sound of his voice is enough to make you forget all your worries. “I guess I owe you an explanation huh?” You begin, shuffling your feet against the ground, clasping your fingers tightly around your tie.

Roger shakes his head, as he jumps down from his perch, sauntering over to you. “You don’t, I knew you didn’t work for London Music.” He chuckles softly, stood in front of you now.

“Freddie seemed to believe me.” You shrug, as you fight against the smile that’s threatening to cross your lips.

Roger nods for a moment, “That is true, but I hate to break it to you, the rest of us knew you were lying. I mean, London Music? Really?”

This time, you allow the smile to form fully, grinning up at the blonde. “I panicked okay? I don’t do we under pressure always!”

He leans forwards, wrapping an arm around your waist softly, pulling you closer to him. “Why didn’t you say you worked here though? Y/N, a job is a job, if you thought I would laugh at you or anything like that, please know that I never would!”

You shake your head no, falling forwards to rest your forehead against his chest. “I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, I though I had dug myself too deep with the whole, reporter thing. And then when you asked to take me out for dinner, and suggested we come here, I couldn’t bare the thought of having all of my work mates waiting on me.” You blurt out, feeling hot shame roll over you.

“Next time, just tell me the truth alright?” He grins, resting his index finger bellow your chin, and lifting your face up to meet his. It starts as the softest of kisses, barely there, it felt almost as if a feather were being trailed over your lips. But soon, that isn’t enough for either of you. Roger wraps his other arm around your waist, as you throw both over your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck. Your lips work as one, teeth knocking together occasionally as you bring yourselves closer together.

With a gasp, you pull away, grinning at the flushed blonde in your arms. “Jesus Christ!” Your cry seemingly coming from nowhere.

Roger tilts his head to the side, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes love?”

“I have to apologise to Brian! I tried to kill him!”

Roger bursts out with laughter, pulling you to his chest once again. “That was one hell of a ballsy move you pulled back there. But please, for the love of God, next time you need to make a hasty escape, please try not to murder my band!”

My Masterlist

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #waitress reader #definitely not how you should behave in the work place #don't swing on your chairs kids #brian may #john deacon #freddie mercury #humour #funny #fluff #cute #romance #white lies

[jmeddows2]

Everything I do, I do it for you (Roger Taylor x Reader)

It’s now time to give @veriloquently  my present for ‘A night at the fandom’. Be prepared for a 2,6k+ fic filled with lots of fluff (some may even call it cringe, so sorry about that).I also tried to create a visual for some of the scenes which you can catch on the ‘moodboard’ :)  anyways,I gave it a go, I hope you’ll like it - your secret santa @dtfrogertaylor ps: I’m sorry for any mistakes/weird grammar, english is not my first language, but I’m always trying my best :) Summary: It’s 1971. You’re John Deacon’s roommate, he joins a band, read for for more ;)

                    “Y’know, I’ll never get your taste of music“ startled as you were applying some makeup,when a quick glance in the mirror in front of you revealed Roger peeking into the room. Being John Deacons roommate was everything you could have ever wished for, it was very relaxing in fact. He was kind, attentive, strong, sane and quiet, so there were no wild college parties that could have kept you awake at night. John was also one of the most intelligent and independent people you’d have ever known and also witty and not as afraid of speaking up, once he warmed up to you. He was a morning person, even woke you up in time when he noticed you might oversleep and of course,the table always already decorated with breakfast every single morning, which he prepared beforehand. John was very fond of the football club ‘Queen’s Park Rangers’, but another passion of his was music. He wasn’t entirely obsessed with it though, so it surprised you when he told you about auditioning to be the bass player of a band, which you couldn’t quite believe at first, until he introduced you to his new band mates about two weeks ago. Freddie, the lead singer was somehow like John. He was shy at first, but as soon as he was on stage, Freddie turned into something else. He had the audience in the palm of his hand, which most people didn’t even realize at that time. Brian was the most caring one of them, he accidently stepped on your foot helping you reach for something on the top shelf of your kitchen and kept apologizing for two weeks afterwards, because the guilt was eating him alive. Oh Brian. And then there was Roger, the most annoying person you’d ever encountered. He was nosy and had been hanging out in John and your flat every single day now, since you’d first met. John even got quite annoyed by it, but didn’t have the heart to tell him off yet. “What do you want, Roger?” you spat playfully at him. He didn’t answer, instead he stepped into your room, admiring the posters of artists he wasn’t familiar with, or simply despised. Rock’N’Roll was the only thing that mattered to Roger, it was basically running through his veins. Almost causing him to abandon his own biology studies because of music, as he only ever started revising a week before big exams. “Who even listens to that? Or these hippies” he took a step toward the poster and squinted his eyes “Fleetwood Mac pfff” “Alright blind melon Taylor, are you done? Then leave!” you pointed towards the door. “Ok, I deserved that” he stepped back hopping onto your bed making a few of the pillows fall to the ground, as he was digging through some of your magazines that were lying on the bed, while constantly cringing because of the record that was playing in the background. You continued doing your make up. Being completely lost in thoughts, you didn’t even notice Roger staring, as he was lying on his tummy watching you intently apply some makeup along the waterline of your eye. “You’re really good at that huh?” Roger said with his elbows on the bed, hands rested under his chin as he admired you and you looked at him through the mirror in front of you when he continued: “uh with the makeup stuff. I’m sure John told you about our first gig that’s happening pretty soon? and I uhh.. Could you maybe do my makeup for it?” His sudden nervous being made you smile, as he had always been rather cocky, but you agreed to do it anyway.   “Now let’s see what else you got there” he jumped up to roam through your collection of records, expecting him to pick one from the few (hard) rock albums you owned which were ‘worthy’ of his time. Once he found the right one, he placed it on the record player and put the needle on. The record started spinning and Roger watched you, waiting for a reaction on your face when a voice started saying: “Fellas, I'm ready to get up and do my thing I wanna get into it, man, you know I wanna get into it, man, you know Like a, like a sex machine, man, Movin', doin' it, you know  Can I count it off? (Go ahead)” Then the music started. Get Up I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine by James Brown. He wiggled his eyebrows at you as your serious gaze turned into a smile. “Roger” “Hey, it’s not my record” he laughed. “I think I could get into your style of music” winking at you “I’m only kidding” He nudged your side and serious look was painted on his face.                  Roger was just inches away from your face when suddenly the door burst open. John. “oh uhm dinner’s ready” he awkwardly stumbled out of the room. “Did he come on to you or something?” John asked handing you another plate to dry off with the cloth in your hand, doing the dishes. Roger had dinner with John and you, but the awkward silence continued throughout,until he left. “You know, I don’t have to join the band, especially when it includes a guy creeping on my best friend or not treating her right” John continued, scrubbing another plate clean. Reassuring him was quite easy, at least you thought so, but John made sure to keep an eye on him every time Roger came over, or when you joined their band rehearsals. Every time Roger came over. Not a single day passed, where the blonde boy didn’t knock on your door. It was odd. He started making up little excuses for coming over. One time he claimed that his oven was broken and he couldn’t make something to eat, that’s why you thought he was just trying to scrounge around, looking for free food. Your assumptions turned out to be wrong though, when he called wanting to come over to study for uni, because there apparently had been a construction site right below the window of his living room. Of course it was a lie, which quickly proved itself when he turned up without any textbooks on him and joined John and you in watching some movies instead. It was 10pm and you were asleep, still able to make out some quiet noises from the tv, with your head on Roger’s shoulder, his arm around your shoulder resting on your back, the feeling of his soft, warm skin on your cheek and your nose lightly brushing against his soft, long hair, taking in his scent. It was a mixture of nicotine and faint cologne and it fit his whole persona. Your hand was resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Your heart clenched when he brought his other hand to your cheek, drawing circles on it with the rough pad of his thumb. Tracing along the features of your face, he audibly sighed: “If only you’d feel the same way”, continuing he brought his free hand to your long, dark hair to caress it. His soft touches were enough to make you relax and cuddle even further into his chest.   “She still asleep?” John whispered from the kitchen, as he prepared a final ‘good night’ tea for him and Roger. “Yeah” “You can stay over, wouldn’t wake her now though if you want to continue staying alive” John chuckled thinking about how you weren’t a morning person at all, the complete opposite to him, as he sipped away his tea Roger smiled, thinking about how it would feel to wake up next to you, having you wake up in his arms, when John brought him back down to earth: “I see the way you’re always looking at her. Listen, Roger we haven’t known each other for very long now, but I know that look! I’m sure she’s the only reason you’re always over, but she’s not another conquest!” John said in a serious tone, almost warning his new band member. “Don’t play with her if you don’t mean it! She’s a special girl! One of the kindest, most beautiful people inside and out I’ve ever met!” both taking a sip from their tea. “I doubt she’d like me anyway, so you don’t have to worry, Deaky” Roger took a front strand of your hair, softly twirling it around his finger, then releasing it while his eyes were fixed on your face, admiring your beauty. “Better be telling the truth, Rog, or else I’ll have to punch you in the face. I wouldn’t be so sure about her not liking you though” John got up, reaching for both empty mugs. “Quite like the new nickname. Deaky.” John smiled wishing him goodnight. You could have sworn that it was all just a dream when a soft snoring into your ear woke you up. Roger. His arm draped over your waist, legs tangled with yours holding you tight. You were in your own bed now, as he had carried you all the way to your bedroom and and you kind of felt like a little kid again, that’s been carried there by their parents. The thought alone made you smile, so you pulled back a little to get a full view of his beautiful face. Roger was still wearing his jeans, but no shirt. He wasn’t really muscular at all, while his soft dark blond hair fell in waves to his shoulders, a few locks hanging in his face. You decided to carefully brush it out with your hands and the goal not to wake him up, without success. He slowly opened his shining blue eyes and you pulled back. “Good morning” he mumbled with a smile on his face, quite unsure of how to handle the situation without making you feel uncomfortable, removing his hand from your waist. “Morning” you were staring at the ceiling, trying to hide the fact you’d been staring at him, your heart beating fast, then looking back at him again. “You didn’t have to carry me here last night” “Wasn’t going to let you have a sore back, love, besides, it’s not very gentleman like leaving a beautiful lady on an uncomfortable couch” he smiled. “well, thanks, Roger” you placed your hand on his bare chest, leaving it there a little longer than intended, when his eyes dropped down to look at your hand, then back to your lips, biting his own. Roger slowly leaned forward to put a gentle kiss on your lips when you pulled back with concern. “I have morning breath” you managed to say. “I don’t care” he placed another kiss on your lips “but you have it as well” you laughed. This time he pulled back, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink, but you couldn’t resist him anymore. Reassuring him that he was fine, you moved on top of him, crashing your lips against his, earning a moan when your hands found its way into his messy hair, his hand placed on your hip and mouths moving in perfect sync. Since then you decided to keep your little affair? Hook-ups? private. You didn’t even know how to define it, but it was hard to hide your affection/cravings for one another.  It was especially harder when the other boys were around, for example when you were doing his makeup for their first ever gig, not trying to get caught when he shamelessly placed kisses on to your face, every time you leaned forward with your makeup brush.   It all changed when one night Roger invited you over to his flat for dinner. Opening the door it revealed him in a black shirt that was halfway unbuttoned and black trousers with little white bows along the outside of each leg. He greeted you with a passionate kiss, handing you a little bouquet of roses, then leading you into his flat. “That was just the first present of the night.” He winked. “Food’s going to be finished in a second, but first” he quickly disappeared into another room, only to arrive seconds later with a ball of fluff in his arms. “This is Dusty, my neighbour’s cat” he held the cat’s paw out for your hand to take  and greet him . It was hilarious, yet adorable. His loving way of patting the cat oh so lightly made your heart clench. . “They asked me to watch him while they’re in Australia, visiting their family” he continued patting its head, but suddenly remembered the food on the stove. You took the cat from him when he headed off into the kitchen. “I didn’t know what you’d rather enjoy so I made two different meals, number one an Alfredo chicken bake and number two a pumpkin and spinach cannelloni” after placing the plates on the table, you were digging into your food, not expecting Roger to be that much of a decent cook. The dining table was also beautifully and romantically decorated with a vase of roses and tiny heart shaped décor all over the table making it seem like Valentine’s Day, and 100 percent unlike Roger. Dusty jumped on the chair right next to you, also joining in on dinner , when Roger grabbed a tiny plate to put some chicken on it for him. “Maybe we could also adopt a cat? Or a dog? “Roger asked looking up to read your reaction. “ I love animals, but dogs own  my heart.” You admitted with your mouth full of food, bringing your hand to your mouth, trying to cover it. “I thought I owned your heart, do I have some competition here?” Roger cheekily smiled. “Y’know we’d make great dog parents” he continued, shoving yet another fork into his mouth. His comment made you blush considering you’d been ‘together’ for about three months now, but eventually talking about ‘children’ even if it was just in the form of animals. “Never took you for such an amazing cook, Rog” you hugged him from behind placing a kiss on his neck as he placed the plates into the sink. “I’ll take it as a compliment, but now moving on to the next surprise.” Roger took your hand leading you into the living room. “I know I’ve been giving you quite a heart time about your taste of music but..” “Roger” you interrupted. “No, please, let me finish.” He took your hands into his, looking deep into your eyes “as I said, your taste in music.. It’s different, but so are you” brushing your hair behind your ear “ you make me such a happy man, supporting me no matter what, being always there. You were putting up with me when I was being an annoying shit, trying to get your attention. That’s why I’m asking you now. Will you be my girlfriend?” he nervously pulled out two tickets from the back pocket of his pants, which happened to be for the Fleetwood Mac show at the Marquee club in the following august. He smiled at you waiting in anticipation for an answer when you pulled him into a tight hug. It was such a sweet gesture. You knew he hated the music, but still got the tickets, knowing they were your favourite band. “Yes, yes ,yes, Roger!” you took his face into your hands and kissed his soft lips passionately. “I love you, Lucy” “I love you too, Roger” And it was true. Roger would do anything for you. He would leave the light on for you, even if it was too bright for him. Listen to records he didn’t like. Take you to concerts of bands he didn’t like. Watch the worst and cheesiest romantic movies. It didn’t matter to him, as long as you were there with him.

#a night at the fandom #roger taylor #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor x reader #John Deacon #Queen #queen + Adam Lambert #Brian May #freddie mercury #fleetwood mac

[brian-wellson]

(( CW — this one is disturbing, possibly triggering. ))

I.

“More wine?” asked Jennifer. The sommelier moved effortlessly across the room toward the assemblage of bottles she had brought from her own collection. Her long, white dress barely brushed the gleaming, varnished floor, a stark contrast to the black gemstones of her necklace and bracelet set.

“Mmhmm,” replied Cliara. “Something from the northlands.” The ren’dorei’s ears twitched in anticipation. Wellson had never seen her dressed up before. True, while not a traditional outfit, her ugly Winter Veil sweater was festive enough. Plus, it reminded him of Trin, and the night she —

“Let’s see... I have a 30 year Alterac Pinot Noir, and ... hm,” muttered Jennifer as she searched through the bottles. “A few different Gilnean brandies of various ages and vineyards.”

“Brandy,” said Cliara. Jennifer did not move. Cliara rolled her eyes. “Please.”

Jennifer smiled and poured out a rather generous amount of brandy. “VSOP, from a old vineyard in the Highlands,” she said, placing the snifter in front of the ren’dorei. After watching her try the brandy, Jennifer turned to Glenice — a woman who had, not unexpectedly, attempted to look anything but the naval investigator she was.

“Three fingers, scotch, thanks,” Glenice said, never taking her eyes off of Wellson.

He was sitting at the right side of the still-empty head of the table. Across from him, Cliara; next to her, Jennifer; across from Jennifer, Justine; at the opposite head of the table, Glenice. Others had joined and come and left, too. Henry and Elunara. Birdhat. Gwen. They had come by to say hello and have a bit of eggnog; well, all except for Gwen, who picked something from her hair and had hesitantly given it to him as a present. All the while, Wellson and Justine and Nihil had been cooking, together, just as they had in years prior. Their dinner was largely over. The cottage was filled with the scents of roasted fowl, braised boar shank, maple glazed parsnips. And, of course, the stone-fruit pies baking in the background.

Everyone who had attended that evening was rather tipsy at this point. Wellson glanced out toward the dining room. The fireplace crackled, like a good dwarven hearth fire. The guests were laughing, talking; he wondered why these particular people had even shown up in the first place when his true friends, they had not. To be sure, Wellson had to admit that he was confused. With the exception of Jennifer and Cliara, none of the other attendees had been invited. Indeed, the others believed to have invited — Kyara and Juniper, Dr Thalsian, and Quai (and her horrible brother) — had not shown up at all. He had not expected them all to attend, though a raven message or two would have been nice. He grimaced to himself.

“You good, boss?” asked Justine as she dusted the pies with confectionary sugar. In the background, Nihil, her half-elf lover, was filling the port glasses.

He looked over toward Justine. “Fine,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though I am starting to tire.”

Justine set down the confectionary sugar. “Go sit down. Wait. She will show up,” she said.

Wellson nodded. She will. She always does.

II.

He took his seat next to the empty head of the table. Soon, pie and port were delivered to each guest. The dark berries of the pie reminded him of Gooseberries or of cherries. They smelled heavenly, a rich bouquet of dark jam; he had been insistent that they boil the berries down as much as possible. The black juices ran out of the pie, and — when set against the white porcelain of the dishes — looked like small pools of blood.

“Now, I know it’s customary to have a glass of port prior to the pie, to raise a glass to those we love,” he said, nodding toward Quai’s empty chair, “and to those whom we may even begrudgingly respect...”

Glenice looked up toward him. She massaged her scarred throat, took a stiff shot of scotch, and nodded.

“However, Quai would kill me if I drank this without her here, so I think that is something we shall avoid,” he said, adding, “Besides, there is some in the pie already.”

“At least you know something about your partner,” quipped Glenice. She took another hit from the scotch.

“That’s not really fair, Major,” said Justine, raising her voice. “He knows far more about you than he’d ever say.”

Glenice shrugged, remaining silent.

“Besides,” said Nihil, “it wasn’t you who found the person who hurt me.”

Wellson looked over toward her. Her delicate elven features flashed into a bruised and disfigured mess for an instant. An image of bloodied brass knuckles flashed through his mind. He blinked. Everything was normal. What was that?

“Yeah, yeah,” said Glenice.

Wellson cleared his throat. It was getting a bit stuffy in the room. He took up one of the garnishes he had used for the boar shank. Like an orchid, it was pink and white, though with voluminous (half-eaten) petals. He turned it over in his hands. He had missed beauty such as this — this simple flower, these respected peers, a room which, even while stuffy, still smelled delightful. The fire continued to crackle on as the group enjoyed their pie. Cliara and Justine, they actually managed to get along quite well, despite the latter’s well known dislike of anything sin’dorei related.

“How is the monster hunting business,” asked Wellson.

Cliara looked slightly embarrassed. “Fine,” she mumbled. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I’m trained well, out in the field. Seen some crazy things. You know,” she said.

“Make it up to Northrend yet?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Avoid Grizzly Hills.”

“Why?”

“Just... please do,” he said.

“I go where the business takes me, Brian,” she said.

“Fair,” he conceded.

As the pies were eaten, a growing feeling of malaise began to sink in. Was she coming? he wondered, flipping the velvet box in his pocket.

