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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 3 years

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The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Text

Mello/GN! Reader — Shower Thoughts

I’m reading the death note manga for the first time and I recently got to that part where Mello’s just kinda. Waitin’ outside the shower for Halle bc they cant talk anywhere else without being heard by bugs. I think its really funny but I couldn’t help but imagine that same scene happening with someone with a completely different personality. So have a small thing I wrote about it. Basically the reader likes to be annoying and uses humor to deflect from serious situations. I’m not self-projecting what do you mean.

“So.” You haven’t shut up since Mello pointed the gun to your head. It’s like he’s forced you to spit out an essay of the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and you were giving him material for an ‘A+’. He has no idea if this is your way of panicking during a stressful situation or if you just like to irritate him. He just knows he’s annoyed as all hell and has the power to silence you…but he wouldn’t do that. He needs you to get to Near. Unfortunately. “How was your day?”

His eyes bore into the sink, as if willing the faucet to start up and fill the room with water so he can drown. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“You’re right, you’re right. I guess that wasn’t the best question, huh? Sorry.”

Mello hums. He’s staying as still as he can. It’s not like he thinks that any movement will prompt you to talk again, but that’s what the paranoid part of his brain is telling him. Silence. He just needs a few moments of silence—

“Ah, shit! Soap in my eye! I got—ahhh fuck – I got soap in my eye…”

“Great. Think you can suffer any more quietly?”

“Wow. No sympathy.” You pout, and the tone in your voice is genuinely upset. Most likely because he’s not playing along and not because you’re so offended that he’s being cruel to a poor, soap-blinded person. “Gevanni wouldn’t treat me this way.”

“If he could hear you I’m sure he’d want to blow your brains out, too.”

You bark with laughter. Mello hears a soap bottle fall.

“Aren’t you so cute! I certainly don’t mind if you stay here a little longer, yellow Mello! We could build you a nice lil’ pillow fort in the bathtub.”

Mello’s rubbing his temples, letting out a labored sigh. He is legitimately getting a headache from you. He thought that was just something people claimed happens when they’re being dramatic but he is actually getting a headache. But again, he needs you. And you’ve been an incredible help thus far. Despite your mannerisms and attitude, you’re actually a pretty serious and loyal person when it counts. These are all things Mello tells himself as he’s counting down from one hundred – and old anger management trick that he was forced to learn back at Wammy’s. He has found that it has little effect.

“Hey,” you call, as if bothered by the short bout of silence in the room. “I’m- shit…I’m sorry, okay? I don’t like this situation either. But I guess…I’m trying to make it a little better?”

For once, you let only the patter of water on porcelain fill the room. He can almost hear your breathing, and it sounds calculated. Mello’s headache wains.

“Thanks.” It’s all he can think to say. He knows you mean well, he always has. “I appreciate the effort.”

Your relieved chuckle bounces off the walls. It’s a sound Mello is happy to hear.

“M’glad.” And he can tell you are, as the smile you wear can be heard in your voice. “I’ll be done in a minute, I promise. I just gotta wash my hair so I’ll give you a play by play of what I’m doing so you know just how ‘almost done’ I am.”

“(Name), please don’t—“

“I’m grabbing the conditioner.”

“I swear if you—“

“I’m squeezing some onto my hand.”

Mello can feel his headache creep back into his skull. “I literally have a gun and you’re gonna make me wanna—“

“I’m putting it on my hea-AHH!” your riveting narration is interrupted by a screech when Mello punches the shower curtain right next to your face. “JESUS!”

He goes to tell you off when his eyes flit to the bathroom mirror and his words are caught in his throat. The sight that greets him is different for two different reasons. The first reason makes the second reason even more curious. Firstly, Mello has learned to accept that his face will never look the same again. His eyes wander around his left side, trace the pattern of the scar melded into his flesh like a searing reminder of how he’ll always be stuck where he is, never progressing, never rising above. But the scar has more than mental drawbacks; it also limits the physical movements of his features. Its stiff, like stone has begun to creep over the expanse of his face. So why, then, was he just able to smile so effortlessly without even noticing?

As annoying as you are…you’re the most fun Mello’s had in a while.

