#and that it was the one he used to sing the most with his band!!! which is one of my favorite pieces of trivia for him besides the seal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tearlessrain · 6 months

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please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

#I found their original stuff while I was researching various waterhorses and their folklore for no reason #because one of the characters in their original work happens to be an each uisge #and then it turned out it ALSO included a lot of figures from welsh folklore in general #so yknow if you happen to have my incredibly specific hyperfixations you'll love it but even if you don't it's great #I didn't mean to bring up phantom of the opera so much it just happens to be very relevant to a lot of my talking points #I haven't actually seen it in years

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hairmetal666 · 8 months

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They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #bandmates steve and eddie #musician au #fluff #angst #eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington #oblivious steve harrington #eventual mutual pining #kissing on stage #it's a joke. until it isn't #this is because boygenius won a bunch of grammys #all award shows are fake and the grammys are the most fake of all but still #if the tour bus is rockin' etc etc etc #grey goose got your girl feeling loose

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aideshou · 2 years

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followed by “you wanna see my box?”

#............i crossed out beef jerky enthusiast bc 1. it was spelled wrong .......and 2. anyone who knows lisa knows she's an enthusiast #ABOUT EVERYTHING !!#even her rage is enthusiastic !!#anyways some kid did a documentary for his high school project about my old landlord !! (he's still my friend and we've rented from him #twice!)#certainly never boring there.......#however the most wholesome part of this docu is one of my favorite women in the world!#she taught me about mushroom foraging !#and helps birds when they are harmed ! (someone brought her a seagull and she was so mad bc now she's just had this overgrown seagull in a #cage for two years who cant make it in the wild anymore-she loves animals but who can really like a seagulls company?)#she's also founded of church on the rocks which i think they just sing a lot of jesus-y songs to a live band #if they will let me sing heaven help us i will go #also old man's (now ex) princess (he said it) gf is in this docu....#she has my moms name >(#shes ok i just think its funny that she got caught on camera bc she smokes cigs #she never goes outside unless its to walk her dog or smoke lights #i could tell she so didnt want to be on camera~#cool views of the first year of the island garden going~

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

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Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #musician Steve Harrington #musician eddie munson #we love alternate meetings in this house #we’re gonna say it’s a modern au to make things simpler #just go with it

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harrysfolklore · 7 months

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Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.

You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.

A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.

"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"

Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.

"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."

"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."

"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.

"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."

He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.

"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."

He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.

"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."

It was safe to say that fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.

"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."

"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."

"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."

"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."

"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"

"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.

"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."

You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.

"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."

"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."

"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."

"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."

"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."

"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."

"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."

He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.

"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."

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weasleyreidstyles · 7 months

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on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

#hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #fluff

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siddyyyyyyyy · 1 month

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Rockstar Girlfriend

Older!Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 3.7 K summary: You're Damian's girlfriend, and his family wants to visit your concert warnings: none, no y/n used, established relationship a/n: I often daydream about this scnenario, so here you go. divider from @super-marvel-dc , just the stuff I needed ! enjoy

Tuning your guitar does get on your nerves on tours, especially right before you need to go on stage and the E-string seems to snap any moment. Your earpiece counts the few last beats down before the lights go off and you have to be on stage, finally getting the guitar tuned for the show. The supporting band got off stage a few mintues ago, hyping you and your bandmates up for the show, since you are the main act. This band is the most sweetest you‘ve ever met, even when they play a little softer music than you.

Just in time, you get to your mic stand and can only see some flashlights from phones in the crowd before you and your band play the first chord of the opening song. Ear-deafening shouts and cheers errupt from the crowd, having to focus on staying in the rythm, also to begin singing on the right time.

The lightshow of the stage gives the crowd an even more beautiful and energetic view, most of them singing along the first words of the song while some record with their phones. It seems like you‘re singing to a see of people, not able to recognise this many faces or even identify some with the lights flickering to the beat of the music, having to focus on multiple things at the same time anyway. But one thing is that you are sure of. It‘s that your boyfriend should be here, most likely somewhere in the front rows. As you continue to play and sing, you‘re intently watching the crowd on the first rows, trying to make out where he is. It is nearly impossible though, the lightshow making it less possible to actually recognise anyone from the stage.

You give up after a moment and focus on performing, jumping around lightly at the parts where you don‘t need to sing and can have fun. It seems like the viewers also have a lot of fun with your music, seeing some mosh-pits form further in the back and middle. You had trouble believing it at first when you saw people file out of the hall with your first few concerts, that there are some rowdy and elder people who enjoy your music. They‘re probably the same ones in the pit right now. Good thing Damian is probably at the front, he would‘ve seriously injured people on accident.

Your band is two songs in, but the set list still has twenty songs left, promising for a long night. Damian is indeed by the front rows, standing among other hardcore fans who seem too desperate for his taste. But who is he to judge, he tries to make it to every concert you guys announce and play near by. Always getting some kind of merch by the merch stands before the show, small stickers or patches, you name it; he has it.

During a more heavy song, you engange with the crowd as usual, telling them to part the crowd for the up-coming breakdown. Of course, the crowd does a good job at that, some people in the front and back just watching the show and crowd while the band continues to play.

The breakdown, the most heaviest part of the song, start playing and the people create a ‚Wall of Death‘, it looking satisfying from your view. Your bassist does most of the screaming vocals on the extra mic stand, getting to play the thrilling chords on your guitar while watching the crowd have fun.

Finally, you meet eyes with Damian. He grins proudly, wearing a shirt with your band logo on it. He gives you a thumbs up, seemingly proud and happy to support you on one of your bigger perfomances. Normally, you play at smaller stages, but the support band and your new support and love from fans made this possible to happen. It‘s a sight to see, knowing all these people like the stuff you‘re creating for your own enjoyment and actively support your band because they want more of your music.

