#band au (but its the one-off solo career one) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberry-nugget · 3 years

Text

over and out | k. Bakugo

Synopsis: Bakugo has no idea he's walking into a get drunk with your ex buzzfeed interview, will this small interaction be enough to eventually get the two of you back together? Band! au

Visuals

Authors note: if you've seen this fic over at my old account with different characters no you haven't. This is the third time I'm rewritting it and I think that I finally got it right. I am splitting it into two parts so I have more content to post over the span of s few days<3 if you see any Dennis please forgive me my auto correct is more insane than I am, I was meaning to write Denki.

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, cheating (not on reader), angst, thigh/p*ssyjob, swearing, alcohol. All characters are in their 20s

I'm left with pockets of regret

Swear I won't forget

The tragedy of successes

Believing in second chances

I lie awake in my own head

The building that stands before Katsuki's eyes is no bigger than a basic and very much urban apartment complex. Its brick walls are painted a bright maroon shade, accentuated with beige drywalls that only function as a mere decoration to the studio. There are quite a few trees sprawled around the entrance; some very well kept lawn is also present and emitting a spray of fresh aura to Katsuki's nostrils, which only passes him like a failed attempt for relief.

Much like what his gut apparently needs to stop beeping it's a little red warning- it's true,hedcd rather not be here at all.

Despite his best wishes, a tingling feeling; a somewhat of swirling sensation spirals under the skin of his jaw and causes him to nonchalantly scratch through the coarse hair of his goatee. His fingernails scrub through his facial hair erratically as he looks around, but he doesn't cease to smooth out the mess he thinks he's made on himself before retrieving his fingers back, sparing them a scanning look.

Oh yeah, he's definitely nervous. The mighty Katsuki Bakugo is nervous. And for such a silly little reason too. A youtube interview- one that his PR team thought would source massive clout to him for his upcoming album.

A small publicity stunt.

Your average celebrity knows how non tv interviews can be the most fun -for example, the one that was help for him and his band members to show off their tattoos and tell the stories behind them- or extremely cringy -Machine Gun Kelly and Megan Fox did ace as the twilight wannabe couple of the year- and Katsuki is more than aware of that; the hit and miss nature of what's held in store for him. Yet, the marketing team of his band has always been pushy and persistent about them accepting most interviews throughout their career. Any reasons behind any interview have only ever seemed as an opportunity for his band to get marketed further to the public.

And right now Bakugo needs the exposure, to rile the audience up for the release of his first solo album, Ground Zero.

Taking a few more steps to the entrance of the building, he turns to look behind him, throwing a few glances here and there to his other band members, who simply stare back at him either enthusiastically or a little awkwardly even. Once he spots Denki talking to a staff member of their management team he clicks his tongue and sighs apologetically.

'I can't stand this' he mouths and Denki shoots him a smile of pressed lips and dewy eyes.

"What is it, blondie ? Do I have something on my face?"

"Shut it Denki" Katsuki snaps "Come at me only when you start wearing actual shirts"

The whole group of men snickers at Denki, Kirishima pointing out how his cropped see through shirt and the leather bikini top he's wearing on top of that is the peak of his fashion statement outfits and he shouldn't listen to Bakugo. Bakugo grunts and doesn't even bother looking at them.

"Ohhh!" Denki hisses and bumps Kirishima on the side "thanks man, seems like some people are just basic am I right?" Katsuki blinks his eyes into his and puckers his lips sourly.

There's been a lot of focus on Denki lately, Katsuki thinks and buried his face in the palm of his hands. Of course, there's always a time that fangirls will start swooning over the scrawny yet hot, eccentric guitarist, because almost every band has one. Denki is charismatic with his guitar, he writes most songs along with him and Kirshima, he has been the one to make contracts with clothing lines to sell his own solo merch, he is the next one who's working on his solo album and yet surprisingly he isn't the focus of this interview.

Katsuki is.

And no one has told him what the interview is about, because as they've claimed, it's funnier for him not to know. That's exactly what Denki's face is saying as he stares back at him with the most mischievous smug on his face, all while twisting the thin charm necklace around his neck.

Katsuki doesn't particularly like the way Kirishima and Sero are wiggling their eyebrows at him and then look at each other, only to be encouraged by Denki's smart comments to keep going.

When he glares at them, Denki opens his mouth again "Katsuki, it's just BuzzFeed!" He comments, to which Sero and Eijiro react with an outburst of laughter.

"Yeah right Katsuki!"

"Juuuuuust BuzzFeed." Sero laughs.

"Guys will you just stop!" Katsuki snaps again at them.

He's more than annoyed, he's infuriated and he feels like everyone is making fun of him, teasing him so profoundly over something that seems so damn funny to them. Even their agent, Tokoyami is, subtly giggling at the back.

Somewhere deep inside he's a tiny bit excited, but he swears he won't let his excited side show.

It's kind of eerie how everyone has agreed to keep this a secret from him, especially when they seem to enjoy this extensively; even the staff member that accompanies them, Tokoyami, smiles again, ever so slightly under the shadows of his long bangs. Katsuki clicks his tongue at him too and in return earns a strict look from the man.

Nonetheless, Katsuki sighs once again and proceeds to focus only on taking the final few more steps to the entrance to the studio. The others do pretty much the same, the sound of sneakers clashing over the pavement and the teeny chattering of everyone these few seconds pass quicker than expected.

"Okay guys," Tokoyami says "Katsuki you're up for makeup and clothes and I want you out at fifteen, we have to be at the studio to record right after this. The rest of you come with me."

.....

Fifteen minutes later Katsuki finds himself looking at his own reflection for the sole and very brief moment he's allowed to because of his schedule, he fixes a few strands of his hair here and there, praying they just stay the way he likes them. He examines his shirt then, a vintage nirvana tee he brought with him to match his waxed jeans with, he rattles the few bracelets on his arms and finally pumps his fingers to the roots of his hair, and tries to feather the sides of his mullet just so that the sides of his undercut are more than just visible.

This will be the first time his fans will see his new haircut, he thinks, but then again he doesn't expect this interview to be out until next week. His PR team surely has a bunch of Instagram content they'd want him to post in that short while.

"You're up!" He hears, faintly and he searches for his phone, eager to place it snug in the back pocket of his jeans, but the disappointed face of Tokoyami flashes in his head. 'Take a picture of your outfits' he always says 'you're the only one in the rock scene that can pull anything off' and honestly he hates it, because he doesn't care about the photos or the hell that comes with him sharing his music.

He nonetheless opens the camera to his phone and flicks his middle finger out. He snaps a picture on his phone and he even does as much as twisting the camera to the front one, taking a low angled picture of his face.

The ones his fans absolutely love.

The three gentle knocks on the door are accompanied by Tokoyami's voice which is heard from the distance once more, just to remind him that his time is up. Katsuki nods to himself and straightens his shirt slightly. He scrunches and curls his toes inside his converse, bites his bottom lip slightly and sighs.

"Coming!"

Katsuki wraps his hand over the handle of his dressing room and pushes it downwards. The beating of his heart is fast and loud; it's pumping and shaking his whole being from inside. His gut is churning excessively, as if it's trying to warn him not to walk out of that door, but he still thinks that's just caused by the atmosphere the guys have created for him.

Damn those idiots for making fun of him for something he doesn't know about he's sure those fuckers are about to put him in such deep shit.

"You're just excited" He tells himself.

And it's enough for him to believe it.

Moments later he finds himself walking eagerly towards the dim lit studio set. His eyes immediately meet with the ones of his band mates, who all seem to have kind smiles splattered on their faces as they stare back at him. He's so sure what they've cooked up is pretty bad and that moment gives it all away.

Everything else, other than the headlights that are pointing on a table with two chairs are dark. Katsuki's curiosity reaches its peak, because apparently he's supposed to have an unknown partner for this interview now.

'I'm going to kill you' he mouths as he turns to his friends and they laugh haphazardly.

Katsuki isn't one to put a smile on his face to wave to the crew members around him to greet them, he's not Kirishima, or Sero, he simply grunts at them, towering almost half of the crew that is surrounding him, heavy with recording equipment.

"Are you ready mister Bakugo?" A petite girl asks him and he growls at her, bopping his head up and down.

"He's sure in a mood" He hears Denki whisper but he ignores it, despite the girl turning her head to him instantly.

"I'm all good!"

"Alright then, please sit down and make yourself at home! We'll bring in our guest."

Katsuki smiles almost sassily and scratches the back of neck, letting a nervous growl escape him. He scans around the room again, his orbs falling right onto the rest of his band once more. Sero is pointing at him with wide eyes and a constipated smile, with his cheeks sucked in mockingly and talking to Kirishima. Denki is on his phone, typing maniacally -probably to Jirou- while Tokoyami is pointing at him angrily.

Breath work, he tells himself. He needs to work on his breathing.

The sound of bubbling laughter is what startles him next; a mellow, kind sound is echoing through the set, accompanied by the instructive voice of the staff member from before.

"Oh you're so sweet" He hears as all sound comes to pause before the giggling starts again.

Kirishima's face is the only one that is breaking in anxiety and Katsuki catches on that immediately.

Katsuki can faintly recognize that laughter, it's certainly something he's heard before whether intentionally or not but at the very moment it's hard for him to remember where or when.

It's only when the laughter turns into speech, only when the voice behind that sound sets sturdier and tickles his ears that he realizes to whom it certainly belongs to. And finally, he feels like he's been right to feel weak in the knees.

Your name falls off his mouth like a forbidden spell, but it isn't even audible -all air sucked out of his lungs, how can he even talk in a tone that you'd like in your ears.

He looks around, desperate gaze falling over his friends and he spots Kirishima shooting a concerned one back; they all know he hasn't seen you know a while. You've been present- just as frequently as him- in premeditated events that he's been invited to, such as Met Galas, after parties, mutual friends' birthday parties and any social event that artists have to attend. You being an upcoming actress that audiences wholeheartedly love after landing a role on a drama, never miss out the publicity of any event.

And he's never been able to catch more than one glimpse of you anywhere else, spare the occasional recommended YouTube video of your interviews, to which he has to press the block button, not wanting to entice himself or indulge into getting a glimpse into your current life. He's never felt he has the right anyway.

He only has the courage to watch an interview twice while editing one of the songs to his upcoming album, finding himself wondering if you would ever understand it was meant to be for you. But even that had been ripped away from him, just like you as soon as he came to realise what he had been doing.

Seeing you now, so close, and so forcefully placed in the same room with him makes his stomach churn and turn with anxiety.

He can't help but notice that you too practically freeze on your very spot. At the sound of his voice calling at your name -which you somehow heard- you take a reluctant step back, eyes wide and lips slightly part as you bring your hand just under your chest; a visible indicator of your haze and unpleasant surprise. You seem to doubt whether you want to take another step closer to him or the set and Katsuki slightly sighs, praying it's just under his breath.

"Are you alright?" The assistant next you you asks and your eyes don't even begin to bat away from Katsuki's

"Oh yes, completely fine, but when I was told I'd have an interview with one of my exes I- I didn't expect him"

You notice how the staff member panics slightly at your words so you're quick to sign her to calm down along with a long blink of your eyes. You hear her exhale in relief shortly after, her own eyes opening right into yours.

"Don't worry," You say, smiling. Your whole face alters significantly with every second passing "I won't let him yell at you"

Katsuki drags himself to the set begrudgingly at your comment, but doesn't spare you a look.

Your heart skips a beat as you're trying to walk towards the small table in the centre of the set. You spare a pressed lol smile at him and watch as he smiles back at you in a similar manner.

"Hey Bakugo."

"Hey" He whispers "you good?"

"Aha"

Katsuki can't help but frown at how your replies are overly tense, how you seem unable to find a comfortable spot in your seat, as far away from him as you can -Denki laughs in the background again, but this time Kirishima jabs him in the ribs, threatening to pinch his nipple

"Great, I'm good too!"

There's a strange awkward tension in the air and the crew of producers know that; in fact Bakugo is sure they depend on it. Fans have always been starving for the reason Katsuki and you ended your relationship three years ago and everyone knows that, yet your heart skips a beat at the thought of you having to confront that in such an interview.

You can practically hear your managers setting this whole thing up, having always been against you two breaking up; the couple whose love run cold comes face to face with each other after years. You guess they think it's the marketing that'll get both your fanbases going.

You spare him another look, eyes lingering onto his form for far too long -on his knees, his hands, the dark polish on his nails- but you're looking at anywhere that isn't his face or his eyes. Your heart is hammering, your gut is churning, it's inevitable to feel this way and you know it. The only thing you can bet on is trying to breathe to regulate the embodiment of your anxiety.

Thankfully no one is pointing out that you're shaking.

"Are you ready?" A staff member asks-not the kind girl from before- startling you.

"Ah, yes!"

"Yeah!" Bakugo grunts

The set director is frantically ordering everyone to get in their places as your anxiety continues to peak; numerous people walk back and forth, headphones on their heads, as they're trying to get into position. The commotion doesn't take too long -you find yourself having to force a smile a second before the camera rolls. Katsuki, right next to you, puts on his usual sultry face.

"Today we're doing the drunk exes question list celebrities edition. You're not the only ones to suffer with it." The girl from before announces earning a few nervous laughs from you and a few other people in the back

"I should have really been informed about this, my girl's gonna freak." Katsuki announces with a small laugh, mouthing an 'I love you' to the camera. You stare in -you hope we'll masked- shock at how his persona goes through this change, the half heart he draws in the air with his pointer and his middle finger- his rings clinging and clashing- would surely be edited with a cute gif later on.

"Well we wanted you to be spontaneous" She replies

You almost feel sorry for him, knowing that his girl would definitely be watching him. Bakugo isn't the type to tolerate much jealousy or even anyone causing him a scene about anything and it's not like you can help it. You didn't even know you were going to be having an interview with him, thinking it would be your most recent ex who was called to have an interview with you, the ex you're still friends with, not Bakugo and his atrocious ego.

You fall back into the conversation between Bakugo and your interviewer shortly after you try to put a halt to your raging thoughts and you're presented with the drink the production has arranged for you -a favorite of yours truly Katsuki Bakugo- a bottle of Hennessy X.O.

Of course Bakugo would only be a show off like this. With his money and his manners no one would even hesitate to serve him drinks this expensive.

"Show off" You mutter and he sticks his tongue out at you, whipping his head from left to right.

"Thank you so much" you say, as an assistant is setting down two glasses for you

Katsuki, ready to pour the liquor in his glass, lifts it up but quickly sets it down once Tokoyami shoots him an intense death glare from the back of the set. He clears his throat and rests his eyes on your face, squinting his eyes at you as he nudges for your glass. You snort when you give it to him, mouth dry as you're trying to not give out any satisfaction to him.

You even thank him through your teeth and you can see how bad it riles him up.

"I'm Asui," The girl who's interviewing you says "I'll be your interviewer for today if you'll have me" She earns nods from both you and Bakugo "Let's begin with our questions shall we?"

…

The first few questions are rather standard. Boring. You've been asked all of them before in the past 'are you single right now' 'what do you remember about the last time the two of you spoke' 'how did you think your fanbase took it when you broke up' and all that jazz. They're tiring to say at least, because it's noon and it's somewhat uncomfortable, digging up these few memories that you never knew had been branded in your brain.

It hurts that you have to see him like this. Only talking to you when needed, sharing things about your relationship like it's a story from a past life and even your head tells you that it is, that what the two of you had belongs into another dimension, so far away from the present.

He's so aggressive as he slurs some of his words, any hint of smug wiped away by all the drink that's in him by now, trying to brush off anything he can salvage, and for other he doesn't care at all.

"What's a gift of them that you still have to this day" The interviewer asks and you know that the rings on his fingers were gifts for anniversaries and there's a copy of your diary that has a journal entry of your first date decorating his band's first studio album

"Ah, can't remember" He says while looking at you and you take it upon yourself to reply with something worse. He has to feel the poison running through you at the sound of his words.

"I got rid of everything" You reply and you don't let anyone know about the fenced heart you have tattooed above the inside of your elbow, and you know he still has his.

It's bitter to say the least, how he's looking at you.

The mellow taste of cognac in your mouth is drowning everything out -at least that's something- and the copious amount of intrusive questions only continues to rage upon you, sneakily trying to catch you off guard while the blond next to you is still speaking.

"I noticed the two of you are tense" Asui says and you nod, downing another gulp of your drink and Bakugo is quick to fill it up for you again.

Was it an unspoken rule that you had to drink until you'd pass out?

"Since this is the first time you have actually spoken in three years we shouldn't force too much upon you" You nod again. "But we do have to ask, just why did you guys break up?"

Bakugo is staring at her, eyes almost shut, face in his palms, you can tell he is not in the mood to talk, just by the way he's turning his feet to the other side of the set, having them face the wall -it's such a touchy subject and you're too drunk to keep your mouth shut.

You want to talk, but you've avoided this subject like the plague for the past three years, not exactly sure if you do want to share this with the public just yet.

You've always romanticised the way people would know; maybe it'd be when you were forty years old, divorced to some big Hollywood star, with three kids and talking about your first love to a late night show, but the way Katsuki unapologetically looks at you doesn't seem to leave you any space to even think about that fantasy right now. You don't even know if you care about whether he wants to make the reason the two of you split public, but you remind yourself that he is the one who's over you.

He is the one who jumped from one girl to another in a matter of months after you split, he's the same person who was seen by paparazzi walking around with groupies and you have been the only one stuck in time, not being able to get him out of your head.

He's the one out there living his best life while you're the one living with your thoughts fixated on how it'd feel if he ever came back.

You choke on your words "our schedules didn't match up. We were broken and we wanted to move on"

Bakugo swears under his breath, you're still not able to relax around him and the few infuriating answers you gave back then are forcing him to open his mouth again. He doesn't feel right about having you face the big fish all on your own. He can feel anxiety reeling inside of him, but he decides to push it aside.

"Me not being able to be content enough to focus on us. I had a tour, she had to be focused on what she does. It seemed as if our lives didn't align anymore. We weren't sure we were in love."

You gulp when you trail your eyes into his, scared to even let them linger on him for even a second. He was the one who wasn't sure he was in love. You move your head around, setting your gaze over to the side where the other members are sat. They're all looking at you apologetically, as if they're sympathizing with you for wanting to keep whatever had happened to yourself; they know that being famous isn't as easy as they'd want to think it'd be. They know that what both you and Katsuki are saying is the most glorified, fictional, version of the actual truth about your splitting.

But you're sick of excuses, you don't want them to make any.

And that's what you were afraid of, them taking pity on how you are, looking at you with eyes that tell you they'll contact you later to ask you to forgive Bakugo.

