#a lot of my friends make fun of me that i'm like mister rogers like i go get home trade change one cardigan sweater for the other another | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hardforbenhardy · 4 years

Text

somebody to love pt.2 | rogerxreader

warnings: fluff, sad vibes a lil, smallest tiniest inference of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

word count: 4.1k

part 2 of somebody to love is here! it’s going a little slow, but i promise, we will get some roger/reader action next chapter!!

taglist: @jennyggggrrr

It is finally Monday, the day you've been dreading all weekend after the little... incident. Your minds been clouded with thoughts of what Roger may do, you could barely spend time with your Ma and Pa the whole of yesterday. Not to mention, they were kind of disappointed at the fact you didn't have the money to pay for their water bills. You’re pulled from your dreams by the blaring sound of your alarm from your bedside table, a groan releasing from your lips as you push yourself from the comfort of your silk sheets. You can hear Freddie's angelic voice soaring through the apartment as he sings along to the radio; it's like waking up to the melodic tunes of birds outside your window, but better. You quickly got dressed, knowing you don't have a lot of time before you need to be in school, and run down stairs to grab a snack from the kitchen. Freddie notices you, but instead of saying anything, he just gave you a huge grin and a thumbs up as a form of motivation. It's strange how Freddie is able to light up any room he is in, if only you had that ability, you may actually have friends. Not that you don't like your life already- sure it has its rather larger downsides, but you like spending time by yourself; it's calming, you don't have to rely on people and most importantly people don't have to rely on you. It's just, you’re fucking lonely. That's it basically. Everyone your age is in relationships, or sleeping around, or at least getting it on with someone in more than a friendship kind of way - and you’re just not. You wander through the university campus to class, which starts in 10 minutes, and you see couples cuddling and/or making out; large groups of friends laughing and having fun; the sport teams having a large football match on the field; the drama club sitting around to learn their scripts; even the music club playing their instruments to mildly entertain passers by such as you (which in fact, it is much more irritating than it is entertaining at 9 in the morning). Everyone seems so active and full of joy, and then there's you. You don't know why you’re so separated from everyone else, you've just always been like this. You remember on the first day of secondary school, you were sat alone the whole day; no one sat with you, spoke to you, no one even knew your name - you were known as "that weird girl" for the first 3 months of your education, until the teacher finally picked on you to present in class and you had to start by saying your name. You liked it then if you were being honest, you didn't have to reach anyone's expectations and you certainly weren’t a victim of peer pressure - but now it just makes you feel like a piece of shit. Sure, you have Freddie, but it's not exactly much is it. You just wish you had someone who would love you for you and actually want to spend time with you; is that so much to ask for?

As you entered the dry lab, you noticed that everyone was there but one person in particular. Roger. Fuck sake, where is he? You went to sit in your secluded seat, in the corner of the room, praying to God Roger wasn't in today at all and he had bunked off. Your racing thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Smith raising her voice:

"Okay, class, instead of a test, we are doing a small practical today - it doesn't go towards anything, but it is important we understand the skills and can therefore apply it to any furt-" And with that, Roger burst through the door, panting and wheezing like he had just ran a mile. "Ah, Mister Taylor, late again are we? Look, if you want to get your degree, I suggest you buckle down and get here on time - this isn't an easy course and I'm not going to teach you if this is how you treat it"

"Sorry, my um, my car broke down and I had to run to school" Roger heaved, placing both his hands on his knees as he faced the ground and took in long hard breaths. Droplets of sweat glided down his forehead as he attempted to catch his breath, and you couldn't help but admire the way it framed his face; his hair still scraggly from sleep, and his clothes slightly torn from what you presumed was multiple trips when running. He looked strangely sexy. Fuck. Why were you thinking like this? But it's true... his voice was raspy and choked, from the running - but you can only imagine that's what he always sounds like when he's exhausted. When else might he be exhausted? God, you could only imagine his voice whispering into my ears after a long, hard -