You‘re halfway through your setlist now, not being nervous at all now as you get used to the feeling fairly quickly. It‘s always during the middle of the set when it is time for a small break, getting to drink some water while engaging with the crowd and entertaining them. And who would your bandmates be if they wouldn‘t mess around with the other mic while you talk, making the crowd laugh and record the interaction with your band. After the joksters finally lock in, it‘s time to perform the last half of the set list. The crowd really does give their best on having fun, never having seen so many mosh pits in one of your concerts before.

The show comes to an end, being sweaty and worn out after the perfomance but you can‘t leave without throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks to the crowd, a lot of them being happy over it and catching them.

Lastly, you could finally leave for the backstage and into your private room to get unready and settle down into your own respective homes.

»Was your lovey-dovey boyfriend here again?« Your drummer asks while drying his hair off with a towel, always talking about your boyfriend as if he would take him from you. In a friendly, funny way, of course.

»Yeah, somewhere in the front row. Why?«

You answer back while taking off your make up in front of a mirror, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

»I just saw him too. Seemed like he was wearing our merch!«

He tells you excitedly with a big grin, making sure to get his hair dry from his sweat.

»Yeah, he definitely wore our merch.« You nod back as your face is bare again, walking over to your bag at the couch. Your bandmates seem to giggle and mostly joke a bit around with how cheesy your boyfriend is, being used to their shenanigans by now. You settle down on the couch for a moment, your feet and legs aching from standing and performing for almost an hour tonight, having been preparing and helping the technicians with setting up the lightshow and stage this afternoon, since you feel bad for them doing all this for your band.

Eventually, you make your way outside of the arena to meet your boyfriend, having your bag over your shoulder while the staff is taking care of the rest. He is standing by the back door, right where you walked out of, greeting him with a tight hug.

»God, I‘m sweaty, I probably stink so bad...«

Damian doesn‘t even budge and keeps you in his arms, a soft expression on his face.

»So what? You were amazing up there. As always.«

He shrugs and doesn‘t seem to want to let go of you yet, swaying together from side to side which makes you both smile at the other.

Damian walks you home, ending up carrying you once you mention about your feet hurting. There‘s something deeply affectionate in the way he holds and carries you in his arms, not leaving room for any arguments about it.

The night ends with him dropping you off by your home, exchanging some fleeting kisses before he is forced to leave for patrol with the others.

----

The Wayne Mane, 11:26 PM

»Are you not going to explain why you‘re late this time?« Bruce gruff voice calls out once Damian joins the rest on the rooftop, changed in his suit and ready to patrol finally.

»He was at his girlfriends concert. They had a show nearby today.« Tim snitches, making it short but also making Damian glare at him even harder.

»Is that true?«

His father questions again and awaits his answer, receiving a nod as Damian looks at him finally.

»Yes, I was at her show. Bought a shirt.«

Batman simply sighs out but doesn‘t seem annoyed by it for more than five seconds.

»Where was it this time?« He asks with rather more curiousity, making Damian state the name of the city, having driven back by train with you together to drop you off safely.

The conversation doesn‘t last long as they begin to patrol, Damian having a bit of trouble hearing at first, still used to the loud music from earlier. The patrol ends up being as usual, no serious troubles.

----

Next morning at the Manor seems to be chaotic once again, some voices coming from the kitchen while Bruce is sipping on a cup of coffee with a newsletter in hand.

»Why can‘t we ever join when you‘re going out with her? She‘s so nice and fun to talk to, it‘s unfair!«

Dick complains from the kitchen as he prepares some toast for himself, Damian sitting by the kitchen island with a cup of tea in hand.

»If you wouldn‘t try to disturb their dates, maybe he would have her come over more frequently.«

Tim counters as he is at the kitchen island as well, working at his laptop. The eldest son groans dramatically, defending himself from the obvious truth.

»I‘m not trying to disturb them, just trying to talk and see how it‘s going...«

»Definitely invading their privacy.«

It seems like Dick still wants to spend more time all together with you and the family, but it‘s clear that you don‘t have much time now with your small tour going on and them being vigilantes.

»I would also like to see her more often, but you‘ve got to understand she has her own duties, just like us.«

Alfred chimes in as he walks into the kitchen, preparing more tea as he talks. The discussion is interrupted as Bruce finally walks in, interrupting the complains of Dick and mean comments from Damian.

»Why don‘t we visit one of her concerts? We‘ve never been to one before.«

It is really bizarre for him to suggest something like this, especially since he seems to need to work a lot lately. Maybe he has finally gone mad?

At the silence he receives, he continues, seeing the bewildered looks from his children.

»I‘m simply saying we never saw her perform. It can‘t be that bad, can it?«

Cass, who just happens to stand by the door studies the others, not being against it herself. She raises her hand with a nod, seemingly agreeing with the idea. Damian notices, and the rest does as well, making Jason speak up finally.

»She does rock and metal, right?«

»Yes, but — «

Damian really doesn‘t want the rest to tag along to the next concert you give in town, knowing it will mostly be embarrassing and they will probably get spotted more easily by reporters or simple fans.

But before he could finish his sentence, everyone raises their hand lightly, even Alfred being okay with the idea.

»Are you kidding me?« He sighs out, being clearly overpowered as the plan is settled.

The Wayne‘s will be at your next concert.

----

Your bandmates almost freak out once you tell them the news, Damian having called you and sheepishly admitted it, claiming it‘s his fault. Clearly, no one is upset. Actually, everyone seems to be freaking out for all the good reasons.

Now it‘s time to prepare for the show this evening, mostly texting with Damian and finally getting to prepare after getting teased by your bandmates once more.

You watch people arrive by the parking lot, seeing how many people already are inside in the arena with some drinks in hand, the show beginning in about half an hour. But you can‘t watch for much longer, getting dragged to the backstage to tune your guitar and warm up for the show. The supporting band plays first just like before, hyping each other up again.

"Are you there already? Please warn them about the supporting band, don't want them to get confused."

You text to Damian, hoping they are at least in the parking lot already and ready to watch the show.