And you'll never do that. Not because his friends ask.

Kirishima in particular is somewhat smiling at you, softly, kindly. It's always been a pity that the two of you stopped hanging out after you and Katsuki split, he used to be an amazing friend and he'd still be if you hadn't cut him off. Youre content enough to think that to this day he still comes over to talk to you at award shows unlike the other guys, unlike Katsuki who won't even look at your direction. You awkwardly smile back at him and lift your glass to drink as much as you're able to in one sip again.

"Do you regret it?" Katsuki likes to consider himself smart for dismissing that question like a superhero dodging a bullet. There's a faint romantic smile on his face as he speaks and you can't help but stare, trying to convince yourself that's the most warm smile Katsuki can master. He looks- he looks beautiful.

"Awe come on don't we have more fun questions?"

"Nope"

His face contorts in seriousness in seconds "I will not answer that question"

You come to terms with the fact that thinking straight is probably not an option at the moment. You've drunk a lot, shot after shot you're feeling yourself get loose, your vision blurring more and more after each one.

You quickly glance over at Katsuki's direction to see if he looks as drunk as you think you look. Indeed, there's a tint of blush plastered on his porcelain cheeks and his eyes are blinking faster than normal. The next question hits you before you have any time to process how much you want to push your memories with him away.

"Have you ever written or produced something for them?"

"As in writing a song about them?"

"Yes"

"Yeah." Katsuki answers in a heartbeat and he tries to ignore that you just want to look him dead in the eye and probably swear at him for saying that. But he soothes himself with the fact that this is only a one time thing, it's not like he's going to talk to you ever again after that.

. …

The interview finishes shortly after, the crew bowing respectfully at both of you as you and Bakugo sit up from your seats and begin to march into different directions. Asui immediately sticks to your side along with your agent, leading the two of you back to your dressing room.

Your agent seems to get distracted by a wave Denki shoots at your side -you wave back at the group, but she leaves your side to walk up to them, you watch her get smaller and smaller as she's walking away from you, throwing a smile at Tokoyami while she's at it. Asui leads you to your dressing room and you only manage to steal another glance at the band to see if Bakugo is there.

He's not, and you close your eyes really tight as you're praying to not bump into him. Asui helps you take step after step because you're stumbling and apparently, luck hates you, because as you're walking past Bakugo's dressing room, his door opens and his hand shoots at yours grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. He drags you into his dressing room and you yelp, stumbling on your feet. He slams the door shut after screaming to poor Asui that he wants to be alone and drags you behind a huge metal hanger filled with clothes.

"What the fuck was this stunt huh?" He asks, eyes filled with rage and you can only hiccup as you're trying to process what he's saying.

"Like hell do I know" You finally reply "they didn't tell me you were going to be that ex"

You're trying to set your eyes on anywhere but him. His breath smells heavy of alcohol and you're sure yours does too, but that's not something you can care about at the moment; your wrists hurt from being pinned over your head. You want to throw up, you're so upset, you don't want to look at him.

So you're going to leave.

"Excuse me" You caught, your stomach turning "I don't want to be around you" You try to eiggle your hands but Katsuki won't budge. He slams your wrists harder onto the wall, your body shakes.

"You're not going anywhere" Bakugo grunts, pushing his chest into yours

"Fuck you, I am"

Your next effort to move is vain as well, for Bakugo is far too strong -your eyes fall onto his naked biceps and you try not to growl at how smooth his skin looks or how tight and big his muscles are. Seems like he's only glowed up since you broke up.

"If I had to go through an interview talking about our first kiss while drunk then you can stand the sight of me"

"No, i can't" You whine

"Yeah you can" He argues back

"I can't stand you"

"Well that makes two of us" He grunts and his face is inches away from yours. You close your eyes, letting the sound of his loud breathing overwhelm you and you swear your own breathing is in sync, your chest hurts, your throat is tight. You expect to be yelled in the face, about how stupid you are, about hoe he doesn't want to see you anywhere near him ever again.

But that doesn't happen, at least not for now, when you peek your eye open to look at him you see him latching at you full speed, as if trying to close a non-existent space between the two of you.

He kisses you and your chests collide with each other.

The moan you let out despite it being small, is muffled by Katsuki's big palm over your mouth. Your heart is throbbing in your chest, your excitement causing your adrenaline to spike, your breathing heaving as Bakugo leans down to stick his forehead to yours, sweat solidifying into droplets onto your face.

He's struggling too, breath hitched and audible but his control is better -of course it is- and his eyes are the opposite of unkind as they fall onto you, perhaps for the first time this afternoon. It's mouth watering to say the least, how he parts your legs open with his knee while making no sound, how there's no rattling on the wall you're pressed against. You almost scream when he brings his face impossibly close to yours and you close your eyes, not ready to feel what is going to come next.

You get startled when he moves right past your face, lips brushing the softness of your earlobe "We gotta be quiet, babe, "promise me you won't make a sound" he whispers and only when you nod against his palm leaves your mouth.

The breath you take as your mouth is free again is excruciating. It fills your lungs with much more air than a huff through your nose could ever provide you with and suddenly your drunk and hazy body feels a little better.

Still not good enough to acknowledge how bad you're going to mess up with what you're doing. Balugo's grip that's still tight around your wrists until now, doesn't hurt anymore, even so when he decides to drop your hands and scoop your face to bring it closer to his, you feel your core churn.

You mutter something slurred against his lips that you can't keep track of -probably prompting him to act faster than he does- before his lips are slammed into yours, your bottom lip soon snatched between his teeth as he bites hard, rolling it between his tongue.

He's never been known for kissing you softly, and you've missed being angry over the bruises on your lips after endless hours of making love till morning comes. You've missed him. Utterly. You can't believe this is even happening, thinking that you'll pinch yourself and you'll wake up, hot in your bed and then get sad about still dreaming about him. About how he used to taste.

He makes sure to help you keep track of your reality, pushing his tongue into your mouth, softly twisting and turning his hot muscle against yours, the hand that isn't cupping your face running along the curves of your body, hooking up your shirt squeezing the fat if your breasts over the cotton of your bra.

"Fuck" He pulls back to watch your breasts bounce as he's pushing your bra over your chest. "They're so perfect" He says and cups your breast in his hand, his thumb coming to toy with your sensitive nipple.

You almost screech in response.

"You know how hard it was for me to not run my mouth on everyone about you after that fucking stunt you pulled on this year's met gala?" He slurs and you know exactly what he's referring to; the ancient greek style dress, sewn and styled on you to look wet, almost exposing your chest. You're filled with pride over the fact that you indeed stirred his head up, just like you had planned to, just like you had hoped you would.

You grab into his shirt and kiss him again, forcing your lips to love in sync with his, your hips rutting against his maniacally, your cunt clenching onto nothing, your clothes throbbing in a dull ache as the seam of your pants seems to be the only thing proving you with pleasure.

"I want you to fuck me so hard" You breathe into his mouth and he hisses as you shimmy your hands under the raw trim of his shirt.

"Yeah you do?" He breathes

"So bad"

"M not gonna" He grunts and his hands wrap around your wrists, your breasts bouncing against his chest with every long, heavy breath you're taking, he wants to calm himself down. He can't do this. He shouldn't "I can't i-"

Your intoxicated self wants to throw a tantrum, dizzy and infatuated by his smell, his whole presence, indulging in feelings you've trained yourself to forget and it's not easy at all to hold back. But you hang your head low with a sigh when his hands don't move away from restraining yours.

None of this is fair. If he's so over you then why are you not over him? If he's had all the time to move on in the world and put his tongue on things he's never known the taste of then why doesn't he want to come back to you. It's not fair. Not fair. Not fair.

And you make sure to say so, pouty lips and an angry, humming voice while you're at it. Bakugo must be infuriated, you think, he doesn't react and it doesn't take too long for you to bring out the worst in him and you guess you'll have to live with the fact that he does see you through a crowd of beautiful celebrities, but he treats you like a ghost. And he'll treat you as a ghost.

He's so unbelievably perfect with his stupid girlfriend so why would he need someone like you. You've barely been with anyone in these past three years, stuck at home because of the pandemic, only ever having gotten on a date with your coworker who ended up wanting you to play wing woman for him and your best friend.

Why would he want you when he gets to have someone he can share interests with, someone to write songs with. Half of his stupid songs are written by his girlfriend.

If it wasn't for the alcohol you wouldn't even be here.

You don't catch what he says, but he's speaking, voice low and raspy, as you remember it. It sounds different than the voice he uses to talk in front of the camera, it sounds like his singing voice, like it sounded before all of this mess.

"You're not even listening to me are you?" He asks and this time you choose to answer, hands trying to wiggle away from his to cover yourself. You feel exposed now more than ever.

"I'm just going to go" You announce

You don't want to say another word because everything hurts, because your agent was right when they told you that you should at least try to date someone as a publicity stunt, because your friends had told you to never, ever, ever crawl back to Bakugo.

They should have known better, you should have known better, Bakugo isn't the person you've glorified in your head and it's easy to blame yourself for everything when three blurry years have passed since your break up.

But Arctic Monkeys make songs about the pain you're going through and Bakugo will never understand how easy it is for you to waste away in just the thought of his and a tune that reminds you of him.

And just when you try to find the words to tell this all to him and take a leave your hands are not free yet and his eyes are wide in yours, every hair of his pointing towards the sky.

"Ah fuck me, I can't even-" He kisses you instead of finishing his sentence, as if he doesn't want to wait another second and he attacks your chest and your neck with hungry kisses and bites.

You melt into his ministrations -it feels as if you have no pain reception and you fall into hellflame to prove it- and you don't feel guilty about it -not too much at least, and not right now. You find it astounding, how much you can achieve with a pouty face.

The buckle of his belt is undone by your hands and your denim skirt is lifted and bunched right above your stomach, its flare brushing the underside of your breasts. He's kissing you again, sporadically, while having to peel himself away to lower his pants, his lips moving along your jaw, placing kisses over your makeup, smudging your once perfectly placed lipstick all over your chin.

He hisses when his cock rubs against your folds, his head dripping in precum as he spreads it on you, his hands squeezing your doughy ass as he tries to pull your legs apart while trapping your heels closed with his.

After that, it's back and forth. He's rutting his hips into yours, his head rubbing against you while you're dripping on him, your juices getting mixed with his own and your cunt clenching. You tell yourself you can be satisfied with it, as he grabs your face with his hand and forces your mouth open, rolling his tongue into yours.

You whine when he bites in your neck because it feels like actually wants to take a bite, sharp canines digging into your flesh and you're scared he's going to draw blood, but he doesn't dare dive into your heat, still driving his dick over and over onto your clit. Only the occasional ache of his head accidentally aligning with your entrance is a reality check from time to time, you're too focused on coming, your world has been covered by the dark veil of your closed eyes.

He's moaning like an animal, bunching your leg around his waist to make you open up further, while he holds his cock against you with his hand, the hot throbbing of your cunt driving him towards his limit as time passes

Bakugo's thrusts only get tougher harder, abusing your clit with his raw force and he keeps that pace that has you dig your nails into his back through his shirt, he forces your leg down once again and squeezes your hips together until your seeing stars, until you come undone in cries he muffles with his mouth of yours.

His cock feels like he's going to explode, his stomach feels like it's tied into a knot with a ticking bomb and he swear he can make it, he can make another thrust without bursting but the flesh of your thighs and the feeling your cunt against him are wilding I'm his thought and the feeling is sending him in cloud nine. So much that he copes in ropes of white against you, coating your panties, your thighs, your belly.

"Shit, fuck, that was hot" He says

You mewl against his chest, feeling your entrance throb for more "want you to fuck me" You say. His brown eyes are diving into your gaze. You might be coming down from the influence of alcohol but the infatuation you have over him right now surpasses anything, even your rational thinking.

He's not doing any better, more drunk in your eyes that he ever was by that cognac, he takes it upon himself to spin you around and slam your chest against the wall, to bend your waist and open your ass up to him.

He growls at the right of you, dripping and squirming and he takes his cock in his hand and teasingly rubs it against your heat.

"Please don't tease me anymore," you plea, "can't take it. Just want you"

Katsuki doesn't think he's he's in a place to deny you or even so go against your word, that must be why he immediately aligns himself with your entrance or why he bottoms out inside of you fast, rough, but he fills you up deliciously.

You turn to face him, mouth already moving to speak your dirty words when there's a knock on the door of the dressing room.

"Fuck," Katsuki says and quickly retreats to himself "who is it?"

"Kirishima" The voice behind the door announces and bakugo's palm is once again placed over your lips "Denki said you need to be alone. Came to see if you're alright"

"M better than alright" He slurs

"Wanna come outside? I'm pretty sure she's left by now. Scanned the whole building and I couldn't find her."

"Don't care where she went"

"We have a recording session at the studio, I'll be waiting for you."

"Thanks" Bakugo grunts

"Jirou has been there the whole day, let's not make her wait any longer"

"Yeah whatever I'll be there in a sec"

Your head hurts as you try to process that they're talking about you, yet you don't make any noise. You feel bad, maybe Katsuki did want to be alone, maybe you shouldn't have followed him to try to say goodbye. None of this would have happened if you didn't want to play polite for the first time in three years.

Now you were ruining his life and it seemed like you were doing it out of spite

"Have to go," He announces, watching you nod "I don't know why we did that, but it'll never happen again"

You feel like he's jabbing at you with his words, twisting the knife to the would he inflicted on you. Of course you should have known that, you shouldn't have sacrificed your barely recovering sanity over s single moment of satisfaction. You watch him buckle his belt, wipe the sweat off his forehead and you fix your own clothes.

You count on the light that is dimmed by the copious amount of clothes to not betray the rivers of tears that are spilling down your eyes and your prayers are heard, your nose doesn't even make a shuffling noise as the lamp in your throat keeps tightening

Bakugo Katsuki is out of the dressing room as swiftly as he dragged you inside of it and in seconds he's gone. He doesn't say goodbye, and you don't look in his direction.

. …

Remember Katsuki's girlfriend? Setsuna? The singer from that forsaken pop punk band that never makes it to the charts and only gains publicity because of Bakugo? Well, she must be the happiest girl on the planet for all you and your green eyes monster can count.

Katsuki Bakugo is officially engaged. To her. It says so on her post along with a tooth rotting, sappy, cheesy fucking capture. You've memorized it by now, with how many times you've read it -it's been fun keeping this a secret, I love breaking all the norms with you, happy to be yours forever more- you could recite it, having it printed in your brain, stirring your stomach in the all wrong ways.

You've been so incredibly stupid. And you still fucking are.

Your eyes are burning as they're fixed on your laptop screen, maniacally scrolling through an article about the post you had just come across on Instagram. The one you've found is small, only 200 words, describing exactly what the reporter needs to include, with a link that leads you to their official Twitter profile so you can keep up with all Katsuki Bakugo and Setsuna Tokage news, as if that's what you want to do.

You follow the profile nonetheless, keeping yourself updated -on subjects other than Katsuki- won't do you any harm.

You leave Twitter immediately, not ready to be swamped by anything on your homepage and run to YouTube to find some true crime documentary to keep your mind off things. There's a plethora of videos about Bakugo there as well but only one catches your eye. It has your name on it -and truth be told it sends panic waves through your body- but as you read along you realize what the video is.

You chuckle as you read your name paired with a sentence you know only your fans would come up with; 'y/n digging Bakugo Katsuki's grave for 12 minutes straight'. You click on the video, moments of various interviews and red carpets playing in the background as the frame is paused a copious amount of times. You laugh at the frame of you squinting at Bakugo when he walks past you at the premiere of a superhero movie.

It's always funny that your fans know what you say between the lines, or how they pick up your energy depending on certain interviewers. You don't even have to mention Bakugo's name at all for them to realise you're talking about him and it's insufferable -you're insufferable for still thinking about him, for still talking about him publicly.

Fortunately most footage is old, only taken a few months after your break up, where things were still rough between you and Bakugo, glares and squints and death stares exchanged at every event the two of you had to be.

You click pause onto the video and then close the YouTube tab, deciding that it's time for you to go through the script you've been given for your shooting on Monday, you still have two days to learn most of your lines by heart. You visit your email and click on the doc the writers have sent you, the script popping up on your screen immediately.

You spend a few hours reading, eyes glued on your screen, reciting the words one by one, your laptop still in your hand as you walk through your kitchen and set the kettle on the stove, your eyes not even averting away from the screen as you grab a mug from a cupboard and set it on the counter.

You sigh as you finish another page, your temples burning in protest to your hand trying to reach to click on the next page. You decide it's time to take a break and the kettle makes its whistling sound, letting you know that the water is ready. You get up, grab the kettle and pour water into your mug, the tea bag you set in it a while ago staining the water in a deep sienna color.

You want the rest of your night to go smoothly. Now that the strobe lights of the city are bathing the streets, trying to mimic how the bright light of day shimmers everywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself when you pick your phone out of the pocket of your teddy jacket, or what you think when you tap onto the familiar pink and orange app, Bakugo's username falling from your fingertips in rapid speed.

Sure, there it is, a picture similar to Setsuna's, but this one doesn't show their rings -you feel eerie to think that maybe he doesn't love her like she loves him, because he hasn't posted their rings, as if his fans have no idea who she is, as is its making it any less.

It's just so sudden. Two weeks ago you jumped each other in his dressing room after an interview about your past relationship and now he's getting engaged; you hope it's a publicity stunt. It should make sense, and that thought calms down your upset stomach -just when you thought you could get him back- because Mina told you he has an album in the works and he hasn't announced it yet, perhaps, this is to promote his album, to stir fans up.

But that could mean that you too could be a publicity stunt, you think as you click on the comments, scrolling past the ones written by verified accounts. You hate the thought that Tokoyami and your agent cooked this together, but then again you trust that the person who's supposed to manage your career along with you would inform you if you were to be used in such a way so you could play along.

Any who, the comments are of crazed fans, other leaving broken hearts, other writing in all caps and some, feeding the green eyed monster inside of you; 'I wish he stayed with (y/n)' 'there goes all my hopes baku(y/n) would be back :('

You hate that you feel satisfied with people sharing this view, you were a fan favorite couple, and you still are, you're simply not together anymore.

Soon enough -and after many, many reloads comments about how Katsuki should have ended up with you are everywhere, and they're so many that by the time you reload the page the comments have been shut off. And since you're way past the point of being petty and you like to torture yourself you hit the follow button to Bakugo's account.

You want to tap on the button that will let you out if his profile but your heart commands otherwise, he doesn't have that many posts either way and you've deleted all your own from years ago. You just want to see if he's kept any picture with you. After endless scrolling you come across one that startles you.