“She’ll be here, boss,” said Justine. She knew.

“And I,” said Glenice, way more than half-in-the-bag, “need a gryphon ride home. What do you think, Commissary Hotchner?”

“Indeed.” Jennifer nodded. “As much as I would love to stay for a toast, I do have my own life to which I must attend.” She shook her head. “No one likes executing a funeral in the cold,” she said. Jennifer crossed her lips with her fingers, a black ‘x’ it had left behind faded to nothing. Wellson could feel himself doing the same, though not remembering why. “And I do not wish to keep the Vicar waiting. You know how impatient she can be,” she said.

The group bid the two good evening. Justine and Nihil, neither of whom were drinkers, left for the back bedroom, and, soon enough, Cliara was called away via her commstone; apparently, there was a ship heading north, toward the dwindling war, and she was needed. A gust of wind blew the door open, and she excused herself before vanishing into the dark. She did not close the door. Grumping to himself, Wellson stood. He wiped his brow. Certainly the fire was not this hot, he thought. And, just as he was about to shut it, Quai was there, standing before him. With a woman.

III.

“You came...” he gasped.

“Oi, ya, so did I, bruv,” said the other woman.

“J-Jocelyn...?”

The two long-departed siblings stared at each other for a moment. Wellson saw the glint of his mother’s charm bracelet on Jocelyn’s wrist. A lump formed in his throat; he could swear that, off in the distance, he could hear her being hacked to pieces...

“You gonna let us in or make us freeze?”she asked.

Wellson gestured. “C-come in, please,” he said, hurriedly.

He watched as the two entered the room. They moved timidly. Maybe they were just cold still, he thought. “Please, please come in. Let me take your overcoats. We can dry them by the fire,” he said.

The two women exchanged a confused glance. They took off their overcoats as suggested. He hung them on a black, cast iron coatrack near the hearth. It no longer felt as hot as it had. He massaged his chest; his heart, it was skipping beats. Seeing Quai made him nervous, apparently.

“I ... am so glad y-you made it,” he iterated, taking his seat. He gestured for Quai to sit at the head of the table. She did so reluctantly. Jocelyn wandered into the kitchen. “Justine is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said.

Quai raised an eyebrow. “Justine?”

“Mm... I had the Major and the Commissary here, too, but they’ve ugh —” he said, gripping his stomach. Quai began to look about the table, eyes locking onto the half-eaten flower. In addition, there were glasses of all kinds, wine and liquor bottles of rare vintage, and not a single crumb on the table at any other place-setting than his. Perhaps more alarmingly, while every seat had an unconsumed glass of port, her’s did not. And the boot flask she had given him was the table’s centrepiece, where a candelabra should have been.

“What did you have?” she asked. She took his hand. It was clammy. “For dinner, I mean.”

Wellson undid his collar. “Roasted boar-shank, garnished with an orchid; local duck, stuffed and baked; maple-glazed parsnips; and an amazing stone-fruit pie. Nihil did an outstanding job.” He offered her the best smile he could.

“N-Nihil,” stammered Quai. Not good. “Where are they now, Justine and Nihil?”

Wellson’s face flushed. “The back bedroom,” he said.

“Jocelyn!” Quai called.

“Wot ya want now? I was just gonna have some of this fuckin’ pie. Smells fuckin’ great, lady.”

“Before you do,” said Quai, her voice singsong-like, “Check the back bedroom.”

“But... but pie!” whined Jocelyn.

Quai frowned™. “Do it now.”

Rather alarmed by Quai’s tone, Jocelyn stomped through the cottage. “Some fuckin’ reunion...” she mumbled.

After she had left the room, Wellson removed the small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it. The ring inside, it shined — sparkling as so many nights under the stars.

“My grandmother’s ring,” whispered Quai. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Will you...?”

“Brian...”

Quai took the ring, turning it over in her hand.

“Your g-grandfather s-said...”

“I know,” she said, softly. She placed the ring back in the box. “I will take this, ok? Keep it safe until...” She shifted uneasily.

Jocelyn stumbled back into the room. “Ain’ no one back there,” she said. “Pie. Now.”

Quai snapped her fingers. Wellson did not hear it; Jocelyn did, though, and she stared. “No pie for you,” Quai spat. “Nor for anyone else.”

Wellson was confused. No pie? For his own sister? He blinked his eyes. The elaborate, warm decor he had envisioned began to dissolve. Chestnut turned to decrepit, grey wood; an overchair into a stool. His once white-clothed table, barren except for his own paltry meal, and glasses here and there. No fire in the hearth. His cheek twitched. “Quai, I don’t feel...” he managed. His mind began to ring:

...we have a pact...

“Stay here with me?” he sputtered.

She replied. He could not understand her. She swiped at the glass of port in his hand, but missed. She watched as he drained the glass. The port would end it — she knew.

“T-this was all f-for you...” he said, eyes locked onto the ring in the box. “Y-you... Andrew... to live...”

Quai said something once again. Her voice was louder, yet he still could not understand her; her words, they made no sense.

As the room grew dimmer and dimmer, Wellson felt his sister come back into the room. He could feel himself being laid on his side. He could feel his body go rigid, back-breakingly so. He could no longer see. His heart was skipping beats, slowing over time. Someone forced something into his mouth. He could feel himself vomit. The whispers in his mind finally died away. For the first time since Darkshore, he felt peaceful.

“Q-Quai...” he whispered. “Elune help...”

He reached an unsteady arm upward. Someone took it. Someone told him he was going to be ok, that they would see him recover. His body felt like it was being squeezed, like before he had left the Manor. And then, then he could hear screaming. He could hear crying. And then everything simply faded — until nothing remained.

Nothing.

— — • — —

( @quai-mason @jocelyn-wellson / @glenicemorcant @mastersommelierjennifer @justinegrotius @seattlebourne / @killerkyara @juniper-rose-blower @thalsianiii // cc: @risrielthron )

(( Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis, please call your doctor, call 911, or go directly to the Emergency Trauma Centre. ))

#wellson #uh oh #wow rp #wyrmrest accord #darkshore #death scene #in state #the end

[jessahmewren]

“John Doe,” Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction--Poly!Queen Week Day One

Summary: Intrigued by a lonely patient, Nurse John sets out to help him.  

Rating T: For some disturbing themes and imagery

Words: 2964

Pairing: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor

TW: for suicide attempt mention

Also on Ao3 

-0-0-0-

"How is he today?"

John took the chart from the nightshift nurse and thumbed through the last few hours of data. He was tall and trim in his white uniform, with long wavy brown hair and green almost grey eyes. The words on the page confirmed what his co-worker would say next.

"No change. Won't eat, barely speaks.”  The other nurse shrugged and shook her head. Her eyes were ringed and bloodshot in the harsh fluorescent light. "I'm going home," she said tiredly, turning for the elevator. She waited there, rubbing her neck and shoulders until the elevator settled on the floor and she stepped inside.

The psychiatric ward at one of London’s busiest hospitals was not the easiest place to work, but John liked it. His last assignment, Labor and Delivery, was not all that different from what he did now. When you've had a (thankfully) empty bedpan thrown at your head by a spitting, foaming, mother-to-be in the throes of labor pains, a few death wishes and a couple of personality disorders seem to pale in comparison.

John perused John Doe’s file a bit further. No calls. No visitors. It had been two days since his admittance.  He was brought in on a suicide attempt, but that was all he knew.

He knocked experimentally at the door and waited. Nothing. While he didn't have to knock, he often found that it made patients feel more at ease.

“May I come in?" Silence answered, so he eased the door open anyway. His shoes squeaked on the polished floor, abrupt and vulgar in the empty room. It was cavernous within, and quiet. A muted television flashed garish images over the hump of covers in the bed, bathing him in strobing, artificial light.  The man lay on his side facing the wall and did not move. Aside from the patient, there was no other evidence that anyone had been there. No coat over a chair, no stale cup of coffee, no wilting daisies. It was as stark as a tomb.

"Well," John said good-naturedly, "I see you’ve slept some. That's good." When he made no effort to acknowledge him, John crossed and turned on the light over the bed. "But you still haven't eaten," he continued to his captive audience, "we're going to have to do something to change that today, okay?"

The man squinted a bit at the light's assault, raising his arm to shield his eyes. A thick white bandage around his wrist and halfway up his arm bloomed a crimson Rorschach at the sudden movement. It did not go unnoticed. "Let me get that changed for you," John remarked calmly, and set to work.

John performed his ministrations in silence. The man remained mute and limp, allowing him to move and dress his arm with no resistance. If tending the deep slashes in the man's wrist caused him any pain at all, he gave no indication. The striking man stared purposefully at the ceiling, a dispassionate mask firmly in place, refusing to look at the nurse.

John finished his other duties and recorded the data. "Ok, that'll do it then," he said pleasantly. He was careful to not be overtly cheery. "Is there anything you need?"  John waited in the silence.  “You wanna tell me your name?  Would make this a whole lot easier.” 

A curious shadow seemed to pass over the man’s face as he actually turned and regarded John, dark curls framing his face. Beautiful hazel eyes, pupils black and distant, seemed to consider the question. John waited. "Turn off the TV," he said at last.

The therapist had left it on, John was sure, in order for the patient to stay connected to the outside world. There was no bedside control, either. It was standard operating procedure and was therefore supposed to stay on. However, this was the first time the man had spoken to John, so he decided to extend the olive branch a little further and comply.

He reached up and turned it off. The very thin, very sad man with the large, wet eyes looked as though he would say more, so much more, but remained silent. John left him there in the room with the light now extinguished without another word.

---

John’s keys jingled in the lock as he opened the door to his shared flat. He was met by his boyfriend Roger who slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“I missed you doll,” Roger said, a sweet smile on his face. 

When John didn’t say anything at first, Roger frowned.  “Rough day?” 

John hung his head.  “Sort of, yeah.  Where’s Freddie?” 

“In here darling!  We’re having Spaghetti Pomodoro tonight.  I hope that’s ok.” 

John toed off his shoes, leaving them by the door.  “That’s perfect,” he sighed as Roger led him to the couch.  He looked up at him sheepishly.  “Rog, can I have the magic fingers?” 

Roger grinned mischievously, waggling his fingers in the air.  “Ooh, you want these magic fingers, do you?” 

John looked up at him hopefully, his green eyes flashing.  “Please?  My shoulders are killing me.” 

Roger descended upon John’s knotted muscles, digging into the flesh with smooth, kneading motions. 

John moaned in pure pleasure, his head lolling. 

“What are you two getting up to over there?” Freddie called from the kitchen.  “I feel like I’m missing out.” 

 “John wanted the magic fingers,” Roger said between giggles.  “And he’s going to pay me back, aren’t you my love?” 

John reached up to squeeze his hand.  “I always do, don’t I?”

Roger smiled, digging into his shoulder with the pads of his thumb.  “Mmm, you do.  So are you going to tell us about your shitty day?”

John pressed his lips together.  “There’s this patient.” 

Roger kissed the top of his head, his massage finished, and walked around the couch to nuzzle into John’s side.  Freddie had lowered the heat on the pasta sauce, and was now approaching the couch, too. 

“Go on love,” he said as he settled on John’s other side. 

John passed a hand over his face.  “Just one of the suicides.  He doesn’t have anyone, apparently.  But there’s something about him.” 

“What do you think it is?”  Roger inquired, his blue eyes alight with interest. 

“I don’t really know,” John said, shaking his head in frustration.  “But I want to help him.  More than I’ve ever wanted to help anyone.” 

---

John arrived at work earlier than usual, anxious to check on Brian.  He caught up on the nightshift’s report, a deep frown on his face. 

“He tried to take out his iv? 

The nurse at the nurse’s station nodded.  “Panic attack.  The doctor put him under heavy sedation.  He should be up by now, though.  Oh, and he’s in soft restraints.” 

John put a hand on his hip, a headache already starting to form.  He set his lunchbag on the counter, stashing the rest of his stuff behind the desk.  “Hand me his chart; I’ll start with him.” 

John knocked softly, and when he got no response, eased his way inside the room. 

It was so dark.  He could just make out the graceful outline of the man’s body, the billowy gown that swallowed him up, and those generous curls that formed a corona around his head as he reclined in bed.  The sickly glow from the iv pump cast his face in a ghostly pallor, and if John squinted he could just make out his deceptively peaceful features…dark lashes cresting the gentle slope of his cheeks.

John soundlessly made his way to the bed, and only then did he notice the restraints.  Without a word, he reached up and turned on the overhead light, flooding the bed in a fluorescent glow. 

Two hazel eyes blinked at the intrusion, his face a little softer than the day before.  He had a thin, beautiful face, delicate in its own way. 

John smiled.  “Good morning, you.  It’s good to see those eyes open.”

“Brian,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from disuse.  “Call me Brian.” His voice was unexpectedly soft, yet elegant, and John found he liked it very much.  

John stood, his arms folded around his chart and a big smile on his face.  “Well, Brian it is then.  And I’m John.  It’s really nice to meet you.” 

Brian said nothing, but reached a hand up to scratch his nose, only to find them stubbornly bound in the Velcro restraints.  John noticed immediately. 

“You need some help with that?  I’m a professional nose scratcher, among other things.” 

Brian’s mouth quirked in what could be called a smile, and John thrilled inwardly at the victory.  He scratched Brian’s nose for him, and the man sighed in relief. 

John then poured him a glass of water and held it up to his lips for him to drink, which he took a few sip of before John proceeded to check his iv fluids and the rest of his vital signs. 

Then John pulled up that empty chair and leaned in conspiratorially.  “I brought you something today,” he whispered needlessly.  “Lunch.  One of my boyfriends made Spaghetti Pomodoro last night and I thought you might enjoy some.” 

Brian’s eyebrows raised.  “One of your boyfriends?” 

John blushed.  “Yeah, well I have two.” 

“You have two boyfriends and you work in a psychiatric ward.  You must like chaos.” 

John couldn’t hold back his laughter.  “You’re funny, Brian.  Tell you what.  You have lunch with me today, and you can tell me some more jokes.  I’ll even remove those restraints so you can hold your own fork.” 

Brian pursed his lips, and then gave him a genuine little smile.  “Ok,” he said. 

---

When Freddie found out that Brian had liked his cooking, he insisted on visiting him himself…with flowers and a basket of blueberry muffins. 

John was over his head in paperwork when he saw his boyfriend breeze by the nurse’s station, a sunny arrangement of lilies and roses in his arms. 

“Freddie!  Darling, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh! Hello my love!”  He greeted John with a quick kiss, smelling so perfectly of spice and perfume and home that it made John ache. 

When John’s question went unanswered, he gestured to the picnic basket. 

“I thought I would visit your patient, seeing as he hasn’t had any visitors and he already likes my cooking,” he said sweetly.

John could have cried.  This is why he loved the men he did. 

“That’s…that’s so lovely Freddie.  I’m sure Brian will be happy to see you.”

Freddie thrilled.  “I hope so.  Let’s find out.  Point me to his room?”

John did, asking Freddie if he wanted him to go in with him. 

“No darling, I want to go in by myself.  I’m a visitor, not a nurse.  No needles from me, just treats!” 

John wondered briefly what all he had in that basket. 

Freddie knocked on the door and received a hesitant “come in” in reply.

Brian was sat up in bed.  His restraints were off and a pitcher of water was beside him on the table.  Nothing else was in the room. 

“Um, hi darling.  My name is Freddie.  I’ve been making your lunches.  I thought maybe I might visit you for a bit?” 

Brian’s eyes lit as though he already knew him. “A visitor,” he exclaimed, and his eyes misted over.  “Please, come sit down Freddie.”

Freddie crossed to the table and pushed the water pitcher over to make room for the flowers.  “These are for you love,” he said softly.  “They really brighten up the place, I think.” 

Brian swallowed.  “They’re really beautiful,” Brian said almost to himself.  “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Freddie lay the picnic basket on the edge of the bed.  “Well I do!  Have one of these muffins.  I made them just for you.  We can eat and have a chat!”

Brian’s eyes lit at the muffins, still warm from the oven.  He took one gingerly in his hand and held it to his nose.

“Go on,” Freddie encouraged, “take a bite.” 

“Mmm,” Brian hummed around a mouthful of muffin.  “Can I have another after this one?” 

Freddie laughed.  “The whole basket is yours darling.  Plus I brought you some other things,” and Freddie began pulling out slippers, pajamas, candy and puzzle books. 

Brian frowned.  “They won’t let me have a pen or pencil,” he said, a little embarrassed. 

Freddie waved it off.  “Next time I’ll bring crayons.” 

“You’re coming back?” 

Freddie smiled.  “Of course I am.” 

---

“He’s into astronomy,” Freddie replied excitedly.  “He’s studying astrophysics in school. Very bright.  He loves music too.”

Roger spoke around a mouthful of food.  “Do you have any idea why he uh…you know.” 

“We don’t ask,” John said matter-of-factly.  “We leave that to the therapists.” 

“I know,” Roger said.  “I’m just curious.” 

Freddie cocked his head.  “Well…he told me he came out to his parents and they rejected him.  That couldn’t have helped.”

Groans reverberated all around the table. 

“He literally has no one, John,” Freddie said gravely, “and he’s just lovely.” 

Roger chased his food around his plate with his fork.  “I’m going to see him then,” Roger said finally.  “Take him some things.  Give him someone else to look at besides Freddie.” 

Freddie stuck his tongue out at him and they all laughed. 

---

Roger arrived at Brian’s door with a stack of books in his hand.  He knocked quietly and received the same hesitant “come in,” that Freddie did, so he pushed his way inside. 

Brian was standing at the window wearing the pajamas Freddie had bought him.  They had all guessed at the size using John’s observations, but they were still a little short on him.  Roger cleared his throat. 

“Hey Brian, I’m Roger.  John and Freddie’s boyfriend?  I’ve heard so much about you that I thought I’d like to meet you…maybe spend some time with you if that’s ok.”

Brian huffed a little laugh, an odd look on his face.  “You guys just keep getting better looking,” and smiled when Roger actually blushed. 

Freddie made sure the flowers stayed fresh, so there were freesias this week and the room smelled divine.  Roger placed his stack of books on the table and kept his hand there, nervously tapping his fingers. 

Roger really hadn’t expected Brian to be so tall and well, handsome. 

“I brought you some books and magazines,” he began.  “Freddie told us you like astronomy and music, so I picked carefully.  I hope you like them.” 

Brian began to thumb through his choices, smiling broadly.  “What kind of music do you like?”

---

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go after he gets out,” Roger stated flatly as they sat watching the telly.  “His parents have abandoned him and his flatmate kicked him out.  All because he’s gay.  Unbelievable.” 

John shook his head.  “It’s not really.  We’re just really lucky.  A lot of people think that way.” 

Freddie frowned.  “It’s fucking disgusting.” 

“Well what’s going to happen to Brian?” Roger continued. 

John pursed his lips.  “Why can’t he stay with us for a while?  Just until he gets on his feet?”

Freddie clapped his hands.  “Oh, that’s a marvelous idea dear.  We have the spare room.”

Roger nodded.  “Freddie and I will get to work getting it ready.  When is he released?” 

John thought for a moment.  “Next week I believe.  That should be plenty of time.” 

John kissed both of his boyfriends.  This situation was turning out better than he’d hoped. 