"Do you mind love?" - you were pulled from your daydream, looking up to see him stood there, staring at the empty seat beside you. Your heart began to beat at an irregular pace. Why is he talking to you? Why is he sitting next to you? Did he just call you love? Does he recognise you? Is this some kind of sick joke to him? "Oh- uh, n-no" you stuttered, struggling to even form a simple sentence after your overwhelming wave of emotions which had just washed over you. He threw his briefcase on the floor beside him; pulling out his folder, which was half the size of yours, making you wonder whether Roger actually takes notes in this class or rather it's all just stored in that incredible brain of his. God he is so smart. And sometimes, like today, he has to wear his glasses in class if he forgets his sunglasses, which perfectly frame his face; they make him look so fucking sexy. OMG what the fuck is going on with you?! "Uh- uhm, why are you sitting next to me?" you barely choked out, trying to take your mind off the whole... Roger's incredibly overwhelming persona.

"Prof said we are partnered for this practical, love" He explained, tone still deep and stifled although his breathing has began to go back to normal. You could sense an awkward tension between the two of you the moment he sat down; you knew this was a bad idea and you knew you should've just bunked off. As he began to prepare the equipment for the practical, you couldn't help but stare at his face; his eyes clouded over as he bites his bottom lip from utter concentration. "See something you like?"

He lifted his head, smirking in your direction after you snap out of my trance; you had been staring at him while chewing on the end of your pen. "Oh- uhh, sorry. Sorry. Nice glasses" you panicked, swiftly turning your head in the other direction, until you heard a chuckle and a small 'thanks' come from beside you- which you were instantly able to recognise as Rogers, considering he was the only person who has sat next to you in the past few months on this course. The suspense in the atmosphere only got heightened with every second going past, and you couldn't bare to sit here anymore. "Look, I know you saw me on Saturday. I don't know if you've sat here to tease me or take the piss or whatever but I'm not in the fucking mood- I'm surviving off 3 hours sleep and 5 coffees so if you're not even going to talk to me about what you saw, then you can piss off"

Roger doesn't say anything to respond, and instead just looked at you with a semblance of speechlessness, as if he's trying to conjure up a sentence in which he won't offend or make things more awkward than they already are - failing of course as he eventually comes out with "Y-you have nice moves". You felt your cheeks immediately blush, getting redder and redder; although his words sent chills down your spine, you couldn't let it show.

"What the fuck Roger!" you exclaimed, slapping his arm harder than you originally intended, as he acknowledged it with a sharp 'ow' and quickly reached to rub the now-red area as a way of soothing it. "Sorry . But seriously, you can't tell anyone. Please. If you do, my life will be fucking ruined and I plan on actually doing something with it and if people fin-"

"Y/N, I'm not going to tell anyone." He quickly retorted, making your head turn to face him as a sudden feeling of shock ran through you. Why wouldn't he tell people? "R-really?!" you spluttered, the words barely reaching the surrounding.

"Why would I tell people?"

"Erm, because it's not exactly a thing I should be proud of and you could ruin my life with it and that's kind of what you popular kids do, not to mention you probably think I'm a slut or something because of it" you mumbled, shying away from making any form of eye contact with him. Mainly because the atmosphere is getting increasingly more awkward by the second, but also because you can't deny; you could stare into his eyes all day and I'm afraid if you start you may not be able to stop.

"I'm not that much of a dickhead, love. I don't know why you have... that job, but I'm not going to go around spreading your personal shit."

"Right, sorry. Thank you." you let a fake smile grow on your face, and once noticing him return a wide grin - it became a real one. There was a small moment of silence before you asked one question that had undoubtedly been on my mind all weekend; "W-what were you actually doing there? There are never any lads younger than 30 in that place"

"Oh, erm, I was meant to meet a girl there"

"For a date? You were going to take a girl on a date to a strip club" you emphasised, trying your hardest not to laugh loudly at the idiocy of the Rogers idea of a good date.