It dates back to 2015, back when Bakugo was still young and inexperienced, back when the group only had two hit singles and was just entering the charts. The picture is him, the world wide beloved rockstar All Might and you holding All Might's shoulders, captured with words you don't know why you let your mind forget: the love of my life, my idol and an idiot.

You want to giggle, remembering the time he had posted it but your heart hurts. How could all of this go so wrong. When did you stop loving each other? When did he stop loving you? You exit his profile because tears are gathering up in your eyes. Sure if he wanted you he wouldn't be getting married. He probably doesn't even remember what happened in the dressing room.

Maybe you imagined it all.

But now you can't set your attention back to your script. There are only a few pages left and you tell yourself you can read the first thing tomorrow morning, you feel tired and your tea has gone cold, the time you spent stalking our ex's account was more than you had realised. You sigh as you lock your phone and dump it in your pocket again.

Your couch looks warm on the other side of the room and you decide to walk to it and lay down, maybe open the tv and watch anything the channels can offer for tonight. You drape the blanket you have on your couch over your feet and stomach and curl up to yourself, only peeking your right hand out to zap through channels with the remote.

BBC has a live singing show and you settle for that. The singer on your TV screen is setting his guitar down, you can't help but wonder what song he was performing before you tuned in. You've seen him before but you just can't put your finger on where.

When he walks in though your brain caps you with electricity. Because this, this is pure karma. You quickly tap onto the circular button of your remote to read the description of tonight's BBC Live; 'Headphone Jack perform their favorite songs with us tonight, enjoy' it reads and you almost slap your forehead with the remote.

Despite being reluctant though, when you hear Jirou's voice engulf the space of your living room, you decide not to change channels.

"Thank you for having us," She says and there's a comfortable silence as she reaches for her guitar "we'll start with one of my all time favorites, Arabella. Hit it Denks"

You feel an oddly familiar feeling run through you and Bakugo's face looks as beautiful as ever and as he slowly hits the drums with his sticks, sleep is making your eyes feel heavy.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo #bnha

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hualianff · 3 years

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Music AU

Modern AU with music professor XL whose students adore him and really look up to him. XL was a child prodigy specializing in piano and percussion. He retired at the height of his music career in his late twenties due to the toxic, stressful, and elitist environment of the classical music world. As someone who is nearing his forties, XL looks no older than twenty-five.

XL serves as a father figure and an inspiration for many of his students. He fills in for the choir and band director when needed; he accompanies performances with piano. Students and professors alike truly respect XL’s knowledge and skill, making him an easily recognizable and approachable person on campus.

(There’s no shortage of people who have a crush on him.)

It’s the middle of the spring semester. One of XL’s assignments for his seniors in advanced performance class is to critique three well-known musicians’ performances over one week. Monday and Wednesday pass by with sweet revelations and teachable moments for his students, who watch their icons with immense fascination.

Come Friday, the final musician XL has his students critique is the famous violinist Hua Cheng’s most recent performance. The students are a bit hesitant because how can they critique one of the top musicians in the country? Hua Cheng’s tall stance and facial expressions are intimidating in themselves. It almost feels like a crime to insert their opinions on his performance and musicality. Yet, XL’s students enthusiastically rise to the occasion anyway.

After the first watch-through, class discussion is no less fulfilling than the previous ones. Thanks to XL’s adamance in providing a safe and receptive Socratic space in his classroom, his students freely express their praise, observations, and assessment of the performance.

At the end of the class, the students ask XL about his thoughts about the performance. They hold his opinion very highly because a) XL had been a professional for over a decade and b) they’ve had him as a wonderful professor for four years and trust his expertise. XL rewinds the fifteen-minute section of the performance, giving constructive analysis as the video plays.

“His pizzicatos are quite impressive, aren’t they? Very clean and distinct,” he says at one point. The students voice their agreement. XL adds, “Well, his long fingers certainly must help.”

(Students: “Did he just-?” 👁👄👁)

“You can see he’s not breathing throughout alll of this until he releases the bow right here, which is very difficult. I personally wouldn’t do that but it works for him. Remember to breathe when you play!” XL says as the video comes to an end.

“Professor, would you mind giving a demonstration on how you would perform this piece?” A student pipes up. XL raises an eyebrow at this.

“Well…”

A series of other voices join in.

“Please? Just the opening measures!”

“First page at least?”

“We really want to hear you play!”

XL checks his watch to see how they’re doing on time. They have at least five minutes before class ends. He sighs as he comes to a decision.

XL walks to his desk where a violin case rests underneath.

“Hmm, all right. Just know that music-”

“-is subjective. Everyone has their own interpretations of what looks or sounds best,“ his students recite dutifully.

“Enjoy the music-making process for what it is and what you make it,” XL finishes with a smile, his violin in hand. He quickly tunes the strings before racking his brain for the piece that Hua Cheng performed. XL stands in front of the class, bringing the violin body to rest under his chin. With a deep breath, XL prepares his fingers as he hovers his bow right above the strings.

XL counts the time signature off in his head before coming in on the downbeat. He lets his body move on its own and plays. The students watch and listen in awe. This was the musician who played solos in traveling orchestras at the age of nine, who composed their first concerto at sixteen (and continues to compose in “retirement”).

Unbeknownst to XL, while he was analyzing HC’s performance, a certain person snuck into his class, sitting next to a shocked senior and holding a finger to his lips.

When XL finds a good place to finish his little performance, ending on a strong, accented downbow, he exhales in satisfaction. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes–he never does–and the pure exhilaration flowing within his veins makes him feel positively buzzed. XL is not the most accomplished violinist by any means, but that doesn't mean he hasn’t put in his fair share of practice and effort over the years into his playing.

A tall figure soundlessly walks to the front of the classroom, clapping along with the students as he stands next to XL.

“Amazing job, as always, gege.”

XL jumps three meters in the air, nearly hitting him in the face with his bow.

“San Lang!?”

The applause suddenly stops as whispers are exchanged around the room.

“Isn’t that...Hua Cheng!? In our classroom!?”

“It is! Oh my god, he’s even taller in person-”

“Oh no, do you think he heard our critiques of his performance!?”

XL himself puts a hand on his racing heart, leftover from playing and from the shock of his husband’s spontaneous appearance. Talk about being married to the personification of the element of surprise.

“Careful, gege, you don’t want to drop your strad, do you? Those are pretty expensive. Plus, I heard that it was an anniversary gift,” HC says with a hint of smugness. XL puffs his cheeks in indignation.

“I didn’t even hear you come in!” XL exclaims, forgetting where he is for a second. “What are you doing here?”

“Here I thought gege would have been happy to see his San Lang,” HC bemoans. XL pouts his lips further. HC knows XL loves it when he visits him at work, but let’s not subject the students to their couples’ banter!

Before XL can respond, a melodic voice interrupts them.

“Hua-xiansheng, Professor Xie said your ring and pinky fingers were too tense!” Banyue hollers. XL gives her a reprimanding look though both of them know he’s not being serious. He goes to put his violin back in its case.

“Seems accurate. Gege knows me so well,” HC says with a chuckle as he follows XL to the desk. He lowers his voice so only XL can hear what he says next. “Perhaps for the violin, yes. But you don’t say that when we’re in bed-”

XL pinches HC’s neck with a low hiss. “Not here.”

HC obediently shuts his mouth. XL turns back to his students with a nonchalant smile. He figures he must look an astonishing sight with their idol hugging him from behind. The ring on the necklace XL wears weighs heavily on his skin. He’ll probably have to do a small story time at the start of class next week.

“Class dismissed!”

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #music au #cerdrabbles #TBC #more married hualian cause why not #my only knowledge of music comes from piano/choir/twoset

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fanficlibraryposts · 3 years

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Larry Stylinson(1D) Fic Recs

sleeping on our problems by falsegoodnight

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down. There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word. His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

*A/B/O au, so soft and fluffy with just a dash of angst*

Foolishly, Completely Falling by dea_liberty

"Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag."

OR: The one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn

"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

Promises We Made by thekindofworld

Its been five years since Harry and Louis broke up; they were seventeen and nineteen and it was messy to say the least. Cue Louis, who is worked off his feet making clothes for celebrities, Harry dropping his debut album, Niall who likes to avoid his insecurities by dragging Louis on Holiday, Zayn and Perrie as Louis' right hand stylists, and Liam who wishes Harry would just tell him about his ex-boyfriends before he contacts them about working for him.

Its either going to be a disaster, or the perfect timing they've all been waiting for.

*I’ve been very into fashion au lately*

but me, i’m not a gamble by orphan_account

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

Boys Fall From the Sky by fookinloosah

Superheroes. America is full of them — complete with masks, nauseating pseudonyms, and neon spandex suits. There’s none of that nonsense in Britain, thank you very much…until Harry Styles’ X Factor audition takes an unexpected turn, and Britain’s first hero is born.

Also featuring Louis as a man of many masks, Zayn the rebel comic artist, Liam as Britain’s counter-attack to Justin Bieber, and Niall the trusty guitarist.

*I adore this fic, one my all time favorites*

The Last Something That Anything by jaded25

"You know my heart - so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this? So I’ll sing this song for every word that comes out wrong But I’ll be okay – is that what you want me to say?"

In the end, it's neither the fame or the pressure, nor Management or the constant hiding and denying that tears them apart. Or maybe it's a sum of all and so much more on top. In the end, it's Harry.

When Harry leaves the band - leaves Louis - to pursue his dreams of a solo career, he breaks much more than just One Direction. It's a gamble and a new start for each of the boys but while Harry walked away smiling, finally having got everything he apparently dreamt of, Louis is left to pick the pieces up.

Some hearts don't break even, some are simply shattered. So can you really learn to un-love someone?

*So deliciously angsty*

no pressure, no diamonds by karamelised

A life of crime means there is no nine to five, no white picket fence and definitely no happily ever after. In a life where lying gets you everywhere and stealing things becomes a sport, there is no place for romantic endings. Louis knows this, and so does Harry. Problem is, they're both wrong.

Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

Blood Right by Evina1234

“Is that-him?” someone next to Louis asks. “Who else would dress in red if not for him today?” Beside Louis, Lady Camellia had her eyes locked on the one in red garbs, as same as many around them. Clearly this must be intended, or why dress in such a way today at first place? “My... He looks dashing." the first one licks her lips, eyes darkening in a laced lust. "Who would've known? Thought he'd be in chains, stuck in a dark dungeon." The other scoffs. “Have you been under a rock? He's the most privileged Lycan alive. The King's ward, some go so far as to call him his consort. It’s all hushed, but I have my sources.” she reveals like a dirty secret. In a world where the Vampires have taken over, Humans are just pawns in blood farms, Warlocks are extinct while the King has Lycans under his thumb - eliminating the threat of the lethal bite. The world is falling apart. Louis, nephew to the malistic Vampire King, lives away from it all in blessed ignorance until he gets dragged into the chessboard that traps him in front of a green eyed Prince who is bound to a miserable fate. Or where Louis wants to save Harold, the Prince of Lycans, when Louis' allies want him DEAD

*super intense, vampire au with political intrigue mixed in*

the one that leads me on through by colourexplosion

Louis was certain that he was done with his tenuous connection with fellow skater, Harry Styles. But then, you know, the universe throws a wrench in all that when Simon takes Harry on for the next season.

Or, an AU in which the members of one direction are actually figure skaters.

Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Three: I Love You

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

Atem’s mind was still reeling as he parked his car in the lot of his building. It had been a normal and rather mundane day at first; he woke, made breakfast, ran his errands, then went to rehearsal. The rehearsal was particularly boring, considering he already memorized their new set of songs for the next show (good thing this was the last few days of rehearsal before the new show debuted). It was likely that very boredom that gave Atem his wistful thought as he packed away his violin. Everyone else had gone, bidding him good night or not even speaking to him as they moved on to their own plans for the night, and Atem found himself alone in the theatre. The stage had always held a bit of...glamour to Atem, and a simple walk around the grand set alone had got him daydreaming- which turned into him singing.

The young man sighed to himself as he rode the elevator up to his floor. He had thought he was singing to himself, that the theatre was empty save for himself and the janitor who was usually outside smoking that time of night. Imagine his surprise when an audience of one had ambushed him the moment his solo was done. He let out another sigh as the elevator stopped.

Atem was careful when opening his door, and the reason why made herself apparent when a delicate ‘mew’ greeted him.

“Hello, Bastet,” he greeted the gray tabby as she rubbed her chin against the door, trying as always to explore beyond the confines of the penthouse.

He scooped her up into his arms as he shut the door, then wandered to the kitchen as his mind continued to replay the odd incident at the theatre. Despite Atem’s shock, the boy- Yugi’s enthusiasm actually made Atem...consider the out-of-the-blue proposal. Him, a first chair violinist, write songs for some rock band? The idea seemed ludicrous at first glance... but, Atem would not deny his interest.

After setting Bastet down on the leather stool by the breakfast bar, Atem pulled out the black business card from his coat pocket, the title “The Dark Magicians” being the first golden text that caught his eye. The name had captured Atem’s interest from the start, though he couldn’t be sure if the name had anything to do with his favorite card from the old Duel Monsters game.

Behind the name of the band, was a circular logo (again, a bit reminiscent of the duel monster) and Atem recognized the symbols of the zodiacs, as well as some other markings he vaguely remembered seeing somewhere, but couldn’t place the meaning of in the moment. Atem then flipped the card over and saw what looked like the names of their social media accounts, but only got a brief glimpse at it before a tug on his coat got his attention.

“Mowo?”

Atem looked down and found Bastet, claws tugging at him and eyes looking expectant. He found himself chuckling and giving her a gentle scratch on the head.

“Sorry, Bastet, you must be hungry, I’ll make us some dinner.”

After finally taking off his coat (the black fabric now covered in his kitten’s fur) Atem turned on his speakers, started his playlist, and got started on dinner: a beef-based stir fry for him, and a can of Fancy Feast for the spoiled cat who wove between his legs the whole time he tried to prepare the meals. And of course, because she really was just that spoiled, Bastet got a small spoon full of his own dinner before he retired to the living room.

Atem kept his music playing as he ate, preferring to get lost in his thoughts rather than his favorite shows; and again Yugi’s proposal swam into his mind and occupied him.

The whole thought was ridiculous, he knew nothing about Yugi or his band, why was he even thinking about writing songs for them? Songwriting was just a hobby for him, it always had been. The orchestra was his career, and though his father had gotten him singing lessons when he was younger, Atem had never truly entertained the idea of making that voice and his lyrics into anything more than a personal amusement. Well, at least not seriously.

Well, and didn’t it say something that Yugi had been so drawn to Atem’s song? The young man had seemed so excited, so sure when he said that he thought Atem was the perfect match for his band. Atem believed in fate, and that had been the first time he sang publicly since he was a child...what were the chances that someone looking for a songwriter would be listening? Not only that, but be so enthralled with the song that he practically bounded down the row of seats to talk with Atem?

As he finished off the last bites of his meal, Atem picked up the card again, looking over the accounts listed on the back. There was one for Youtube and Atem figured that would be a good place to start if he wanted to see what he thought about this band.

He quickly searched the band on the app via his TV (might as well see them on the big screen) and was not surprised with what he saw at first. Their icon was the same logo from the card and they barely had a few thousand subscribers. A small-time group just trying to leave their musical mark on the world. What did surprise him was that they had almost fifty videos posted- though a quick look through their content said that most of them were “band vlogs”.

Their banner picture was nice, all of the band members in the throws of a song with multicolored lights blooming behind them. The picture displayed all five of the members, the framing purposefully showing all of them so no one was left out or hidden behind another member.

Atem of course recognized Yugi first and was intrigued to find the young man working a set of turntables. An odd addition for a rock band- though now that he thought about it, Yugi never actually said what type of band they were. Soon enough, Atem found his eyes drifting to the other members. There was an energetic looking blond pounding on the drums and a brunette woman who had some soul playing the keyboard. Then there were the two guitarists, and the lead guitar player seemed to also be the singer, mouth poised in front of the standing mic and fingers splayed across the strings in unison.

But looking at still pictures would not get Atem far in getting to know the band, so he moved on to the videos. He found a convenient playlist for their actual songs (he’d move on to the vlogs if he liked what he heard) and clicked on the oldest, their first, video.

The setting was simple enough, the five of them standing in an almost warehouse-looking venue, but the video quality wasn’t bad. The girl on the piano started out first and Atem’s found his interest instantly piqued when the notes sounded epic enough to fit in with an orchestra. The singer stepped up to the mic, guitar missing, and started a fast string of lyrics, hard-hitting and dramatic- a perfect combo with the epic-style piano. The drums and bass joined in quick enough and the moment the chorus hit the synthesized sound of the turntables cut in, an interesting contrast to the other instruments that...actually worked...it really really worked. The lead guitarist’s missing strings were deliberate, Atem noted, since the base standing on its own created a deeper sound that complimented the dramatic flair of the song.

It ended too quickly, being barely more than two minutes long, and Atem instantly found himself pressing replay to give the song another listen. This time, now that he wasn’t trying to pick out the different instruments working together, he paid more attention to the lyrics. It sounded like an ode to bad relationships, the toxic kind that made a couple who claimed to love each other fight and scream daily. The singer’s voice was good, and he was impressed with the long note held at the end of the song.

Atem considered giving the title a third listen, but decided he could always come back to it after he sampled their other songs. He moved on to the next, noting that there were a few cover songs in between the originals- though he skipped them for now. This song seemed to have the most views, and Atem figured it was for the actual “music video” style. It was much more entertaining to watch a story-driven video than the band members simply standing on a set (though he thought that was perfectly fine for the first video).

A fade from black showed a ballerina (the pianist?) on the ground, contorted into a common starting position for ballets. A sorrowful note sounded as the camera zoomed in on the ballerina, then, the moment the piano started, she was dancing. It was then that Atem realized that he knew the piano player, at least in passing, she was one of the dancers from the theatre.

The same voice from the first song started to sing, and the dancer soundlessly captured the lyrics with her graceful movements. The thing that truly made Atem stare in wonder though, was the visuals taking place beyond the dance.

As the song went on, the ballerina’s state...worsened. Her visage mirrored the hurt lyrics of the song. At first her make up ran, as if she had been crying, then holes and tears started to appear in her clothes, then bruises on her skin, until finally, half of her tutu was torn and dirty and dark spots littered her body. The pivot point of the song came, and the ballerina fell to the ground, crying, silently conveying that she didn’t want to go on.