"We got here an hour ago, saved some seats. I'll tell them about it."

He responds back fairly quickly, making you assume they're in the front row if they got in so early. Time goes by and the show starts, the support band starting their 45 minutes set before you come on stage and play your own set list.

As the other times, the band starts with more softer songs, getting progressively more heavy, but still not as heavy as your songs. Bruce stays standing beside Damian, not used to rock shows, but he clearly respects it and is just here out of curiousity and wants to support his 'almost-daughter-in-law' in some way. Dick seems to enjoy himself, even when this isn't his usual type of music. He is mostly fascinated by the enthusiastic crowd and how popular your band seems to be, even when you're about nineteen by now. Perks of starting young, he guesses.

Jason seems to be rather unimpressed by the show, claiming he expected some heavier stuff. But this is just the supporting band anyway, so Damian doesn't mind arguing over the loud music. Cass and Tim simply watch, them both having informend themselves before joining the show tonight. But they do seem to be rather amused by some fans. The flashing lights from the lightshow seems to amaze Cass the most though, being almost captivated by how pretty the lights shine and work on stage.

Eventually, the band goes off stage, meeting your band backstage and tells you all about the Wayne family being there, having forgotten to tell them earlier about it.

Now that it's your turn to perform, you feel more nervous than at other times. Usually, you get nervous just before the show, but it fades once you get to play the first few chords and riffs, the cheering form the crowd spurring you on even more.

This time it's different and the bassist seems to notice of it. She walks up to you, trying to hype you up and give you some motivational words, but they do little to calm your nerves down. It's too late anyway, being called up on stage by the staff. You quickly hop on stage with the rest, lights being turned off and the anticiaption rises. Your heartbeat quickens in your chest, hearing the happy crowd even with your earpiece on. The first song starts to play, strumming the intro on your guitar while doing your best to focus on getting the notes right and not play too fast.

The lights turn back on once you start to sing, as usual confident and smooth. In the back of your head you are still thinking about Damians whole family being here, not able to ignore the heart pounding heavily in your ears while you perform. You curse yourself inwardly for still being nervy, hating how new this feels, even though it's nothing new at all.

Continuing with the show, the song progresses into more heavy riffs and up beat tempo, getting a rich mix of an energetic and hearty sound. You get a smooth transition onto the next song, pushing through your slight nervousness to perform the second song with even more passion. As there are less singing parts, you get to jump around the stage a little and let go of the skittish energy inside you. From another perspective, it just looks like you're having fun.

Jason seems more impressed now, furrowing his brows lightly as he bops his head along the music lightly. Dick seems to completely lose it though, jumping with the other fans along and getting lost in the crowd eventually. Bruce stays stoic, focussing his eyes on you as he watches how you perform. You seem more alive and vibrant on stage, never having really seen you this bouncy before. Often times, when you came over, you seemed to be just a little shy but very polite. Here, you still seem to be a good soul, but a lot less shy. And that in front of probably over six hundered people.

Playing and performing the songs seem to get easier with time, not able to focus your eyes on specific people in the crowd, but it's probably better this way. Finally, you reach the half of the set list, not being nervous or anxiuos anymore. Well, you are a bit nervous since your bandmates promised to not do any embarressing stuff on stage, not entirely trusting them though.

As soon as you had a few gulps of water, you get back on your spot in the middle of the stage, hand resting on your hip while the other holds you guitar by neck for the meantime. It's time to entertain the crowd.

»A round of applause for our vocalist and her breathtaking perfomance!«

Of course, your bassist said something before you with his own extra mic stand. Nevertheless, the crowd fires up the atmosphere, getting loud shouts and cheers from them. Cass has to put her hands over her ears from how loud it is, all the while Damian smirks proudly and claps cheerfully.

»Thank you! Did you have to embarrass me?« You finally speak into your own mic as you turn to face Marcus, the bassist, earning a few chuckles from the large crowd.

Meanwhile, Jason has to physically hold Dick back from screaming something along the lines of 'We love you!' and 'You're my favourite band!' to you and fluster you more.

»Okay, ignore these goofballs for now. I need you all to part the sea for the next song. Shit's about to get heavy.« You have actually forgotten that Damian's whole family is here, realising only a moment later and immediately search for them in the crowd. You spot them being located more by the right side of the crowd, but still fairly in the middle and at the front row. Dick waves at you, earning a sheepish smile from you before focussing back on the show.

The lights turn off again, getting a countdown and metronome in your earpiece once more as the large crowd does their work and parts into two. Bruce is very confused, not getting what's about to happen. While it's not too loud he decides to ask.

»What's this about, Damian?« He only receives a sly smile from his youngest son, hoping he gets an answer.

»Are you ready for a Wall of Death?« You exclaim through the mic, earning many cheers and shouts back. But you aren't satisfied and ask again, getting an even louder response. Now Bruce knows what it's called but he has absolute zero idea what's about to happen.

Jason knows though and makes sure Cass is not in the way, not wanting to see dead bodies. The lights switch to red as usual, matching the rythm of your song again while the fans wait for the breakdown to drop. The bassist, Marcus, does most of the singing — or vocal screaming — in the song, leaving you to jump around and play some nasty riffs.

The parted crowd immediatly rushes at eachother, the Wall of death happening. Bruce watches with light fascination, not keeping his eye off the people as if to make sure nothing goes wrong. Your band goes on though, the songs playing easily and with passion as the show goes on.

Jason seems to enjoy it more himself, headbanging more to the music while he watches you perform, and for once doesn't regret going out with his family. As for the rest of the family... they aren't into this type of music, but stay until the end anyway and mostly take pride on watching you perform the songs out with your band on stage. ----

Going off stage after throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks into the crowd, you feel exhausted again. Feet hurting, fingers and wrists needing some stretching and your shoulders ache lightly from the strap of the guitar. Your voice is needs a break for tonight as well. But ignoring that, you take your sweaty make up off and go about the same routine as usual, before you can take a proper shower back at home. Oh, right. You're sleeping over by Damians house this time.