---

The next day Roger and Freddie showed up at the hospital so all three could go in and ask Brian about their plans.  When the time came, they went in to find Brian sitting up in one of the chairs reading a book.  He smiled at them.

“All three of you?  This is a surprise.”  He eyed John.  “Is this official nurse business or just a visit?” 

John smiled.  “Just a visit this time.” 

“We actually had a question we wanted to ask you,” Freddie said.  “You’ll be released soon, and we wondered where you might go.”

Brian blinked, looking down.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

John spoke up.  “Would you consider coming home with us?  You know, just until you get things figured out?” 

A bright smile lit Brian’s face, then disappeared just as quickly.  “I can’t let you do that, John.  I’ve been too much of an imposition already.” 

Roger piped up.  “No you haven’t!  We enjoy your company, Brian.  We want you to stay with us.  Don’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Freddie agreed. 

“Yes,” John added.  “Would you please consider coming home with us?  Your room is all ready.  All you have to do is say yes.” 

 Brian swallowed, but there was a longing in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ll consider it,” he said.

“Good darling,” Freddie said as they turned to leave.  “No more muffins until you say yes,” he said with a wink.

---

Brian said nothing more about his decision until it was time for his discharge from the hospital.  John quietly got the paperwork ready, helped him put his meager belongings in a bag, and put him in a wheelchair per hospital policy.  John knelt in front of him, eyes imploring. 

“So, Brian…where are you off too today?” 

Brian sat for a moment.  “I think I’m ready to go home,” he said thoughtfully. 

It took John by surprise.  “Really.” 

“Yeah,” Brian said with a slow smile lighting his face.  “It’s Tuesday, and Freddie makes Spaghetti Pomodoro on Tuesday.” 

John reached out to ruffle the man’s dark curls, noticing how he leaned into the touch.  “Indeed he does, Brian.  Let’s go home then.” 

-0-0-0-

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #poly!queen 2019 #queen fan fiction #queen fan fic #queen fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #borhap fic #borhap fanfic #poly!queen #brian may angst #brian may fanfiction #my writing #josqueenfamily

[gwilyoubemine]

Having an argument with your boyfriend Gwilym and then Brian (being the father figure he is) comforting you as he heard, Brian then telling Gwilym to make up with you and everyone living happily ever after :)

i loved this a lot. i have an presentation exam tomorrow and here i am at 1am (nearly 2am oooops) doing this. what we can gather from this is that ayse is very silly. i hope you enjoy this! it’s a tad long.

going to the pub for the night was gwilym’s idea. you found a decent spot right at the back, an empty booth- which was a score on a busy friday night. you spent the first hour drinking and laughing over random nonsense. you talked about your day, argued over which movie you would watch later. you settled on a 80s movie and gwil was adamant on watching back to the future. you, on the other hand, wanted to watch the breakfast club. and after an intense debate concerning which movie was the ultimate choice, you both ended up chuckling over how silly it was to debate over such a thing. you decided that you would watch both movies and gwil gave you a kiss to seal the deal, mumbling an ’it’s a date then’ whilst flashing you his signature smile.

gwil also proposed that you both take a trip to the countryside at the weekend. and the thought of spending some quiet time with gwilym had you grinning in excitement instantly. long car rides, expanses of grass and trees, lakes that you could sit by. you gushed about how brilliant the idea was and teased that you would be in control of the music during the car ride because of the questionable songs he often played. he gave you a look of mock hurt and kicked your leg playfully under the table. “i caught you listening to my spotify playlist last week and i saw you dancing along!”

when gwilym had to leave to take a phone call, you hadn’t expected company. shortly after gwilym left, a man appeared at your table. he had blonde hair that fell into his eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “can i sit here?”

“i’m waiting for someone actually.” you told him, offering him an apologetic smile.

nevertheless, the man took a seat opposite you and you raised a brow at him, a gesture he seemed to take no notice of. at this point, you found it hard to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head, what would gwilym say when he got back?

“what if i offer to buy you a drink?” the stranger asked, his lips stretched into that big smile again. “you can’t possibly say no to one drink.”

“i think i could.’ you said, folding your arms over your chest. "and i also think you should be leaving.”

“you want me gone so soon?” he asked, feigning hurt. “can i not sit down next to a pretty woman and offer her a drink? there’s no crime in that.”

“maybe if that same woman is waiting for someone else and has already stated that clearly.” you mumbled, trying hard to control the annoyance bubbling up inside of you.

“i think you’re just saying that in an attempt to make me leave” he probably thought he was coming across as charming but you were honestly a few seconds away from storming off and finding gwilym. the phone call must have been a serious one for it to last that long- work perhaps, or maybe a family issue.

“c'mon, entertain me for a little while.” he leaned closer to you and you found yourself freezing, unable to pull away. his strong cologne quickly filled your senses. “the whole uninterested act isn’t fooling me.”

“can i help you?” an angry voice suddenly questioned from above you, just as the stranger’s hand had settled against your hair. the intensity behind gwil’s words had you sitting as far back in your seat as possible, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

the man opposite you looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes, clearly unable to come up with anything to say. “i was just offering to buy her a drink, man. no harm done.” he said after being prompted by gwilym to answer him.

“well, she doesn’t need a drink from you.” gwilym practically growled out, his eyes burning holes into the other man’s face. it was almost as if he was daring him to stay in that seat for any longer. “if i were you, mate, i would get the fuck out of here.”

the man scrambled away with a quiet “talk about possessive’, leaving you and gwilym in silence. the noise coming from the rowdy table nearby felt so much louder all of a sudden.

and that was probably the time for you to say something. to at least look at him. instead you kept your eyes planted on the table in front of you for what felt like an eternity, unable to meet his eyes.

"we’re leaving.” he said eventually, his voice tight. you glanced up at him to see that his jaw was locked and that the same look of anger was still plastered across his face. you were used to his features looking so gentle and kind. soft eyes that followed you around in admiration, an angelic smile that made you ache with the want to kiss his lips.

“gwil, can we talk about this?” you choked out, quickly fixing your bag over your shoulder.

gwilym looked away from you and mumbled something about not being in the mood. the walk back to his car was silent, and the absence of conversion only resulted in your thoughts circling at what felt like 100mph.

gwil kept his eyes firmly on the road and made no effort to talk during the ride home. he didn’t even connect his phone to the speakers to play his music. you found yourself missing his questionable song choices. missing the conversation you would usually engage in when driving home.

“gwilym.” you started, his name sounding a little shaky. “there’s really no reason to be mad. he was just a random man who appeared in front of me and i told him i was waiting for someone. he was just really persistent!”

gwilym sighed, his hands curling around the steering wheel more tightly. “so i’m not allowed to be angry? is that it?”

“no, i-”

“did you even register how close that man was to you, y/n? he was inches from your face. and his hand was going straight for your hair.” gwilym took a breath to calm himself. “why didn’t you move away from him? or at least tell him you had a boyfriend.”

“i just froze, okay…i don’t know what happened… and i told him to leave. maybe i could have been firmer but regardless of that, i still don’t see why you’re so angry with me.”

“can’t you just accept that i am pissed off right now? why does this have to be about you and how you feel like i shouldn’t be angry.” he snaped, moving his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. you stared back at him in shock, your stomach dropping. gwilym rarely ever acted this way. the expression on his face and the tone of his voice made you feel sick. “i don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

that night was awful. you both got ready for bed without exchanging a single word, and the sick feeling in your stomach only got worse as time ticked by. you sat on the bed with your legs pulled to your chest and thought about all the ways to start conversation back up. maybe gwilym was right, maybe you just needed to accept he was angry. you certainly would have been fuming if you saw a random woman all up in gwilym’s face.

gwilym emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. the navy ones you bought him last christmas. the sight only made your heart clench more painfully. his boxers clung to his ass in the most sinful way. he always looked good like this, with his broad chest and thick thighs on display. and your eyes were always hungry to take in as much as possible. on any other night, you would have wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered against his lips how hot he looked. and he would have grinned in an amused manner, cocking an eyebrow as his hands settled on your hips, murmuring out a “oh, do i, love?”

but there was none of that tonight. gwilym kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, clearly unhappy with how the night had played out. he crawled under the covers and you joined him shortly, painfully aware of the tension between you both. and with a barely audible “goodnight” he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. it seemed like forever until you got to sleep.

                            ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

the next morning, gwilym was no where to be seen. he had left early in the morning, and with no note telling you where he had gone. you ate your breakfast alone, wondering where gwil was and mulling over how badly last night turned out. you had never seen him so frustrated.

when the door bell rung around noon, you had no clue as to who had come by to pay you a visit. brian may’s concerned face was not what you expected when you finally got up to open the door.

“brian?” the shock was evident in your voice.

“hello y/n, can i come in?” he asked and you were quick to usher him inside, asking if he wanted a cup of tea. he declined with a polite smile and took a seat beside you on your sofa. his hair seemed curlier than ever, an endearingly chaotic mess of ringlets.

“to what do i owe this lovely surprise visit?” you questioned, folding your arms over your chest. you shot him a small smile. “or did you just want to say hello to me?”

“it’s always nice checking in on you, love, but there is a reason for my visit.” he settled his hands on his knees, his expression more serious now. “gwilym popped by a little earlier to discuss some things, just about the bohemian rhapsody special coming up in july. but with that aside, he looked quite upset. looked like he had lost some sleep to terribly honest with you.”

you stayed silent as brian continued. he obviously knew gwilym’s bad mood had something to do with you. “i’ve never seen the boy look so bloody upset. he didn’t want to talk about it but i got it out of him in the end. i heard you had somewhat of an argument last night.”

you sighed quietly, lifting your eyes to meet brian’s. “yes.” you exhaled, not bothering to hide how down you felt about the whole matter. “it was so stupid, just over some irrelevant guy at the pub. nothing even happened but gwilym was still so angry.”

“it happens to all of us.” brian murmured softly, wrapping an arm around you to give you a friendly squeeze. “y/n, i don’t know exactly what happened between the pair of you last night but i know gwilym, i reckon he was just feeling hurt about the whole thing. you know he gets jealous, love.”

“i know, i know. it just sucks when we’re not talking. it’s the worst feeling when i know gwilym is mad, especially when it’s to do with me.”

“that is completely understandable. i had a little talk with him that seemed to make him feel a bit better, i think i knocked some sense into him. he went to run some errands but i’m sure he will be back soon. i just came by to check if you were okay.”

“that is so sweet of you, brian. and i’m sure i’ll be fine soon. i just hope gwilym feels better.”

“he’ll be fine too, you two are strong. you’ll be back to being all cuddly and lovely before you know it, trust me on that one. and with that being said, i should be off. m'taking anita out for lunch so i can’t be late for that.”

you gave him a tight hug and showed him to the door. “thank you again, brian. i hope you have a lovely time with anita.” he flashed you his signature smile and gave your arm a squeeze. “anytime, love.”

thanks to brian, you already felt better about the whole situation with gwilym. you were ready to put it behind you. and when the door bell rang an hour later, you strode over to it with confidence, preparing yourself for facing gwil and apologising if need be.

as soon as you opened the door, a bouquet of flowers was being thrust into your hands. gwilym’s hands were on your cheeks within seconds, his lips capturing yours in a longing kiss. “m'sorry for being an jealous idiot.” he panted against your lips, the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks. you were still clutching onto the flowers. you looked down and saw that they were carnations, a mixture of pink and white.

you placed the flowers down next to you on the floor and reached for gwilym, your arms circling around his frame. “it’s okay. i’m sorry for not telling that guy to get lost.”

“no, you handled the situation fine, love. it just angered me to see another man so close to you.” he murmured, his gaze fixated on your face. “just seeing him flirting with you as i walked back over to our table had my blood boiling. i really handled the situation badly, i shouldn’t have been mad at you.”

“i understand, i would have gotten jealous too. let’s just move on from this, okay? that man was not worth the trouble.”

“sounds great. i love you.” gwilym murmured, his hand moving to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear. he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as you drew him closer, your lips chasing his.

“i love you too, gwil.”

after a few minutes of non-stop kissing, gwilym pulled back to mutter something against your mouth.

“brian was here, wasn’t he?”

“yep.”

#hope you like it #help i should be sleeping #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #headcanon

[randxmthxughts]

Love Actually - Part 1

cover,

part 2

summary: remember that guy that was in love with his best friend’s girlfriend? well, that guy’s Shawn

masterlist

    Y/N glanced at her reflection once again, making sure that she looked good. Her tight red dress fit her perfectly, hair was beautifully laid, makeup emphasizing the features of her pretty face. She sighed, trying to wash down the anxiety growing over the thought of going back into the living room of this girl she had met a few minutes ago. She wanted to enjoy the evening, because that's how she was supposed to be likeable. Her boyfriend was already looking for her, afraid that she might got lost in the unfamiliar apartment, but when he bumped into her in the corridor, he let out a relieved smile.

    “I lost you,” he grinned, making Y/N chuckle nervously.

    “I just went to the bathroom,” she slid her hand around his torso, “I’m ready to meet the rest of your friends.”

    “Good, Shawn just came.”

    She felt more comfortable having his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd, further into the apartment, where all of his friends were already drinking and chatting of something insignificant. She had noticed a tall man with broad shoulders, chocolate curly hair, facing away from them. His friends were surrounding this stranger in a small circle of theirs, as if nobody else could join them; there was no place to fit. How ironic it was; she never saw herself as a part of this small group. Her boyfriend was the perfect addition to it, but she wasn’t somebody they looked forward to meeting, or speaking to. However, Y/N felt the need to fit in, at least pretend to. Because that would make him happy, right?

    “Y/N, Brian, where were you guys?” Teddy endowed them with her attention.

    Brian only chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, and walking closer, Y/N following him up immediately. The small circle slightly moved, making a place for both of them, and even though some didn’t pay attention to the couple, Y/N felt a pair of eyes laid on her, which made her slightly uncomfortable, and she nuzzled into Brian's side.

    “Y/N, I need to introduce you to one of my best buddies,” Brian spoke loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Shawn,” he pointed to the guy she saw earlier on, who was grinning at her boyfriend.

    “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Shawn,” the guy finally met Y/N with his eyes, and his big toothy smile disappeared, eyebrows knitting together.

    “Shawn,” she let out, voice barely heard.

    “Have you guys met before?” Brian asked, as everybody else now watched their interaction.

    “No-Yes,” Y/N and Shawn let out at the same time, and she chuckled nervously, pulling back, “you go first.”

    “I mean, we’ve met, but never got introduced officially to each other,” Shawn lied, still not losing the eye contact.

    “Exactly,” Y/N gulped down, looking back at Brian who seemed to believe.

    “Alright,” he pulled her close and kissed her on the temple, in a way to reassure her, “where did you happen to meet?”

    “Some shop I used to work at, doesn’t matter,” she faked a smile, feeling Shawn’s eyes burning holes through her.

    “That’s interesting.”

    “Yeah, I’m gonna go grab some water,” Y/N spoke, without letting anyone add up something, and stormed off to the kitchen.

    The party thrown at this unfamiliar to her place finally worked out for her. There were a lot of people in different rooms, but kitchen was empty, and she got time to herself, to calm down and collect her thoughts. Shawn. Why would her boyfriend’s best friend be the guy she hooked up with a few months ago and felt so attracted to that it scared her off? She took a deep breath as the regret of spending the night with him, and leaving his place the next morning before he woke up, washed over her. Y/N remembered the way Shawn looked at her, eyes filled with anger, and felt guilt burning down her throat. She poured herself a glass of water, and as she was about to take a sip, his voice rang through her ears.

    “Some shop you used to work at, huh?” he raised his eyebrows at her, crossing his arms on chest.

    “Please don’t tell Brian anything,” she pleaded, her voice soft.

    “Tell about what? That you left me all alone? Didn’t even tell me your number? Lied that you liked me? Maybe cancelled our plans?"

    “No,” Y/N exhaled, interrupting him, “it was a mistake, okay? I really like Brian, and I don’t want to ruin anything between us. So please keep your voice down."

    “Sleeping with me was a mistake to you?” Shawn sounded offended, but he didn’t care, “You told me that I seemed genuine and was different. Turned out you weren’t one.”

    “I didn’t lie,” Y/N let out a frustrated noise, running fingers through her hair, “I’m sorry, okay?”

    “Have you ran off from Brian’s place too?" Shawn ignored her apology, "Or are you planning on doing so when you have kids and stuff?”

    “Look, I really do like Brian," Y/N sighed, looking away, "I won't do anything to hurt him."

    “Oh, so you just didn’t like me enough,” Shawn asked, but it turned out more as fact.

    “No, ugh, I did like you. I just- I didn’t know what to do, okay?" she threw her hands in the air, "It felt wrong, and I wanted to leave. Listen, you can’t blame me for not feeling the same way about you as I do about Brian,” Y/N was getting a bit annoyed.

    “Great,” Shawn scoffed, mimicking her actions and throwing his hands in the air as well, “I got it. You can stop there, and continue on pretending that we had nothing, and that night was just a mistake. Go on, tell him that you sold me books or something. Just let me know; text me or something," his voice was filled with sarcasm, "Wait, you probably deleted my number the moment I gave it to you."

    “Shawn,” Y/N felt heat rushing to her cheeks, “I already feel guilty enough.”

    “Whatever,” Shawn stormed off out of the kitchen, to join his friends.

    Y/N sighed loudly, gulping down the water, and following him back, a fake smile bright on her face. Brian intuitively pulled her closer to his side, and she had wished she never felt Shawn’s eyes burning holes through her, the tension growing bigger in between them two.

    “Wow, I’m still so unused to Brian being in serious relationships,” Teddy smiled at them, opening a new topic for conversation.

    “Yup, all is left is to match up Shawn with somebody, and you can never count us in on parties anymore,” Brian chuckled, annoying Y/N with his joke.

    “No man, I think I’m gonna stay single for a while,” Shawn was clearly getting annoyed too.

    “What about that girl though? Still haven’t found her?” Matt, another Brian’s friend spoke in, and Y/N noticed the way Shawn shifted his weight onto his other leg with a sigh.

    “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to brush it off.

    “Shawn even wrote a song about her, and he says ‘it’s nothing’,” Teddy joked.

    “What song?” Y/N asked almost too quick, grabbing everyone’s attention back to her.

    “‘Where were you in the morning’.”

    She didn’t hear the song. She knew who he was and how successful he must have been, but she never heard his songs. Especially, after spending the night with him and leaving him alone in his apartment after having a two-hour conversation about their favorite drinks and desserts, she never got the heart to put on his music, afraid that she might fall for him. She wasn’t any special; he probably had girls over at his place all the time, and the fact that he offered having breakfast with him didn’t mean much. Y/N got lost in her thoughts, when her boyfriend snapped her back to reality, asking if everything was okay. Her eyes quickly met Shawn’s, and she noticed the way he looked at her; with so much curiosity, his brows frowned, eyes crinkling a bit. Was he mad because he didn’t get to dump her first? Or was he mad that he now had to face her as his friend’s girlfriend? Felt horrible either way.

a/n: alright, I've been working on this for like two months and I’d really appreciate it if you leave me feedback. I'm turning this into series, so let me know if you’d like part 2

#shawn #shawn mendes #mendes #shawn mendes blurb #Boyfriend Shawn #best friend! shawn #au #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #fluff #shawn mendes series #series #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fluffy #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes au #Shawn Mendes Imagine #mendes army #shawn fanfiction #shawn series #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x #shawn x reader #shawn x you

[metaphorbrian]

Collision - Roger Taylor x OC, Part I

This is my first time writing any fanfiction and I’m a little nervous to post it. I don’t even know if anyone will read this. If you do, I’m already thankful and even more so, if you like it. Feel free to tell me! 