But then the tune started to shift, slowly swelling, lifting up as one by one, hands reached out to the despairing dancer. The first gripped her shoulder in comfort, the next wiped away a stray tear, the third rubbed her back, and the fourth simply held itself out to her, a wordless urge to take the offer of help. The ballerina did, and the moment the hands lifted her up, the scene brightened, and her appearance was restored to its original beauty. The woman still had some sadness in her eyes, but the notes were hopeful as she finished her dance, ending the song on an uplifting tune.

Atem found himself simply staring at the screen as a “Thank you for watching!” text scrolled across it. The simple beauty of the video struck him. The song was about loneliness, broken hearts, the darker side of emotions, almost everything most people would feel in their lives. But, ultimately, it was about loved ones making all those things easier to bear- to accept help from those around you and becoming stronger in the process. A song about a sad truth with a hopeful ending.

Atem liked it, he liked it a lot.

He continued to watch the videos and was let down to find that there were only two more original songs by the band. The third was well done too, though Atem admitted that they didn’t capture his attention as much as the previous. It featured the band in steampunk style garb, standing on a stage as masked patrons in ballgowns danced in front of them (Atem knew he recognized said dancers as more ballerinas from the theatre), this song was more light in its beat, though he thought the lyrics alluded to the concept of liars and the masks they wore.

The final song opened with a heavy drum beat and sound effects from the turntables, the black and white camera blinking onto a shot of the drummer in some abandoned building. Water burst from the drums with every hit for even more dramatic visuals as the keyboard and guitars joined in. Then it cut to the singer leaning against a brick-walled alley, still in black and white and the voice Atem was beginning to know well followed the instruments.

He liked the lyrics already, a poetic contrast to the almost upbeat rhythm. What piqued Atem’s interest most, however, was that it was a love song, the first romantic brand of tenderness he’d heard from the band so far.

Where the light shivers offshore

Through the tides of oceans

We are shining in the rising sun

As we are floating in the blue

I am softly watching you

Though, tender as it may be, he couldn’t say it was a happy love song.

Oh boy, your eyes betray what burns inside you

Atem felt something rake at his heart, a pull, the lyrics drawing him in, chest rising with an ache.

Whatever I feel for you

You only seem to care about you

Is there any chance you could see me, too?

'Cause I love you

Is there anything I could do

Just to get some attention from you?

In the waves, I've lost every trace of you

Where are you?

At one point the camera lingered on the singer’s face, eyes pleading and hands splayed in a gesture as if to pull the viewer closer in a desperate embrace. Atem didn’t even realize he was leaning forward until he was at the edge of the seat. If he were a romantic, he might liken the vocalist to a siren, drawing him in with gravitating lyrics.

Whispers are wasted in the sand

As we were dancing in the blue

I was synchronized with you

But now the sound of love is out of tune

Atem had to actively tell himself to sit back in his seat as the chorus came again, though his eyes never left the screen, even as it flashed between all the members in various forsaken settings. It had been a long time since a song made it feel actual heartbreak, made him hang on each pleading lyric.

Not only that, but even as the song began its ending crescendo, Atem’s mind was compiling some violin chords that would slip into the song perfectly. It had been even longer since he wanted to add his own music to a song.

Atem had to give the song one more listen, this time closing his eyes and getting even more lost in the beats and words. Again he had to tell himself not to go for a third listen and moved on to the band’s cover videos. Though, he was momentarily distracted by Bastet as she hopped onto the couch, demanding cuddles and pets by shoving her tail in his face. He obliged, letting her fall asleep on his lap as he flipped through the band’s cover songs, ready to hear more from them.

Most of them featured the players standing in their venue from the first video, which made sense since recording in that simple location allowed the band to pump out videos faster. He liked the diverse array of covers, some were of pop songs, others of rock and metal, and even one rap song. The band made each cover their own, with that unique array of instruments that made Atem endeared to the band.

His favorite covers had to be the ones of Studio Killers’ “Jenny” and “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce.

The metal song was the only one that had someone other than the lead guitarists singing. Atem understood why, the guitar chords were brutal- and the vocalist was playing them like an expert! Again, Atem was impressed, not just anyone could play the strings like that. Instead Yugi sang, belting his little heart out with some decent talent in singing. Atem may have had the deeper voice, but Yugi pulled off the metal style well. Atem then felt bad for not recognizing the bass player’s skill until the near end of the song, and promised to rewatch the video later to fully appreciate how well the brunette played the bass chords.

Jenny was one of the few covers that got a better video and again, Atem found himself interested and surprised, but for an entirely different reason this time. Although the song was about a lesbian crush, the couple acting out the video were two men: Yugi and the blond drummer. Atem found himself smiling when the video ended with the two men kissing in front of a sunset, Yugi having to pull down the taller boy by the collar of his shirt. The song itself was impressive as well, it was undoubtedly a rock version of the pop song, but it still had that upbeat, almost bubbly quality to the music.

That video was also the first that had the band members speaking to the viewers at the end, all five of them sitting on a couch and smiling brightly at the camera. They explained that the video was made for pride month and that they hope to someday donate all the ad revenue of the video to LGBT charities, once their videos started making money in the first place, that is. Unfortunately, (though not to his surprise) that video had the most amount of dislikes, and Atem found himself leaving a string of heart emojis in the comments just to counteract the negativity- and Atem never used heart emojis.

Before he went on to the other videos, the vlogs, Atem paused the playlist and leaned back on his couch, a string of thoughts taking him over as Bastet purred and stretched out to lay on his chest.

He liked the band.

He liked their style, their diversity and unique form, their creativity, and so far he liked the actual members too. He liked all of it a lot. If he were to ever put his original music out there, he knew it would be with a band like this.

Atem believed in fate, so, had he and Yugi met for a reason?

Atem pressed play on the first band vlog video, making his final decision as he petted the purring cat resting on his chest. So long as these more personal vlogs didn’t tarnish his view of the members, he’d speak to Yugi the next day.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #Yugioh Band AU #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #series: a thousand songs

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felicia-cat-hardy · 3 years

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20 Asian American Musicians To Add To Your Playlist Now

Over the past several years, the K-pop industry in the U.S. has grown exponentially. The fan enthusiasm behind bands like BTS has drawn parallels to The Beatles, and so many K-pop groups have received the same passionate reception. The attention is well-deserved, but Asian artists represent a multitude of musical genres (even just within the K-pop industry) — a fact that should not be overlooked. Whether you're a fan of indie rock, R&B, hip-hop, or dance music, you won't want to sleep on these Asian American musicians.

Asian artists have recently received some long-deserved recognition in the entertainment industry, primarily in film. In 2020, Bong Joon-ho's Parasite won big at the Oscars. The following year, Youn Yuh-Jung won the award for Best Supporting Actress for her work in Minari, which also scored The Walking Dead alum Steven Yeun a nomination for Best Actor. However, there's still plenty of work to be done within the music landscape to ensure equal representation is achieved.

BTS, most notably, has seen unprecedented success in the U.S. Still, despite being invited to attend the last three Grammys, they've yet to take home an award, highlighting the discrepancy between their immense success and the Recording Academy's willingness to acknowledge it. Additionally, Asian artists have a harder time landing record deals. As American Idol alumni Paul Kim explained to The New York Times, he was blatantly told by industry execs he would have been signed to a label faster had he not been Asian.

By streaming these artists, you're not only supporting them and their art, but you're subsequently showing industry insiders just how valuable they are. Consider this list sonic proof Asian artists are making exceptional, diverse music that can't be boxed into one genre or sound. Each of these artists prides themselves on breaking boundaries and creating their own rules. You may have heard of a few, but many have been flying under the radar for far too long. Your ears will thank you soon enough.

Melissa Polinar

Polinar got her start in the late 2000s when viral YouTube covers paved the way for success. While artists like Justin Bieber and Lennon & Maisy were sharing music covers, Polinar focused on posting her original music — and her soulful vocals were a hit. In 2019, the Filipino-American songwriter actually re-recorded one of the songs that propelled her career forward, "Try," on its 10-year anniversary.

Eric Nam

Born and raised in Atlanta, Nam moved to Korea to pursue music because he felt he had a better chance of succeeding there. “Even if you look at American Idol, or X-Factor, or The Voice or anything, it was always difficult to see an Asian or an Asian-American make it to a certain point,” Nam told TIME in November 2019. Today, Nam is a highly visible and respected name in the K-pop industry. While he's very proud of his K-pop success, he considers himself a pop singer first. He hopes to grow his success stateside and told TIME, "I want people to hear my music and say, 'I don’t know who this person is,' and I could be Black, white, Latino, Asian — it doesn’t matter, but it’s just a great pop song."

Clinton Kane

Kane's got every making of a great singer-songwriter, and his lyricism will make a fan out of loyal Ed Sheeran or Sam Smith listeners. The Filipino-American singer's impressive vocal range captivates, and his emotion-driven lyrics will melt your heart. One of his more popular tracks, "Chicken Tendies," has upwards of 2 million views and is a must-add to your heartbreak playlist.

Jhené Aiko

As a mixed-race Japanese, Creole, Dominican, and European woman, Aiko has proudly championed her diverse roots throughout her accomplished career. The R&B singer is a six-time Grammy-nominated artist and is well respected within the industry for her philanthropic endeavors. She launched the WAYS foundation in 2017, an organization dedicated to helping cancer patients and their families.

Steve Aoki

Steve Aoki is hardly a newcomer to the EDM scene, but as one of the most prominent DJs in the industry, and one of the biggest Japanese DJs ever, it would be a crime to leave him off this list. Aoki even has his own record label and, in 2016, Netflix released I'll Sleep When I'm Dead, a documentary about his career.

Karen O

As the lead singer for the rock band Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Karen O has solidified her spot as a rock music legend. Not only is the Korean-American singer's discography with the band a must-listen for any rock music fan, but her 2019 album with Danger Mouse, Lux Prima, earned her a Grammy nomination for Best Rock Performance.

H.E.R.

Hailing from the San Francisco Bay Area, H.E.R. (aka Gabi Wilson) has become one of the most prominent names in R&B. At just 23 years old, the singer-songwriter already has four Grammy wins and 13 nominations. Along the way, she's never shied away from praising her Filipino mother and Black father, Agnes and Kenny Wilson, for giving her the unique perspectives that propelled her musical success.

Toro Y Moi

Toro Y Moi is actually one person (Chaz Bear) and he's become the unofficial king of chillwave. Born to a Filipino mother, the South Carolina native later relocated to California to further his music career. If you need some chill vibes on your playlist, Bear's got you covered.

Ruby Ibarra

Ibarra is a Filipino-American rapper from San Lorenzo, California who also dabbles in spoken word poetry. Her music is meaningful in more ways than one. A number of her songs touch upon her experience as an Asian American woman. In April 2021, she released a powerful song and video called "Gold" with Ella Jay Basco, which exposed the harmful effects of the skin whitening industry.

Ella Jay Basco

You may recognize Basco from her appearance in Birds of Prey, but her music is not to be slept on because it's making major waves. Her song "Gold" with Ruby Ibarra highlights her Filipino heritage. As she told People, "From top to bottom, we wanted to make sure that our Asian-American community was represented with this project."

Mitski

Meet your new favorite alt-rock queen. Mitski's dreamy melodies appeal to the indie-rock crowd more than anything, and, if you're a sucker for a sad bop, this Japanese-American songstress has plenty of those stacked up.

Yaeji

Yaeji was born in Flushing, Queens in 1993 and grew up between the U.S. and Korea. Since she moved around so much as a kid, she found friendship on the internet, where she first connected with the bossa nova, jazz, and Korean indie music that drove much of the Korean DIY scene. She soon returned to the States to attend college, where she discovered a love for producing and DJing. Now, she meticulously blends hip-hop elements with her house-driven sound for a listening experience that is unlike anything else.

Hayley Kiyoko

Kiyoko has been given the nickname Lesbian Jesus since she’s so outspoken about LGBTQ+ representation in the music industry. The Japanese-American singer is a true trailblazer and her pop music genius has landed her hits with Kehlani, MAX, and AJR.

Jay Park

Park is an industry heavyweight. The Seattle native got his start in the K-pop industry as part of the band 2PM, but he went solo in 2009. Today, not only does the star have dozens of hits under his belt, but he has two record labels of his own that specialize in R&B and hip-hop music: AOMG and H1ghr. Park uses his superstar status to give others the spotlight, and he's put his support behind other artists like GOT7's JAY B and Yugyeom, and Raz Simone. Whether you're a self-proclaimed K-pop stan, or you're just recently getting acquainted with the genre, Park's discography is required listening.

Jin Au-Yeung

Born and raised in North Miami Beach, Florida, the Chinese-American rapper, aka MC Jin, has some seriously impressive accolades under his belt. After becoming popular among his musical peers for his epic freestyles, he was signed to Ruff Ryders in 2002 at just 19 years old, becoming the first Asian American solo rapper to be signed to a major record label in the U.S. He's since parted ways with the label and now travels back and forth between the U.S. and Hong Kong, seeing success in both places. In May 2021, the rapper released a single called "Stop the Hatred" with Wyclef Jean to raise awareness about hate crimes toward Asian Americans amid the coronavirus pandemic.

Olivia Rodrigo

Rodrigo needs no introduction, but I'll do it anyway: This Filipino-American actress-turned-singer-songwriter's mega-hit debut single "drivers license" was unavoidable in January 2021. Its heartbreakingly relatable lyrics about a crush moving on with someone else struck listeners to their core and immediately soared to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. It also went viral on TikTok, before making its way into a Saturday Night Live sketch. Rodrigo's songwriting skills have fans likening her to industry heavyweights like Taylor Swift, so it's no surprise her debut album, Sour, is one of the most highly-anticipated albums of summer 2021.

Run River North

Run River North is not just one musician, but three. The band formerly known as Monsters Calling Home is an indie rock band from Los Angeles. The group has an eclectic sound that draws inspiration from each member: Daniel Chae, Alex Hwang, and Sally Kang.

ZHU

When ZHU first entered the electronic music scene, he used an alias and remained anonymous. By 2014, the artist also known as Steven Zhu was ready to share his identity with the world. ZHU got his start in San Francisco, California, but has made his mark on the EDM scene globally.

Darren Criss

Criss rose to fame starring on the television series Glee and he's since proven himself to be a true triple threat. His work can be seen across TV, film, and music. In September of 2018, Criss became the first Filipino-American to win an Emmy in the lead actor category for his portrayal of Andrew Cunanan in FX's The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. He’s also got several full-fledged EPs under his belt.

Amber Liu

Amber Liu (also known mononymously as Amber) is of Taiwanese descent and grew up in Los Angeles. She made a big splash when debuting as a member of the K-pop girl group f(x) in September 2009, but has since gone solo. Her 2019 solo track "Other People" racked up millions of streams, and she’s gearing up to drop her first album of 2021, called y?, very soon. In the meantime, she’s continuing to grow her superstar following on social media, where she has 5 million Instagram followers and over 2.3 million on Twitter.

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

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Fic: Believe or Leave

AU-gust Day Thirteen: Rock Band AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumbelle

Rated: T

Summary: Belle is over the moon when she discovers that her favourite band is getting back together again for a final tour, and her life takes an interesting turn when she realises that one of the band’s reclusive members, Rum Gold, has been hiding out in her hometown.

Note: This fic is much, much longer than the other AU-gust fics as I’ve been working on it for a long time. It happened to fit this prompt so nicely, so I decided to press on and finally finish it.

Inspired by the concept of ‘Believe or Leave: The Magical Boyband’, which I am sure has been floating around the OUAT fandom for many a year since S2Ep5 aired.

Believe or Leave

If Belle was alarmed when Ariel raced into the library and skidded to a stop in front of the issue desk just before she careened into it, then she didn’t show it. This sort of behaviour was normal for Ariel. She did not visit the library very often, but when she did, it was usually in a state of high excitement or extreme temper.

Thankfully, this was one of the former occasions. Ariel was grinning from ear to ear and waving her phone around her head as if it was the discovery of the century, or she’d just used it to win a fortune. Considering the amount of prize-winning apps that she was signed up to, Belle wouldn’t have put it past her.

“Guess who’s about to make you the happiest person in the whole entire world?” she squealed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as Belle switched on the ancient library computer, having to smack the monitor several times to get it to show a clear picture rather than one with pink and green lines going across it.

“Let me guess. You’ve won three million on that ridiculous pinata bingo app and you’re giving it all to me to refit the library with state-of-the-art computer equipment?” With a final, particularly violent, wallop, the screen sorted itself out and Belle gave a sigh of satisfaction, settling herself in her seat and logging on.

Ariel just rolled her eyes.

“No, although I promise that if I ever do win three million, you will not be calling my pinata bingo app ridiculous, and I will certainly give you some of it to get a new computer. I have other good news. Far better news than that.”

Considering the state of the library’s ancient infrastructure, Belle didn’t think that anything could be better news than the funds for a complete refit, but she knew that her and Ariel’s priorities were not the same and she said nothing.

“Here.” Ariel tapped her phone and handed it over, showing one of the celebrity gossip sites that she subscribed to. “That ought to put a smile on your face and send all thoughts of malfunctioning computer equipment to the back of your mind for the next ten minutes at least.”

Belle read the article. Then she read it again. Then she stared at the headline for a good three minutes without speaking. Possibly without even breathing.

Believe or Leave to reform for official farewell tour.

Believe or Leave had formed a fundamental part of Belle’s college years. She had gone to every concert she could afford to get to. Their music had been the soundtrack to her exams, her graduation, and the frantic job-hunting afterwards. Belle had always been more enamoured with them than Ariel had, but true to form, her friend had gone along with her strange obsession with the band and had dutifully replied to all of Belle’s incoherent messages of despair and rage when they had suddenly broken up seven years ago, all three members going their separate ways, with two of them going on to moderately successful solo careers and one vanishing into obscurity.

Belle had kept up with Jefferson Milliner and Vic Whale, but she had always privately been of the opinion that they were stronger together than they were on their own, and that the strongest element of the band was the one that no-one had heard of for years, the elusive Rum Gold.

Jefferson Milliner and Vic Whale of Believe or Leave team up for farewell tour seven years after band’s unceremonious split… “This is not a reunion, but after Believe or Leave left the music scene so suddenly, we finally wanted to give the fans some closure…” When asked if Rum Gold would be joining them, Milliner remained tight-lipped. “We’d love it if he were to come back, and we’ve tried to get in touch with him. Never say never,”

“Belle? Earth to Belle?” Ariel gently took her phone back out of Belle’s grip and waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh dear. I’ve blown her brains out with the news. The library will have to remain closed today. Belle’s in a boy-band induced stupor.”

“They’re not a boy-band,” Belle muttered. “They’re a man-band.”