Walking out of the building, you see the Bat family waiting by their limousine for you. Damian approaches you once he sees you, pulling you into a hug before he kisses your cheek.

»You did great. As always.« He tells you as every night, it still sounding genuine and loving when he says it.

»Thanks... what do they think?«

»I didn't ask. But they seem okay.« Damian answers you, earning a soft groan from you, both from exhaustion and slight nervousness of their opinions. He seems to sense it and chuckles lightly, rubbing your back gently with his hand.

»Stop making out, we've got places to be!« What seems to be Jason calls out, interrupting the small kiss you shared just now.

With a small groan, he tags you along by the waist. Bruce greets you with a brief nod, not wasting any time to speak up.

»Good evening. When Damian said you have a band, I didn't expect it to be something like this.« In fact, he expected the worst the first time he found out about it, but never got to actually see what it's like until now. It makes Dick and Jason roll their eyes, even earning a brief annoyed look from Cass.

»The music was great, don't worry. I even got into one of those mosh pits. I would go again.« Dick interwhines, smiling goofily at you. He definitely had a good time.

»Me too. Loved the heavier songs.« Jason adds onto, getting slightly surprised by his positive feedback. Maybe they are just glad to have had some fun in a while, knowing they work hard to protect the city.

You exchange a few more words with them, sitting into the limousine beside Damian, who keeps his arm around your waist the entire time. He can sense your tiredness, as does the rest, but they keep talking about the show and what they liked the best. It's actually good they do so, not needing to talk so much. While quietly sitting beside Damian, you see that Cass has a pin of your band logo at her bag, getting a bit flustered and happy on the inside. You can't hold it for long though, being worn out after the long concert and doze off against your lovers shoulder before even arriving back to the Manor.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed reading it!!

←MASTERLIST

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sugarlywhispers · 1 month

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Rock band!Bakugou Katsuki. He plays the drums and sometimes sings, but the main singer of the band is Denki. Kirishima plays the electric guitar, Tokoyami the bass and Sero the keyboard. Shinsou and Bakugou are the masterminds behind the lyrics, while Jirou produces.

They aren't extrictly rock, they love to play with sounds and knew styles.

That's why you became their fan. They are not big in the industry, but they are quite known. You haven't missed a single presentation –no matter how small or big– since you found them.

You have spoken to them here and there, especially since that day when you ventured to ask for their autograph after a presentation at the parking lot when they were putting away their instruments inside their van.

Denki and Kirishima were so excited they even offered pictures, which you definitely took with them. Tokoyami, Sero and Shinsou played it cool. Jirou gifted you a necklace with the pick she used when she played her guitar sometimes –of course you hugged her in thanks. Bakugou, on the other hand, acted like it simply didn't matter, like he didn't care one ounce.

Little did you know, Katsuki knew exactly who you were.

How could he not? He had seen you in every presentation, right there in the front, cheering and screaming for the band. Looking all beautiful and cool, never shying away from recommending their music to anyone who would listen –and yes, he knows this because he has stalked your social media accounts.

In his defense, he found you by mere coincidence. He was suddenly swamped by edits of him in his personal account and right there, in one comment, he found yours.

The video intented to be a compilation onf him acting sexy, all Katsuki smiling and making faces for the fans as he looses himself in his drums. A comment said, "daddy material". That made him snort amused. But he almost choked on air then he recognized your profile picture –even that small in the comment section– answering to it with a simple: "agreed 😍🥵".

Not one, but TWO fucking emojis.

He felt like in fucking cloud nine.

Again, it had been mere coincidence, but he would deny to everyone that he was always looking forward to any publication you made.

So yeah, even though he acted a bit cold and mean, you couldn't avoid the think he was just... Fuck. Awesome. Handsome.

That's how you found yourself completely enraptured when a new song is announced in the middle of the concert, and non other than Bakugou Katsuki stepped in the front after Denki himself presented him as the singer.

Katsuki sang with his eyes closed most of the time, but in the moments he did open them, you swear he was looking at you. You wished. That was your head playing with you... Right?

Only if you knew that Katsuki wrote that song thinking about you. For you.

#this is katsuki singing and you cant convince me otherwise lol #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou x reader #rock band!bakugou katsuki x fan!reader #drummer!bakugou katsuki #mha au #bnha au #bakugou katsuki x reader #Spotify

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adragonprinceswhore · 18 days

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Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter V: Silver Springs 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You think back to the tumultuous end of your marriage.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, fighting, possessive Aemond, toxic relationship dynamic, dysfunctional family dynamic, physical violence, blood, anger issues

Word count: 5700

A/N: As always, I’d like to acknowledge my love, Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵 She’s writing a new series called Careless Whisper and it is a gem! ILY!

“You excited for the big show tonight?”

Jace’s cheery voice greets you as you enter the backstage area of Winterfell Arena. You look up from your phone and acknowledge your bandmate with a smile,

“Excited and more nauseous than I’ve ever been”, you joke, sliding your phone in your pocket.

It looks like most backstage rooms have looked so far on the tour; sparsely decorated with fold up tables and chairs. There’s an array of snacks and drinks offered, and you make your way to the refreshments next to Jace to grab some coffee.

He appears to already be wearing his stage clothes; a tight, purple silk button-down shirt that shows just enough skin to get his fans excited. Despite the curse of being the overlooked bassist, Jace has a small yet rowdy fanbase, who tend to go absolutely mental whenever he winks at them from stage. He loves the attention, and you guess today’s extra slutty outfit choice is his gift to them.

He moves to lean against the table, plastic coffee cup in hand,

“So, will you treat us to a new song tonight? I hadn’t heard ‘Dreams’ all put together before we performed it but damn, it sounded great”

You meet his eyes as you pick up the plastic cup by the small ear on the side,

“I think I’ll do ‘Dreams’, it’s the only one I feel is really finished”, you reply and take a sip.