I think this will have multiple parts, so stay tuned! 

I got the idea from this post. 

Summary: In March 1974, Roger and Elaine (OC) meet on the train to Manchester and due to a malfunction, it stops in the middle of nowhere and they’re forced to spend the whole day together.

Warnings: none lmao this is kinda boring

Elaine’s POV

Euston station was as busy as ever as I walked down the platform. The train’s doors had just opened, and everybody was eager to be the first one to board it. I pushed past a family with two children who were complaining about having to carry their own luggage and tried to get as close to the doors as possible without bumping into anyone. My large backpack weighed heavily on my shoulders, as I had packed for several days. I clutched its straps tightly as people rudely pushed me out of the way.

When I finally got onto the train, nearly all seats were taken and I was starting to feel frustrated until I spotted a compartment with only one passenger inside. I hesitantly pushed the door open, causing a young man with long blond hair and blue eyes to look up.

“Excuse me, but are these seats taken?”, I asked, gesturing towards the three empty spots.

The man seemed to think for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. He scrunched his eyebrows and bit his lip, before sighing slightly. Altogether, he didn’t seem very pleased about my presence, and I was about to turn around and leave when I heard the sound of his high-pitched voice.

“I suppose not.” He gave me a small but charming smile, which I hesitantly returned as I closed the compartment door.

I took a seat across from him, subtly stealing glances while I placed my backpack next to me. He had delicate features, framed by shoulder-length blonde hair that he kept pushing out of his eyes. There was a notebook in his lap, one leg crossed over the other as he tapped his pen against the page in a steady rhythm. He seemed deep in thought, his bright blue eyes far away as he gazed out of the window.

The noise I made opening my backpack and taking out a book seemed to bring him back to reality, his gaze focusing on my face. I awkwardly cleared my throat and blushed slightly, which he acknowledged with a smirk.

I tore my eyes away from his face, opening the book where I had left off the night before. I had only read a few paragraphs when I heard his pleasant voice pipe up again.

“Is it good?”

“Pardon me?” I asked confusedly, looking up into his eyes.

“The book you’re reading”, he clarified. “Is it any good?” He was still wearing that all too attractive smirk on his lips as his eyes never left my face.

“It’s Jane Austen, of course it’s good”, I answered with a small laugh, playing with the green ribbon that had previously marked my place in Pride and Prejudice, one of my favourite novels.

“Never cared much for classics”, he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I bet that’s only because you’ve had to read them for class, innit? Books are never good when you’re forced to read them”, I said, still nervously twirling the ribbon between my fingers.

“You might be right, but I’m not a great reader, anyway. Think it’s a waste of my time”, he objected playfully and grinned at me.

I couldn’t help but smile wider. “Then what do you like to do instead?”, I inquired and found myself genuinely interested in this stranger’s pastimes.

“Music. I’m a musician”, he revealed proudly, obviously anticipating my reaction.

At this point, I was officially intrigued. I discreetly closed my book and put it aside, knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on its story anyway.

“What kind of musician?”

“I’m a drummer. I also write songs. My name’s Roger, by the way.” He looked at me warily, as if expecting a certain response to his statement.

His name didn’t ring any bells and I wondered if it should have. I studied his face again, looking for familiarity as another smile grazed his lips.

“I’m El”, I said simply. “That’s short for Elaine.”

“Well, Elaine,” I liked the way my name sounded coming from his lips. “What do you do when you’re not reading?” Roger was still tapping his pen against the notebook, exuding nervous energy.

“I, uh, work in a café”, I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed after knowing about his profession.

“You think I could stop by sometime, get some free coffee?”, he asked cheekily, his blue eyes scrunching up slightly. 

I happily returned his grin and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Seeming pleased with my answer, he continued: “It’ll be a while, though. I’m on tour with my band for another month or so. Our next show is in Manchester.”

“Then how come you’re not traveling with them?”

My question seemed to touch a nerve, as Roger frowned softly and his easy grin vanished as if it had never been there in the first place.

“I’m afraid they’re not very happy with me right now”, he admitted, biting his lip and looking genuinely upset. “I needed some time to cool off.”

“Can I ask why?” The question had left my lips before I could give it a second thought. 

“They have a problem with my lifestyle”, he told me with a crooked smile.

“And what kind of lifestyle is that?”, I asked teasingly, coming up with a few ideas of my own. 

“Oh, you know. Rock ‘n’ Roll and all that”, Roger answered vaguely, not meeting my gaze. 

“So... girls, parties, drugs, the like?”, I clarified bluntly, taking him by surprise.

“Something like that. The thing is, I’m not the only one leading that lifestyle. You should see what Freddie gets up to when he’s had a few drinks.” Roger rolled his eyes, perhaps to conceal his anger in the face of this hypocrisy.

“Why are they mad at you then?”, I asked cautiously, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“They say I’m choosing that lifestyle over the music, that I’ve lost focus.” He seemed angry recalling his bandmates’ words. “I didn’t like hearing that, so I, uh, sort of lashed out and we fought”, he told me, scratching the back of his head almost bashfully. “I’ve got quite the temper.”

“Well, a fault confessed is half redressed”, I answered optimistically. “I’m sure they’ll come around.” Even though I didn’t know a single one of Roger’s bandmates, I had a feeling he would be hard to resist once he had set his mind onto earning their forgiveness. 

“I can’t believe you use proverbs”, Roger said and erupted into laughter.

“What do you mean? There’s definitely some truth to that”, you argued defensively.

“I’m not disputing that, love.” The pet name slipped from his lips easily, causing me to look up at him with a surprised smile, which he returned teasingly.

Our conversation paused for a few awkward moments, in which I tried to hide the growing blush on my cheeks from his view by looking down. 

It hadn’t been quite for even three minutes before Roger continued speaking, apparently not able to busy himself with his notebook. “So what brings you to Manchester?”

“I grew up there. Moved to London when I was 18. I’m, uh, visiting my family”, I mumbled, not looking him in the eyes.

Roger seemed to sense that this was a touchy subject for me, as he carefully asked his next question. “Is there a special occasion?”

My throat went dry and I bit my lip, debating whether or not I should tell him. I wasn’t usually one to share this much personal information with a stranger, but then again, strangers didn’t usually make me feel the way he did.

“My nanny, Jane, she’s really sick. She was like a mother to me and I haven’t seen her in three years, so when I got the news, I knew I had to come immediately.” I tried to keep all emotion out of my voice, but I could tell by its little cracks that I hadn’t succeeded. 

Roger’s expression instantly changed from careful to empathetic as he moved his hand towards my arm in an effort to comfort me, but stopped halfway when he noticed the guarded look in my eyes. 

“I’m really sorry about your nanny”, he said genuinely, his blue eyes full of concern. 

I was touched by his sympathy and nodded, forcing a smile. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Tell me about your band.” 

Roger’s face immediately lit up, a passionate expression in his eyes. “Well, we’re called Queen and I’m the drummer... then there’s Freddie, our lead singer, and Brian on the guitar. Can’t forget Deaky, our bassist. His name’s John, actually, but only his mum calls him that”, he rambled lively, still smiling excitedly. “Are you sure you’ve never heard of us? We’re great, really.” He sent me a cheeky wink, obviously aware of the effect this had on me.

“And modest, too!”, I laughed.

“You should come to a show sometime. We always go out for drinks afterward and that’s when the craziest things happen. Like that one time when Brian...” Roger’s warm voice chased all thoughts of Jane’s illness from my mind as I listened to his stories of adventurous nights filled with drinks and laughter. I sighed contently and leaned my head against the window, eyes still fixed on his face and the train ride suddenly seemed much easier to endure.

#roger taylor #queen #queen band #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x oc #queen band fic #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy!roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody fic #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fluff #borhap fluff #borhap fic

[chatoyism]

Sweeter Life ➵ Young K One Shot

➺ Summary: You love cooking. Ever since you were little, you were giving out restaurant quality foods for your family but was scared to show it to anyone else. When you eventually got a boyfriend by the name of Brian, he opened up about the reason why you get takeout so much. Eventually, it was time to prove how well your skills can a long way. 

➺ Genre: Romance, Fluff

➺ Member: Kang Younghyun (Brian)

➺ Words: 2.8k

A/N: This beautiful one shot which features a cooking recipe is indeed a real thing! It was inspired by a cooking video I watched on YouTube following the same recipe and same name so if you ever want a look at what the food will look like in your head to form some kind of image, the link to the exact video is right here! Thank you, Cooking Tree for this beautiful stunning masterpiece!

Blueberry Cheese Tart Recipe

It was dark outside, cold, freezing air brushing past your cheeks as you took a shivering step inside your two-story house after coming back from working at the town convenience store. Your teeth chattered repeatedly, hands trying to rub against your body in hopes of delivering some kind of warmth while you glanced around the empty and quiet space. Closing the door behind you in a hurry, Your flat shoes made clacking sounds against the wooden floorboards as you walked through the hallway towards the kitchen with a large bag of take-out food in your hands.

The smell of the food lingered around the room, a box filled with steak, gravy and fresh salad and cheese from a local quality restaurant you got from nearby. Quickly rushing to the kitchen, you placed the oversize bag on the counter, taking out the contents and setting it aside and throwing the rubbish away. Excess grease stained your soft and delicate hands, the smell of the cooked but hot food filling up your taste buds.

From around the corner, footsteps echoed throughout the house coming from the stairs. The steps were careful, trudging through the hallway before the figure behind the sounds wrapped their arms around your petite waist.

In the corner of your eyes, you saw little feet poking out from underneath baggy black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, red hair sticking out on the side of your face. It was basic clothing choice, but that was the style you’ve always been admiring for.

“Now where has this beautiful piece of food come from, love?” The sound coming from your boyfriend Brian mumbled in the crook of your neck. You chuckled as his lips tickled against your skin, squishing his chubby cheeks softly.

“It was all that I could find at this time, Brian. It’s late at night so every restaurant in town was closed and couldn’t open up until later.” You explained to him, turning your body around so you faced his tired but angelic figure. “Thank god I found this one restaurant that offered me some lovely dinner tonight!”

He laughed at your beautiful smile that you let out whilst explaining your catastrophe with the whole “restaurant” thing. There was something about you that made him your boyfriend. He was talented, played the bass guitar, sang like an angel, beatbox like a pro and even dance like a natural, but there was a giant difference between you and him. You were a part of the “average” women so you didn’t know how or why he chose you out of all girls.

“Come on. Tuck in.” You nudged him slightly, making him nod out a murmur cutely and cuddled with you a little longer before grabbing the food box and a plate and headed for the dining table. You ran behind him, sitting in the seat just across from him with cutlery and your own plate, food and glasses of water.

As he opened the takeout box, steam escaped everywhere, surprisingly suddenly making you chuckle. Eyeing the succulent visual of the grilled steak and gravy on the side made him lick his lips in temptation. Drool was almost leaving his mouth at the stunning beauty of the food in front of him before he quickly emptied the contents into the plate and immediately dug in.

His face showed many signs of happiness. Scrunching up his nose as he chewed the steak sent pure bliss all around him. It was yet again, like every other food you ever got, indescribable.

“Where do you find these foods Y/N?” He questioned like an enthusiastic toddler, stabbing the fork into the crisp salad and practically inhaling the food into his mouth. You laughed.

“Maybe at the greatest quality restaurants in town.” You smirked jokingly as your boyfriend smiled at your reply.

After watching Brian tucking into his food like an animal, you too decided to have a go and see for yourself. Grabbing your fork and knife, you sliced off a chunk of steak, watching as the sweet juices oozed out beautifully, popping the piece into your mouth and chewed.

It was indeed magnificent like your boyfriend had said. Everything about it made your body shiver, just from a single piece of steak alone. Strange. The tenderness was good, the juice filling your taste buds and the texture crispy and soft.

However, it didn’t meet your expectations.

“Woah, this is actually some good stuff.” You said, trying to pretend that it was alright, something you’ve been doing this whole time with the other bags of food you bring in every night for you and your boyfriend to share.

“See? I told you so! This restaurant has to earn good tips from this type of food!”

For the rest of those few minutes, you continued to eat at an ordinary pace, taking your time to engulf some water and accompany your meal with salad and cheesy gravy. By the time you were halfway done with your steak, Brian’s plate was basically empty. Not a single bit of lettuce, meat or gravy covered the plate beside a few stains.

He was impressive.

You were about to take another piece of salad into your mouth that was stuck to the end of the fork before Brian interrupted suddenly as he watched you eat.

“Hey Y/N?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve been getting quite curious lately over something that may be ordinary for you, but got me really confused at first.” He said, looking at you deeply in the eyes while you really wanted to eat that salad on your fork.

“Why is it that you bring us takeout instead of cooking your own dinner?”

You froze suddenly, making the salad fall off the cutlery. It startled Brian at first making him start to panic as you didn’t say a word for a few seconds and just stared at him straight in the eyes like you were stunned.

Actually, you were stunned.

“U-Uhh, Y/N? Are you okay there? I-I’m sorry if I offended you, I-I didn’t mean too!” He stuttered, waving his hands in front of your face.

You snapped back to reality. “O-Oh yeah. I’m fine, just a bit traumatized.”

“Was it about the cooking thing?” Brian asked, his red hair fluttering in front of his face. You set down your utensils and looked down, nodding in acceptance.

“I-I know how to cook… I’m just scared that people will judge it…” You mumbled, but Younghyun managed to hear it perfectly, making him smile that you told the truth.

“It’s alright love, you don’t have to show your cooking, if you’re scared, just keep it inside unless you want to let it all out. I will wait for that special moment.” Brian smiled brightly, making you grin at how amazing he was.

“Thanks love.” You said.

“No problem. Now eat your steak or else I might steal it.” He chuckled, playfully joking with you.

You were right about the cooking subject yesterday. The talk from before explained a lot of truth that you were too afraid of telling to anyone, even if it was a topic that many spoke about. However, it was all over the fact that you were scared people judged you.

You cooked like a professional, used ancient techniques when it came to using knives and even knew how to correctly take out fish bones without leaving a single one in, but you wouldn’t have known since you barely ate any of your foods. All those judgments were made by your parents and siblings, how they questioned you at such a young age how you could become the next best chef in the world.

You made anything, from soft, fresh white bread, perfect Italian pizza, stunning spaghetti to the desserts like sweet apple custard pies, creamy vanilla stack cake and summer peach iced tea drinks.

You basically served quality 5-star restaurant food that you would make by yourself.

It was a natural skill, you were almost born with this talent, but you eventually let this talent slip away and hid it behind your other skills in life. It fell behind and the last time you could ever remember recalling the last food you made was when you left home for college. Two years ago.

Now, you didn’t feel so scared anymore. You had Younghyun by your side.

The morning sun rose up and beamed its shining light through the slits of your curtains, making you gradually open your eyelids and sit up, stretching your arms out with a big yawn.

You wore only a singlet and underwear that night under thick white blankets with the warm body of your boyfriend beside you. His shirtless figure, spread out across the mattress while his face hid underneath the sheets made you smile at his cute sleeping posture, light snores escaping past his plump peach coloured lips.

Letting your legs slip out of the sheets, you quietly stood up and pushed the blankets towards Brian, making him shuffle a little, hoping that you didn’t disturb him and to your surprise, he didn’t.

You made your way to his side of the closet and picked out a large oversize shirt from the wide range of clothing, before deciding on one white long sleeve one and slipping it over your body. The big size dropped beyond your small body size, making it look more like a dress.

You left the room quietly, closing the door and walking downstairs and heading straight to the kitchen where you opened the fridge and noticed the somehow overfilled compartments of food.

“Since when did we get all of these?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow before shrugging and thinking of something to make with your gallery of food recipes.

Yes, that was correct. You were planning on cooking today. Breakfast for your boyfriend.

“Sugar… Cream cheese… Blueberries… Apple mint…” You labelled the ingredients in front of you before you immediately thought of something from the top of your head.

“I got it.”

You grabbed an apron that hung on a hook and tied the knot around your waist, grabbing a giant glass bowl from the cupboard and proceeded to grab your ingredients from the fridge. One at a time, you pulled out a bunch of things. Fruits, powders, leaves and a rotten apple at the far back of the fridge that you didn’t even notice before sighing and brushing off the contents on your hands.

“Cream cheese and whisk.” You said to yourself, grabbing a whisk and mashing the right amount of cream cheese inside the bowl before it was soft and smooth. You added the egg, some sugar, a pinch of salt, vanilla extract and continued on mixing.

You were incredibly focused on your work. You were a silent worker but didn’t notice the sounds of Brian’s footsteps from the stairs when suddenly, his figure came up to you from behind without you noticing and slipped his arms around your waist once more. You jumped up in surprise, heart beating quickly and quickly covered up the bowl of mixture in your hands.

“You weren’t in bed, early birdy.” He mumbled, smiling as he pressed his shirtless body against your back wrapping his arms tighter. You laughed a little.

“I was thinking of something today, but you can’t see it until I tell you too.” You replied, making him smirk. “It’s a secret, so no cheeky peeking.”

“Alright, I’ll go back into the bedroom, but you better promise me that you’ll be done soon. I miss your warmth beside me, okay, love?”

“It’s a promise.” You connected pinky fingers and watched as he gave you a wink and turned towards the stairs, quickly eyeing your ingredients on the countertop before heading up into the bedroom and away from your sight.

“Weew.” You wiped off a bit of sweat on your forehead.

You quickly found a plate to place your food in, getting a tart sheet from inside the fridge and moulding it into shape before grabbing homemade blueberry puree and spreading it lightly inside the uncooked dough. 

Pouring the soft, creamy mixture on top of the puree, you put the tart on a baking tray and opened the oven before slipping it in, baking it for a good 35 minutes until it was crispy and golden brown.

Time went by slowly, sitting through a movie being played on the TV, wondering what Younghyun was probably up to in the bedroom alone by himself when the timer to the oven sounded. You jumped up with glee, skipping to the kitchen and slipped on your cute pastel blue oven mitts before opening it up and picked the cooked fresh tart from inside, setting it on the stove top.

The creamy mixture folded into a squishy texture, the tart on the outside firm and golden brown into perfection where you began placing small little blueberries on top and adding leaves of apple mint in between the cracks of the fruits.

“Kang Younghyun! Breakfast is ready!” You called out, echoing through the house when suddenly, loud thumps from upstairs were heard and his hard footsteps banging against the floorboards. He quickly ran downstairs, still without a shirt on when he suddenly stopped by the kitchen door frame.

His reaction was priceless.

Your delicate hands handle the powdered sugar lightly, tapping the strainer over the perfect, seamless masterpiece that was shining right in front of him as it left white speckles on the blueberries and apple mint laid in a beautiful circle. He couldn’t explain. He was speechless. He was in love with not only a beautiful woman but an amazing unrecognized chef.

“Close that mouth of yours, you’ll catch flies!” You said and ordered him to come over to sit at the counter, still in a complete daze.