Ariel grinned. “I knew that would snap you out of it. So, are you happy? Or are you still too gobsmacked to feel any kind of functional emotion?”

Belle nodded, which she knew wasn’t the correct way to answer an either-or question.

“That’s… wow.”

“I know that however much you might protest, you’ve never got over your love for them.”

It was true. Belle still had all her ticket stubs from their concerts, and she still had all her worn-out CDs of every album they’d released, as well as all of the tracks digitally. They were a comfort, a reminder of a time that seemed so long ago when she’d been young and somewhat more carefree than she was at the moment. Back when she hadn’t needed to worry about library computers dying and possibly taking out the power grid to the entire town.

“It’s a shame that they haven’t been able to get back in touch with Rum,” Ariel said. “You know that he’s supposed to live locally, right?”

Of course Belle knew. When the opportunity to work in Storybrooke had come up, she had jumped at the chance, knowing that it was the place where Believe or Leave had been born, three young men in a garden shed in a backwater Maine town making music. It was that whimsical connection to the band that had kept her here even when she knew that there would be positions in Boston or even Augusta that would pay better and have infinitely better equipment than the things she was forced to use in her position here. Even after the break-up, she’d become so used to life in a small town that she didn’t really want to return to Boston. It felt like giving up, in a way.

Believe or Leave hadn’t stayed in Storybrooke, of course. Once fame and fortune had found them, they’d moved out to Boston, then to New York, then out to Los Angeles. Vic and Jefferson had stayed out in California, but rumour had it that Rum had returned to his roots.

Belle wasn’t sure how much truth there was in the rumours. Storybrooke was not all that large a town, and she was certain that she would have tripped over him before now. Then again, sometimes it was difficult to recognise people in settings that were unfamiliar. She was used to seeing him from a huge distance on stage or airbrushed and touched up in magazines. She was not used to seeing him in the supermarket or the drugstore, so it was perfectly possible that she’d just missed him all the time. He was reclusive anyway, and he had always been the one to shy away from the press even back when he’d been with the band. Jefferson had always happy to take on the limelight and the interviews for the three of them, whilst Rum and Vic had stayed in the back. Whilst they had been on stage, their personalities had always been larger than life, but away from an audience, it was clear that for Rum at least, the stage persona was just that.

“I’ve lost you for the rest of the day now, haven’t I?” Ariel said sagely. “Never mind.” She leaned back against the issue desk, staring out into the middle distance in the same direction as Belle. “I wonder if they’ll still wear the leather trousers.”

Belle felt a flush rise in her cheeks at the mention of the leather trousers that the band had been famous for in their heyday. They certainly hadn’t left much to the imagination and Belle had fallen into many a less than innocent daydream regarding what might be under them.

Thankfully, it was at that moment that a woman with a gaggle of under-fives came into the library and made their way in the direction of the children’s section, and Belle was reminded that she did have a job to do and that story time would be commencing in fifteen minutes. Seeing that Belle was back in the land of the living, Ariel took this as her cue to leave.

“I’m sure that we can discuss this in depth at a later date,” she said. “I’ll bring the wine over tonight and we can go all nostalgic for your college days whilst you daydream about Rum Gold’s accent and speculate on whether he really is here in Storybrooke shut up in a cabin somewhere.”

“I highly doubt that he’s shut up in a cabin,” Belle began to protest, but Ariel was already halfway out of the library, waving behind her.

Belle took a moment to compose herself before she went over to gather picture books ready for story time, resolving to think no more about the Believe or Leave reunion until the allotted time at the end of the day with Ariel. It was hard going though, and more than once throughout the day she found herself wandering off into flights of fancy.

Maybe if the band’s break-up and the reasons behind it had been more publicised at the time, there would not be so much to think about. If the rifts between the band members had made tabloid headline news at the time, then everyone would know the whys and wherefores. As it was, everything had been so sudden and quiet. One day everything was fine, and the band was going about its business, getting ready to release a new album in a few months’ time. All their fans had been eagerly awaiting their next tour dates.

And then, one morning, they announced that they were disbanding with immediate effect, and that was that.

Privately, Belle thought that when it came down to it, Rum was the reason for the split. He’d always been closely guarded, not wanting to bring his family into the limelight, and given his almost total disappearance after they’d gone their separate ways, she assumed that it was something personal to him. There didn’t seem to be any active animosity between the remaining band members. It was all just one of those great unsolved mysteries of the entertainment world. Maybe with this reunion tour, more truths would come out. It would be wonderful if all three of them could get back together, but after years of radio silence from Rum, she wasn’t holding out much hope.

Things happened very quickly after that, and afterwards, when all was said and done and Belle was reflecting on the events of those few months after the farewell tour was announced, she wasn’t sure what it was that kickstarted everything. Certainly, the news that Ariel had brought her that morning was a catalyst, but she liked to think that perhaps providence had had a hand in there somewhere as well.

It was two days since Ariel’s dramatic entrance into the library and the revelations that had entailed from it, and Belle had spent most of that time constantly checking her phone to see if tickets for the tour had been released yet. Considering it had only just been announced, it was unlikely, but she was nothing if not optimistic.

Belle was in the store. There was nothing particularly special about the day, nor the store. It was Storybrooke’s only supermarket, and it could barely be called that. There was nothing particularly special about the shopping trip itself; she’d run out of a lot of food items and needed to restock. The only thing that was different about this week’s shop as opposed to any other was that she had made sure that Believe or Leave was playing on her earphones as she went around filling her basket, and Rum Gold’s voice was crooning at her at the exact moment that she saw the man himself.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been listening to his voice, she wouldn’t have noticed him. She probably wouldn’t have recognised him, because when one thinks about meeting famous people, one doesn’t tend to think about running into them in grocery stores. Even so, Belle had to give an inward snort at her and Ariel’s conversation. It seemed that Rum had been living under their noses all this time without them realising after all.

The more she looked at him, the more she became convinced. He looked a far cry from the person he had been when she had last seen him on stage years ago. He was wearing jeans rather than leather for a start. Belle was quite glad of that; she didn’t think that she would have been able to function if she’d seen him in the flesh in leather. He was older - obviously; everyone was older - and there was grey in his hair now, and in the beard that had grown in the intervening time.

Still just as handsome as he had been in his heyday. Perhaps more so, even. Belle had grown to appreciate the appearance of maturity in a man.

She was horribly aware that she was staring at him, and even more horribly aware that he knew she was staring at him and was staring steadily back. There was a challenge in his dark eyes, daring her to say something and expose his identity to the rest of the store. Not that Belle thought that the rest of the store would be particularly interested in his identity; as far as she knew, she and Ariel were the only two people in the town with a vested interest in Believe or Leave, and Ariel only kept up with them because of Belle.

She tore her gaze away and looked very intently at the meagre selection of tea on offer. Ever since she’d moved to Storybrooke, she’d been buying her tea online, subscribing to various different sites that gave her a wide and exotic selection to choose from. Ariel had always laughed at her for it, telling her to stop being so pretentious because it was only tea for heaven’s sake, just brew up a cup and be done with it. Still, Belle wasn’t really looking at the tea, nor was she thinking about the different blends waiting for her at home rather than the generic brand black teabags here on the shelf that always tasted of paper and sawdust. Nevertheless, she put a box in her basket to show willing and try to distance herself from the somewhat embarrassing situation that was unfolding.

It was only now that she recognised him that she realised she’d seen him around town more than she remembered. Never regularly, just here and there, but enough for him to have made an impression on her memory. She’d been so close to him all this time and never known.

She thought that she could be forgiven for not recognising him at first glance given the beard and glasses. It was probably only because she’d had Believe or Leave on the brain for the last two days that she recognised him at all. Last night she’d gone through all her old albums, looking at the sleeves and reading the spiel there. It had been an excellent nostalgia trip and it had reawakened her love for the group, as well as bringing Rum Gold to the forefront of her mind and keeping him there.

And now, of course, she had just engaged in a veritable staring competition with him and was now buying horrible tea in an effort to pretend that she hadn’t been. She glanced up but he had moved away from the end of the stack and was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, she put the tea back on the shelf and went to pay, ignoring the fact that she still had several items on her list still to buy and just wanting to get out of the store and the scene of her embarrassment as soon as possible. Once outside, with the fresh air clearing her head, she gave a groan, leaning back against the wall of the store and pulling out her phone to message Ariel.

Kill me now.

Ariel’s response was almost immediate; it was good to know that her best friend was practically glued to her phone and could always be relied upon for a quick reply at any time of the day or night.

What have you done now?

I met Rum Gold in the store.

You’re kidding me.

I am not.

At that point, her phone rang, Ariel evidently having deemed it quicker to speak in person to react to this momentous news.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

“There’s really nothing to tell. I just recognised him, that’s all. Out of all the other times that I’ve seen this random man in the store, today he wasn’t so random after all. And then he caught me staring so I had to leave without buying any cookies. I was mortified.”

“Good for your waistline, I suppose, but not so good for helping with the mortification. You should have asked him if he was going to join the Believe or Leave tour! Honestly, Belle, I love you but you’re a walking, talking missed opportunity sometimes.”

“You can’t just go up to someone who’s minding their own business buying groceries and start talking about their former career! I already look like a crazy stalker!”

She tailed off as Gold himself rounded the corner towards the parking lot, coming straight past her.

“Belle? Belle? Are you still there or are you off in fantasies of dipping Rum Gold in chocolate sauce?”

Belle just groaned. She hadn’t thought that her humiliation could be more complete, but life was evidently thinking up ways to continually surprise her.

“Belle! Belle? Belle!” Ariel was practically shouting down the phone at her now. Gold had stopped in his tracks and was staring at her again. At least this time, the staring was on him. Belle was very pointedly looking at her shoes. “Belle, stop daydreaming and talk to me!”

“Ariel, just kill me now,” she muttered.

To her immense surprise and somewhat relief, Gold just chuckled, taking his bags over to the old Cadillac in the corner of the lot and driving away, leaving Belle standing in the shade behind the store with Ariel still squawking indignantly in her ear.

Had that really just happened? Was this all a dream? Had she fallen into some kind of parallel dimension whereby a man she saw in town every now and then had metamorphosed in her mind into a famous ex-rock star?

She said her goodbyes to Ariel and hung up, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall once again. Maybe once she opened them again, everything would have been put to rights and the last few minutes would not have happened.

Belle had just about managed to put her grocery store mortification to the back of her mind and was trying very hard to forget that Rum Gold even existed, let alone that he appeared to have lived in the same town as her for several years without her noticing.

Unfortunately, fate had decided that she was going to be reminded of it all rather forcibly and rather sooner than she expected. It was the day after her revelation and Belle was sitting behind the issue desk in the library, half concentrating on her book and half keeping an eye on the gaggle of giggling teenagers who’d gathered in the Harlequin romance section. She didn’t pay it much mind when the door opened and someone came in. People didn’t often come straight up to the issue desk when they entered. If they were in a hurry to return items then they used the dropbox outside, otherwise they went off into the stacks to browse. Belle was therefore rather surprised when the figure came up to her, especially since he didn’t appear to have any books to return.

She recognised him just a moment later and she felt her face flush with embarrassment as she remembered the previous day. Still, she was a professional, as much as she might want to slide out of her chair and slither under the desk out of sight.

“Welcome to Storybrooke Library,” she said, far too brightly even for her, and Ariel had described her as a walking ray of sunshine once. “How can I help you?”

“Erm…” Unless she was very much mistaken, Rum was looking just as embarrassed as she felt. “I just wanted to apologise. I overheard your conversation with your friend outside the store yesterday and I think I’m the reason you didn’t get your cookies yesterday. And now I’ve just admitted to overhearing private conversations and acting on them, which is probably worse. Just… Here you go.” He held out a pack of Oreos. Belle stared at it for a moment, feeling like she’d suddenly stumbled into a parallel universe in which nothing made sense. Finally, she took the packet and stowed it in her desk drawer. As happy as she was to have her cookies after all, she was still reeling.

“Thank you,” she said, eventually remembering her manners. “How did you know where to find me?”

Rum shrugged. “You’re not the only one who remembers seeing faces around.” There was a long, screamingly awkward pause, and Belle still wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t dreaming, and that this was actually the same dream as the one in the grocery store. She was talking to Rum Gold, her favourite musician, the man she’d had a crush on for so many years; and she knew now he was standing in front of her, she still had a crush on him.

Rum suddenly spoke. “You know, I’ve been living here for six years and you’re the first person who’s ever recognised me.” He paused. “At least, I think you are. Perhaps everyone else in town knows my identity and I just haven’t noticed.”

Belle grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s the beard,” Belle said. “It throws everyone else off.” She cringed inwardly as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but Rum just gave a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, that must be it.”

“Ok, in all honesty, I’ve had the Believe or Leave farewell tour on the brain for the last couple of days. You were at the forefront of my mind anyway.”

Rum nodded, but something in his expression had become grave at the mention of the band. As desperately as Belle wanted to know what was going on, she knew that it wasn’t her place to pry. Rum had been living here incognito for years, and evidently wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the cookies,” he said, after a few more moments of staring at each other.

“I will, thank you.” With that he was gone, walking out of her life again as quickly as he’d entered it. Still stunned, Belle reached for her phone, intending to apprise Ariel of the latest developments, but something stopped her. If it wasn’t for the very real cookies, she’d be convinced she’d nodded off with her head on the desk, and she wanted to keep this meeting to herself for a little while. She doubted that she was the only person in town who’d recognised Rum during his time here, but she’d been the only one to be so overt about it. Either way, there was an understanding between them now, and she didn’t want to break that bond by relaying everything to a third party, even one whom she trusted with her life like Ariel.

No, for now, this conversation would be her little secret.

Belle knew that there had to be some kind of psychological phenomenon whereby once your attention had been drawn to something, you started to notice it all the time, seeing it more often even if it wasn't around any more often than it was before. Whatever the phenomenon was, she was experiencing it now with Rum Gold. Since seeing him in the grocery store and his subsequent cookie delivery trip to the library, it felt like she was spotting him all over the place - in the pharmacy, getting take-out from the diner, just walking down the street. Logically she knew that he probably wasn't out and about any more frequently than he used to be, but now that she had recognised him, she recognised him everywhere.

She shook her head crossly. There wasn't exactly a lot that she could do about seeing him so frequently. They did live in the same town, after all. She shouldn't be reading anything into it and she definitely shouldn't be wondering what would happen if their paths were to cross again. She'd managed to get through her life in Storybrooke thus far without knowing that Rum was living among them, surely she could continue her life as it was before her blissful ignorance had been shattered. If Rum was trying to live here incognito and she was the only person who had overtly recognised him, then he probably wouldn't take too kindly to her bumping into him again.

All the same, she couldn't help thinking back to the cookies. He'd been under no obligation to do that, and yet he'd still sought her out. He had noticed her in the same way that she had noticed him. It felt like they were sharing a secret in a way, the two of them possessed of knowledge forbidden to the rest of the town.

Belle was determined nevertheless not to think any more on the subject. It was just one of life's coincidences, that was all. Her resolve in this matter lasted all of four hours until she went to the diner for her lunch that day and recognised Rum's Cadillac in the parking lot. She stopped short and groaned. How was this fair? She couldn't forget about the whole thing if she kept bumping into him.

Belle steeled herself and squared her shoulders, walking towards the diner with purpose. She had just as much right to be here as anyone else and she wasn't going to let avoidance get in the way of getting her lunch.

She entered the diner and walked up to the take-out counter, placing her order with Ruby and beginning to hang around. Rum was there too beside her, waiting for his order, and Belle kept glancing sideways at him. Should she say something? Should she not? Would it be best to pretend that she hadn’t seen him? If she said something now, would be it weird that she’d left it so long before saying anything? Was he going to say anything? How could she tell if he wanted her to ignore him or not?

Rum saved her from her spiralling train of thought.

“Hello again. It seems like we’re destined to keep running into each other.”

“Yeah. Suddenly you’re everywhere. I mean, I keep seeing you everywhere, not that you literally are everywhere at once. And I’m sure that you’re not everywhere any more than you were before, I just…” Belle trailed off on seeing Rum’s amused little smile, feeling her face flush. “I’ll stop talking now.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve been thinking along the same lines myself now that I keep seeing you everywhere, although probably no more frequently than I saw you before.”

Granny brought his order out at that point and he turned to leave.

“Well, I guess I’ll keep seeing you around. Till next time.”

It was such a simple and subtle sentence, and yet with it, a certain level of permission had been given. They were acquaintances now; they could stop and say hello to each other on the occasions that they met. Belle smiled as she continued to wait for her sandwich. She wasn’t going to go out of her way to meet him, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to have to avoid him either. She could just go about her daily life, and the times when they did meet would not be awkward.

They saw each other a couple of times over the next couple of weeks, never to speak to, but enough to exchange a smile and nod. It was getting to the stage where Belle could predict his routine, and no doubt he could predict hers as well. She kept forgetting that the recognition went both ways, perhaps because she had never been famous and considered herself practically unrecognisable when compared with Rum.

They were back in the diner when they got the chance to speak again, just making general small talk. Granny looked at them shrewdly as she brought the take-out orders out.

“You know, if you two want to continue the conversation then there’s space at the counter.”

“Oh no, no, it’s ok.” They were both speaking at the same time and Granny just looked at them with a raised eyebrow. She nodded towards the counter.

“Go and sit down. I’ll bring you some plates.”

Cowed by Granny’s force, they went over to the counter and took their seats. For a few minutes, the conversation was awkward and stilted, but once the plates had arrived, everything seemed to fall into place. They were just two people with a mutual interest in each other, getting to know each other over lunch. Although before Belle had worried about being starstruck, now that she was here with Rum in such mundane circumstances, those fears melted away. They unconsciously steered away from the topics that would bring them back into the dichotomy of famous person and fan, and it could have been any other first date.

Was it a date?

The conversation continued until Belle checked her watch and sighed. “I have to go; I need to open the library up again, but it’s been nice talking to you.” She paused. “Maybe we could do it again?”

Rum nodded. “Yes, it’s been great. I’d like to do it again. Same time on Friday?”

Belle smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

“You know, when Ariel suggested that you’d been shut up in a cabin here in Storybrooke ever since the band broke up, I didn’t believe her.”

Rum just laughed, bringing a cup of tea over to Belle as she gazed at his wall of memorabilia and accolades, taking everything in.

They had been going out for a few weeks; it was the first time that she had come to Rum’s home, and she had been forced to eat her earlier words to Ariel of a few months ago when she had followed the GPS to his address and had discovered that he did in fact live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, out by the river – and he had been living there for some time by the looks of things.