There is another song you’ve been working tirelessly on, but you’re not sure if you feel ready to perform it.

It is one of the reasons why your album is delayed. The members have all recorded their instruments and finished the back-up, yet you haven’t submitted a final version of your vocals.

As a musician, you’re used to pouring your heart out when writing lyrics, not afraid of getting personal. And still, for some reason, this one almost feels too revealing; too intimate to sing out loud.

You have the lyrics written down, and you’ve sung them to yourself at home. But singing them on stage, with him there, feels too exposing.

Too vulnerable.

You haven’t seen Aemond since your regrettable tryst in his hotel room.

After reading through the divorce papers, you called Alysanne back up, needing help to wrap your head around the entire situation.

After a few hours of talking, she convinced you that this was for the best.

You’d gotten what you wanted.

And the mishap in Aemond’s room was, according to your best friend, nothing more than a chance to “bang one out” one last time.

“Got it”, Jace replies in his typical cheerful manner. He reaches for a small biscuit on the table and pops it into his mouth, “I’m sure your song will sound great. They always do”

His warm, brown eyes shine as he assures you of your abilities. It feels nice; how uncomplicated his praise is, and you smile back at him again, thankful to have at least one easy-going person in your band.

You continue to chat light-heartedly as you wait for the other band members to arrive.

When Jace heads outside for a smoke, you spot a familiar notebook on one of the chairs nearby.

It’s open.

Curious and foolish, you head over to see what’s written.

You glance at the paper, lyrics written by hand in impeccable handwriting. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself.

‘I don’t wanna stand ‘tween you and love, honey’‘I just want you to feel fine’

Again with the self-pitying? Fucking hell, he’s relentless.

Did he want you to “feel fine” when he forbade you from attending events without him? Or when he went through your email without your permission?

‘Oh, you say you love me but you don’t know’

You put the paper back down, already feeling your mood souring.

Prick.

When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Aemond was the rock of his family.

If his brother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour, he was there.

If his mum needed someone to help organise a charity event, he was there.

If his grandfather needed him to go over a case at 3 am, he was there.

Seeing the stress of such immense pressure weigh him down, you, in turn, tried to be his rock; supporting him in any way you could.

You managed quite well. Like those times he came home late after spending 12 hours at the office, and you greeted him with a smile and a home-cooked meal, kissing his cheek.

He’d sit down and grab you by the waist as you placed the plates on the table, keeping you on his lap while you ate and discussed your days together.

When you finished eating, you’d stay like that. He’d lean into you, resting his face in the crook of your neck while he held you close, thanking you for the delicious meal.

You knew that he was thankful for what you did for him; gratitude evident in his voice and how he complimented your cooking skills. Still, there was always this sadness inside of him, a pitiful tint to his tone.

It was tough seeing how drained he got from being everything for everyone.

Aemond’s older sibling never felt the crushing pressure of being Otto Hightower’s protégée. While he worked tirelessly at Oldtown Solicitors after finishing his degree, they chose to pursue the band full-time. A privileged career choice made optional by their generous trust funds.

You took a part-time position after graduating so that you could stay in the band and write music. Aemond nearly convinced you to focus on the band full-time as well, arguing that he could provide for you if you ever needed anything. Despite the generous offer, you decided that he already had enough to deal with, and potentially adding further to his endless list of responsibilities didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted to ease his troubles, not add to them.

Consequently, when you recorded your first album, it was mostly at night, after Aemond had finished working with his grandfather. His natural talent and precision as a guitarist and singer meant that it usually only took him two or three attempts before he was satisfied with a piece.

You, on the other hand, did not find the recording process as easy.

You feel tears of frustration sting your eyes as you step out of the sound booth. Helaena, Aegon and Jace had already gone home, drained from a full day of recording.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, Aemond asks when he sees the way the corners of your lips pull downward.

You let out a shaky breath to gather yourself, swallowing in an attempt to make the lump in your throat disappear,

“I can’t do it, it just-, it sounds like shit no matter how many times I-”, you mumble, cutting yourself off as you try to take another deep breath, determined not to cry.

You feel silly, getting so upset over something so nonsensical. Still, being unable to deliver in the way you’d like has left you feeling powerless over your own voice, like you can’t control it.

Aemond stands up from his seat by the mixing table and slowly makes his way towards you. He moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and looks down to make eye contact with you,

“Don’t say that”

His voice is soft as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, “It’s late and you’re tired, it’s okay to need a break. But never doubt yourself, love”.

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and you crave his touch like nothing else, pushing yourself against his body as your arms hug his waist. He hugs you back, one hand stroking your hair, and you instantly feel the lump in your throat melt away.

The tears that had threatened to spill, never do.

He makes it all go away.

The blood, sweat and tears you’d put into creating your first ever album as Dragon Dreamers proved to be worth it. Suddenly, your songs play on the radio and are featured on major playlists, where thousands of people can listen to them.

The success instigated both you and Aemond quitting your jobs and focusing on the band full time together with Helaena, Aegon and Jace. You were certain that leaving Oldtown Solicitors and creating some distance with his grandfather would be good for Aemond, maybe even pushing him to open up to you more.

He had a tendency of shutting you out, particularly when he was clearly distressed by something. He refused to even acknowledge some things, like he wanted to spare you from it. Yet all his secrecy did was make you feel lonely; like a stranger your beloved did not trust enough to let in. Every time he dismissed your concerns and refused to speak about what was upsetting him, another crack appeared on your weary heart.

During the first year of your relationship you’d been under the impression that you and Aemond shared a connection so innate and deep, you didn’t need to discuss things like other couples did.

You were able to understand each other wordlessly.

And though there was truth in that assumption, time made you realise that Aemond’s inability to open up slowly tore a cavernous rift between the two of you.

Music blasts out of the speakers in the crowded bar, making it hard for you to hear Tyland as he introduces you to one of his colleagues.

It’s a man around 30, with a slightly crooked smile and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun.