"Yeah. But I didn't know it was a strip club - she was the one who gave me the address and told me to meet her there. But she never showed." He explained, with a small sadness to his tone. You felt a pang of guilt and empathy wash over you as he spoke, understand completely how it feels to be stood up; it has happened on multiple occasions and you've basically accepted it's your destiny to be alone by now. "Oh, I'm sorry. She sounds like a bitch"

"She kind of was - I only agreed to the date because she was a good shag" Roger muttered under his breath, most likely hoping you didn't hear him; but you did. You almost choked at his statement, but really you just feel a little shit. You know, of course, Roger is what some might call a 'ladies man'; but the idea of him sleeping around isn't something you keep on your mind because you let it get to you. You say you'd like to be one of those girls, but honestly, you don't just want to be a one time shag that Roger has before moving onto the next. Which is exactly the reason you had originally attempted to push all the feelings you had for Roger deep, deep down - but of course they can't stay down for long, because as soon as Roger walked in the room, you had fallen all over again. And before you knew it, it was the end of the session. Which meant you'd now have to go to the library for the next 4 hours, sitting by yourself and reading over your notes for the hundredth time, pretending like you didn't just want to scrap all your work and quit. As you began to pack my stuff away, you heard Roger cough beside me - in the kind of way that says he's asking for your attention. "Hey, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Erm, I'm performing at Imperial tonight, would you maybe want to come along? I understand if you're busy or something, I mean you are always studying, not that that's a bad thing but I understand if you can't come, I just thought you could do with some fun and I think you're a really nice girl and I wanted to hang out some more you know- but like I said, you don't have to come, you're probably super busy so" Roger muttered, looking to the floor whilst twiddling his thumbs; nerves prominent in his tone. A wide grin grew on your face as he spoke; he wanted to hang out.

"I'd love to - like you said, I could do with a night out that doesn't involve biology in any form." you smiled, as Rogers head shoots up and he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushed through you. He threw his bag over his shoulder, before heading out; you following shortly after. "So, what do you mean by performing?"

"Oh, well I'm in a band with some of my mates, it's nothing much. We play every Sunday and Monday night." He explained, hands in his jean pockets as he walked me home. Slightly stunned by his admission, you looked up at him before asking "What do you play then?"

"Oh, I'm the drummer"

And with that, you were frozen in your place as you stood in shock at the new revelation. Roger Taylor was a drummer? Your eyes widened and your mouth fell ajar at the unfamiliar thought, your mind trying to comprehend such information. Not only is Roger Taylor smoking hot, super kind (well, he seemed) AND incredibly intelligent - but he also plays the drums? Just when you thought he possibly couldn't get any more attractive, he goes and pulls this out of the bag. Roger notices your sudden halting, and turns to look at you with a confused face; "Hey, you okay? You need help?" He cautioned, the worry prominent in his tone, snapping you out of the trance you were in.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, just got lost in my thoughts" you chuckled, looking towards the ground as embarrassment grew on your cheeks, pacing forward to catch up with Roger who was at least 5 steps in front of you. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh?" you questioned, furrowing your brows as your head shot up to face. If he was now going to make you come up with a fake thought in less than five seconds, you think you may just freak out, because there is no way you can explain to him that you fancy him and therefore was dreaming about the absolute charmer he was. "Penny for your thoughts - what you thinking about?"

Fuck.

"What are we, 5 years old?" you giggled, putting a sharp facade of humour when you knew deep down your brain was racking for something, anything that may sound at least an inch better than 'I think I may love you'.

"Come on, I can tell something's bothering you. You can trust me you know - I thought I'd have proven that by now"

"I just... why are you talking to me?" you sputter out, it being the first thing to come to your head.

"What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you even associating yourself with me - I'm the weird loner who sits in the back of class, who no one talks to, or even looks at, who has one friend and has a job as a stripper. I'm not stupid Roger, I know people don't want to associate themselves with the 'quiet' girl, so why are you?" you ranted, finally releasing a long breath after venting, feeling tears pricked your eyes as you realised you were now facing your actual reality. Why was Roger suddenly trying to be your friend? "I mean, was this some kind of dare? Or have you decided you want to add me to your list of sexual escapades because don't think I haven't noticed you've only started talking to me after seeing me strip. Or do you just want to cheat your way through the course, hoping I'll end up doing your work for you?"