“I wanted the solitude,” he said. “I figured that it was less likely that people would recognise me if I was only in the town for buying essentials rather than living in the centre.”

“I guess we kind of ruined that when we started dating,” Belle said. “Although, I can’t really bring myself to be sorry about that.”

“No, me neither.” Rum smiled, taking a sip of his own tea. “I’d far rather that I’d met you and got to know you than I’d stayed shut up out here for the rest of my days.”

“That means an awful lot, you know, considering just how much of a recluse you’ve been.” Belle paused. So far during their dating life, they had never really talked about the band, as much as Belle had wanted to delve further into it, it was clear that it belonged to a past that Rum wanted to put behind him. They had focussed on the present instead, on the people that they were now and where their current interests lay, which made a lot more sense. They were dating each other, not their selves from ten years ago at the height of the band’s fame. It would not do to get hung up on the image of a man that no longer existed. Once Belle had got to know him, she had found that she liked the real Rum Gold far more than she had ever liked the stage persona she had known before, and her attraction to him based on qualities other than the aesthetic and his singing abilities had grown tenfold.

Now though, being in his home and seeing all the evidence of his past life here on display rather than hidden away, Belle was beginning to wonder whether the band wasn’t quite such as taboo a topic as she had always thought it was. It was clear that Rum’s life was still very much dominated by music. There was evidence of it everywhere in the cabin, and the staved paper on the small piano in the corner showed that he was still writing songs even now.

“Rum…”

“Yes, Belle?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I feel I need to ask because music is clearly still such a large part of your life even since the band broke up… Why did the band break up?”

Rum sighed, and he didn’t answer for a long time, going over to the dresser and taking up a photo frame, staring at it for a long time before bringing it back over to Belle.

“I lost my son,” he said eventually. “It happened very suddenly, and in that moment, it felt like my life was over too. Everything just ground to a halt. I couldn’t fathom a way to continue doing what I’d been doing after I lost Bae. Just taking a break whilst I could work through my grief wasn’t going to cut it. I needed to cut the ties completely. All things considered, Vic and Jeff were very understanding about the whole thing.”

“I’m so sorry.” Belle reached out and took Rum’s free hand, squeezing tightly. “Have you really been alone for all this time then?”

Rum nodded. “Until I started getting to know you, of course.” He gave another long sigh. “By the time I was ready to start getting my life back on track, the bridges had been burned, you know. There was no going back, not after I’d left so suddenly. And we’d all grown up and grown older and grown apart since then.”

It was a sudden realisation. More than music simply still being a part of Rum’s life and him still being proud of the achievements he’d made with the band, he was actively missing those days.

“Have you spoken to either of them at all since you went your separate ways?” Belle asked.

Rum shook his head. “I didn’t want to muddy the waters. They both went on to successful solo careers after all, and I just faded into obscurity, holing up here like a recluse and living off my royalties. They probably didn’t want to be reminded of the past.”

“Rum, you know that they’ve just announced a new tour,” Belle pointed out gently. “They definitely do want to be reminded of the past, and Jefferson’s said in interviews that he would love for you to come back.”

“I know.”

“So… What have you got to lose?”

Rum shook his head. “I don’t know, Belle. It’s been so long. You know that feeling when you procrastinate doing something, but then it gets to the stage that you’ve procrastinated it for so long that it’s even more difficult to start, so you just keep on procrastinating it until it becomes a vicious cycle?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, I know that feeling only too well. But you have to break out of the circle and bite the bullet sooner rather than later. Don’t you think that you might as well do it and see what they say, rather than keep putting it off and it becoming ever more awkward. It’s not going to get any easier. These things never do. I think we both know that from experience.”

Rum nodded. “I know. It’ll just get the stage where it’s impossible. If it isn’t already.”

“Nothing is impossible when you put your mind to it,” Belle said. “And whatever happens, I’m right here with you. I’ve got your back, and you can blame me if it all goes wrong.”

Rum gave a snort of laughter. “I’m holding you to that, although I think when it comes down to it, I could never blame you for anything.”

“Oh, I may look like butter wouldn’t melt, but Ariel will tell you that there’s a dark horse in here.” Belle realised the connotations of what she’d said and blushed. “Sorry, that came out way dirtier than I intended it to.”

Rum just laughed. “Oh Belle. I’m so glad that I met you.”

No matter what might happen with the rest of the band, Belle was very glad that she had met Rum, too.

Belle was surprised when she turned onto the track that led up towards Rum’s cabin, because for the first time, there were other cars parked up outside the house. For a long time, she sat in the middle of the track with the engine idling, wondering whether she should continue now that she knew Rum had company. Logic told her that she should have called ahead and asked if he was free, but she had been dating Rum for long enough now to know that he rarely looked at his phone if he was in the middle of composing, and he had always welcomed her impromptu visits before. Besides, he hardly ever went anywhere so she was almost guaranteed to find him at home whenever she turned up on the doorstep.

She had become so used to his solitary, reclusive lifestyle, only marginally less reclusive now that she was in it, that the notion of his having other visitors simply hadn’t crossed her mind.

Belle wondered who it could be; she knew that Rum had no family to speak of. Before she could think any more on it, her phone began to ring. Grabbing it, she saw that Rum was the caller and she groaned; he had obviously noticed her lurking outside.

“Hi Rum.”

“Hi yourself. You know, you’re going to waste a lot of gas just idling in the lane like that. Why don’t you keep driving forwards and come into the house?”

“You’ve got guests,” Belle pointed out, although Rum knew that he had guests, so she wasn’t sure why she said it.

“I do, and I would like to introduce you to my friends.”

Belle’s heart turned a somersault. Could it be?

“I’ll be right in.”

The front door opened as she pulled up outside, and Rum greeted her with a smile.

“I can see you’re stunned,” he said. “I know, it’s amazing. I do actually know other people.” He kissed her cheek softly as he took her coat, before leading her through to where the guests were sitting in front of the empty fireplace, watching her with interest. Two of the faces were immediately familiar.

“Belle, this is Vic Whale and Jefferson Milliner, and Jefferson’s boyfriend Graham. Everyone, this is Belle.”

“So, you must be the one we need to thank for getting the band back together,” Jefferson said. “Quite literally in fact.” He jumped up out of his chair and bounded across to Belle, throwing his arms around her. “Thank you so much. I’m glad that someone was able to get into his thick skull.”

Belle looked at Rum, who was looking slightly sheepish.

“I just took your advice,” he said. “And everything worked out well, as you can see.”

“I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

“That’s the last time I don’t listen to you.”

Belle just smiled, and after Jefferson finally released her from his bear hug, she slipped an arm around Rum’s waist. “Ah, but you did listen to me in the end, and that’s what matters.”

The next few hours would definitely count among the most memorable of Belle’s life, watching Rum, Jefferson and Vic interact, reminiscing about old times and discussing plans for the tour now that Rum had decided to be a part of it. She felt very honoured to be in this position, gaining such an insight into the music that had been part of her life for so long, a backstage pass in a way. Eventually, Vic and Jefferson took their leave to go and check into the inn in the middle of town. Belle wondered if she’d get a frantic message from Ariel in a few minutes saying that she’d seen the rest of Believe or Leave rocking up in Storybrooke and was there something that Belle was keeping from her?

Left alone with Rum, Belle cuddled in close to his side on the sofa.

“Are you glad that you made the call?” she asked.

“Oh Belle, you have no idea how glad.” Rum sighed wistfully. “It was just like old times, as if I’d never been away and we hadn’t all lived separate lives these past few years. Except, it wasn’t really, because you and Graham were here, which you never were before, but at the same time, it was like you’ve always been here as well.” He paused. “I’ve got so used to you being in my life now that I don’t like to think about the time before you were in it. I thought that being alone was what I wanted, but now that I look back, it feels so empty in comparison to the life I have now.”

Belle reached up and stroked Rum’s cheek gently. “You’ve been alone for so long that you forgot that you don’t have to be. But you don’t have to be, and life is easier when you’re not alone.”

Rum caught her fingers and brought them to his lips, pressing soft kisses over her knuckles.

“Much easier,” he said. “And much happier. I’m still daunted by what I’ve agreed to do, but whatever happens, I’m glad that I’ll have you by my side for it. I will have you by my side, won’t I?”

He sounded so nervous and unsure that Belle thought actions would speak louder than words in this scenario, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss, pouring all of her feelings out into it. By the time she pulled away, Rum was looking completely dumbstruck.

“I will always be by your side.”

If someone had asked Belle a year ago where she thought she would be now, she certainly would never have guessed upon the correct answer. Here she was, standing just off the stage at the first show of Believe or Leave’s farewell tour. The venue was a sell-out and tickets had been highly sought after online, so much so that the band had added extra dates to the tour to keep up with popular demand. Rum hadn’t been able to believe that so many people were still interested in their music. Still, he certainly couldn’t fault the crowd’s enthusiasm or their reactions. Belle was already wearing earplugs given her proximity to the massive speakers, but she felt that she needed another set to get over the roar of the spectators. She glanced over at Graham, who was standing with her, and he flashed her a huge grin and thumbs up. This was old hat for Graham; he’d stood in the same place for many of Jefferson’s solo concerts, but Belle was still drinking in all of the atmosphere. Whatever she might have been doing in that vision a year ago, she knew without a doubt that she would rather be right here.

It hadn’t been plain sailing of course. Once it had been announced that Rum was joining Jefferson and Victor for the farewell tour after all, somehow all the journalists who’d failed to find him for seven years miraculously knew where he was and descended on Storybrooke, putting something of a dampener on the still-new relationship between him and Belle. Still, they’d persevered, with Rum escaping to the anonymity of the big city to go and rehearse with the rest of the group and Belle travelling back and forth to see him. The few weekends that they’d managed to spend together at the cabin, once the press furore had died down, had been absolutely blissful, and as excited as she was for the tour, Belle was very much anticipating getting back to that. Rum may have agreed to the tour, but a full reunion was out of the question. In a way, doing this series of concerts was going to provide closure for himself as much as for the fans who’d made his career.

They were reaching the end of the evening, saving their most popular songs for last, and Belle was looking forward to hearing all of her favourites. She was surprised when Rum came to the front of the stage, taking the spotlight from Jefferson, who bowed out with his usual flourish.

“Hello everyone,” he said. The crowd went wild with just those two words; considering they hadn’t heard from him for years half a sentence now was practically gold-dust. He waited for the clamour to die down before he continued. “I know that this is a farewell tour, and we’re not showcasing any new material, but there is just one new song that I would like to play for you today. This is inspired by and dedicated to the remarkable woman who convinced me to be here tonight, and I’d like to say thank you to her. If it wasn’t for meeting her, I wouldn’t be on this stage in front of you. This song is for Belle.”

He glanced over into the wings, smiling at her. Belle couldn’t move. This was… This was an incredible surprise. How had he managed to write an entire song for her without her noticing? She supposed that there had been a lot of time in the last few months when they’d been apart whilst he’d been practising with Vic and Jefferson, but even so, music was Rum’s life and he was always working on something or other whilst he was in the cabin, and he was as cluttered as they made them. She was sure she would have tripped over something that would have given her some indication that this was coming.

The song was beautiful. Rum had always been best at writing the ballads and he’d broken many a teenage heart with his music and lyrics, including Belle’s own, but this one was more upbeat, a happy tune, an anthem of positivity and being able to move on from the past and embrace the new, of renewed hope and finding reasons to live.

After the song’s final bars died away, there was a moment of reverent silence from the crowd of listeners. Belle wondered what they were thinking. She’d loved it, but then, it had been for her, and she’d known that Rum had been thinking of her whilst he’d been singing it and writing it. There was already so much of her in it despite it being the first time she’d heard it.

She really needn’t have worried. After it had had couple of seconds to fully sink in, the audience went ballistic, and Belle joined them. It was nothing if not a triumph, and there was a definite sense of pride in knowing that the triumph was in part inspired by her.

The concert continued to go from strength to strength from there, the crowd growing ever more vociferous as the best and most well-loved songs were played. The applause and cheering were still earth-shattering as the band came off stage. They would go back out for a final encore, but in the couple of minutes’ respite, Rum only had eyes for Belle. He came over, sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her.

“Oh Rum,” she said once he finally let her go – although she would have been quite happy for him to have kept holding on to her forever. “That was absolutely wonderful. You were amazing.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled, and even after all this time of being together, there was still a shyness and disbelief in it. He was having as much trouble accepting that he was really here as Belle was.

“I’m just glad that I could help to get you back here where you belong.” She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. “Go on, you should get back out there or they’ll be thinking that you’ve disappeared again.”

Rum gave a theatrical sigh. “Ah, the adoring and clamouring public. Ever am I their servant.”

Belle just batted his arm playfully. “Go on. I’ll still be here when you get back. Give them a finale that they’ll never forget. They deserve it. So do you.”

Rum laughed and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Belle. Thank you so much for being part of my life.”

Belle smiled. “I love you too.”

He dragged himself away then, returning to the stage with Vic and Jefferson for a final deafening encore of applause. Belle couldn’t help but join in.

The last few months had been a whirlwind, but they had been wonderful. The next few months of the tour would be just as colourful, but Belle wouldn’t change it for the world. Everything was going to be great.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Rock Band AU #AU-gust #Worry does AU-gust #Fic: Believe or Leave

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the-ice-sculpture · 4 years

Note

1 7 and 9 :3

Fanfic asks from here

Thanks for the ask, @dokurochrome!

1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

I have three WIPs, all of which are either eventual novel/novella-length fics. There’s Adventures in Not Dying, which is a bittersweet but hopeful gen fic with Loki and Thor tracking down Jörmungandr in and across Iceland and its waters in a post-Endgame world.

There’s also The Heart of Jotunheim, which is a collab between myself and the wonderful Hosio, who happens to be a fantastic artist. It’s an eventual frostiron fic with massive escape room vibes and lots of Jotun stuff going on. Only one chapter is up at the moment but I’ve got at least another 20K words drafted out so it’ll get longer.

And there’s also a frostiron rockstar AU I’m not going to start posting until I’ve written a first draft of the whole thing, which’ll be my first attempt at writing Tony’s POV (I’m hoping I won’t inadvertently make him sound too British – writing American voices is hard) and it’s gonna be a fantastic excuse to sneak in discussions of the music industry/rock history and ‘worldbuild’ with creating Tony’s band’s/solo career. ...I’m also trying out my hand in creating some visual graphics to go along the story for this one? Like Tony’s band’s logo, album covers, posters, merch, that kind of thing. Can’t guarantee they’ll make it in, but it’s definitely a thing I’m interested in doing. Oh, and lyrics too. Apparently the music feeling real is a thing I’m going for with this one but I’d lying if I claimed to be any good at songwriting.

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

Hmm... I’m not sure I can actually remember a thing I’ve read that’s made me cry? But the last thing I read that hit the hardest, emotionally speaking, was My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell. Although it has now just occurred to me this ask was about fanfic, not original fiction, so... Return of Hug Fortress by theorytale hits hard in places. It’s nowhere near as fluffy as the title suggests, but it’s an absolutely fantastic frostiron fic. One of my favourites, actually, and there are some things that Tony goes through which are, without giving any spoilers away, very rough to read about. Executed brilliantly, but rough emotionally speaking, that is. Can’t recommend that fic enough, especially if you’re a frostiron fan!

9. Fake dating or arranged marriage?

Tricky. It just depends on the execution, I think. If it’s fake dating then I’d want a stupendously slow burn friends to lovers with both characters riddled with doubt and pining and the bittersweetness of them thinking it’s the only way they’ll get to do things like hold hands with the other person so they’re valuing every second of it. But the reason for the fake dating and believing their feelings are unreciprocated would have to be very plausible, which is probably very tricky to pull off.

With an arranged marriage I’d want everything to be terrible. I’d want to get glimpses of the characters involved having the potential to be a good team, but having a thoroughly miserable time due to having to marry against their will. Then they end up getting ripped away from each other and spending years apart, and it’s not until they’re reunited that they realise there might’ve been something in it after all, and then they can finally make the decision for themselves to stay married and combine their skills to become the ultimate power couple and... Oh wait, I’m just describing one of the things I wished happened at the end Game of Thrones

#ask #dokurochrome #wow I rambled during this one

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years

Text

Nothing Serious (Part Ten)

SUMMARY: Roger’s divorce comes through, but he can’t seem to figure out why he isn’t more happy about it. Until he realises exactly what his life’s been missing.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

NOTES: One more part to go! Thank for reading, and if you’ve enjoyed this fic, please share!

Roger was a great mood.

The sun swam in the brilliant blue mid-morning sky. He had just left the love of his life in bed, still in a post-orgasmic mess. And today was the day he had been waiting for.

Today, Queen would head into their recording studio to record their twelfth album.

Nothing could get to him or throw him off kilter as he skipped down the stairs, taking three at a time like he was a man in his twenties. And then he got to the lobby.

Something caught his eye as he sauntered past the mailboxes. A flash of crimson.

Someone had mail. And he had a funny idea of who it was. Every other apartment in the building was leased out to holidaymakers and businessmen whenever they were in town. Every apartment except Roger’s. He owned his and when he visited Montreux, he always had his mail rerouted. With a pang of dread, he gave the mailboxes a double take. That little red flag stood loud and proud next to his apartment number.

Roger groaned and shuffled over, slipping his key into the lock. There was one letter; he grabbed it and instantly recognised the emblem on the envelope. His solicitor.

His heart raced as he slipped his fingers underneath the seal. He walked and read, eyes batting over the page at a rate of naughts. His whole body tensed with every word until he reached the one, all-important paragraph. The outcome.

‘Ms. Beyrand has agreed to settle the divorce at no further inconvenience to Mr Taylor and requires no alimony in return. Therefore, my client, Mr R. M. Taylor, and his former spouse, Ms Beyrand, should be considered legally divorced.’

‘Legally divorced,’ Roger mumbled with an awe-struck smile on his lips. He was – finally – legally divorced.

He felt a strange mix of optimism and relief as he walked along the promenade towards the casino-slash-recording studio. But those emotions collided with the realisation that he had wasted a whole decade of his life married to the wrong person.

Truth be told, it played all day.

“You’re looking awfully spaced out, Rog. You alright?” Brian fussed.

Roger didn’t take it in the kind and caring way Brian meant it. Instead, he just took offence. He squared off his shoulders and furrowed his brows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

“You just seem distracted. It’s not that girlfriend of yours is it?”

“Mate, just focus on your fucking solos alright? Maybe cut them down a bit,” Roger snarked.

“Oh, he’s just being menstrual, Brian!” Freddie exclaimed over the intercom; he was sitting behind the controls with their producer, Dave.