“Alright, I’ll stop! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, Yeah. Just hurry up.”

“Oh right, we’ve gotta deceive my boss in a few.”

Mello snorts at how nonchalantly you say it. “I doubt he isn’t aware of us already.”

“’Us’?”

“That we’ve been conspiring.”

“Oh, right,” you chirp happily, but a tense pause follows. “For a second you made it sound like…”

“Like what?”

“Pshh, I don’t know!” you do know. “Now I’m about to get out so look away or I’ll throw soap in your eyes.” Ah, changing the subject. A classic method of avoiding embarrassment and a tactic you’ve grown so used to using it’s practically an unconscious choice by now.

But luckily, Mello doesn’t seem to want to dwell on it either. He instead focuses on your last sentence, responding by clicking his tongue against his teeth. “We’re both adults here.”

“I know that! I’m concerned that if you get a look at my godly self you won’t be able to control your adultly urges.”

“’Adultly’s not a word.”

You’re able stick your tongue out at him once you pop your head out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack.

“Taking the high road, I see.”

“Oh, shush. I never take the high road.” You flick water at Mello as you step out of the shower. “Alrighty. Time to go pretend to be a hostage while you threaten my boss. Oh, clothes first!”

“I’ll be here.”

After sending an affirming thumbs up, you exit the bathroom, a swirl of steam trailing behind you.

He’ll be here…It honestly is a shame he can’t stay here any longer. But it’d be suspicious. Near would find too many connections between the two of you. But…there are ways to avoid that happening.

Mello finds himself seriously considering the bathtub pillow fort idea.

#Death note x reader #death note #oneshot #death note oneshot #mello x reader #mihael keehl #mello death note #mihael keehl x reader #x reader #anime oneshot

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princess-cordelias-writingblog · 6 years

Text

YOUR DARK SIDE. (Void!Stiles x Reader)

A/N: THIS IS SICK (that gif makes me sweat jfc) Also, I changed a lot but I don’t think I need to tell you that bc is not really important lmao. I split this into several parts, 1 bc I haven’t had time to write more and I don’t actually know how to get to the end of this and 2 it is very long compared to my other writings, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @sarcxstic-stilinski thought you guys might wanna read this <3

This is for @roseringleader13 hope you like this part. <3

Words: 2,196

Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORYLINE. This whole plot is kinda about an abusive relationship?? between Void and reader? beware, the reader might have a suicidal wish and low self-esteem. Pretty much obsessed with the boy lmao.

Listen to me.

Part I / Pt. II / Pt.III / Pt.IV

How much pain are you willing to stand for someone?

I’m a good person, I have good grades and always listen to what my mom says, I help my friends when they’re in trouble and I’ve never talked shit about a person in my life. Until now.

My friends and I fight against supernatural things all the time, everything that was always there to cause us pain and terror was defeated at some point, we stuck together through thick and thin, and that was all that matters.

You may have noticed how I keep saying “we”. I’m not exactly talking about my friends, I’m really only talking about him. This guy has been my friend since the very beginning; we are as close as my awkwardness allows, but the problem is that I’m in love with Stiles and I have no interest in being just a friend.

I can’t recall when I started to have these feelings for him, I know that at some point I saw him in the hall and the “Holy shit, He’s beautiful” hit me with no prior notice, but to say that I can remember exactly how I fell in love?, I can’t.

However, the sudden realization of my true feelings for the boy didn’t scare me away, in fact, they were keeping me close, holding me tight beside him and never breaking the contact, hoping that we would be together at the end.

“Hi there, y/n/n,” Stiles sat at the girl’s side, nudging her teasingly

“How’s life?”

“Good, what about you?” The girl slid closer to him, very aware of how her cheeks flushed.

“I- uh, I haven’t slept well recently,” He sighed “I’m tired, and having trouble concentrating at school and stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Y/N frowned.

“I’m aware of that” Stiles replied drily “Look, I’ll be fine I just need a few good hours of sleep and then I’ll be as good as always.”

“Why don’t you go see a doctor?”