He still couldn’t comprehend the situation.

“Y-You made that?” He asked, still not sure if this was you or some masterpiece ordered online. You raised an eyebrow and smirked, giving him an almost shocking answer.

“Who else would’ve made it?”

“No way, this is unbelievable…”

“Go on, take a bite.” You said, a little scared at first when you lent him a fork as he took it, delighted. His stomach churned and rumbled underneath the rows of muscles chiselled on his body which made him look down at pat it in silence.

“I swear, I don’t feel worthy of this creation. It looks too good.” Brian tried to stop himself from eating it before you took a knife and cut a piece through the tart, revealing another whole new world inside, making him drooling for the food.

He immediately tucked in when you placed the slice on a plate and slid it towards him where he took a piece and devoured it in a second, enjoying the burst of flavours exploding inside his mouth. Not even one bite through, the warmth of the creamy mixture and the juicy blueberries alone made him leave his jaw hanging in total shock. He left a sort of, “Oh-my-god-this-is-so-good-I’m-speechless” type of expression, where he stayed still, and trying to figure out why he couldn’t speak.

You dug in as well, taking a piece from the tart and popping it in your mouth where you too were surprised. It had been so long since you last got to taste your own cooking, but it was so much better than you intended it to be.

“A-Are you okay, Younghyun?” You said his name, making him snap his head back to the real world.

“I-I-I just can’t believe it… This is amazing…”

“Don’t lie, it’s not that good… Is it?”

“Why would I say that my girlfriend’s cooking is bad? T-This is basically chef quality stuff! Even Gordon Ramsay could get jealous over this, it’s really good!” He said in excitement, continuing to dig into the tart before all of it was gone from the plate. Nothing was left behind and all that was left, however, was a full stomach.

“You, Y/N, are one of the greatest people alive.” He complimented, making you blush a whole shade of red. He smiled brightly, cute at how you looked away with shyness.

“You’re playing with my feelings…” You joked.

You were about to place the empty plate into the sink behind you when Younghyun stopped you in your tracks.

“Uhh, Y/N, you’ve got a little something on your lips there.”

“Where is it?”

You were going to brush it away when Brian suddenly leaned in super close to you, holding onto your chin and closed his eyes, giving a deep, passionate kiss on your lips. His plump lips moulded in with yours, the sweetness of the sugar from earlier binding with the taste of his own, closing your eyes for a few seconds and letting him kiss you passionately before breaking it slowly.

“It was powdered sugar. All gone now.” He smirked.

Your heart was on the verge of stopping at how cheesy he was, but how he could be so loving and caring at the same time.

Who knew life with your boyfriend could be so sweet?

#younghyun #one shot #one shots #day6 #5live #day6 one shot #day6 one shots #younghyun one shot #younghyun one shots #brian #brian kang #kang younghyun #kang young hyun #young k #young k day6 #younghyun day6 #youngk one shot #jae #sungjin #wonpil #dowoon #fan fiction #imagines #imagine #day6 fan fiction #day6 fan fictions #scenario #day6 scenarios #jyp day6 #kpop one shots

[artificialqueens]

Heavy Rain Ch. 4 (Shalaska/Katlaska)- Insomnidelic

AN: Caution: Smut. Enjoy :)

“Uunhhh.” Justin groans heavily, taking in all of his length as he buries his face in a pillow to deafen his whorish moans, mindful of the thin hotel walls. He grips at the bed sheets, desperately trying to find something to hold on to as Brian pounds him roughly into the mattress.

Holy shit. Cock this good should be illegal.

Brian pauses his movement and lowers his mouth to Justin’s shoulder, nipping gently and lying wet kisses along his shoulder blades.

“Use your words, big boy.” He whispers into his ear. Justin trembles at the sound of his voice, gruff and laced with sex.

“You feel so fucking good.” He breathes, craning his head to connect their lips. Its all tongue and teeth, the two men fighting for control. Brian grins into the kiss, knowing he has the upper hand by far.

‘Turn over.” He commands. Justin obliges happily to a change of position. He flips onto his back and his eyes graze lustfully over Brian’s naked body, glistening with sweat as he pumps his throbbing cock in his hand before spreading Justin’s legs to reclaim entry. The air in the room gets thicker and the moaning gets louder as Brian continues his rough thrusts, giving Justin every inch of him.

“That’s it, fuck me harder. Give it to me.” Justin whispers hotly, eyes smoldering. Brian growls and moves Justin’s legs from around his waist to over his shoulders, shifting his hips to slide even deeper into the younger man. Justin gasps and bites his lip, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view. Brian’s cock slamming in and out of him was mesmerizing. He reaches down to stroke himself at the sight, his moans now uncontainable. Brian lowers his hand over his lips to quiet him, surprised when Justin takes his thumb into his mouth and sucks teasingly without breaking eye contact. He picks up the pace, filling him completely with every thrust of his hips. He pauses when he feels himself getting close, burying his face in Justin’s neck.

“I’m gonna cum.” He murmurs, moving his mouth back to Justin’s. They kiss, biting and pulling on each other’s lips. Brian gives in and pulls his cock out to release all over the other queen’s stomach. Justin whimpers and stares in awe at the unending streams of hot, white cum shooting out from Brian’s cock. Someone was pent up.

Brian’s breathing slows. He leans down to bite along Justin’s neck before connecting their lips in a searing kiss. Justin gives him a lustful smile as they break apart, Brian’s teeth grazing the flesh of his chest as he sinks to his lower half.

“Your turn.” He says softly, taking the younger man’s length into his eager mouth, sucking wildly, appreciating every inch with his throat and tongue. It’s not long before Justin is sent over the edge, Brian swallowing every drop. He shivers and pulls Brian up to meet his lips, their bodies sticky and intertwined.

They lay quietly together. Had they really just done this? It wasn’t something Justin could ever imagine happening, but being connected with Brian felt right in every way. He struggles to keep his eyes open as the older man gently brushes his sweaty curls away from his forehead.

“Wake up, Justin.” Brian whispers in his ear.

“Hmm?” Justin hums back, still lost in the haze of his orgasm.

“I said it’s time to wake up”

Justin’s eyes crack open, the morning light streaming in from the hotel room windows, blinding him. Michelle sits next to him on top of his bed covers and smiles warmly as she continues brushing his curls. He stretches, groaning at the dull pain on the right side of this head.

“Michelle, it huuurts.” He whines in his distinctive vocal fry.

“I’ve brought your meds and your breakfast. Make sure you eat all of it so you don’t have an upset tummy later.” Michelle informs him, settling effortlessly into mommy mode. She gestures to his bedside table where all she had brought laid.

His stomach roars at the mention of food. He sits up and quickly throws back the pills to kill the emerging pain in his skull. He leans to rest against a stack of fluffy pillows, reflecting on his bizarre, erotic dream.

Featuring his “friend”, Brian, of all people.

He crinkles his eyebrows in confusion. Michelle takes notice to his expression.

“Is everything ok?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just had this weird dream. It almost felt real.” He replies, staring blankly ahead. “Everything about it was so familiar.” He continued a little quieter.

“Well, I had a long talk with your doctor about ways to help jog your memory. He suggested showing you pictures and taking you places… things like that. But he also mentioned that sometimes old memories can work their way into your dreams. So maybe what you dreamt really happened.” She says with a slight shrug, walking to his side to move a tray of pancakes over his lap.

Justin laughs and shakes his head, blushing as the dream replayed itself in his mind. There was absolutely zero chance in hell he and Brian hooked up. He would never go behind Aaron’s back like that, even if he did find Brian attractive. The thought made him flush with guilt. He stares down at his food.

Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry.

–

Brian enters his apartment, having beaten the rain by mere seconds. He was soaked with sweat from head to toe, tossing his keys and phone on the couch before making a b-line for the fridge. He pulls out an ice-cold bottle of water and downs it in record time, trying to catch his breath as his heart rate calms, his morning run unsuccessful in taking his mind off the clusterfuck the previous 24 hours had been.

The tour had obviously been cancelled which meant the queens were given the liberty of returning home. Brian stumbles into his bathroom, stripping before hopping in the shower. He lets the water run over him for what seems like an eternity, staying completely still and allowing the steaming moisture to hit his face. When it goes cold, he takes that as his cue to step out and dry off, wrapping a towel around his waist before walking back through the bedroom and into the kitchen.

He had been living in LA for over a year now but hadn’t been home long enough to finish unpacking, his apartment still cluttered with cardboard boxes. His drag lies haphazardly on every surface, reminders that Katya had very much taken over time and time again. He gripes when he steps on a tiny plastic hand, kicking it across the floor under the couch. Grocery shopping had also yet to be a priority, he realizes as he opens his fridge once more, searching for something to eat knowing full well it was empty save for his water and a few beers he kept around for guests. He sighs in frustration and slams the door shut before making his way over to the couch. He sinks into the cushions and rests his head against the wall behind him, listening to the rain as it poured endlessly, thudding heavily against his windows. He squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to put his mind at ease.

Justin.

Fuck. He couldn’t have a moment alone from his thoughts for one second. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the little amnesiac since he’d woken up that morning.

Let’s pay him a visit.

Let’s not, he wages war with his internal thoughts. He doesn’t even know who you are and he want’s nothing to do with you, he continues to himself.

His phone vibrates from its perch on the opposite end of the couch. He leans over to check who the message is from, “Tits McGee” flashing across the bright screen. What was Michelle texting him for? He slides his thumb over the screen to view the full message.

M- Justin’s asking for you.

No fucking way. Brian stares at the message long enough for his phone to fall asleep, his dumbfounded reflection staring back at him in the black screen.

He wants to see me.

He shakes his head and opens up the text tab to respond.

B- Oh? What does he want?

Gotta keep it cool, don’t want to come across too eager.

He didn’t want Michelle getting wise. Little did she know, he was sweating bullets on the couch waiting for her response. Typing bubbles appear in the text box and he doesn’t dare rip his eyes away from the screen, his phone shaking in the palm of his hands.

M- He says he wants to talk. Asking if you’re free for lunch around noon?

His heart nearly pounds out of his chest. Was Justin remembering? Or better yet, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he just took a liking to Brian at the hospital and wanted to get to know him more. A smile stretches across his face at the thought. Either way it didn’t matter. Justin wanted to see him.

And have lunch.

Easy Fabio, it’s not a date.

He rolls his eyes at his own foolishness. Of course it wasn’t anywhere close to being a date. Michelle was probably going with them to chaperone, for fuck’s sake. His phone vibrates again.

M- I’d join you but I have a few loose ends to tie up at World of Wonder.

Well excuse the fuck out of me.

His eyes glance at the mounted wall clock next to the front door. It was now 11:05. He had just enough time to brush his teeth, comb his hair, get dressed, and sit in a cloud of anxiety for a good fifteen minutes before he would have to leave.

Perfect.

If it’s possible, his smile grows even wider as he types his response.

B- Sure. Tell him we can meet in the hotel lobby.

He presses send and tosses his phone on the couch, darting to his bedroom to get ready.

–

Justin sits on the end of his hotel bed as he laces his shoes on. After four years, he still pretty much dressed the same, but he didn’t recognize most of his clothes. He eyes a few t-shirts Michelle had brought in a bag for him to choose from. He pulled one out that said “Kimora Boujee Barbie” across the chest with what he presumed to be a queen on her elbows and knees, ass in the air. He didn’t know what any of it meant, but he sure as hell liked it. He slips it on and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair.

Staring at himself in the mirror had become his new favorite thing. He didn’t look drastically different, but he’d certainly changed. Filled out more, it seemed. He was still a gangly mess of limbs but his chest seemed a little broader. He flexes jokingly in the mirror at himself. His lips were fuller too. He’d remembered getting a few fillers but he was sure his face had undergone a bit more over time.

He fixes his bandage and runs his hand through his hair before slipping his glasses on his face, not bothering with contact lenses today. He glanced at the clock, reading 12:02. Brian was probably already waiting for him in the lobby. With a deep breath he turns out of the bathroom and grabs his key card before exiting his hotel suite.

It was time to get some answers.

–

Brian sits nervously in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton Los Angeles. The swanky hotel had to be costing Michelle a pretty penny, he thought to himself. He’d opted to take a cab because of the rain, but the weather cleared up once again, returning LA to its bright and sunny glory. Justin was late, but that only gave him more time to calm his nerves. He stands to give himself a once over in the full length mirror lining the lobby wall, adjusting his backwards cap and loose button on his blue checkered shirt.

Who are you trying to impress?

His head whips around when he hears the chime of the elevator. Justin steps out of the opening doors and immediately locks eyes with an apprehensive Brian now standing directly across from him. They both smile awkwardly and walk toward one another.

“Hey.” Brian manages to squeak out, embarrassed at the way his voice cracked at the utter of one simple word. Justin laughs gently, picking up on the nervous atmosphere. Brian sure as hell seemed more confident in his dreams.

“Hi.” He responds and bites his lip, forcing his dream out of his head. Brian really was very attractive, he thought. He wasn’t Aaron, but he was something. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest.

Aaron.

Michelle had taken Justin’s phone away so he had virtually no way to contact his boyfriend. Aaron told him the night before that he’d be by to visit that morning, but no dice. He felt guilty that he’d asked Michelle to contact Brian before his lover, but he was all too eager to pump his “friend” for any information.

“How’s pizza sound?” Brian asks with a soft smile, breaking Justin out of his thoughts.

“Sounds great.” he replies in nearly a whisper. Something about Brian put him at ease. It was a completely unexpected feeling, but a welcome one.

“Great! There’s a place around the corner. It looks like the rain stopped, so we can walk down there if you want.” Brian prompts. Justin nods and the two make their way out the doors and down the street.

Ten minutes later, they sit comfortably in a booth of a quaint pizza parlor. The silence is awkward. Neither one had uttered a word since they left the hotel. Justin moves to break the ice.

“So you’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet up. I know we reintroduced ourselves yesterday, and from what I hear from Aaron we’re actually pretty good friends.” He starts nervously. “So maybe you can tell me more about our friendship and we can try to pick things up where we left off.” He finishes, smiling and leaning in closer across the table.

Brian stiffens.

Justin had spoken to Aaron already? He thought for sure that he hadn’t considering that he didn’t seem at all upset. Certainly he would be distraught after being told that he and Aaron were no longer together. Unless…

That bastard didn’t tell him.

Brian stifles his inner monologue after realizing he hadn’t yet answered Justin’s question.

“Uh… yeah. We’re friends…” He trails off. Justin smiles wider and eyes him, hopeful for more. “Best friends.” He adds, making eye contact with the other queen. He grins as he slides his hand across the table and puts it over Justin’s.

Why did he lie? Well if Aaron could do it for his own selfish reasons, then why couldn’t Brian? He needed Justin to trust him as much as possible. Besides, if he convinced him that they were a little closer to begin with, it might make it easier in the long run to develop a relationship with him.

Relationship? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, slick.

Justin smiles brightly at Brian from what seemed to be a genuine response. He found such security in his eyes and he couldn’t look away. Something about Brian had him dying to get to know him all over again. Their veggie pizza arrived and they dove into easy conversation.

“So I take it you’re a queen too, obviously. What’s your drag name?” Justin asks, reaching for his second slice.

“My name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, but everyone just calls me Katya.” Brian says, raising his hand in a “here I am” fashion, a blinding smile across his face.

“…Uuhkay.” Justin says, blinking. Brian wheeze laughs at his reaction, which he’d been expecting considering it’s the exact same way he responded when they met for the first time years ago.

“So were those other people I didn’t know queens too, Katya?” Justin continues with a smirk, dragging the name out in his signature drawl.

“Well yeah, lets see. Danny was there- Adore Delano from season six. Then there was Shane- Courtney Act, also from season six-“ He’s cut off by Justin’s excited hand waving and bouncing.

“That was Courtney Act? I know all about her from Australian Idol!” He says, a glowing smile on his face.

“Exactly! That was her sitting next to me when you woke up. You guys work together on a lot of stuff…” Brian trails off. He didn’t want to go into the details of the “AAA Girls”, just yet.

“And the other two?” Justin asks, taking more food into his mouth.

“Violet? She won season seven. My season, actually.” Brian replies with a shrug.

“And that other guy. He had a shaved head and a leather jacket?” Justin continued. It still bothered him that Aaron seemingly left with that stranger when Justin woke up. Dread washes over Brian as he realizes he’s being asked about Chad.

“Oh. He’s Sharon’s… assistant.” He responds. It wasn’t a total lie. Chad was Sharon Needles’ assistant. Sharon also happened to be engaged to Chad, but Brian wasn’t about to reveal that tid-bit of information.

Justin nods and looks down at his food. He tried his best to convince himself that Aaron just had business to take care of with his “assistant” and that was the reason he followed him out the way he did. He couldn’t shake this feeling that something was off about the whole thing. He tried to talk to Michelle about it, but she avoided his questions before making him go to sleep, just like any mother would. And then his dream shifted all of his thoughts and focus onto Brian.

“Maybe what you dreamt really happened.” Michelle’s voice echoed in his head.

Right. He came here to get answers. It was time to dive a little deeper with his questions.

“So I’m sure you’ve seen me naked more than a few times.” Justin jokes, taking a sip of water.

This was a test.

Would Brian mention hooking up if it actually happened? Justin was desperate to know. He couldn’t live with himself if he cheated on Aaron. Brian chokes on his pizza and laughs nervously. Justin’s question seemed earnest; surely he didn’t remember anything that had happened between them.

“Uh yeah, of course. Haven’t we all? You were constantly nude in the work room during All Stars.” He justifies with a smirk, averting his eyes and taking a bite out of his pizza crust.

“You were on All Stars with me?” Justin asks, all thoughts of probing for information about cheating now thrown out the window. He was still obsessed over his apparent win and was excited for Brian to share more.

“Yeah. We were each other’s biggest competitors, actually.” Brian assures with a smirk. He puts down his crust and wipes his hands and mouth with a paper napkin. He leans in to an enthusiastic Justin who obviously wanted him to go into detail. “We even had to lip sync against each other a few times. Of course the rules this time around we’re a little different because the winners of the challenge got to lip sync for a chance to send someone home.” He finishes, taking joy in the way Justin’s face lit up at the apparent plot twist.

“Oooh that’s so exciting tell me more, tell me more! God I wish I remembered, fuck!” Justin squeals, bouncing in his seat and shaking his hands around before reaching over to grip Brian’s arm. Not thinking, Brian moves to take Justin’s hands in his own. He craved contact. Justin didn’t seem to think much of it as he let Brian hold his hands while he urged him to continue.

“Well, you won both times. And you won the entire competition- but I take it you already knew that.” He replies, smirking. If you had asked Brian about this a year ago, he probably would have been more reluctant to talk about losing. But seeing the way Justin’s eyes lit up while he told his story made his heart soar.

“Well I’m sorry you lost, but I’m really happy I won.” Justin drawls, pulling his hands away to reach for another slice of pizza.

“It’s alright.” Brian chuckles. “I won the fans.” He adds unthinkingly as he takes a sip from his cup.

“Wha-?” Justin asks, mouth full.

Shit. How are we going to get out of this one, Barbra?

“Well, you see… Not everyone really agreed with you winning.” Brian states as a matter of fact. Justin drops his crust and leans back in his booth, crossing his arms.