You move closer to hear what he’s saying, nodding along to his explanation of what next for your band.

“We’d like to make a music video for one of your songs, maybe featuring a live performance?”, he asks and you feel yourself light up at the thought. A bright smile breaks out over your face, revealing your approval of his proposal.

“That would be amazing!”

You nearly have to shout for him to hear you over the ruckus in the bar, and you lean in a little closer.

“Have you ever considered doing some solo stuff? On the side, of course”, he asks, grey eyes locked with yours.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you have a chance you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, stopping you,

“She wouldn’t have time for that”

Aemond’s firm voice answers right behind you. You didn’t see him come up, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, dreading what’s to come.

The man Tyland had introduced you to appears a bit stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere, and offers you both an awkward smile and stiff nod before heading to the bar counter.

You turn to face Aemond, whose face is set in a frown,

“What was that about?”, he asks and you feel irate frustration bubble up inside your chest.

This is not the first time he’s taken the liberty of answering for you, or scaring away anyone who dared approach you.

“Nothing”, you reply before walking around Aemond, moving towards the door.

You need air, your husband’s presence suffocating you.

You step outside and spot Jace, leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“You don’t happen to have one more?”

He pulls out the pack together with his lighter and opens it for you in an invitation to steal one.

You place the cigarette between your lips, mumble out “thanks”, and light it up.

You take a drag, let the smoke fill your lungs, and you close your eyes.

The nicotine gives you a slight high and your fingertips tingle pleasantly.

“Give us a minute, Jace”

Aemond’s voice interrupts your serenity, and your companion leaves without a word of protest.

You open your eyes to look at Aemond. You know he’s upset about what had just happened, but there is something else that he’s not telling you.

Behind the angry facade, he seems sad.

Or insecure?

It is hard to decipher when he so persistently tries to push those feelings down.

He doesn’t say anything. His hand seeks out yours to grab the cigarette and he takes a long drag before handing it back to you. You wish he’d just talk to you. Tell you what makes him act so hostile towards those around you.

Towards you.

It makes you anxious; the uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going on inside.

Aemond breaks the silence.,

“So, you really want to leave the band?”

You click your tongue in frustration and throw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it until the bud stops glowing,

“When have I ever said that?”

“You sure seemed happy when that scumbag wanted to steal you away”, he says and moves to lean against the wall next to you.

“Aemond”, you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes. He is so hard to read it infuriates you.

You know there is no point in fighting. It’s like his mind is set on distrusting you; of thinking the worst of you.

“Every time you act like this, you break my heart. It's like you don’t trust me in the slightest”, you say in a helplessly defeated voice,

“That hurts, you know”

As Aemond got more and more possessive over you, he also kept you further and further away from himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he actually hated you.

Why else would you cause his ire to light up so fiercely?

Whenever someone approached you, he was there, looming over you.

Guarding you.

Like you were his, and no one else was allowed near.

No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he wouldn’t listen.

Instead, after you found yourselves in a fight, something that had become a weekly occurrence, he’d head out without a word, leaving you alone in your shared home.

He could be gone for hours, leaving his phone behind so you couldn’t contact him. It felt like torture, waiting for him to come back without any knowledge of what he was up to, or if he was okay.

When he eventually came back and you confronted him about his behaviour, he dismissed your concerns, telling you that he just needed to “clear his head”.

Everything about the situation felt unfair.

Not just the fact that he opted for running away instead of talking to you, but also because you knew he’d be livid if you decided to suddenly leave in the middle of the night.

After a year of meaningless fights, petty arguments and baseless accusations, you came to the realisation that you couldn’t be his rock anymore. And he’d stopped being yours long ago.

Before the success of the band, you could provide him with reassurance and love.

Now, it seemed like he’d made you the enemy, suspicious of everything you did, set on distrusting you.

Staying with him, loving him, felt like too great of a challenge.

And maybe it was.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you put on just a little more lipstick before tossing it in your handbag and walking out of the bathroom. You’d ordered a taxi for six o’clock, and it should arrive any minute now.

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Aemond’s harsh voice echoes in the quiet room.

He’s leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan flat. You feel the all too familiar pit of anxiety form in your stomach at his tone.

He’s irritated again.

He holds your phone up so that you can see the screen, an email from Tyland.

He’d contacted you earlier today about an opportunity for you to do a photoshoot and interview at Casterly Rock to promote the band's biggest hit yet, Landslide.

Your eyes narrow as you look at Aemond,

“Don’t go through my emails”

“Tyland wrote that he’s already booked you a ticket. You have to run that by me first”, he continues in a stern voice.

As if he’s lecturing a child on bad behaviour.

You stay silent, move to the sink to pick up a glass and fill it with water. You try to distract yourself enough to breathe, anger already making you feel hot all over.

“It was a last minute decision, it’s only 2 nights next week”, you explain through clenched teeth.

You really don’t want to get into a fight right before a show, and had already decided to tell Aemond after instead. Somewhere inside, you knew he wouldn’t be happy.

“Were you not going to give me the courtesy of letting me know that you’re leaving?”

“I was going to tell you after the show”

Your body is still facing the sink so you won’t have to face him.

You can’t decide if you’re more angry with him for trying to control you, or saddened by the fact that he doesn’t trust you.

“You should’ve told me imm-”

“Aemond, you don’t own me. Stop acting like I’m your possession!”

Your irksome voice cuts him off. His still trying to keep his cool, tone refusing to match your intensity as he answers,

“But I am your husband”

“It’s just two nights away. I’ll be with Tyland the entire time”, you say, softening your tone to not trigger him further.

“Out of the question. You’re not going”, he replies stoicly and places your phone back on the kitchen island before standing up.

“That’s not for you to decide!”

Your previous attempt to remain calm fails. You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; being denied a business trip by your husband like he’s your guardian.

“Yes, because we’re a team! I’d never fucking run away without you”, Aemond spits, clearly as incapable of keeping a level head as you are.