“There’s no need, I promise I’m fine”

“Stiles, you can’t know that. What’s wrong with looking for a professional opinion anyway?” Her hand automatically reached for his, which he accepted, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

“Y/N...” He mumbled tiredly.

“She’s right though,” Lydia said, glancing up from her phone “You have no way to know that whatever is happening to you is just from lack of sleep, it could be something more.”

Stiles shifted awkwardly in his chair, biting his lip, Y/N wished they were the only ones on that table so no one could interrupt them.

“If you really think I should... I guess it’ll be okay”

And there it was, the real problem. Stiles’ undying love for Lydia Martin. At this point, I should’ve moved on and found a cute guy with good intentions and a huge heart, unfortunately, that was all he was. The sweet boy Stilinski, always there for everyone, the hero of every story. The feeling of having him so close yet so far was unbearable, I had a plan too just like he had one for Lydia. A three-year-long plan in which Stiles was going to notice me and figured on his own how significant I was in his life, by the time we were going to be on Senior year he’d be utterly in love.

I admit I started to grow bitter, the grudge I held against both of them wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair for either of them. I was being childish and stupid, they were my friends!; I found myself holding back from rolling my eyes everytime Stiles stared at the girl when he was talking with me, and clenching my fists whenever she said something remotely nice to him. There was this dark, heavy thing growing bigger and bigger with each passing day, consuming my heart, my rage was starting to be completely out of control.

Lydia was everything I couldn’t. Brave, smart, beautiful... I couldn’t compete with her. I didn’t want to.

We soon figured what was wrong with Stiles.

“An evil fox?” Y/N said, not able to believe it “Are you telling me that Stiles is being possessed by the evil spirit of a fox?”

“This is not funny Y/N, Stiles could die” Lydia scolded “don’t you care about what could happen to him?”

“I care more than you know” She growled, the smile disappearing completely of her face “You know I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

“And yet you’re not doing anything to find him.” Isaac mumbled.

Before they got the chance to get into an argument, Scott stopped them.

“The plan is to bring him back before it’s too late, Stiles has been holding on for too long, at this point is very likely that the Nogitsune has more power over him.”

“Yeah but if I find him, How am I supposed to stop him? I, a seventeen-year-old girl, whose only supernatural power is the will to stand all this bullshit” Y/N’s comment was not well received by her friends, that groaned in exasperation.

“Just be sure to have a way to contact us in case you find something helpful,” Scott grabbed his own phone and walked out of the room, Lydia following behind, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Ugh, fuck off,” Y/N thought, not in the mood to accept Lydia’s kindness.

What did Lydia have that she didn’t? What made her worthy of his heart, or what made me her unattractive to him, Y/N was so tired of being ignored, she was exhausted to see all her or so call “friends”, treating her like she was an inconvenience. The little human who was not even good at research like Stiles was, Y/N held her breath and count to ten, her blood boiling with impotence.

It was getting darker and still no sign of Stiles. I entered every abandoned building I could find, I looked around the forest and in my last attempt, I even checked his house in case he had a glint of sanity and decided to go back, but there was nothing.

I went home feeling defeated, just thinking about what could possibly be happening to Stiles in that very same moment gave me goosebumps, I was hoping that Scott could find him fast when I found him in my living room.

“Stiles! Where the fuck have you been?” Y/N dropped her bag and stood there in shock, “I’ve been worried sick, you disappeared and we thought you died!”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not dead” He looked like shit, dark circles under his eyes and dry lips, Y/N was surprised he could stay conscious “I need your help, Y/N/N”

The light in the room flickered when Stiles walked slowly to where the girl was, he looked at her up and down and licked his lips, the broken expression soon turning into a small, dark smile.

Suddenly realizing what was happening, she let him walk until they were face to face, knowing it wasn’t good but so terrified she couldn’t move a muscle to save her life.

“You’re not Stiles” she whispered in anger “You’re the other thing... Void.”

“Hi there,” He replied in a calm voice, looking at her hungrily “I’ve been waiting to officially meet you for too long”

“You’re despicable” Y/N had the urge to run to the opposite side, but she was so angry with this thing possessing the boy she loved that her emotions took control on her actions. “Why are you here?”

“Because of you.” He said, voice clear and intimidating.