You stopped after hearing a small chuckle from beside you, and looked to see Rogers face sporting a little grin, clearly amused by you. "Do you know what, just fuck off. Forget about tonight, I'm leaving" you raged, beginning to storm away as anger boiled inside you at Rogers apparent sense of humour, or lack thereof. He seriously found this funny, whilst you stood here, opening up feelings you would never usually share to anyone apart from Freddie. You tended to struggle opening up about your emotions to people, unless you have a decent amount of wine in my system to flush away the shame that is. Instead, you keep them buried deep down, and you know they're bound to erupt one day- you have a slight feeling today might just be the day. You were halted in your motion as the tight grasp of a hand clutched onto your wrist, causing you to stumble back. "No, wait, Y/N m'sorry! I wasn't laughing at you, I promise."

His apologetic tone rang in your ears, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks once again as you realised how pathetic you were actually being. "The fuck were you laughing at then, 'cause I don't see any fucking clowns wandering 'round here"

"I-I, I wasn't laughing at you! I just, well, I don't really have a reason- why do I need a reason? You are super cool and you seem nice, I just wanted to get to know you."

"You still didn't answer my question." you grumbled, pouting your lips out as you dropped your head to face the floor; your cheeks beginning to redden at the idea that Roger just wanted to get to know you. No one ever just wanted to get to know you; there was always a reason. They would use you to up their grade a little; they would feel sorry for you because you’re a fucking loner; they would attempt to be friendly in hopes of getting you into their bed for the night. That was admittedly the worst one, considering it was the most common. You have never had a true friend, let alone boyfriend, so you can certainly count on yourself to be the biggest virgin gracing this earth. You'd think having a job which was in that kind of area, you’d be basically the opposite; but you agreed with yourself when you started the job that if there was one thing you would never ever turn to, it'd be sleeping with the men in the club. Not only were they almost twice my age, but they weren't exactly the most graceful, gentlemanly men you'll ever meet. Not that Roger was any more chivalrous, from what you'd heard, but at least you were the same age and you actually know him. Though you may be completely conflicting personalities; you being a quiet, reserved, and overall anxious character and Roger being one of loud, adventurous, energetic tendencies; they say opposites attract... right?

"Okay, well, maybe I was laughing at you - but not in a bad way. I was just thinking, you are kind of cute when you are angry y'know" Roger confessed, trying to come off as if he was confident and almost flirty in his words, but you swear you saw his teeth grind from nerves as he spoke.You began to feel your cheeks flush at his simplistically adorable words. "I swear to god, Roger Taylor, if you are trying to flirt with me - I will walk away right now" you giggled, poking his chest a little harder than you expected, gaining a laugh from Roger too. As the laughter died down, you realised you had reached yours and Freddie's flat already, and you still had hours to kill until tonight.

"Erm, this is my block" you muttered, pointing to the entrance of the block of flats you were slowly approaching.

"I know - we live in the same block." He chuckled, opening the door and standing against it, his arm gesturing you to walk through. Maybe he was a gentleman? "Thank you. How come I never see you around the block?"

"I don't know - I've seen you around a few times, usually when you are going out in the evening; presumably to work. I mean, you are always in the library"

"I guess." you chuckled, beginning to walk up the steps to the third floor, where your flat resided. Roger followed swiftly behind, attempting to catch up with you. There was silence as you walked up the stairs; but it wasn't the uncomfortable kind of silence. It was more the kind where you just enjoy each others company in the moment. The better kind. Once you had reached your apartment door, Roger stopped, almost as if he knew where it was without even asking. You didn't bother to question how he knew which flat you lived in, and instead just began unlocking the door.

"I'll, erm, I guess I'll see you tonight? Meet me backstage once we finished our set?" He asked, leaning on his side against the entrance banister. You looked up, but continued turning the key in the lock with movement memory, swiftly taking the key out the lock and opening the door to walk through. "Yeah, of course. You don't mind if I bring Freddie with me do you? He loves a night out"

"Fred's your roommate right? Yeah, sure" He nodded, twiddling his thumbs together. You swear you heard him sigh and possibly roll his eyes at your suggestion, but you gave him a quick smile, as if to say 'see you tonight' before closing the door behind yourself and releasing a loud sigh. As soon as you had locked it, you slid down the wooden door letting out a muffled scream into the bundled coat now in your lap. You could hear Freddie's steps approaching you from the living room, quick paced with urgency. "You alright, darling?"