“It’s two nights away to promote the band. I’m not “running away”, you clarify and turn to face him.

You can see how exasperated he is by his stiff posture and the hard look in his seeing eye. He tries so hard to hide it, and yet you always manage to see through the facade.

“It’s good publicity”, you say.

“I said no”, is all he replies before he moves to the sideboard by the door, picking up the keys placed in a small dish resting on the polished surface.

You feel your face heat up in anger at his dismissal of your words; of your agency.

How dare he think he can dictate your life?

“Well, I don’t need your fucking permission!”, you shout back at him,

“If I want to fly to Casterly Rock, or any other fucking place, I will! You can’t stop me from doing anything, Aemond. I’ll fly to fucking Yi Ti if I so wish! You can’t-”

Your rant is cut off by a sudden loud crash by the wall next to you.

The remnants of the dish where you kept your house keys lies in shambles on the floor next to you. Your wide eyes look down at the plate's remainders in disbelief before travelling towards Aemond.

It’s like both of you are frozen in shock from his actions. His recovery seems to be quicker than yours, regret clear on his face and in his voice,

“Shit. Fuck! Sorry, I’m so sorry”

He rambles apologies in panic, clearly stunned by his own action. He tries to shuffle closer to you, but you recoil as soon as he comes near.

The shock of his action and the loud sound that accompanied it triggers something inside you, and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes.

You feel like a child; startled and scared.

“Fuck. Sorry for scaring you, love”

His voice is much softer than mere seconds ago. Pleading.

Aemond brings his hands up slightly, a sign of surrender, and moves closer to comfort you.

You wince and back away from him, eyes still widened in disbelief.

“I’d never hurt you”, he tries to assure you.

You still can’t fully comprehend what had just happened,

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?”

Aemond opens his mouth to answer just as the intercom rings, signalling that the taxi is waiting downstairs.

You try to gather yourself somewhat and take a deep breath before moving to grab your bag and jacket from the hallway.

Aemond’s pitiful expression observes you, and you tell him, “When we get back, we need to talk about this. About us. I can’t take this any more”

The taxi ride to the venue is excruciating.

Aemond hasn’t said a word, but his fingers are tapping restlessly against his thigh, something you’d learned to be one of his most prominent nervous habits.

In the corner of your eye, you can see how his gaze repeatedly seeks out yours, but you refuse to look at him.

He reaches out to lightly touch your fingers, but you move away from his touch,

“I-, I don’t know what came over me, love. I am so sorry for scaring you, I promise it will never happen again”

You’re too tired to respond, and stubbornly continue to watch the city pass by through the car window.

When the cab pulls up to the live house, you can still feel the tears of shock drying on your cheeks. You thank the driver and step out of the car, before entering the backstage area.

The small room you’d been assigned to prepare in smells musky and the lights are toned down.

Helaena is nowhere to be found, but you immediately notice Jace’s brown locks in the corner of the room, seated in an armchair with his base in his lap.

On the large, brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room sits a slouching young man with ruffled, silvery hair and purple bags under his eyes. He lights up when he sees you enter, voice slightly slurred,

“There she is! King’s Landing’s new little, uh-, fucking-, romantic, sexy sweetheart!”, Aegon drunkenly declares, smiling from ear to ear,

“Charming everyone with her sad songs”

“Hi Aegon, are you okay?”, you ask gently.

You try as hard as you can to hide the fact that you’re disappointed in seeing him so clearly intoxicated.

You know he has problems with alcohol, and despite a recent trip to rehab, he hasn’t gotten much better.

“I am, now that you’re here”, he replies with a sloppy wink.

You move towards the small fridge by the wall of the cramped room, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to him without saying a word.

He brings the bottle up in a mock cheer before opening it and taking a large sip, possibly to show you, and Aemond, that he isn’t as drunk as you assume he is.

“Always so fucking sweet to me”, he smiles at you, “Mondo, you’re a lucky guy, you know”, he addresses his brother, who’s leaning against the door, clearly displeased with the fact that Aegon hadn’t been capable of waiting until after the show before he got shit-faced.

The hostility between the brothers is clearly one-sided as the older Targaryen continues,

“I just saw the most unhinged shit online man! Some fans were discussing what her favourite position is”, he laughs out as he addresses his brother. Aemond’s face is stoic, but you can see the tension in his jaw as he fixes his eye on Aegon.

“Is it true, baby? Is it really doggy?”, he asks as his eyes shift from Aemond to you.

You’d gotten more or less used to how lewd your brother-in-law could get when he’s drunk. But being asked something so crass after the day you’d had only leaves you feeling disgusted.

“Knock it off”, Aemond’s stern voice cuts through the cramped space.

You notice Jace shifting uncomfortably in his seat, picking up the pack of cigarettes in front of him on the coffee table before standing up and heading out of the door.

You wish you could run away as well, but the tension radiating from Aemond tells you to stay put.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun! I’d die to have a girlfriend with tits like that”

Whatever game Aegon thinks he’s playing with his brother is clearly one-sided. Aemond quickly jerks his head to the side to look at his brother, seeing eye darting at a speed that his blind eye’s incapable of.

“Uh oh! Eyes going two different directions!”, Aegon says with a laugh, crossing his eyes to mock Aemond,

“Can Lazy Eye look you in the face when he’s fucking you?”, he asks and he turns to you, eyes still meeting over the bridge of his nose.

“Seriously, Aegon, knock it off”, you plea.

He can turn so fucking mean when he’s drunk, hiding his own displeasure with life behind jabs at his brother.

He continues to laugh when he adds,

“One eye on your face and one on your tits? A pity he can’t see through it”.

Before you have a chance to reply, Aemond lunges forward, fist held high as he smashes it against his brother's face. Aegon keeps laughing even as blood spills from his nose, staining Aemond’s hand going in for blow after blow.

You’re frozen for a millisecond before you start to yell at him to stop, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

Neither does he hear his older brother’s laughs turn to grunts of pain as he begins to sober up under Aemond’s assault.