Dave grimaced at Freddie’s comment. He was a good friend of Roger’s, and knew how to talk him down in this kind of environment. “Why don’t we do one more take, Roger, and then you can head off for the day?” Or so Dave thought.

That only incensed Roger more, earning a barrage of drumsticks being lobbed at the plexiglass that divided the two rooms in the poky upstairs studio. “Fuck off,” Roger spat. “Get that on tape? Did you?”

Everyone in the studio, right down to the engineer’s assistant, rolled their eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for Roger to become hysterical in the studio, but this was completely out of the blue. There were no precursory arguments, or ‘constructive criticism’ to pre-warn everyone of Roger’s impending outburst. It just came.

“Roger?” Freddie implored.

“Oh fucking hell, what is it now, Fred?”

“I just want this album to be ok,” Freddie said solemnly.

Roger’s expression softened, picking up the sad nuance in Freddie’s tone. “And it will be. We’ve got good songs.”

“But I need us to be a family, Rog.”

“We are a family Fred.”

“This isn’t going to last forever and I just want us to have a good fucking time, do you understand? We won’t be doing this forever,” Freddie continued, seemingly trying to psyche himself up to deal with the next few weeks.

Freddie wasn’t exactly the leader in Queen; he wouldn’t accept that mantle. But when Freddie threw down the gauntlet like this, it was right and normal for everyone else in the band to fall in line.

Roger wandered around the live room, gathering up his projectile drumsticks, then settled back behind his kit. “Right. Understood, Fred. Let’s go for another take.”

“Go for it,” Dave said.

Try as he might, Roger just couldn’t shake the feelings that flooded his brain that morning. Every time he tried to make progress in the studio, or even in terms of shifting his thoughts away from the divorce, something seeped its way back into the forefront of his mind like a rapidly advancing disease. And so, unlike anything Roger had ever done before, he missed a beat. And then another. And soon enough, the entire song ran away from him in spectacular fashion, causing the volcano of emotions inside him to bubble over. Not in his usual fiery brand of blonde-haired, blue-eyed rage, but in a watery tirade of tears and expletives. Tears rolled thick and fast down Roger’s rosy cheeks. He was proud; he darted towards the bathroom and holed himself up in the grotty cubicle.

He threw his head down between his knees, letting the tears splatter on to the floor, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make sense of why, after getting rid of the worst mistake of his life, he felt like his life was so uncertain and unfulfilled. Try as he might, the answer didn’t pop right out at him. And he just grew more and more annoyed with himself because of it.

Roger lost track of how much time he spent inside the filthy, shabby little cubicle with blood-red walls, until there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Go away!” he sulked.

“Roger,” Brian began, “I’m sorry I upset you. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but we’re here for you, ok?”

Roger groaned. The family talk was the last thing he needed right now. So he stayed quiet, hoping that his bandmates would soon lose interest and work on their album without him. But no. Another voice muffled through the layer of wood separating Roger from the rest of the studio. This time it was Deacy.

“Yeah, you might want to come out. We can’t really make an album if we don’t have a drummer.”

“I’m prepared to fill in though!” Freddie piped up.

In unison, for once in their careers, Brian and Deacy who were always at loggerheads with each other exclaimed a booming, “NO!”

This gleaned a hollow laugh from Roger as he realised how lucky he was to have friends and bandmates like them. He leaned forward and unbolted the door, opening it, to reveal his three bandmates sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the door. “I just need a minute,” Roger said, wiping his eyes.

“You can talk to us, you know,” Brian urged. “We’ll understand.”

“Fuck, we’ve been through everything together,” Freddie laughed. “What is it, dear?”

Roger sighed and wondered where to begin. How to describe what he was feeling. Everything he was feeling. “The divorce came through today.”

“You should be celebrating then!” Freddie said, bursting with impatience at the prospect of a party. The man could smell hilarity a mile out.

“That’s the thing,” Roger began, “I’m happy about it. But at the same time…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“You did spend ten years with Dom, though. That’s a long time,” Deacy said.

“Yeah, but I’m not even unhappy about that. It’s just that I’ve got nothing to show for it.”

Brian narrowed his eyes, clicking on to what Roger meant, before even Roger understood. “Kids? Rog, that’s not the be and end all.”

“But Dom didn’t want kids, and I did,” he mused in a small voice. “And now, my girlfriend’s… twenty-four. I don’t even know if that’s what she wants. What if when she’s ready, I’ll be an old man?” Roger’s eyes grew glassy again at the prospect. “What if I never have that?” he repeated, looking around at his bandmates.

“Have you told her this?” Freddie asked.

Deacy waved his hands to halt the conversation right there for him to interject. “You’ve known this girl how long now? And you’re just going to go back to the flat and be like, ‘hey do you want to have my babies, push me around in a wheelchair and eventually scatter my ashes?’ Are you being serious here?”

“Well, they need to have that conversation; it’s healthy. And it saves any misunderstanding in the long run,” Brian reasoned, but somehow condescended.

“It’s a good way to spook her right out of her skin, that’s what it bloody well is,” Freddie said.

Roger sat on the toilet and watched his bandmates bicker over how Roger should broach the subject with his girlfriend, his mouth hanging open in a way that made him resemble a dead fish. All while the plan in his head took shape. ��That’s it,” he smiled. “I’ve got it.”

His bandmates hushed their bickering as soon as it started and looked at the drummer. “What have you got?” Deacy asked.

“I know how to tell her,” he said, getting to his feet. He power walked away from the trio, calling back, “Just finish the bloody song alright?! I’ve got work to do!”

Roger’s heart pounded twice as fast as his feet hit the pavement, walking at the speed of light down the promenade. Every so often, he’d break out into a run, but quickly slowed down as he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. He was going back to the flat.

From the street, he could look up and spy you, sitting out in the late afternoon sun, with a glass of wine in your hand. The sight made his insides flutter. He couldn’t wait for the lift. Not when the love of his life had been sighted and she was within touching distance. He could practically smell your perfume hanging in the winding stairwell up. He breathed deep. He broke a sweat. And then he finally arrived at the flat.

“Darling?” Roger called, announcing himself in the hallway. He waited nervously at the door, rubbing his hands together like it was a chilly winter’s day. This was anything but; the sweat beading down his forehead said that much.

“What are you doing back?” you asked from the balcony. “I thought you were at the studio?”

“I was,” Roger shrugged realising that you weren’t coming through to greet him. Instead, he followed your voice. “But I needed to see you.”

Your glass of chardonnay had barely touched your lips, but that sentence stopped you right in your tracks. You narrowed your eyes and glanced up at Roger who was lingering at the door frame. “Why? You could see me tonight. I could wait up.”

Roger sighed and sat down at the table, opposite you.

This filled you with dread; the stomach-dropping kind of dread that threaten to have you hunched over the toilet in seconds.

Then he flashed those baby blues of his at you. “My divorce came through today,” he said.

“That’s it?” you shrugged. “I thought something was wrong. Let me get you a glass and we can celebrate,” you rambled, rising to your feet. Less than a foot from the door, Roger seized your hand and pulled you back.

“We do need to talk, though,” Roger said.

Only now did you notice how glassy Roger’s eyes looked beneath his sunglasses. You turned to him and slipped them to the top of his head, exposing the sparkling, red eyes that gave away how he really felt about the situation. And it caught you off guard. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Roger admitted. “That’s the worst part.”

“You look like you need a drink for other reasons now,” you commented.

He nodded in response and twirled the bottle of chardonnay in his hand, studying the label; gauging how wrecked he’d get if he guzzled the remainder. “Something a bit stronger, too.”

“I’m on it.”

Safely out of Roger’s view, you braced yourself against the counter top.

It worried you – Roger being so cryptic. It also worried you how much you had given up to be here with him. Your job. Your friends. Your life. All just to be with him.

More fool you, though.

You had only just met the bloke and you were carrying on like he was the love of your life.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you bowed your head. This felt like a familiar theme in your relationship with Roger and you couldn’t be sure whether or not it was a bad thing. In any other relationship, this was bound to be a massive raging red flag; the amount of times one can drag the other to the brink of heartbreak, just with a few words and a little bit of miscommunication. All you wanted was to be happy. Your brain repeated that like a mantra that didn’t improve anything. It just made you shake as wave after wave of sorrow tugged at your body.

“You still with me, darling?” Roger called through.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t let him see the tears. But it was too late.

You took so long to respond that Roger appeared at the door. When he saw you, his entire figure sank. “Oh my darling,” he sighed, taking you in his arms. “What are these for?”

“Because you made me think we were done, there,” you whimpered into Roger’s shirt, letting your mascara fray outwards in dark, inky pools. “And I’ve given up so much to be with you and I didn’t know if this was because of me or something I’d done. You should be happy that it’s over – your marriage.” You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Why aren’t you happy?”

Roger rubbed his hands up and down your arms and spoke wistfully. “Because, darling, I’ve wasted an entire fucking decade of my life on someone who never ever loved me. And I’m not even sure I’ve grown as a person because it. I’ve almost certainly missed out on everything I wanted in terms of relationships and settling down. I’m old now. And I’m going to be even older when we finally decide to start a family or settle down. If we decide to do that.” By the time Roger had finished that portion of his monologue, his fingers had laced with yours. “I don’t want to be an old dad,” he laughed.

You swept Roger’s hair back, exposing his aged, furrowed brow. He looked completely serious, unlike his usual self. “Is that why you’re so unhappy?” you asked.

Roger nodded, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his torso, drinking in his scent. You propped your chin on his chest and gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. “I love you, Roger Taylor,” you reassured. “I’ve given up everything for you.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, gathering the rest of your thoughts. “Maybe not marriage though, because… that didn’t work the first time. But I’m in this for life, just so you know. Whatever you want.”

Roger softened. A look of pure love made him younger in an instant. “Do you mean that?”

“Always.”

“And you want kids?”

“Yeah. But don’t let me become one of those annoying yummy mummy Facebook cretins. I want them to have normal lives, ok? No weird names. No nannies. No private schools. Understand?”

The lines at the edges of Roger’s eyes extended outwards as he beamed: “Understood!”

“How soon can we do this?” you asked, snaking your hands up over Roger’s chest and draping them around his shoulders.

You and Roger had decided to go out for dinner to celebrate his divorce. Somewhere fancy by the lakeside, under a canopy of twinkling golden stars.

Just you and him and no one else.

You sat, not on opposite sides of the table, but beside each other so you could stare out at the lake as you planned your future.

“How long do you think Queen will go on for?” you asked, leaning your head on Roger’s shoulder.

“As long as we can darling,” he said. “Why?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering when I get to go out on tour with you,” you said, trying to avoid the point you itched to make. “Must be nice to travel the world.”

Roger moved away from you, narrowing his eyes and draining his glass. “Well, you’ll be coming out next year, surely?”

“Where do you think we’ll be off to?”

“Fred’s completely against going to America for obvious reasons. I don’t think they’re as accepting over there as they used to be. So probably not America.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“We might have too, thought. That’s the thing. It’s a case of convincing Fred.”

You gave a quiet laugh; you didn’t know Freddie very well, but you had a feeling he could be just as stubborn as Roger. Meaning that no one and nothing could convince him of anything when his mind was made up about something.

“I reckon we’ll go all over Europe; that’s a dead cert,” Roger rambled. He looked beautiful, leaning back in his chair and scratching his neck, groaning like an exhausted lion. Just a sliver of his soft tummy peeked out from underneath his shirt and you couldn’t resist leaning into him to scratch it. Then he continued. “Ever been to Paris?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been to the usual. Spain,” you groaned. “Tenerife.”

“You’ve been to Ibiza, too,” he reminded, a warm smile on his lips.

“Oh yeah!” you giggled. “Tell me more about Paris, Roggie.”

Roger laughed to himself, closing his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

You whined. “Well, tell me where else we’re going then. So I know what to pack!”

“It’s a year away, darling.”

“Just give me a tiny clue,” you pressed, holding up your thumb and forefinger to illustrate the size of the clue you desired.

But then, interrupting the tranquil scene, a gaggle of loud voices burst into the pop-up restaurant. They were all too familiar, much to Roger’s disappointment. “Shit,” he spat. He shot you an apologetic look and stood up, stretching out his arms to welcome his bandmates and their partners.

Freddie and Jim, Brian and Anita, and Deacy and Veronica all dragged seats up around your table, and began chatting to Roger. They congratulated him on his divorce and asked him what was next. All the while, Roger looked utterly bashful as he grasped your hand and gave it a series of reassuring squeezes.

You wondered whether he was trying to communicate with you in morse code. You laughed to yourself at the thought. You didn’t know morse code; but Roger was smart, he probably did. You squeezed back.

Thankfully, the attention turned away from him. He was free to talk to you again; getting his undivided attention against the backdrop of mindless, half-drunk chatter. He turned to face you. “When are we heading home, Kitten?” Roger half-whispered, stroking your hair.

“Getting impatient or is it past your bedtime?” you quipped.

Roger smiled and shook his head. Then looked back at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “I can’t wait to get you out of that bloody dress,” he teased, his hand finding its way to your thigh underneath the tablecloth. “And this is boring.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” you whispered moving closer to his neck. “I think we should try and get home now, Daddy.”

“What’s our strategy, Kitten?” Roger asked mischievously.

“Well, I had the seafood. I could pretend to be sick. And then…” you trailed off, jerking your head in the direction of the flat.

“That might work,” Roger said, kissing your jaw.

Just as the moment escalated in heat, the sound of someone obnoxiously clearing their throat cut through your moment, forcing you and Roger to turn your heads towards the group that had so rudely decided to crash your date.

“What?” Roger asked, annoyance cutting through his tone.

Deacy piped up. “It’s Veronica and I’s anniversary tomorrow evening. We were hoping we could do some celebrating. But we need a babysitter.”

Roger narrowed his eyes, pointing vaguely around the table to his friends and their partners. “Why can’t any of you?”

“I don’t want little Robert keeping us up with his crying and everything,” Freddie said. “You know how scratchy my voice gets when I don’t get enough sleep.”

Brian was next to offer up an excuse. “Anita and I were going to go out to the vineyard over there for a couple of nights.”

Roger straightened up in his seat as he considered offering his babysitting services. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, you were quick to interrupt.

“What about tonight’s babysitter, Deacy?” you asked. “Can’t you get them to babysit tomorrow?”

“She says she can’t,” Veronica explained. “She has exams at uni and she needs to be at all her lectures on weekdays. We tried.”

You and Roger gave a simultaneous sigh and looked at each other. “Guess we’re gonna have to do it,” you shrugged.

“Guess we do,” Roger agreed.

“Alright, we’ll do it,” you conceded, driving daggers through Deacy and Veronica in your mind. You didn’t want to but they didn’t leave you with much of a choice.

“He can sleep in the spare room,” Roger continued.

“And we’ll be on our best behaviour,” you added.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to call everyone up and cancel the orgy we had planned. Shame, really. I was looking forward to it,” Roger remarked.

The joke didn’t land well. But it wasn’t far from the truth. Every night since you arrived in Montreux, you and Roger would spend your evenings in bed together, figuring out all the new and debauched tricks he could teach you. And figuring out what you liked and what he could do to please you. He loved to please.

But the night after your ruined dinner date, you and Roger flitted around the flat in a frantic attempt to baby proof the place. Barricading the doors to all the balconies, locking away your restraints and sex toys, and removing all alcohol from your lower cupboards in the kitchen. Roger looked out of breath, standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips, trying to find even the slightest thing that baby Robert might get hold of and hurt himself with. “Do you reckon we got everything?” he asked, squinting at you.

You shrugged. “I’m more concerned with how we keep him occupied all night.”

“Fuck. Do you know, I’ve never had to look after a baby before?” Roger said. “How do we do that?”

“I think you start by taking the word fuck out of your vocabulary, darling,” you said wandering through to the living room and wrapping your arms around him.

“And what do we feed them?”

“Something soft? I don’t know. Does he have teeth yet?” you asked. “When do they get teeth?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t even know. I think he does. Last time I saw him he bit me.”

“Ah, right. Great. He’s a biter.”

“He’s weird. He looks like Deacy,” Roger said, flopping down on the couch.

You followed suit, straddling his lap. “Do you think we’ll be good at this?” you asked, running your hands up and down Roger’s chest. “Looking after a kid? I don’t even think either of us are grown up enough if I’m honest.”

“We probably aren’t, darling,” Roger sighed, giving your thighs a squeeze. “But we didn’t really have much choice did we?”

You laughed quietly. “I mean, for real, Roger. A baby of our own.”

Roger closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to run away with him, wondering what that might be like. He wasn’t going to lie, he loved the idea of being a dad. And if he was going to do it, it would have to be with you. “It’d be different if it was ours,” Roger sighed.

You let your own imagination delve into that thought, conjuring up images of Roger playing with a squad of blonde, feral kids that were undoubtedly his own. He’d be fantastic. Warm and wise, fun and fearless. You wanted that. But you couldn’t help but feel like your relationship was on shaky ground for the foreseeable. You’d have to see what next year’s tour meant for you.

“When do you reckon you’d want to…” Roger trailed off.

“When we’re ready. After the tour next year?”

Roger’s eyes flicked open. “That sounds good.”

“There’s a lot we need to figure out when you’re on tour.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

He nodded. He already knew the answer to that, but sometimes he needed to hear it for himself. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“You’re gonna do the hard part,” Roger laughed. “Can’t be easy pushing a watermelon out of a small hole.”

“Roger!” you squealed, whacking his chest. “That’s disgusting!”

“That’s exactly what it is!” Roger retorted.

Interrupting your argument, the buzzer on the intercom sounded, notifying you that your tiny guest had arrived. Roger sprang to his feet and turned to you. “I’ll get it! You just see if there’s anything else Robert might hurt himself on while he’s on his way up.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Roger,” you called as he left the room.

Out in the hall, Roger answered the intercom and buzzed Deacy and Veronica up to the flat.

You stayed put, wandering around the open space inside the living room, looking out at the early evening sunshine. You folded your arms and found yourself drawn to the window. The sun looked glorious. Deacy and Veronica had picked a fantastic night to celebrate their anniversary. You wondered where they planned on going. If you and Roger hadn’t been imposed upon, you knew you’d be sitting out on the street at Funky Claude’s – the pair of you quaffing overpriced cocktails and watching the people flit down the street in a midsummer daze. Bliss, you thought; far away from having to look after a pair of strangers’ child. Maybe you weren’t cut out for being a mother? You knew deep down that you wanted it, but you were still trying to figure out what was an acceptable age to stop giving your friends a bottle of whisky and a wire coat hanger as a congratulatory gift for getting themselves knocked up. You also balked at baby updates from them and couldn’t fathom why the vast majority of your friends ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over babies. Maybe you’d be a crap mother after all? That worried you. Especially after the weighty commitment you made to Roger.