"Fucking amazing Fred" You grinned, the pace of your heart gradually decreasing again after its irregular habits when you were with Roger.

"I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I heard the one and only Roger Taylor's voice as you walked in the door?" He chuckled, finding your lustful infatuation merely a piece of comedy for his entertainment. "So where is it you are taking me for a night out then?"

"Roger invited me out to the Imperial, he's performing with his band - He plays the drums, Fred. I thought he was already an angel but then he reveals he's a fucking drummer too. Fred, I think I may just suffer a heart attack if I spend even one more second around him."

"So Roger invited you out? And you asked if I could come along? I think your brain has finally fizzled out, love. Are you completely insane?"

"I don't want to die. And I'm sure it'll happen if I have to spend any more time with him alone." you sighed, your heart beating out your chest at the mere thought of spending time with Roger by yourselves. God, how am you meant to cope in a relationship with him when you can barely even hold a conversation. "I said I'd meet him backstage after their set, so we should leave around 8? What should I wear? I don't own any nice clothes Fred! All my clothes are baggy jumpers and joggers - ugh Fred take me shopping!"

"You know I can't turn down a shopping spree darling, grab your shoes and coat!" Freddie exclaimed, making you chuckle under your breath at his extravagance. He held out his hand, which you hesitantly took into line, and yanked you up from your previously comfortable position you found for yourself on the floor. You pulled on your boots and coat, wrapping your scarf around your neck to accommodate for the autumn weather outside. Fred told you of a store just a 10 minute walk from the flat, which was his favourite shop to buy clothes in; Biba. He had never really mentioned the store until a few days back, after going to a small gig by himself. You just remember him coming home relatively sober and with a look of infatuation growing on his face and in his eyes. He never really talks about what happened that night - you just presumed he'd maybe had a good hookup.

15 notes · View notes

istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Note

Hey, darling! May I please get a ship (Queen and Bo Rhap)? At first people may consider me as shy and distant but that immediately changes when I'm comfortable with you. Then I'm really chatty, sarcastic and kind and would love to give advice if needed. I'd like to think I'm smart. I hate talking about politics and religion. I'm a chubby hetero girl who has long hair and black (like my soul lol) eyes. Sometimes I don't pay attention at my surroundings, I'm just daydreaming a lot. Perfectionist.

god i’ve tried starting this like 100 times but recovering from spring break is killing me

SORRY FOR THE SLOW TURNOVER yall i’m drowning in projects so they’ll come when they come tbh

anyways!!! ships below the cut

For Queen, I ship you with John Deacon! (ignore roger in the gif even tho he cute as hell)

I think both Roger and Brian are far too opinionated and politically-driven to mesh well with you. However, John doesn’t concern himself with those things nearly as much. He keeps to himself, and he doesn’t flaunt his opinions, and that works really well for you two. Religion may be a place where you disagree a bit, but he doesn’t force his religion on you at all.

Plus, he loves the similarities between the two of you. The initial awkwardness made you both realize that you were one and the same, so you quickly attached to each other upon realizing that your proclivity towards quietness/shyness is just a sort of temporary wall that you only have up for strangers.

And since you’re a chatty girl, I think you met Deacon through Freddie. You and Freddie were friends through school and he invited you to one of his gigs because he swore he’d found your match made in heaven.

Although you didn’t particularly like his blind date setups, he seemed very insistent on this one, so you begrudgingly agreed to put on your best dress and come out to see them play.

“You’re gonna love him. He’s a little sweetheart, really!” Freddie gushed as he wrapped his arm up in yours, pulling you through the crowded bar towards the door that led back to the makeshift dressing rooms. It was the earlier Queen years, where they were still playing pubs and colleges, and you’d apparently happened to show up on the night where they played the smallest pub they could have found. As a result, their backstage area was... well, a bit cramped.