“Oh, is that so? And why is that, Bri?” He probes, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because you threw a fit for being on the bottom one time and that really pissed everybody off, including me. You were a total brat and you ended up losing some fans.” Brian huffs. Okay, maybe he was still a little bitter. He chugged his water nervously, avoiding eye contact with Justin who was likely glaring daggers at him. He puts his cup down and looks back up, met with an unexpected sight.

Justin pouts to himself, face red and eyes down casted as a few angry tears roll down his cheeks. His hands remained in his lap and his shoulders slouched. Brian’s stomach sinks. This is exactly what the hunky doctor and Michelle had warned everyone about.

Revealing too much at once.

He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a few crumpled bills, slamming them on the table before grabbing Justin by the hand and pulling him out of the booth.

“What the hell, where are we going?” Justin whines, struggling to keep up with Brian as he all but ran with him out of the restaurant into the crowded streets of LA.

“I’m going to cheer you up.” Brian assures him, clasping his hand a little tighter and pulling him closer.

“Cheer me up? You just told me everyone hates me because I was a brat on national television.” He huffs, planting his feet and pulling away from Brian. Brian frowns as he steps closer to the unmoving man. He brushes his fingers up in down his arm in an attempt to soothe him.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything like that. But if you come with me, I can show you why it’s not all that bad. In fact it’s actually pretty fucking amazing.” He steps closer to put his hands on Justin’s shoulders, a warm smile on his face as he looks into his eyes. Justin’s expression softens.

“Ok, bestie. I trust you.” he whispers reluctantly, mulling over Brian’s words. He lets the older man grasp his hand once again as he continues to guide them to their destination.

“Hot Topic?” Justin asks confused as they finally arrived at the clothing store.

“Look in that window.” Brian urges, gesturing with his free hand to the display on their left.

“Queen of Snakes” was stenciled onto the glass. Racks that should have held t-shirts were bare save for the one on the display mannequin. Alaska in all her glory, a crown on her head and a scepter in her hand, the reining All Stars queen, was printed across the black material.

“That’s me.” Justin whispered in awe, his mouth falling open. “Where are all the other shirts?” He asked.

“Sold out, no doubt.” Brian says, smiling at Justin and rubbing his thumb across his hand. “I walk by this display on my way home all the time. I’ve seen it go from full to empty in a day.” He pauses. “Justin… People still love you. You killed the competition. You had a moment of weakness, and yeah, people called you a snake for it. But you totally owned it and you clawed your way back to the top.” He says. Justin beams at him and shakes his head.

He really was the Queen of Queens.

“OH MY GOD. IT’S KATYA AND ALASKA!”

The two queens jump at the sound of squeals coming from a gaggle of teenaged girls walking out of Hot Topic.

“Oh no, Alaska! What happened to your head? Is that why the tour is cancelled?” One of the girls questioned, stepping closer to get a better look.

“OMFG. They’re holding hands!” Another teen whispers excitedly to her surrounding friends. As if on cue, they all pull out their phones to take pictures.

“Are you guys dating?”

“Can we get a photo?”

“Will the tour be rescheduled?”

A flurry of questions bombard the two queens as they struggle to escape the surprising and uncomfortable situation. Justin tries his best to be friendly to his fans and even allows one to take a selfie with him. He enjoys the attention from being noticed on the street. It was all so new to him. Brian on the other hand was feeling the total opposite of his friend.

Abort! Abort!

He pulls Justin through the group of teenaged girls and around the corner as fast as he could, praying that they wouldn’t follow. He’s somewhat thankful when the rain starts up again, making it easier to get away if anyone decided to go after them. He doesn’t stop until they’ve reached the hotel, both dripping wet.

“What the hell Brian? They just wanted a picture! Do you always treat your fans that way?” Justin exclaims, ripping his hand away from him as they enter the lobby. His damp shoes squeak across the marble floor as he stalks to the elevator, in total disbelief with the situation that just occurred.

Without thinking, Brian follows him into the lift.

“You have amnesia, Justin. I was just trying to protect you. What if those girls said something you weren’t ready to hear? I didn’t want them upsetting you.” He says truthfully, his tone begging for understanding. Justin scowls at him as he continuously presses the button to his floor.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend. Which means you should always tell me the truth. So if there’s something you’re keeping from me, you need to tell me now, or I think maybe we should reconsider picking up where we left off!” He shouts, shaking out his drenched hair in frustration.

He didn’t mean to have an outburst, but so much had happened in one day, it was bound to catch up to him. The way Brian held his hand a little too comfortably. The way that teen asked if they were dating. Had he been cheating on Aaron with Brian? His stomach turns as he starts to believe that that could be a real possibility.

Brian exhales slowly unsure of what to say next. He wanted to tell Justin that whatever Aaron had said to him was a lie. That Aaron was in love with someone else. That he was happily engaged. But it just wasn’t his place. He’s broken out of his thoughts at the sound of Justin’s sobs.

“No, please don’t cry! I shouldn’t have taken you out there. Michelle is going to be so pissed. I’m a fucking idiot.” Brian urges, reaching out and pulling Justin into his arms to comfort him.

“No, it’s not that. We shouldn’t have been holding hands. They took pictures. Aaron is going to find out and be so angry with me.” Justin weeps into his shoulder before pushing away. The elevator door opens and the two walk out, Brian continuing to follow Justin as he makes his way to his suite.

“No, he won’t Justin.” Brian says firmly in response to his friend’s worried assertion.

Just tell him.

Brian takes a deep breath and reaches out for his friend who remains two steps ahead of him.

“You and Aaron are n-“ He’s cut off as they round the corner to see a man standing in front of Justin’s door.

Aaron turns to face Justin and Brian, the two standing a little too close for his liking. Brian’s heart sinks.

Can this get any worse?

“Baby!” Justin exclaims, wiping his tears and running into Aaron’s waiting arms.

Apparently it can.

#shalaska #katlaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #smut #angst #insomnidelic #rpdr fanfiction #heavy rain #canon compliant #memory loss

[dadvans]

the ghost ship that didn’t carry us

egobang :: m :: game grumps :: arin wakes up in a parallel universe where he married dan instead of suzy. 

(i’ve had a number of requests to repost this, since i pulled it from ao3 a few months ago!  it was originally posted last april, and have been really heartened to hear how many people enjoyed it since it was taken down.  so in honor of april fool’s day, my take on Wake Up Married: 

It’s not like Arin’s never thought about it--him, Dan.  Arin’s had a few dozen thousand very gay thoughts about Dan, because Dan is Dan.  Dan’s not just unconventionally attractive, he’s hot, he’s scorching to such a degree that Arin would worry that if Dan actually got his mouth on Arin’s junk that all the ball hair would be singed off by sheer proximity. If Arin hadn’t met his soulmate at age fourteen, eyes locking across the crowded hall of an anime convention, he’d be the first to admit without any hesitation that Dan would probably have turned him totally, completely into a brunch-loving, pastel-wearing cock sucker.  Dan would have full dibs on his butthole, and there’s no shame in knowing it.  

But there’s a difference between Arin knowing he’d go ass over teakettle gay for Dan and actually doing the do.  For one, he’s married.  For two, well--well, he’s happily married.  There isn’t really a three, except maybe Arin wouldn’t be willing to risk his two best friendships with his wife and his Danny just to see if he likes the taste of dick in his mouth or the feel of Dan’s curls between his fingers.  He’s lucky enough to have what he has in life, and it would be beyond greedy to ask for anything more.

Which is why it is more than a little confusing when he wakes up naked in Dan’s bed.

“Dan?  The fuck?” he says, taking in the naked tangle of their limbs and torsos and Dan’s morning wood heavy with piss rubbing against his thigh, before repeating with what Dan will later describe as grave vehemence, “the fuck!”

“Whassa matter?” Dan mumbles, rolling graciously away from him to paw at his nightstand for his phone.  He turns it on to see the time and slams it back down with a side, pushing his face into his pillow.  “Oh my God, Arin, it’s eight in the morning, go back to sleep.”

“Dude!” is all Arin can say, because dude, go back to sleep?  Go back to nakedly being Dan’s little spoon with Dan’s dick snug against his asshole like a friendly neighbor stopping by to say hello?  

“What?” Dan replies, voice still muffled as he looks up from his pillow.  Arin winces as Dan puts a hand around wrist, touch too tender and genuine.  “You’re freaking me out, dude, are you okay?”

“Dan,” Arin says very quietly, very serious, “we’re naked right now.”

Dan just continues to stare at him very concerned.  “Did you hit your head? Are you brain damaged?”

“No, I--what?”

“You’re acting super weird,” Dan says, pushing himself up on an elbow.  The hand that was encircling Arin’s wrist comes up so Dan can turn his face to look at him, thumb on his cheek, fingertips in his sideburns, the cool, sharp edge of a ring smooth against Arin’s jaw.  And that’s something else that doesn’t seem right, as comforting as it feels.

“When did you get married?” Arin asks, nudging Dan’s hand away with his face to get a closer look at the ring, which is definitely a wedding band.  Dan’s face contorts into something unreadable, and he shuts up as Arin holds his hand and traces over the thick silver of the ring.  It looks so similar to his own.  “Dan?”

“Uh, last year,” Dan replies, looking like Arin hit him, “to you, douchebag.”

And huh.  Arin stares at him dumbly, not sure what else to say, and Dan rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s been a real wild ride for me too, baby,” Dan says, and then he leans forward and kisses the corner of Arin’s mouth and drops his hand and rolls back over into his pillow, the naked stretch of his shoulders facing Arin.

“But I can’t be married to you,” Arin thinks out loud, getting more and more confused by the second.  Dan visibly tenses in front of him.  “I mean, not that I would mind, I would totally be gay married to you if I wasn’t already married.”

“Okay, Arin, what the shit,” Dan says, rolling back over.  “You’re really freaking me the fuck out right now.”  

“You?  You’re freaking me the fuck out!  Is this some kind of weird prank?  Look, man, you know I love you, you know if I went gay for anyone, it would be you, you would get me where I need to go.  But this is really weird.”

“Went gay?” Dan repeats.  “Arin, baby, you are like, the gayest gay I know.  Do I need to take you to a hospital?  Are you concussed?”

“No!” Arin says, feeling ridiculous trying to argue with his everything exposed, the sheets of Dan’s bed pooled around his thighs.  

“Okay,” Dan says slowly.  “Let’s try this: what year is it?”

“Twenty-sixteen,” Arin says, and Dan lets out a sigh.

“So far, so good. Uh--what’s my name?”

“Dan,” Arin replies, but it’s more exasperation than answer. “And my name’s Arin, and we are best friends, but in a heterosexual life partners kind of way, because I am married to a woman, dude.  Suzy would not appreciate this.”

“I hate to break this to you, but there is nothing heterosexual about this,” Dan says, pushing a few stray locks of his awful bedhead out of his eyes and brushing them back too tight with stress.  “And the state of California recognizes me as your only spouse.”

Arin’s had enough at this point.  Dan is acting like a goddamn pod person, and the worst part is that the prank shouldn’t be malicious, because Arin really does love Dan in the only way he can, and he’s just as much of a grounding force in Arin’s life as Suzy is, and if things were different, well, Arin’s spent a few nights lying awake thinking what if, what if, what if.  But it feels malicious, it feels like Dan’s trying to punish himself or the both of them, and he’s taking it uncomfortably far.  

He shakes his head and shoves himself off the bed.  “I need to get the fuck out of here.  Where are my clothes?”  

Dan’s quiet for a second.  “In your dresser,” he says eventually.  

Arin frowns at him, and then he takes another look around the room.  It’s definitely Dan’s room, but there are subtle differences--Arin’s dresser, the one he’s had since he moved out of his parent’s house, is tucked in the corner with Dan’s, there’s a rug he doesn’t recognize under the bed against the hardwood, and a handful of photos featuring the two of them from nights that Arin remembers, but doesn’t remember happening like that are artfully hung and propped up in mismatched bookshelves that Arin recognizes as belonging to both of them.  

“What,” he says, his voice weak with disbelief, “is going on.”

“Man, I’m just as confused as you,” Dan groans, burying his face in his hands. He’s never been a great actor, and changing the entire interior of his bedroom is taking a prank way, way, way too far, but Arin has no other explanation for it.  He keeps waiting for Dan to crack, tell him, you win, I’m sorry, you should have seen your face, fucker, but Dan looks legitimately as lost as he is, and it feels like the floor is dropping out from under Arin’s feet.  

“I need to get out of here,” Arin decides out loud, stumbling over to his dresser.  When he opens the drawer he recognizes some of his clothes, but not everything.  He blindly just pulls out the first of everything he can find, some graphic tee and boxers and well-worn pair of jeans, nearly tripping over himself out the room as he puts them on.  “I need to wake up.”

Suzy finds Arin curled around an Iced Kyoto at Demitasse a little over an hour later.  She rolls her eyes, putting her purse down at an empty chair near his table, and pulling out the one in front of him loudly to take a seat.  

She looks different.  Not in a bad way, just in an unfamiliar way; her body language isn’t necessarily wrong, it just doesn’t suggest the intimacy that he’s so used to sharing with her.  He doesn’t know what to make of it.  

“I haven’t had coffee yet,” she says, and she slips the drink out of his hand to take a sip.  

“Well, we are in a coffee shop,” Arin says, looking over her shoulder suggestively at the coffee bar where she could, you know, order her own drink.  

“Yeah, and I’m out of bed before noon on my day off, because Dan called me losing his shit, jerkass, so you’re buying me a drink.”

“Ugh, fine,” he says, and hands her a wad of cash he found in the pocket of some well worn jeans that were in his size on the bedroom floor.

She doesn’t even buy coffee.  She buys a hot chocolate with lavender in it with extra whip on the lid that she licks off.  It’s cute when she does it, but he would sneer at anyone else.  

“How’d you find me?” he asks her.  He couldn’t find his phone before he left Dan’s, and he didn’t want to stick around long enough, too afraid some ugly truth would find him if he stayed there long enough.

“You always come here when you’re freaking out,” she says matter of factly, fastening the lid back onto the cup. “Anyway, Dan tells me you think we’re married.”

“Please,” he says, no, pleads, “don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she replies, meticulous eyebrow raised, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.  

“C’mon,” he tries, “babe.”

“You’re acting weird,” she says.  She’s smiling, but it’s the kind of smile that she has when Ross says something that shits over the line. “Are you and Dan fucking with me?”

“What?” It comes out like a laugh, a weak one, because he’s barely been awake for an hour but he feels exhausted already.  She’s still smiling at him like she’s waiting for a punchline, so he wipes at his eye and rests his forehead against his knuckles.  “No, I swear, you two are fucking with me.  Just--how much did he pay you?  Everyone?  I’m assuming like, Barry and Ross and Brian are in on this too.  Did you guys like, roofie me and move all our furniture to Barry and Dan’s while I was out?”

“Arin, I’m legit worried for you,” she says.  She puts down her drink, and that’s how he knows that she’s serious.  “Like?  Barry and Dan’s?  Why would my roommate live with your husband?  Are you on something?  Did you start drinking?”

“No,” he whines, and he realizes he sounds all of five years old when it comes out of his mouth.  “I just--God, I swear, maybe I am going crazy.  We met when I was fourteen, right?”

“Yeah,” she says.  

“I asked you out.”

“Right,” she says.  “We dated, and then you realized you were boy crazy like, eight months in, and we’ve been best friends ever since.  Well, okay, there was like, that one month I wouldn’t talk to you, because we were in high school, and it was drama, but you know.”

He doesn’t.  He doesn’t know.  He doesn’t know any of this and it’s terrifying and jarring and awful.  

“That’s not,” he tries, stops himself.  “Suze, that’s not how I remember it.  And it feels like a big fucking prank that you guys are hidden camera-ing me into, trying to make me believe--” he’s gesturing with his hands now, looking at the ceiling like the words he’s trying to find are written up there when Suzy sticks a phone in front of his face.  

“You sent this to me the night you got married,” she says.  On the small screen is a saved snapchat photo, taken somewhere dimly lit; Arin recognizes himself and Dan, open-mouthed smiles taking up half their pink, pixelated faces, looking off in different directions.  They’re cupping their own faces like they’re silently shrieking, and Arin can see why--they’re showing off two identical wedding bands.  Underneath in the grey window of text it says ELOPED MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!

“Shopped,” he says, even though the quality is so consistently bad, he’s not sure how.  Suzy rolls her eyes.  

“What do you want me to show you?” she says, pulling her phone back to her chest and flipping through it.  “Your facebook?  My facebook?  Almost five years of Youtube videos where you slowly, disgustingly describe your and Dan’s love affair blossoming in TMI detail?”

“Yes!” he says, getting a few looks from other patrons of the coffee shop for being too loud and maybe making too many erratic gestures with his hands.  He lowers his voice to a stage whisper and says again, “yes,” because everyone on their team is crazy but no one is possibly crazy enough to recreate every piece of content they’ve ever made.

“Fine,” she says, sliding the phone back over to him, “here.”

The screen is face up and paused toward the end of an old video of theirs: Banjo Kazooie. He bites the inside of his cheek and presses play.

“So I went on a date last night,” he hears himself say.  He doesn’t rewatch his own videos too much, and this one is old, but he’s sure he never had this conversation before.  And yet.

“Ooh,” replies Jon.  “You gonna tell us about him .”

“No, ” he hears himself reply.  “Okay yes.  But no.  He’s famous. ”

“Okay wait,” Jon says, “I know him and he’s not really famous.  Only you think he’s famous.”

“No, dude, he’s totally famous, and totally hot--spoiler alert, totally giving it away right now--but I want to respect his privacy.  Anyway, we went out to this karaoke place with his equally famous friend--"

“Equally not-so-famous,” Jon corrects, “and is it really a date if his friend is like, what, there to chaperone you?  Are you twelve ?”

Arin presses pause.

“I don’t remember this,” he says, pushing the phone back to Suzy.  “I mean, I do, but not like this.”

“Here, let me get another one,” she says.  And she does.  She pulls up multiple videos, pictures, things that would take days and days of editing and work they don’t have time for, and still wouldn’t necessarily be feasible to exist without Arin’s participation.  There are pictures of him and Dan kissing, laughing into each other’s mouths, fingers clumsily locked together; every video that Suzy shows him from Game Grumps he remembers making, but they’re all wrong--Suzy is Not So Grump and Dan only shows up regularly on Steam Train, and, and, and,

“I’m going crazy,” Arin says, staring at the title screen for Date Grumps featuring him and Dan playing Super Mario Bros. 2 for a one-off episode.  “You have to believe me, I remember this happening, but not in this order, or this way, it was--wasn’t like this.  What the fuck is happening to me?”

He puts her phone down more delicately than he realized he was capable of and scrubs at his face with both hands, groaning.  She takes her phone back and drags her chair around to his side of the table and wraps an arm around his shoulder.  He leans into her instinctively, taking comfort in the way she still traces random patterns into his skin with her nails even in this bizarro universe.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she says.  She’s telling the truth.

“You’re supposed to say I’m dreaming,” he jokes.  “You’re supposed to tell me I’m going to wake up any second now.  I’m gonna wake up and you’re going to be there to comfort me and I’ll say I had this weird dream where I was married to Dan, and you’ll laugh and say ‘well, aren’t you?’  Because you make fun of us all the time for acting like it.  You’re supposed to say ‘just kidding,’ because this is all a way too elaborate joke.”