You see Aegon’s face turn slack, eyes fluttering shut like he’s going out of consciousness. Aemond continues to land punch after punch on his brother’s face and you feel panic rush inside of you.

You throw yourself on Aemonds back in an attempt to pull him away. He’s inaccessible, not listening to your desperate pleas for him to stop.

Drops of blood are flying in front of you, landing on the worn leather sofa underneath Aegon. Your arms encircle Aemond’s shoulders as you try to pull him off of his brother with all your might.

He tries to shrug you off, but as he goes in for the next hit, his elbow accidentally retracts against the side of your body, making harsh contact with your ribs.

You wail out in pain and Aemond immediately stops his assault on his brother to turn around and look at you in panicked worry.

Your body’s folded over the coffee table next to the sofa, hand placed over the spot that's hurting on the side of your stomach.

He moves away from Aegon to make his way towards you, but you back away from him by reflex, suddenly too aware of how dangerous his temperament can be.

You hurry up on your feet to quickly leave the backstage area, Aemond’s strained voice calling out your name behind you.

He’s fucking lost it.

Thinking back to everything that led up to your divorce leaves you feeling a mix of emotions, misery being the most prominent one.

This is supposed to be the highlight of your career; the band’s biggest show yet.

You don’t want to feel like this; a constant state of being filled with sorrow.

You want to enjoy performing again.

You can hear the crowd call for you to come out on stage, and you feel nerves ebbing through your veins in anxious waves.

“Aemond wanted to perform ‘Never Going Back Again’ as the first part of the encore later on”, Helaena says and looks at you. You feel even more restless.

“And I thought maybe you have another new song to sing? Maybe the one you sent me a recording of?”

Her hand comes up to rest reassuringly on your upper arm. You know which one she means, even if she doesn’t say anything else. The song.

“I told the guys it’s called ‘Silver Springs’, they’ll know which one it is from recording. I know we haven’t practised it together but Dreams was such a hit with the fans, I’m sure they’ll love this one too”, she says and smiles gently in that way only she’s capable of.

The thought of Aemond performing ‘Never Going Back Again’, on top of singing ‘The Chain’ and ‘Go Your Own Way’, lights a fuse inside of you.

You look over at him,

“Okay”

This is it.

The stage, vast and intimidating, seems to close in as the intro to ‘Silver Springs’ starts to play.

You have no idea if Aemond had listened to the voice recordings for the song.

You asked Helaena to do backup vocals instead of him on the track, hoping that would make the song feel less of a testament to your heartbreak.

‘You could be my silver spring’

‘Blue-green, colours flashing’

‘I would be your only dream’

‘Your shining autumn, ocean crashing’

What if he had read the lyrics?

Had he pondered them weeks after, dreading to hear you sing them on stage?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loved you?’

‘Baby I don’t wanna know’

Had he even cared?

Your longing gets the best of you, and you glance over at Aemond.

‘So I begin not to love you’

‘Turn around, see me runnin’’

‘I say “I loved you years ago”’

‘Tell myself you’d never loved me’

His face is stoic; good eye already observing you.

He might look calm to the audience, but you can see the tension in his jaw. You see how he’s breathing heavily out of his nose.

His grip on the guitar seems bruising, fingers moving skillfully; never making a mistake.

You quickly look away.

Why do you suddenly find him so intimidating?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loves you?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

‘And can you tell me, was it worth it?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

Your own lyrics prickle your heart.

Do you tell yourself he never loved you because that’d be easier?

What if it was true, that he never really loved you?

He’d been possessive over you. And he’d been controlling. But that’s not love.

Loving someone means you care for their well-being and happiness, over anything else.

You know he loves Alicent and Helaena. He treats them differently from how he’s been with you; he was so much gentler with them.

Picking fights with you over nothing, controlling your life and not letting you be happy, that's not love.

Worst of all, he doesn’t act like that with Alys.

Does he love her?

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You think back to how your relationship once was.

When he was your biggest supporter, erasing any doubts you had about your own talent. Always reassuring you that you were worthy.

That man is not the one sharing a stage with you now.

The sorrow over losing your beloved husband turns to anger, and you need him to know.

He needs to see how much he hurt you.

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

You can’t look away, not even when tears start forming in the corners of your eyes.

Aemond’s seeing eye looks so dead; completely void of emotion. His knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding his guitar.

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

Every emotion you’ve tried to suppress comes crashing over you;

Anger.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Grief.

But you won’t let him win. You can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

You feel a tear escape down your cheek, but you refuse to look away from his face as you keep singing,

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

Despite standing in front of thousands of people, despite what happened in his hotel room, this feels like the most intimate exchange you’ve had in months. You want him to see how much he hurt you.

You want him to feel bad.

To hurt too.

‘Was I such a fool?’

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

Your voice almost breaks from the sheer force of the emotions pouring out of you, but you manage, singing with nothing but raw emotion and sorrow-fuelled rage. More tears slide down your cheeks.

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You finish up the concert on auto-pilot, not really present anymore. As soon as you finish playing The Chain, you make your way back to the hotel.

You throw the door to your room open, kick off your shoes, and dive into the back of the closet where you store your clothes.

You pull out Aemond’s university hoodie from the black bin bag you’d tossed it in, anger consuming you just by the sight of it.

Fuck him.

You look around the hotel room for something sharp; a pair of scissors, a wine opener, a fork, anything. You spot the small pair of scissors you use to trim your nails with on the nightstand and grab them before stabbing one of the tiny blades into the soft material of the hoodie.

Fuck him.

Your vision turns blurry as tears well up in your eyes for the second time this evening, but the tiny bit of relief you feel from ruining something of Aemond’s is intoxicating.

You put your fingers through the small holes you’d made in the fabric and pull with all your strength, ripping the shirt over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of scraps of fabric.

Fuck him.

A/N: Thank you for readig! 🫶

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