“Freddie, what if he doesn’t like me?” you asked nervously, tugging him to a stop just outside where the other three were.

“Like who?” Roger asked, popping his head through the curtain before looking directly at you and smiling. You’d already met a few times at Freddie’s (Deacon never really went there much), and he’d grown to like teasing you about your aversion for politics. “Well, look who it is. You hear about Heath and Whitelaw and the IRA?”

“Roger, if you start talking politics right now, I’ll keel over and die before the show even starts. Would you like that?” Freddie groaned, pushing Roger back into the curtain before turning to you and taking your face in his hands. “And he’ll love you. I promise.”

“Love who?” you heard from inside the curtain, the voice sounding soft and prim and unmistakably like Brian. “Roger, paws off my beer, thank you. Don’t think for a second that I won’t wallop you.” Yep. That was Brian.

Before you had time to make a dash for the door, Freddie tugged you through the curtain, where you nearly ran into Roger as he backed away from an irritated Brian. Between the two of them was a young-looking man, maybe 20ish, with beautiful brown hair that cascaded down over his shoulders and silvery-green eyes that nearly made your eyes go like those cartoons where they turn into hearts and pop right out of your skull.

As beautiful as he was, it was only made even better when he gave you a painfully shy smile that had just the slightest gap in the front. He put his hands down, having been in the midst of breaking the two morons up. “Sorry,” he managed to say quietly, addressing you and Freddie, but mainly you. “Didn’t want them having a row before we played.”

“That’s alright,” you replied gently, returning the smile and letting go of Freddie’s arm. “I know how they can be. Especially Roger.”

“Well, hello, love,” Brian greeted cheerily, blissfully unaware of John and you lowkey making googly eyes at each other., and he came in to give you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, which you reciprocated. “Haven’t seen you in ages. Has Freddie dragged you down to one of our shows, finally?”

“Well, he said I have someone to meet,” you replied unsurely, smiling a bit nervously before glancing over at Deacon, who was just to Brian’s left and still watching you quietly. “I’m assuming this is him?”

Your question was confirmed by a nod from Freddie, who went through a surprisingly only moderately painful introduction for the two of you. There was some small talk, but you didn’t get the chance to feel a conversation out before it was time for them to play.

However, John pulled on his big boy pants after the show and bought you a drink, then managed to find a space at the bar where the boys couldn’t bother you, and from there, you bonded incredibly fast.

Nothing like sharing a general distaste for the drummer’s political hogwash.

Anyways, you started to hang around Deacon’s more often, Freddie complaining that he meant to bring Deacon around his place more often by acquainting the two of you. He’d managed to achieve the opposite - more often than not, you weren’t at Freddie’s now.

You were with John instead, just spending time with him and only him. He was a lot of fun to talk to, particularly because his sarcasm matched yours really well, and he was able to have deep conversations with you without challenging your anti-political/religious stances.

One time in particular, you were both sitting on the bus late one night on your way back from Freddie’s, elbows bumping in the most unsatisfactory of ways - but it was okay, because the two of you were laughing at Roger’s latest conquest he’d brought that night. He had forgotten her name, which John hadn’t let him hear the last of all night.

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t be heartbroken if Roger conveniently forgot my name,” you giggled softly, shaking your head. “He’s got more notches on that bedpost than I’ve got hairs on my head.”

“A bit harsh, but you’re not wrong,” John laughed along, looking ahead of him and smiling for a moment before intentionally bumping you with his elbow and turning to you again. “Promise I’d never forget your name. As long as you don’t forget mine, that is.”

The sudden sweetness (and shameless flirt) made your cheeks turn a light pink, but since you no longer had your guard up around the man you’d seen become your closest friend as of lately, you didn’t back down.

“Forget your name? Don’t make me laugh, Mister.... er, remind me again?”

“Oh, you’re such a comedian,” he groaned, playfully crossing his arms as he slumped in the seat a bit. After a moment of thinking, he snickered to himself, a sign that he’d thought of something that probably was only funny to him. But he said it anyways. “If I ask you out now, would it be considered a blind date since you don’t know my name, apparently?”