“Y-you what?”

Time seemed to stop when he took a final step, his face so close now she could see the darkness in his eyes. “I’ve been feeding of this boy for so long, and I’ve been able to see his life, all the people around him, so many accidents and death surrounding this kid that it was impossible for me not to want him, but you, you’re something else.”

“I know your heart,” He whispered seductively “I can see you love this boy and want desperately to have him just for you,” He tilted his head and pulled her closer, his face buried in her neck. Being able to perceive the dark feelings coming out of the girl, he moaned “I’m starving Y/N, and your anger is overwhelming... I’m sure we could get to an agreement”

Y/N wanted to scream, she wanted to kick and punch and bite as much as she could until Scott finally appeared kicking down the door or something heroic as hell like he used to, her heart was pounding against her chest and Stiles had such a tight hold on her neck she was sure it could break it in a second.

“Let me go!” She grabbed his wrist and tried to get him off herself, but it was useless.”Stiles!”

“I’m not Stiles!” He snarled, grip becoming tighter “You think you have any chance to fight against me? you’ll die as soon as you try to escape and you know it.”

“You won’t kill me, I-I’m his friend” Y/N choked out “He would never hurt me”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” He said, grabbing her waist with his free hand and smiling wickedly “he doesn’t care.”

“You’re lying” The girl tried to push him in a desperate attempt to make him trip, but Void was faster, he slammed her against the wall, the pain stunned her enough for him to take her to her room with no objections.

“Why would I?” He replied, “I’m in control now, but he can hear and see everything as well, he knows your feelings and is disgusted by them.”

Her heart shattered at his words, of course she had always known that Stiles didn’t like her back, but being actually disgusted? that was enough to make her want to erase herself from existence.

“You’re free to think he’s fighting against this, but he’s not” He closed the door and pushed her against it, rubbing her cheek “it’s such a shame that you’re wasted like this, living in the shadows of a boy who is not interested in having you.”

“Please” Y/N begged, she didn’t want to hear anything else, it was too cruel.

“I’m giving you an option, dove” He licked his lips anxiously “you’ll never have what you want, he’s too out of your reach. I however am willing to let you have him if you give me what I want.”

“I-I don’t understand...”

“Let me take all that darkness in you, and you'll have Stiles for you and only for you, of course, you will not be able to talk to him or feel his presence since I’m the one in charge now, but- look at me, Y/N” He grabbed her face aggressively, forcing her to see the face of the boy she loved, now completely different from what she remembered “this is all you got.”

“He’s right,” Y/N thought.

Stiles didn’t love her, didn’t want her around, even after all those times when she tried to convince him that she was the right choice, even after she was the one he called when things got complicated, Stiles simply couldn’t see it, he didn’t want to see.

And Y/N loved him so much, so desperately, that she found herself sinking in despair, knowing that her only wish in life was never going to happen, it destroyed her, the last remnants of her sanity finally disappearing.

“If I help you... Will I die?”

Void’s smile grew wider, his eyes with a wild glint that she couldn’t ignore, making her shudder.

“I need you to feed me, the boy is too weak now... we need you, you want to take care of him, this is how you’ll do it” He put a stray of hair behind her ear “which means, I can’t kill you.”

“What’s gonna happen to Stiles?” Y/N felt herself drowning in empty lies, but it felt so good to have Stiles like this, so close to her body.

“I’ll leave his body eventually.” He seemed to be hiding something important, but at that point, Y/N didn’t mind.

What things would you do to be with the person you love?

She looked into those honey brown eyes, and soon enough she realized there was something missing, but she also noticed that this was the first time Stiles looked at her with such intensity, and her mind went blank. Drunk with his scent and proximity, she nodded, one last tear falling down her face.

“Good girl” Void whispered.

Before she could react, Void grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her fiercely, dominating every movement and making very clear who was in charge. While Void kissed her, she felt as if she was being drained, a strange emptiness taking over her body, but at the same time, the overwhelming sensation of having Stiles’ lips on her own, was enough to distract her from any possible danger.

Things were about to go worse than expected.

#void stiles revolution #teen wolf imagine #stiles x reader #void stiles fic #My writing

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