“It’s not,” she says.  “It scares me that you think it is.  It scares Danny.”

“Babe,” he says again, and it means nothing because she’s not his Suzy, and he knows that.  He pulls away from her to look at her, and she looks back.  He’ll never get tired of looking at her. Not when she’s eighty.  Not when she’s a thouand.  “Suzy.  What the fuck do I do?”

“I don’t know,” she replies.  “Maybe get you to a doctor?”

“Fuck,” he says. “Yeah.”

Suzy drives him in his car to the hospital.  Danny meets them in the emergency room lobby.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, pulling Suzy into a huge hug, but not taking his eyes off of Arin.

“I don’t know,” Suzy says into his shoulder.  

“I can hear you guys,” Arin says, pushing his hair behind his ears a little irritated.  “Even if I’m brain damaged, I’m not like, a vegetable.”

They break apart and their mouths slant sideways in a similar unreadable look that probably comes from trying to smile and fail.  Even if he doesn’t know this Dan and this Suzy, he still knows them at their core, knows how they forecast worries and fears even when they don’t realize they’re doing so.  

“So you know,” he continues awkwardly, “maybe like, don’t talk like I’m not here.  Whatever.  Suzy if you want to go, you can take my car.  We’ll get yours picked up later.”

“You sure?” she asks, and he nods, taking his keys out of his pocket and pressing them into her hand.  She pulls him in and kisses him on the cheek, and turns to Danny to squeeze his hand before leaving.  

That leaves Arin and Dan by themselves in the emergency room.  Danny curls into himself, arms folding over his chest and hands under his armpits like he’s protecting something, no doubt himself.

“So,” he says to the tiles of the emergency room floor, “this is serious.  You’re seriously--you don’t know--remember, fuck Arin, I don’t know what to say.  Are you okay?”

Arin’s thought about it a lot since Suzy slid her phone across the table the first time, let himself get lost in the reality of his now on the car ride from the coffee shop to the hospital.  He might be crazy, he thinks, or he might be stuck in a parallel timeline.  He’s starting to genuinely believe it might be the second option.

“I think I’m okay,” he says slowly.  “I think--okay, I didn’t want to say this when Suzy was here, because she thought I was going crazy, and I still think I’m going crazy, but maybe you’ll see where I’m coming from, or be able to suspend your belief: Dan, I think I’m from a parallel dimension.”

“What,” Dan says, “the fuck.”

“Yeah,” Arin says.  He doesn’t know what else he has to offer.

“Arin, I wouldn’t be surprised if they found a tumor the size of a beach ball in your brain, you asshole,” Dan says, not unkindly, but maybe with a sad, scared edge as he gestures at Arin’s skull. He looks like he wants to get a hand around Arin’s face but doesn’t know how, or maybe like he used to know how but forgot.  Arin can’t help but feel guilty.

“They might, but they won’t,” Arin protests, feeling weird about it.  Somewhere, deep down, he knows this isn’t him losing it, this isn’t him experiencing some irreparable damage;  it could be, very easily, but he’s convinced it isn’t.  He’s convinced last night he went to bed with Suzy’s feet snug between his thighs and now he’s in a different world with a different Suzy and a different Dan who maybe had his feet there instead.  

“Huh,” Dan says, his every inch trying not to hover around Arin. “You wanna tell me what they’re going to find?”

“I’ll be healthy,” Arin says, “and fine.  It’ll be infuriating.  You’re gonna leave with your head in your hands, man, and no explanation.  And neither will I.”

“So I’m the crazy one,” Dan says, exasperated.

“No,” Arin says, “you’re--Dan, Jesus.  Neither of us are crazy.  Let’s get out of here and go back to your place and fucking hunker down or some shit and figure out what’s going on.  I just guarantee we’re not going to figure out anything here.”

Dan still refuses to look at him. “Fine,” he says finally.  “Let’s go home.”

The drive home is weird.  It’s quiet, for one, and Dan reaches across the console almost immediately after starting the car to hold his hand without really thinking about it. Arin lets him.  It’s a strange comfort and feels like something that could be routine with them, something that isn’t forced.  But usually car rides with the two of them are louder, Arin in the passenger seat changing the song Dan’s got playing through his phone every forty-five seconds, Dan freestyling something dumb and awful over whatever lyrics are playing even when he doesn’t know the song at all.  Arin’s too afraid to let go of Dan or even look at him, see his mouth in an unfamiliar, frustrated white line.  The quiet lasts the entire ride.  

“I feel like I have to run around to your door and carry you inside,” Dan says when they get back to his place and park the car.

“Please don’t,” Arin says, “I’ll break you.”

Dan laughs and closes his eyes, chin tilted toward the roof of the car.  He gives Arin’s hand a squeeze before finally letting go.  “Yeah, I like, it just feels like you’re dying.”

“God, I hope I’m not,” Arin replies.  “That would make today suck a whole lot more.  Not that being married to you sucks.  It’s just, uh, unexpected.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” Dan says.  “That helps.”

“You’re welcome,” Arin says.  “So, where do we start?”

“I don’t know.  Where do you usually start when your husband wakes up with amnesia and a good decade of fake memories?”  Dan asks.  “Or, sorry, is a straight version of your husband from a parallel dimension.”

“Mostly straight,” Arin says.  “I always thought I would probably go gay for you.”

“If you’re trying to be comforting, Arin, you’re not doing a great job,” Dan says, and then he unbuckles his seatbelt and slides out of the car.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say, man!” Arin replies, following him.  Dan throws his hands up in an exasperated shrug and goes inside without saying anything else.  

Arin didn’t really take a look around earlier when he left to go get coffee and try to regain his wits, but when he walks back in he instantly sees how much is different.  Dan’s house has always looked like he got all his furniture from street corners under a cardboard sign labeled FREE in black sharpie, but now Arin is realizing the couch and table and entertainment center are all different and more cohesive.

“You got new furniture,” he says out loud.

“Like three years ago,” Dan replies.  He’s in the kitchen getting a can of seltzer water.  “When you moved in.  We spent a day playing house in IKEA until I thought they were going to kick us out for fornicating in one of the model bedrooms.  Man, I would kill for a beer right now.”

“No shit,” Arin says.  It sounds like something he and Dan would do if they were in fact together.  It sounds like something they might do anyway.  

“Yes shit,” Dan tells him.  “So clearly we don’t even live together in your universe.”

“Nope,” Arin says.  “I live with Suzy.  You still live here, but with Barry.  He’s your roommate.”

“I was worried you were going to say I was his boyfriend,” Dan says.  “Not that I don’t love him, but eugh.  Barry.”

“I would never let you do that to yourself.  I love you too much,” Arin says.  Dan laughs as he takes a sip of soda water, choking on it and getting the front of his shirt all wet.  “Smooth.”

“Yeah, well, I never thought I’d have to seduce you again.”  Dan wipes at his chest with a sigh.  “I’m a little rusty.  Tell me more.  What else is different where you’re from?”

“Uh, well, you’re Not So Grump, not Suzy.  I think your hair is a lot longer,” Arin says. He didn’t notice it with Dan’s bedhead this morning, but now he can see Dan’s hair is barely at his chin.

“You like it short,” Dan says.  

“Yeah,” Arin admits.  It’s like when Dan looks at him, he sees through him completely, and there’s something unsettling about it.  “I do.”

“What else?” Dan prompts him, taking another drink of water.  This time he doesn’t spill it all over himself.  “How’d we meet?”

“I sent you a really embarrassing e-mail after Ross showed me your Ninja Sex Party stuff,” Arin says.  He leans against the back of Dan’s couch, or Dan and his couch?  It’s a nice brown leather, not the well-worn scratchy plaid one that’s probably older than Arin that Arin remembers.  “You responded in kind.  You were coming to Los Angeles to stay with your uncle, so we met up and got sushi.”

“Huh,” Dan says.  “But I’m guessing in your universe you didn’t give me a blowjob in the sushi restaurant bathroom and keep me from getting to my uncle’s place for three days.”

“Wow, no I did not.  Did I do that here?” Arin asks.  “Man, gay me is kind of a slut.”

“Was a slut,” Dan corrects him, pushing himself out of the kitchen doorway and coming over to sit next to him.  “I tamed you.  You kind of tamed me too.  We tamed each other.”

“You still manage to make that sound very sexual,” Arin says.

“Good.” Dan smiles like he’s proud.  

“So that’s how we got together?  Bathroom blowie at a sushi place?”

“It was a great blowjob,” Dan says.  “Definitely in my Top Five.  One through four are also you, just other times.”

“Wow, I was really worried there for a second,” Arin says, rolling his eyes.  Dan elbows him in the side, and it feels good, it feels natural.  “I’ve never even given a blowjob.”

“I find that painfully hard to believe,” Dan tells him, so genuine it hurts.

“Well thank you?  I don’t know, I’ve just been with Suzy my whole life.  There hasn’t really been room to uh, experiment,” he says.  

“I don’t know what’s weirder,” Dan continues, “the fact that you, the beej king, have never given a blowjob, or that the longer we talk like this I’m actually starting to believe you’re a straight version of you from a parallel dimension.”

“Mostly straight,” Arin corrects again.  “Like I said, I’ve never really had the chance to test that out.”

“Happy marriage then?” Dan asks.  He doesn’t sound jealous, he just sounds like he wants to make sure Arin is okay, and something about that makes Arin’s chest feel tighter.  He grabs the can of soda water out of Dan’s hand and takes a big sip.

“Yeah, honestly,” he says.  “I don’t think I’d be human if I didn’t think of, you know, alternatives though.”

“Like what?” Dan asks, taking his water back.  He leans in, shoulder-to-shoulder with Arin, and it’s comforting.  “Like me?”

“Sure,” Arin says.  “Yeah.  Like you.”

“Well I gotta say, I’m proud that even in bizarro hetero you’s world, you would still probably go gay for me,” Dan says with a shit-eating grin.  

“Who knows,” Arin says.  “If I’m stuck here permanently it might actually happen.  Regain my title as ‘beej king.’”

“God, I’m just imagining like, some Rocky training montage of you sucking me off until you’ve done it, you’ve become the master,” Dan says, and Arin laughs, because it feels more like a riff than a come on.  

“Oh my God, with you singing Eye of the Tiger the entire time,” Arin replies through his laughter.

“ Yes ,” Dan says.  “How did you know that was my number one sexual fantasy?”

“Because I know you, dude,” Arin says, and for a second he forgets that this is a different place, and a different Dan, who has a different relationship with a different Arin.  “Even if you’re not my Dan, you know, I think I still know you.”

“God, you’re making this hard,” Dan says. “And weird.”

“What?” Arin asks.  He grabs Dan’s soda water again, but Dan grabs his wrist.

“You, you know, not being you-you.  I don’t know what to believe, I don’t know what’s real, so I don’t know what’s okay.  I don’t know if I can kiss you, or tell you how crazy you sound--and God, I just want to kiss all the crazy things coming out of your mouth away right now, you know?  And then, then there’s this part of me that’s like, well, he’s technically still your husband, so if he does blow you, is that cheating ?”

He lets Arin’s wrist go, but Arin still feels every inch of him like he’s branded himself there.  Neither of them are laughing anymore.  

“What if,” Arin says very suddenly, punctuating halfway through with a shaky sip of water, “what if this is God or something telling me I need to have a gay experience with you.  What if that’s why I’m here.  The multiverse needs me to have sex with you to maintain some kind of balance, but knows I can’t when I’m married to Suz.”

“Okay, Big Cat, you’re starting to sound kind of cuckoo bananas again,” Dan says firmly.  “I’m telling you the truth because I love you.”

“No, I think I’m onto something here,” Arin protests.

“Baby, I think you might be on something, not onto something,” Dan says, and that’s when Arin puts the soda water down and forcefully kisses him.  

The weird part is how easy it is.  He’s always thought Dan would be a good kisser, but he didn’t expect kissing Dan to come so easily.  He didn’t realize there was a difference between the two.  But it’s all more comfortable than he imagined in his distant, pushed away fantasies, the drag of Dan’s scruff against his own, the milky sweetness of Dan’s mouth tasting better than the best dessert Arin’s ever had.  

“Huh,” he says, pulling away.  “That was nice.”

“That was weird,” Dan says, and then they’re kissing again, but hungrier this time, open mouths sloppy against each other and Dan pulls him in and over the back of the couch with a practiced ease, long, skinny limbs wrapping around Arin’s waist and weighing him down.  “You don’t kiss like my husband, you kiss like a schoolboy.”

“Shut up,” Arin says, biting at his jaw.

“Make me,” Dan says with a laugh, kissing his temple.

“Fine,” Arin says and presses their mouths together again.  He feels like he’s been waiting for something his entire life and didn’t know it was this until it happened.  It feels good, and different, and wild.  Dan writhes underneath him, but everywhere he settles, he fits perfectly against Arin.  The sheer friction of him makes an honest to God moan slip out of Arin’s mouth.

“Easy tiger,” Dan says, mouth slipping away from his for second to speak. They’re both breathing heavily.  Arin’s got his hands everywhere, but they both move up to Dan’s face so he can brush some stray curls out of Dan’s eyes.  Dan’s got his fingers through the belt loops of Arin’s jeans in return, the only thing separating them and frankly keeping Arin from dry humping the fuck out of Dan.  

“Sorry,” Arin says, panting a little.  

“Don’t apologize, shit,” Dan replies, tilting his head to kiss the pad of Arin’s thumb on his face.  “I’m just worried like, the multiverse wants you to have a gay experience, not come in your pants like a teenager.”

“Dude,” Arin says.  “Wow.  Kind of hurts, bro.”

“Again, just being honest because I care about you and your well-being,” Dan tells him, rolling his hips up a little in a way that make Arin’s eyes roll back in his head.  “Don’t want you to be screwed by the multiverse because you didn’t have a complete gay experience.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” Arin says.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Dan says.  “I just--look, this is weird.  Gotta use humor or else I’m going to go crazy actually believing you’re from another dimension and we have to bone to get you home.  The premise seems a little suspicious.”

“Are you complaining?” Arin asks, pushing himself up to rest back on his heels, still straddling Dan against the couch.

“Mm, no, come back,” Dan says, making grabby hands for him.  “Baby.  You just seem a little, uh, compliant, I guess?”

“Look, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” Arin says, which is true.  He’s seen Dan out of the corner of his eye a thousand and one times or more and thought, in a different life dot dot dot, let his thoughts trail off there and not entertained them further.  “It’s not like, a gay crisis or anything, it never had anything to do with me being gay or straight.  Just like, I knew if I had the opportunity with you, I probably would have taken it.  No shame in admitting it.”

“I’m flattered,” Dan says, “now come back down here.”

“I just poured my heart out to you, man.  Some real deep digging and you just want to make out more,” Arin replies, swatting at the hand Dan has curled in his t-shirt.

“I wanna do more than make out,” Dan says. “C’mere, let me show you.”

“God help me,” Arin says, and then he does.  He gets back down on his elbows and swoops in to kiss Dan again.

“No one can help you now,” Dan says into his mouth.  His hands leave Arin’s belt loops and travel up and under his shirt, fingers tracing patterns into the soft of his stomach, bitten down nails catching in the hair at his navel.  “You’re mine.”

“Yeah okay,” Arin concedes.  Dan knows exactly where to touch him, knows how to slowly build him up and tease him.  He almost feels guilty not knowing how to touch Dan in return.  He tells Dan.  He says, “it just seems unfair.”

“Nah,” Dan says, rocking against him again, feeling where he’s undeniably hard against Dan’s thigh.  “It’s fun.  Like the first time all over again.  Here, let me--”

He pushes against Arin’s chest, fingertips grazing Arin’s nipples as he coaxes him back until Arin is underneath him instead.

“Fuck,” Arin says as Dan drags a palm up the hard length of him, still sensitive through the denim and cotton.  

“Yeah?” Dan says, looking down at him, face asking a much more complicated question.

“Yeah,” Arin agrees, because he knows what Dan is asking, and it’s something he hasn’t let himself think about for years and years.  Dan smiles to himself like he’s won a prize and leans in to kiss Arin one more time while thumbing open the button of his jeans.  

“Promise me one thing,” Dan says, kissing away from his mouth, lips traveling down the side of Arin’s neck, the collar of his t-shirt, the meat of his chest.  “You’ll tell me when you’re getting close.”

Arin already feels close, but he doesn’t dare say so out loud.  He just nods, breathing shakily as Dan continues to work his way down.  Dan manages to get Arin’s jeans around his thighs in three rough tugs, Arin shimmying his hips a little to help.  When Dan tugs down his briefs, his dick springs out hard and eager.

“Hey there,” Dan greets his dick, which is so fucking surreal and wonderful, but then Dan is taking the head into his mouth, and it’s something altogether different.  Arin doesn’t have words for the way Dan feels or looks, eyes closed, nursing the tip of him.  

“Gnngh,” he tries, and fails.  Dan hums around his length pleased, and continues to suckle where Arin’s most sensitive until Arin feels like he’s unraveling from his balls and up.  He tries to ground himself by digging his fingers into Dan’s hair, lacing between his curls, but ends up just tugging at Dan rough and thrusting deep into his mouth.  “Fuck, Danny.”

Dan responds by lapping up his dick like a tide coming in, his tongue licking up the underside of him in hot, wet waves.  He looks so serious, eyes pinched shut, hand stroking Arin from the base up to greet his mouth, thick with spit.  Arin’s toes are curling and he realizes he’s still wearing his shoes, distantly.  

Dan’s mouth pops off his dick with a slick noise and he kisses the soft patch of skin where Arin’s dick and balls meet.  “You always taste so fucking good, baby.”

“Jesus,” Arin says.  “That’s it, Dan, too much, you’re gonna make me--”

“Not yet,” Dan says, taking his hand off Arin’s junk and kissing lower, sucking a bruise into the inside of Arin’s thigh above the band of his jeans.  “Need you to come in me.”

“What,” Arin says, brain muddled with need.

“You heard me,” Dan says.  He crawls up Arin’s chest to kiss the corner of his mouth the same way he did when Arin woke up this morning.  “Need you to come in me.  Gotta have the full experience, right, babe?”

“Fuck.”  Arin can barely keep himself from coming messily all over the both of them right now.  “Sure.  Why not.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dan says.  Arin takes the brief pause, Dan pushing himself up to tower over him, to kick his shoes off at least.  

“You want me to fuck you here?” He’s proud he can even get the words out, it seems so unreal, too good.  

“I’m a little old-fashioned,” Dan replies, leaning back long enough to take his own shirt off and throw it to the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could move this to the bedroom, but you know, if we don’t make it that far it’s not like I’m going to complain.”

“Mm, that’s like fifty feet away,” Arin complains. “Which is fifty feet too far.”  

“I believe in you, Big Cat,” Dan says, sounding so fucking tender it guts him completely.  

“Fine,” he says, pushing himself up to press a kiss of his own to Dan’s collarbone, take an experimental bite at his nipple.  “Challenge accepted.”

“That’s my boy,” Dan says, clearly pleased, breath hitching a bit when Arin lets his tongue flick over the nipple caught between his teeth.  “If you keep doing that though, huh.”