You were right. It wasn’t that funny. But it was kind of cute, in an endearing dork sort of way, and that was basically John in a nutshell. And he was being far more direct than he’d ever been before, which was saying something... because that question still wasn’t direct.

“Why don’t you find out?” you teased gently, but there weren’t any malicious or ill-intended undertones to your voice. There was a kindness to it instead, one that fueled John’s confidence and coaxed him out of his shell - your kindness always brought out a more confident version of John. He was able to be himself around you, a more sure self.

“Would you let me take you on a blind date tomorrow, then? To the Italian place just down the street?” he asked, smiling a bit shyly, but still warmly, over at you. And you returned the smile, just like when you met.

“Of course. What kind of guy should I look for when I get there?”

“Oh, about 6′4, incredibly fit. Great hair, too.”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Joe Mazzello! (the deacy duo wow blessed)

I think Gwilym’s a bit too political for you, and Ben, although sweet, probably would egg on your perfectionism too much. Despite his rough-seeming qualities, at his basis element, he’s pretty type-A (look at his fashion sense, for example - only someone with a type-A personality dresses that well in an AIRPORT. I bet you’ve got hella fashion in the airport. Y’all would stress each other out in that respect, even though you’re not completely type-A from the sounds of it).

And although we love Rami, I think he’d be a bit too awkward to hit it off with you romantically. But, you definitely could be friends. And that’s how you would meet Joe, who is just dweeby enough yet outgoing enough to really mesh well with you.

You’d probably meet Joe by chance when you stop by Rami’s. And as chance would also have it, you would have no idea that Joe was there, so when you immediately start talking once Rami invites you in, your chatty Cathy nature and general unawareness makes you completely oblivious to Joe until you literally run right into him.

“Rams, if I had a dollar for every time you managed to remember to grab ALL of your things before you left my apartment, I’d be broke. Boxers this time, really? How do you forget those, you didn’t even had a second outfit, did you? You worry me,” you rambled as you walked in, handing him a bag that contained his missing boxers. He followed you down the hallway, grumbling as he did so.

“Thanks for bringing them here. But I absolutely had a second outfit in my bag. I’m not a heathen, you know!”

“Thank God you’re not a heathen, I was so worried,” you teased playfully, giving him a playful eyeroll before you rounded the corner into the kitchen and ran straight into another human. A yelp escaped your lips as you barely managed to catch the bowl of popcorn that you’d knocked out of his hands, some of it spilling directly onto your shirt and getting just a bit of butter stains on the fabric.

All Rami could do was snicker to himself as you stared at Joe, still a bit shocked by the abrupt encounter. And Joe, ever the blushing dweeb, was already laughing at himself and apologizing profusely while Rami grabbed paper towels.

“I am so sorry, what a terrible first impression!” Joe laughed, taking the popcorn back from you carefully before sitting it on the counter and watching you with a curious, yet guilty look as Rami returned with a few paper towels, handing them to you so you could clean up a bit.

“Oh, it’s my fault!” you dismissed quietly, your voice still a bit shy but sure enough to let Joe know that you didn’t blame him. “I didn’t pay attention to where I was going.” You laughed to yourself as you cleaned your shirt off as best as you could. Meanwhile, Rami put in another bag of popcorn to pop, then hung back while he observed the two of you awkwardly trying to salvage the situation.

“Well, either way, I’m so sorry!” Joe apologized again, tugging on his collar a bit nervously. When you were quiet in response, far too shy to try another joking response to someone you didn’t recognize, Joe shot Rami a quick look that could only be a cry for help.

“This is Joe,” Rami interjected, leaning on the counter as he gave you both an amused smile. “And this is Y/N. I think I’ve told you both about each other.”

“Is this the Pacific guy?” you asked, pointing to Joe as you looked at Rami questioningly. He nodded, and you grinned a bit as you looked back at Joe. “Rami seems to have a bit of a crush on you, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, and I have just as big of a crush on him, for sure,” Joe joked back without missing a beat, sending Rami a quick wink before he grinned back at you, slightly intrigued by your wittiness despite being so quiet.