“Sorry,” Arin mumbles, even though he’s not sorry in the slightest.  He’s blindly working at Dan’s zip now, fumbling to get his jeans down.  Dan helps him, but stops his hands when Arin tries to grab his junk.  

“What happened to moving this to the bedroom?” Dan doesn’t whine, but it’s close.  He pushes himself away from Arin and off the couch.  “Catch me if you can, motherfucker.”

It’s harder done than said, what with both of them sporting boners and Arin still with the elastic of his briefs and yoke of his jeans taut around his thighs.  He pulls his underwear up and jeans down and follows after Dan, catching him in the mouth of the hallway and pinning him against a wall.  

“Always wondered what this would be like,” he admits, hands on Dan’s bony waist, licking a stripe up the long curve of Dan’s neck.  “You, me, this.”

“As good as you imagined?” Dan asks hopefully.  He strokes back Arin’s bangs, nails rough against his scalp.

“Better,” Arin says, not willing to say he was never brave enough to imagine this out of fear he would want it too much.  Dan finally lets him cop a feel, hand cupping his balls and sliding up to experimentally feel him out.  “God, you’re big.”

“Fun story: the first time you blew me, you looked up at me in that bathroom and said, ‘my, what a big dick you have.’  I called you red riding hood for like, a year after,” Dan says, grin so big it looks like his face is about to split in half.  

“I didn’t,” Arin protests, unknowing, embarrassed for his other self.

“You totally did, and it was amazing,” Dan says.  Arin kisses him again because he can’t not, and starts dragging him down the hallway by his hips.  They stumble back into the bedroom and Dan pushes him off to throw himself on the bed.  “How do you want me?”

“Uh,” Arin says.  He has no idea.  The idea of fucking Dan face-to-face kind of scares him on an intimate level though, the reality of it, how undeniable it would be.  

“How about,” Dan says, rolling onto his stomach, “you get the lube out of the night stand while I stick my sweet, sweet ass in the air, and you take care of me however you see fit.”

It’s an easy out, and Arin takes it.  He smacks Dan’s ass and then gives the red handprint a kiss, before shifting over to the nightstand.  In his place with Suzy, they always keep the sex stuff in the top drawer, so that’s where he looks first.  

“Bingo,” he says, opening the drawer and finding the lube on the first try.  He uncaps it and greases up his dick with it, before taking a little more to slide up Dan’s taint to his hole, up in the air and inviting.  “You like it when I fuck you?”

“Like it?” Dan’s voice is muffled where his face is half pressed into the bedspread underneath him.  “Fucking love it, bro, love your dick, it’s like a complete breakfast, can’t start my day without it.”

“God,” Arin says, eyes rolling to the ceiling to ground himself as he slides his dick up and down the crease of Dan’s ass.  He plans on experimentally pushing in slow and shallow, but Dan is looser than he expects and he ends up balls deep in a handful of seconds.  “Fuck.  You’re a fucking slut, Dan.”

“I’m your fucking slut,” Dan corrects him.  “Now fuck me already.”

“I’m trying!” Arin says, and Dan laughs underneath him.

“Try harder, shithead,” and Arin pulls out to near the tip before snapping his hips back in, making Dan gasp and curl his fingers into the sheets.  “There we go, goddamn, fuck me, Arin, fuck me just like that.”  

Dan repeats the movement, slowly withdrawing and then fucking into him hard; he rolls out of Dan like molasses unfolding and then thrusts gut-punchingly hard and Dan lets out an animalistic noise with each movement.

“You fucking monster,” Dan says.  “Teasing me like this, you goddamn piece of shit, I can’t believe.”

“You love it,” Arin says, because he can tell.  Every inch of Dan is moving to get more of Arin inside him, to get more of Arin against him, and he’s still smiling up to his ears with a dick in his ass.  

“Yeah baby,” Dan says, so genuine and fond, “you know I do.”

It doesn’t take much more than that.  Arin speeds his thrusts up until he’s smashing his hips against Dan’s ass erratically, uncontrollably, desperately wanting to get off until he does.  Dan comes seconds after him, laughing.

“God,” Arin says, forehead pressed into the sweaty stretch of skin between Dan’s shoulderblades.  His dick is still pulsing out come as Dan’s muscles tighten around him, coming into the sheets.  “I needed that a lot more than I thought I did.”

“Felt good,” Dan agrees, sex dumb and unwound beneath him.  “So good.”

Arin pulls out of him and they both gasp at the point of disconnect, and Arin rolls next to him on the bed.  “That was stupid, how good that was.”  

“Another fuck well done,” Dan tells him, closing his eyes and snuggling in, nosing at his neck.  

“Good job us,” Arin says.  They lazily high five, naked legs sticky and tangling together.  

“That had like, the energy of first time sex and just got married sex all rolled into one,” Dan says.  “Jesus.”  

“Yeah,” Arin says.  “Apparently we got eloped?”

He’s been thinking about it since he saw the picture on Suzy’s phone: ELOPED MOTHERFUCKERS .  After proposing to Suzy it took two stressful years of planning their ceremony, figuring out every piece of the event down to the second.  He wouldn’t trade it for anything, as it was the best day of his life, and all the stress was worth it to have the most fun, flaw free wedding in the world.  But he still wonders about how it could have been different, how here it apparently was.

“We did get eloped,” Dan confirms, wriggling in closer and rolling around so Arin’s spooning him.  “We had a weekend off.  You looked at me, said ‘we should just fucking do it.’  I knew exactly what you meant.  We drove up to Vegas with Ross as our witness and did the whole Elvis Presley thing in a fifty dollar chapel.  You convinced me to spend a few extra hundred to get like, commemorative plates that we sent to our friends and family, and then we went on a bunch of rides on the stratosphere to try and get Ross to puke.”

“Did he?” Arin asks a little too excitedly.

“No,” Danny says, “you almost did though, Jesus.  The internet went crazy.  But we were too busy holding hands in a lazy river at the New York, New York to really give a fuck.  I think we stayed for a week.”

“That sounds--” Arin yawns, closes his eyes, and is this it?  “That sounds amazing.  Incredible.”

“It was,” Danny says.  “You were.  Are.”

“Gee bud,” Arin says, and he can’t help the way he’s smiling, the way he feels so complete knowing these things, this history that doesn’t necessarily belong to him, but he’s always wondered and assumed and now he knows.  “Thanks.  You’re not half bad yourself.”

“I know,” Dan says, and he rolls over to kiss Arin, slow and sweet, mouths dragging together, tongues lapping into each other like it’s the last time.  It probably is, Arin reflects sleepily.  

“Tell me another story,” he says, wanting to wear Dan’s voice like a blanket, a comfort over his entire body.  “About us.”

“Okay,” Dan says.  Arin falls asleep to the sound of his voice, the sound of his story about the two of them almost getting caught by hotel service on a trip up to Portland.  Dan has a way with words, he puts life in them, and for the last few seconds before Arin is dragged into sleep, he feels like he could have been there.  

“I’ll never know and neither will you of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.”

(post script)

Arin shoots up awake with a gasp.  His chest is heaving and his skin is covered in rivulets of cold sweat and he anxiously pats around the bed next to him in the dark, looking for the familiar form of--

“Dan,” he says, shaking Dan’s bony shoulder when he finds it, “ Dan .”

“Mzzzzuh?” Dan says, eyes still closed, burrowing his face into the meat of Arin’s hip.  “Shit, Arin, you can’t keep doing this, I swear to God, I need sleep.”

“Jesus Tits, Dan, Christ.  I’m sorry, I had the worst, uh, this weird dream that was so fucking vivid.”

Dan is quiet for a second, and Arin is pretty sure he’s already gone back to sleep, but then he pushes himself up and kisses Arin’s shoulder.  “Was it about you switching bodies with a mostly straight version of yourself?”

“Oh my God,” Arin says. “Yes.”

“Babe, that totally happened,” Dan says, scrubbing at his face.  “He was here.  It was super weird.  I may have given him a blowjob and let him fuck me for science.”

“Dan,” Arin says again, except this time it sounds like he might cry.

“You okay?”

“Dan, I ate puss.  In this parallel dimension, I was married to Suzy.  And I, I, I didn’t know what to do, I thought I was stuck there.  I got panicked, Danny, and I ate her out.”

Dan is quiet for another second, and the second feels like five million, it feels absolutely damning, but then Dan starts laughing uncontrollably.  He presses his brow against Arin’s collarbone where he fits perfectly and he shakes with laughter.  Arin can feel his tears against his chest.  

“Fuck,” Dan finally wheezes out, “I can’t believe you went muff diving.  That’s incredible.  How was it?”

“Wet,” Arin answers honestly.  “It was so wet and so terrifying, Dan, I was so fucking lost.  It was like someone gave me a map to a cave but all the directions were in Chinese and backwards, and it was so scary.”

“Ssh, baby, it’s okay,” Dan says, a little giggle still tickling the back of his throat when he speaks.  “You’re back home. Suzy’s vagina can’t hurt you anymore.  I’ll protect you.”

“You always do,” Arin says.

#game grumps #egobang #polygrumps #arin hanson #dan avidan

[adrenaline-roulette]

Love of My Life

This is a cute little one shot that I uploaded to AO3 ages ago. It only just occurred to me that I never posted it here, so here ya go, I hope you all enjoy  a little bit of soft domestic Rog!

Word count: 2k +

❤❤❤❤❤

You wake up to a red-hot pain searing through your leg, the muscle spasming and cramping against the soft mattress you had been sleeping comfortably on just moments ago. “Fuck!” You screech, sitting bolt upright against your pillows, suddenly wide awake, tears springing to your eyes. The body sleeping beside you stirs as you jostle them in your sudden movement, though they remain asleep. You breathe deeply as you reach your arm out to massage your calf, though it’s difficult to bend that way when you’re seven months pregnant. “Roger… Jesus Christ Roger, wake up!” You hiss, smacking his shoulder none to lightly in order to wake him.

“Huh? Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? I’m not ready! We haven’t packed anything yet!” Roger all but cries, as he too sits up in a flash, surely giving himself whiplash as he does so. He looks around in the dark, fumbling his hand over the nightstand until he connects with the lamp, switching it on and allowing for a warm glow to chase away the midnight shadows of the room.

You want to laugh at his panic, want to reassure him that you still have time before the baby arrives, though you stop short when another spasm shoots through your leg. “Rog, it’s a cramp not the baby. I just can’t reach to massage it out!” You whine, throwing your head back and frowning, as your toes are stretched into an en pointe position. Sweat beads form on your brow as you breathe more deeply, if anyone were to walk in on you now, they would likely think you had in fact gone into an early labour! “Just, ugh! Please help!” You whimper, as you feel him moving next to you. This wasn’t the first time this had occurred, in fact this was the second time this week! It seemed the further along in your pregnancy you got, the worse the cramps became. The one earlier this week had been utter torture, it had been a cramp in your thigh, something you had never experienced before, and it left you stiff for days afterwards. At least this time it was just another calf cramp, those you could deal with,

Roger slides off his side of the bed, shoving his glasses over his nose. He was adamant that he didn’t need glasses to see, though you knew better, and created the rule that when he was home with just you, he was required to wear his glasses, in an effort to at least somewhat preserve his eyesight. “Alright I’ve got this.” He mumbles to himself, as he kneels down beside the bed, wrapping his warm hands around your straining leg. “Drink some water, I read that it will help with the cramps.” He suggests, as he rubs his thumbs against the muscle. It had taken him a few tries to know exactly what would help you in these situations, though after the fourth cramp, he knew where to apply pressure, and how much pressure was beneficial to you.

Diligently, Roger sits by your side for around ten minutes, massaging your leg, then helping to stretch out your foot once the initial cramping had ceased. It felt wonderful to be able to bend your knee again, a luxury you would never take for granted again. With the sweat now gone, your tears now dried, and your leg now once more mobile, you look at Roger, offering him a weak smile.

“Thank you Rog. I- I don’t know what I would do without you.” You murmur, as you move to swing your legs off the side of the bed, your feet resting against his knees as he continues to kneel on the floor beside the bed.

He grins his cheeky face up at you, blonde hair a mess from sleep, though it only added to his overall appeal. “Hey now Y/N, it’s what I’m here for. Besides, if you’ve got to grow this baby, the least I can do is massage your leg!” He chuckles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your ankle, causing your toes to curl in appreciation.

You reach a hand down to him, and his fingers hook between yours as he pulls himself into a standing position. “Are you worried?” You ask with a gentle smile. He frowns at your question, unsure as to what you were referring to. “About the baby I mean. You uh, seemed a little panicked when I woke you up before. I mean, we still have time to get everything ready, but about not having packed anything. At the end of the day, if the baby decides it’s ready to be born, I don’t think our number one priority should be bringing the perfect outfit.” You smirk, as you rub a small circle into the back of his hand.

He looks down at his feet, shuffling them against the carpet, before meeting your eyes once more. “I think I’m more excited than nervous.” He finally says, squeezing your hand once. “It’s just that, I want everything to be perfect when she arrives. I suppose I keep thinking that when the time does come, I’ll forget something. Probably something important knowing me, like the car keys.” You roll your eyes at that, wanting to shake some sense into the silly man.

“Rog, we won’t forget anything, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, we can pack some essentials in the morning, just in case?” You suggest, and you grin as his face lights up eagerly, all signs of worry and stress leaving his soft features. “Now come here.” You command, patting the empty bed space beside you. “We have roughly two months until this little one is born, and we still haven’t decided on a name yet!”

Roger launches himself onto the bed, flying over you and landing heavily on his side, the entire bed moving as he lands. You frown as you wobble unsteadily, the baby kicking your stomach in annoyance at her dad. “Alright, names, this I can do!” He promises, as he leans his head against his hand, propping his elbow up on his pillow and facing you. You slowly move down onto your side, mimicking his position and grinning at him.

“Well then, let’s hear what your suggestions are then. And no, before you ask, we are not naming her Rogerina.” You can see he’s about protest your decision, though you raise a challenging eyebrow, and you watch as the fight quickly leaves him.

“Fine, how about Galileo? I never did find out who Galileo was…” He trails off, and you smack his bicep, at a complete loss for words at his stupidity, surely Brian had told him exactly who Galileo was?

“Galileo Galilei, was for starters a man, and is one of the most famous astronomers to have ever lived! Honestly Roger, did you pay any attention is school?” You groan deeply, pressing your palm over your eyes.

Roger looks at you seriously for a few moments, your explanation did sound oddly familiar, and he found himself remembering Brian all but yelling at him in the recording studio after having asked who Galileo was, he felt he had a right to know who he was considering he had been singing his name non-stop for the past hour! “Alright fine then, so you don’t like Rogerina, and you don’t like Galileo, I’m running out of names here Y/N!”

“How about we compromise hm? If we ever get a dog, then we can call him Galileo or her Rogerina, how does that sound?” He’s going to drive you insane at this rate, the temptation to just leave and live out the rest of your life in Antarctica was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

“Sold!” He cheers, as he leans over and presses a soft kiss against your lips, pulling away before either of you can take it any further. You pull your hand away from your face, eyes falling on his as you both just lay on the bed together, neither talking, just enjoying the comfort of being close to one another. “On a serious note, how about Lillian? Or Charlotte?” He smiles, reaching out and resting a hand against your rounded stomach, rubbing your bump through your cotton shirt, which was at least three sizes too big for you, but was ever so comfortable to sleep in.

“Where did those names come from?” You tilt your head slightly to look down at his calloused hand against you stomach, placing your free hand over his.

He looks up at you, shrugging his shoulders in response. “Honestly I’m not sure. I think there might have been a Charlotte at the studio we last recorded in, and Lillian, well I know you love lilies, so it seemed fitting.” There’s a blush creeping up his neck, and slowly spreading over his cheeks as he explains his name suggestions, and you can’t help but smile, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. Sometimes you forget just how romantic Roger can truly be. He always puts on such a tough exterior, but every now and then he does something so extraordinarily sweet and thoughtful, that you almost forget that he’s the same person.

“Both names are beautiful Rog, maybe she could be Lillian Suzanne Taylor? My Nana was named Suzanne, and I wouldn’t mind incorporating a name from my family.” You bite your lip as you wait for him to mull over your daughter’s future name.

“Taylor? We’re going with my last name?” He asks, eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

You frown in confusion. “Of course Taylor, I mean I know we aren’t married, or even engaged. But I figured one day we might be, and I thought it could be nice to have our daughter have your last name, that way in the future we will all be Taylor’s…” You ramble, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. Maybe this was the wrong assumption to make? The pregnancy itself had been a bit of a surprise, though you had both decided it would work out for the best. Marriage, however, hadn’t been mentioned in anything other than fleeting conversations about the distant future. Roger’s lips are covering yours suddenly, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as you feel what you assume are tears running down your cheeks. They aren’t your tears though, these are all Roger’s. He pulls away from your lips, his baby blues swimming with unshed tears, before he moves down the bed somewhat, resting both of his hands on either side of your stomach.

“You hear that, you’re going to be Lillian Suzanne Taylor! And when you’re born, I’m going to propose to your mother, and then we’ll be a family on paper as well as in practise! And then when we get the dog, we’ll be a perfect family!” He gushes, pressing kisses to your stomach, as you run your hand through his blonde locks.

“So, you’re going to marry me, are you?” You tease, as he finally pulls away from your stomach, where he had been mumbling sweet nothings to your unborn daughter. He looks up at you with a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Well, I had planned on doing so. I don’t have a ring or anything at the moment, but say for instance I was to propose to you, would you say yes?”

You grin at him. “Of course I would say yes you idiot!” You giggle, as your lips meet once more, his hands resting against your hips as he slides you closer to him.

“Cool, good to know, I’ll keep that in mind.” He smirks, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I love you Y/N, I love you with my entire being.” He whispers, holding you closer, pressing soft kisses to your nose.

“I love you too Roger, and I know you’re going to be an amazing father when the time comes.” You assure him, as you scrunch up your nose at his kisses.

You lay in his embrace, both dozing on and off until the early hours of the morning, neither of you bothering to crawl back under the doona covers you had stripped off earlier, and despite the bedside lamp glaring into your eyes, you didn’t want to disturb Roger and ask him to turn it off. “Psst, Rog are you awake?” You murmur against his ear, watching as a sleepy frown slips over his brow.

“Mhm, I’m awake.” He all but yawns in response, his arms instinctively pulling you closer to him. He blinks his eyes open, searching for you for a moment, his glasses askew on his face from where he had pressed up against the pillow.

“Do you know if we still have any mint ice cream in the freezer?” You ask, the question catching him off guard, and you watch as the confusion crosses his face. “It’s not for me, it’s for Lillian!” You quickly defend, knowing he’s only seconds away from moaning about your ridiculous cravings. He rolls away from you to face the edge of the bed, pushing himself up to stand, all the while muttering under his breath about the injustice of the world. You close your eyes as he shuffles out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Stop complaining! Do it for your daughter!” You laugh out to him when you hear the freezer door close rather sharply.

“If my daughter isn’t careful, she will be called Galileo and the dog can be Lillian!” He calls back.

“Not gonna happen!” You giggle, as you wriggle up into a sitting position, tapping your fingers lightly against your stomach, feeling Lillian kick at the sensation. “We’re so excited to meet you Lillian, and you’re going to have the most amazing daddy in the world.” You whisper, as you settle back with a content smile on your lips, knowing that your little family was going to be just perfect.

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