But when you were quiet in response again, he just took it as an invitation to keep talking, which is exactly what you needed - Joe taking charge of the conversation from the get go greatly helped your initial awkwardness, and made the situation not so quiet and uncomfortable. Which, in turn, boosted your confidence a bit and made you not so distant in the future.

“And if you’re Y/N, that means I’ve heard quite a few things about you. Rami also speaks pretty highly of you, and returning his nasty ol’ boxers? Admirable.”

“Oh my god, Joe, don’t talk shit about my boxers like I’m not right here!” Rami interjected, making a jokingly hurt face as he picked up the boxers and stalked out of the room with them. As he left, the microwave stopped and Joe walked over to retrieve the popcorn, bringing it over to the bowl carefully.

“Promise I won’t spill this one on you.”

After that, you joined their movie night and you found you had a lot in common with Joe - he was very much like Rami in the sense that he was a big dork, which you immediately hooked on to.

But he was also very charming when he wanted to be, which he definitely wanted to be around you. From the moment he saw you, he was pretty entranced by the long hair-dark eye combo. You looked like some sort of Lady Godiva character, and he found that attractive from the very beginning. And it goes without saying that he was pretty cute too.

So one day, when you were out on the town with just him and you mentioned cutting your hair just in passing, you thought he was about to have a heart attack.

“What? No!” he’d immediately protested, looking at you like he’d seen a ghost. You were both headed home from a game that he’d bought tickets for as a sort of date thing - you were both still feeling things out, but definitely had some sort of feelings for each other (yes, Rami was a proud momma hen when he found out). You’d noticed that you sort of liked the look of your hair when it was behind your shoulders, about shoulder length, when you were putting on his baseball cap.

“My god, Joe, are you gonna be alright?” you laughed, giving him a gentle nudge with your elbow as you both exited the subway car at his stop. Like clockwork, you both headed up to the east exit, on his side of the street. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world. I didn’t say I was going to cut it. I just think it looks kinda cute short.”

“So you’re not cutting it?” he asked hopefully, looking over at you with an equally hopeful look as you ascended the steps together, walking in sync. “You better not be. I’ll fight hand and teeth for you to not cut it.”

“Would it really be a crime if I did?” you teased gently, reaching the top of the steps with him and heading for his apartment. After a moment of contemplation, he looked over at you. To help his deliberations, you pulled your hair back over your shoulders and gathered up the rest of it in your hand, hiding the length of it. With that, he sighed.

“Damn it, you’re right. You’re even cute with short hair.” Grumbling to himself a bit too much, he unlocked the front door to his apartment building and held the door open for you while you giggled softly at his melodramatic annoyance. “Oh, hush. You knew that I’d lose this argument, didn’t you?”

“Well, it wasn’t really an argument. You never got the chance in the first place,” you reminded him, and he gave you a playful eyeroll as you both got in the elevator together. When the doors closed, it was quiet again. A bit more quiet than either of you would have liked.

But, the quiet did bring one good thing. Joe got the balls to say what was on his mind, mainly because the silence had spooked him a bit. Unbeknownst to him, you were just partially zoned out, easily having lapsed into a daydream that may or may not have been about Joe.

(It was.)

His voice did lull you out of the dreamlike state, though, and you listened as the elevator slowly rose through the building. “I just really like your long hair. You look like a badass, it’s really cute. But you also look like a badass with short hair, so that’s completely unfair to my case, you know? I guess I’m just trying to tell you to stop being cute, please and thank you. It would make my life a lot easier and asking you out on another date a lot less stressful.”

“That is.... so cheesy, Joe. But thanks,” you laughed, giving him another gentle nudge. This one, he returned, along with a goofy smile that made your heart melt. “And right back at you.”

“Wow, you think I’d be cute with long hair? I’m flattered.”

“Oh my god. The last part, smartaleck. Why do I even go on dates with you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I guess I’m lucky we’re both cute.”

12 notes · View notes