So lost in your own woes, you hadn’t noticed Deacy, Veronica and their tiny terror entering your home. You had your back to the door, travelling away at a hundred miles an hour on the stress express.

“Darling?” Roger sang. “The Deacons are here.”

You glanced over your shoulder and, realising that the family had indeed arrived in all their finery, you turned to them.

They were a humble pair. You would never have known that Deacy was a millionaire. He looked like the stereotypical industrious tightwad, you thought as you hugged and kissed the couple politely on the cheek and wished them well on their life sentence together. And when the niceties were over, your eyes searched the room for little Robert. “Where is he?” you cooed in a fake tone. “Where is the little guy?” You did your best to plaster on a wide, manic smile, that didn’t exactly sit right with you, but clearly hit the spot with the anxious parents.

“Here I am!” the three-year-old called, blustering into the room, clutching a large dinosaur toy. “I’m here! I’m here!” He continued, finding his way to your leg and clinging to it for dear life.

You patted his head, and beamed down at him. “Well, we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we?”

“Yeah!”

Roger began to usher the couple from the flat, fearing that they might miss their dinner reservation. “He’s in good hands,” he reassured. “We’ll feed him at six and he’ll be in bed by seven.”

“And you’ll make sure you tire him out? He gets a bit restless in the hour leading up to bedtime. He sometimes won’t want to have his bath. Just make sure he’s tired when you do,” Veronica wittered.

Roger laughed, “He’ll be fine! You’ve left enough for him to be getting on with. Now, both of you, go, before you miss your reservation!”

“Fine, fine!” Veronica caved, pulling Deacy away by his arm. “We’ll pick him up in the morning. Hopefully we won’t be too hungover when we get him and we’ll try not to be late!”

The door finally closed leaving you and Roger solely in charge of Robert. In truth, you didn’t think he was going to be a problem. He sat on the sofa with his dinosaur and sent it zooming through their air while you and Roger watched him like he was a wild animal, and you were too afraid to spook him. Every now and then, you and Roger would lock eyes from opposite sides of the room. Soft looks that made you desperate to have each other. Suddenly all of those doubts about settling down together melted away.

“Robert, dear?” you began, sitting down beside the small boy. “Do you want a little drink of juice and a snack?”

Robert didn’t take his eyes off the dinosaur. Mumbling a quiet, “yeah.”

You looked up at Roger, exchanging confused looks; little Robert might prove to be hard work, still.

“How about we watch a film?” you suggested.

“Sounds nice,” he squeaked.

“What do you wanna watch, buddy?” Roger asked, giving the small boy his snacks and sitting down next to him. “Hm?”

“Don’t know.”

You and Roger looked at each other again, worried about how to keep him preoccupied.

“How about the Lion King?” you suggested.

“Yeah.”

Roger puffed out his cheeks and grabbed the remote, putting the film on. By his estimation, it would take you up to dinner time. And then bath time. And then bed. And you were free after that – an easy run at this parenting malarky, or so he thought.

You and Roger enjoyed the first hour of the film before Robert piped up. “I have to pee.”

Half-asleep, Roger propped himself up. “Right, pal, come on. I’ll show you where the toilet is.”

“I’ll get dinner on,” you suggested. “How about chicken nuggets and chips?”

“Pee first!” Robert squeaked, tugging at Roger’s jeans.

“Fair enough,” you sighed as Roger and Robert disappeared down the hall.

Getting to your feet, you wandered over to the freezer. This was a staple when you were a kid.

You dumped the chips and the chicken nuggets onto a tray and then stuck the oven on.

Robert was sure to like this; it had to be a winner to get the Deacon boy on side. But he was so like his dad that you could never tell if you were coming or going with him. Three years old and he already had that trait down to pat.

You bunged the tray into the oven and glanced towards the cupboard full of wine glasses.

Roger and Robert sauntered back into the room and threw themselves back on to the sofa. There was only half an hour left of the film. Enough time to cook dinner. An hour, tops, and he’d be in bed.

You could do this.

“Did you find the toilet, okay?” you asked Robert.

He nodded.

“I’ve just put the dinner on. Chicken nuggets and chips? I even got the dinosaur chicken nuggets. Your daddy told me you liked those the best.”

“They’re my favourite animal!” Robert said, perking up. “I love velociraptors.”

Roger pondered for a moment, playing along. “I think I like t-rexes better. They’re bigger and they have funny little arms.”

“I always feel bad for them. Think of all the things they can’t do,” you said.

“Have you ever seen Jurassic Park?” Roger asked Robert with a fun look in his eye. “I think you’d love it. There are lots and lots of dinosaurs in it.”

Robert smiled and shook his head. “Can we watch that?” he asked, turning around and deferring to you.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you began, wracking your brain for all of the non-child-friendly things in the film. You weren’t about to let a child in your care go to bed straight after having seen a film that gave you nightmares when you saw it as a child. “It’s a bit scary for you, Robert.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” Robert smiled, looking at Roger for back up.

“I mean, it’s not that bad is it, really?” Roger said. “He can eat his dinner and watch it. And then bath time should give him a little bit to calm down if it gets too scary.”

“Please!” Robert pleaded, clasping his hands together and begging you with his wide hazel eyes. “I won’t tell mummy and daddy, I swear.”

Sure, it scuppered your plans for wine, but maybe you could sneak some if he was so engrossed in the film. You’d have to look after him for longer before he went to bed. Then there was the possibility of nightmares while you were busy getting drunk and doing god knows what with Roger in the middle of the night. Is this what parenting entailed? If so, you could safely count yourself out of the game for the foreseeable future.

But the little boy looked adorable, presenting his dinosaur to Roger.

“Is there any of these in the film, uncle Roger?” he asked.

“Well, if Auntie Grump lets us watch it, we can find out for ourselves, can’t we, pal?” he said, taking the dinosaur and jumping it along the coffee table.

You dropped your arms down by your sides and gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, alright! But you need to eat all your dinner, and be in bed on time, ok? No excuses!” you said, wagging your finger at Robert and Roger. You shot Roger an especially stern look.

Roger put the film on while you kept an eye on dinner. He had no problem connecting with the boy; of course. He was Roger. Everyone and everything gravitated towards his warm and inviting nature.

They huddled together on the sofa, with Robert’s dinosaur, and watched in amazement at how real all the dinosaurs on screen seemed.

“Do you think they used real dinosaurs for this?” Robert asked in awe.

“I think getting real dinosaurs might have been a bit expensive,” Roger explained.

Truth be told, Roger was going to make a fantastic father and that, in itself drove you insane. You almost felt guilty for still having reservations about this, seeing how much Roger enjoyed looking after Robert. The soft look on his face as he carried Robert through to the spare room when he fell asleep during the film made you want to jump on Roger there and then.

But he looked exhausted as he wandered back into the living room. He hadn’t done anything except chat to the small boy for a few hours. But it was enough to make him collapse back on to the couch and breathe a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes.

“You’re really good with him,” you said, taking your place beside him.

“I tried as well as I could,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him.

You patted his chest, congratulating him for getting through the evening. “Kind of makes me think we should get some practice in,” you laughed.

“Yeah?” Roger asked, widening his eyes.

You nodded and sat up breaking away from his embrace. “But first, I think we need some wine.”

“Wine would be lovely.”

Roger watched you over the back of the sofa as you opened the fridge and plucked out a perfectly-chilled bottle of prosecco. Even though his lids hung heavy over his eyes, you knew he felt exactly the same way as you. He couldn’t focus on the bottle or the wine; his eyes were glued to you and the way that your body moved as you sashayed back over to him, swaying your hips as you carried two glasses of golden bubbly goodness back to the sofa.

He took his glass and held it up. “Well, cheers to baby making I guess,” he smiled.

“To baby making,” you agreed, clinking your glass against his and knocking it back. Your body relaxed in an instant.

“That dress looks nice on you, by the way,” Roger commented, thumbing at the material over your thighs. “Really shows off those lovely hips of yours. I love it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks, feeling like he had you under a microscope. “Thanks. You look… like the perfect dad?” you responded, squinting one eye, unsure of the point or the tone you were trying to go for by giving him that compliment.

“That supposed to be a compliment?” Roger asked, swallowing the last of his wine.

“I like my men old and refined, so yes,” you smiled.

Roger grinned and glanced over to the fridge. “Why don’t we take the bottle to bed?”

You sat up straight; heart pounding, stomach fluttering. “Won’t Robert notice?”

“He’s out cold.”

“But what if he has nightmares and walks in?”

“We just tell him it’s a special grown up cuddle. My mum told me that all the time.”

“Yeah, so did mine but it didn’t stop it traumatising me,” you giggled. “We’ll need to be really quick.”

Roger drew his calloused fingertips underneath your jaw. “What’s the point in being quick, Kitten?” he purred. “It takes time to do things properly. Don’t you want to enjoy it?” He was dangerously close to your lips. So close you could practically taste the wine on his.

You froze feeling a surge of adrenaline course through your veins. Your voice shook. But you gave in. “Yes.”

Roger’s hand skirted underneath the hemline on your dress, caressing your thigh as he spoke to you. “So should we take the wine through to the bedroom and get started, Kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sighed, leaning in to plant a firm, lingering kiss on Roger’s lips. “You get the wine.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, springing to his feet. But he had to play catch up with you. You were already in the centre of the bedroom, shrugging out of your dress, letting it pool around your feet. When he caught a glimpse of you standing there in just a set of skimpy lingerie, he stopped in his tracks, clutching the wine and glasses in a shaking grip. “Thought we were going slow, Kitten?”

You glanced over your shoulder, purring, “Is this too much for you, Daddy?”

This left Roger at a loss for words. All he could do was watch as you slunk over to the edge of the bed and sat down, patting the space beside you. Beckoning him over.

He complied, handing you a glass and filling it. Then filling his own. You could hear his breath wavering in his chest and he almost spilled some wine as his hands trembled.

“Drink up, Daddy,” you reassured.

Roger downed his glass and hastily sat it down on the floor.

“Do you need something to help you relax?” you asked, trailing your fingers down his chest. “Because I can help with that.”

“No, no, Kitten. Let me do all the work, please,” he gasped, slinking down on to the floor and settling on the carpet between your legs. His hands worked their way up your shins as he peppered quick, eager kisses along the insides of your thighs. “You just sit there, drink your wine and look pretty,” he instructed, before moving on to the opposite thigh to lavish it with the same care and attention. “Let Daddy take care of you…”

Roger’s mouth was something akin to a religious experience. You relished the opportunity to have him planted squarely between your legs any chance you could get. You loved how hungry – ravenous – he became. He could never resist. It didn’t take him long before his fingers looped underneath the waistband of your underwear and yanked them down.

Finishing the rest of your wine, the glass drooped out of your hands and dampened the sheets with the dregs as you eased back.

Roger’s tongue worked at your folds, lapping away at them and gathering all the sweet, heady wetness he could find, groaning enthusiastically as he savoured every drop. He tugged and nipped at them, pulling them between his lips, sucking at the sensitive pink flesh until it swelled and tingled. He knew how to amp up the need you felt. His hands gripped at your bottom, adding another layer of delicious sensation to the mix and forcing you further on to his mouth, getting as close as he possibly could to make you writhe against his tongue as he dipped it inside you.

You knew exactly what Roger was trying to do. He was trying to get you to cry out in pleasure, rippling his tongue inside you. Curling it in on itself. Fucking you. A precursor to the onslaught his cock was poised and ready to deliver when it came down to it.

But you were so aware of the sleeping child in the next room. You clamped your hand over your mouth in a desperate bid to avoid giving Roger the rapturous praise he desired for stringing you out to the point of orgasm in minutes flat. Instead, you quietly quivered.

Roger’s tongue was dangerously close to your clit.

If he couldn’t get you to scream his name, he had to try a different tactic.

Pursing his lips together and sucking on that little bundle of nerves, he flicked his tongue wildly over it at the same time.

This was electric.

That move had the intensity of a thousand wildfires being set ablaze all over your body, racing towards your cunt. It had you clawing at the sheets in no time.

But the kicker came when his fingers replaced his tongue, burying themselves inside you. One, two, three, four. Stretching you out close to your limit and pumping away in rapid, damp motions that would’ve completely given you away had you had adult company. Your body rocked in time to every single thrust, your cunt tightening around his hand more and more.

But you still couldn’t let go of your inhibitions.

It was too dangerous.

“Tell me how much you like it, Kitten,” Roger hummed.

“I fucking love it, Daddy,” you sighed in desperation. He just kept you in a mind numbing trance of being right at the very edge. And you wished with your entire being that you could just step off already. “I need to come so badly,” you whined.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?”

“I just can’t let go.”

Roger looked concerned as he shuffled up the bed towards you; so close that you caught your scent on him. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“I’m fine, I just can’t do this with the boy in the next room,” you sighed.

“That’s ok,” Roger whispered, nestling his face against your neck. “Slowly.”

“Slowly,” you agreed, wrapping your thighs around him and grabbing a fistful of his hair to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips.

His hips stirred against yours as the moment grew in intensity, your tongues lapping away at each other’s. Arms tangled and fingers raking through each other’s hair. Two bodies glued together, and moving as one. “I want you so much,” he murmured as he broke the kiss.

“Have me,” you smiled, kissing his nose. You tugged at one of the belt loops on his jeans. “But you’re gonna need to lose the clothes first.”

“Right, yes,” he said, stumbling backwards on to his feet. “Good idea.”

For some reason, Roger seemed nervous too. You his hands still shook as he fought to undo the buttons on his shirt and tug down the fly on his jeans. There was something arousing about watching him shed his clothes for you; soon enough, your own hand returned to that spot between your legs to try and finish the job Roger started.

He settled between your thighs again and looked down. Your hand was still working overtime – he loved to watch but only for so long.

The tip of his cock pressed deliciously up against your entrance. So inviting, given how swollen Roger’s cock was, leaking precum over your already dripping slit. You manoeuvred your hips, trying to grasp it, to suck it in, to coax him, but Roger wasn’t playing ball.

Instead, he pumped his hand around his length, reminding you of just how much he could fill you.

Your pleasure-addled brain needed to have it.

But he wasn’t giving you it.

You let out a needy whine, coupled with a desperate, “Please.”

Roger laughed to himself, moving on to phase two of his teasing.

Your hips might have been trembling wildly, but he still managed to slide his cock up and down over the length of your cunt, making his cock slick and glistening with your juices.

You repeated another feeble plea. “Please, Roger fill me.”

“I will, Kitten, don’t worry,” he said softly, still teasing you in the most horrific and torturous way. “But first you need to tell me what exactly you want. What’s making you so desperate, Kitten?”

Your mind drew a blank and your hips clearly had no consideration for Roger’s line of questioning. All they wanted to do was seek his cock out and have him fuck you mercilessly, like an animal in heat.

“What’s got you all riled up?” He repeated. “Use your words, Kitten.”

Your fingers still circled your clit, by now making you a complete and utter mess.

He wasn’t going to get any sense out of you, that much was clear.

But it didn’t stop him from trying. He slapped your hand away. Then, when you recoiled, he slapped your cunt. “Use your words, Kitten. You’re not getting my cock if you don’t.”

“Oh but Daddy…” you protested, rolling your hips. “I just want…” you couldn’t verbalise it. The urge inside you. The reason you were so frantic.

“You want me to pump a baby into you, Kitten, don’t you?” he said, replacing your fingers with his own.

God those words sent a shiver right through you in the best way. A growl rumbled in your chest as you arched your back against his efforts. “Mmm, please knock me up!”

“That wasn’t so hard,” he soothed.

But nothing could prepare you for the savage way that his hips snapped into you, forcing a yelp from your lips.

“You want me to knock you up? Hm, Kitten?” he asked, pressing his lips on to your neck to mark it up and claim you.

“Oh god, yes.”

“Say it, for me, Kitten,” he scolded. “Tell me what you fucking want. I want you to beg for it,” he continued, pounding you into the mattress with his weight on top of you. “Just so I know you’re sure.”

Your brain was so fogged, but now that Roger had reminded you of why you were in this position, the words came more easily. “Knock me up, Daddy,” you whined. “I’m ready. I want it.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing your jawline, a trail all the way up to your mouth. “You’re gonna be such a good mummy. So fucking sexy too. I can’t wait to see you grow and for everyone to know what I did to you.”

The way he talked was exactly what you needed to send you over the edge and you didn’t care who heard. Clutching at the sheets, you thought your entire soul was shaking as you hurtled through powerful convulsions and contractions that milked every single drop of come Roger could muster right into you.

You and Roger collapsed in a sweaty breathless heap together, with him still on top of you. Your brain tried to fathom what had just happened.

It all became clear when Roger rolled off of you, and looked your way with the biggest, softest grin you had ever seen.

“Think that did the trick?” he asked, reaching sideways to pat your belly.

In between trying to catch your breath, you still had enough reserve to crack a joke. “You know, for someone who claims to have a biology degree, you have a shocking lack of understanding about human reproduction.”

Roger laughed, batting his hand through the air. “I’ve watched the Discovery Channel. It’ll be fine.”

“Better throw the rest of my pills out if we’re serious,” you said.

“Only if you really want to. I’m in no way wedded to the idea.”

“Yes you are.”

His rosy cheeks puffed out into a grin akin to a chubby cherub that you just couldn’t resist: “Maybe I am.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter Eight

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

AKA me desperately trying to catch up my Tumblr with what’s already been posted to AO3. ;)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

A word of warning: This chapter references to a past sexual relationship between a nineteen-year-old and a (very willing) sixteen-year-old. Everything that happens in this chapter is 100% consensual, even though you might get an idea that it isn’t - don’t worry, everything will be properly explained in the next chapter! ;)

8 – We Know What You’re Like, Jask

Three weeks had passed.

They kept rehearsing, of course. Not as often as before the gig, though. Their next gig was going to be about thirty minutes long, again, and Jaskier already knew the lyrics.

So he spent the time trying to write new songs (and failing spectacularly, for some reason), working (he had to admit that he’d neglected his students a little in that hellish week before the first gig) and, well… daydreaming about a certain white-haired witcher.

He tried to stop himself. He really, truly did. He knew it was a bad idea to fall for another member of the band. And he hadn’t fallen yet. He was just… hanging from a high cliff, clinging desperately to the crumbling rock. With only one hand. Well, honestly, it was more like… two fingers.

But he wasn’t going to fall.

He wasn’t.

He fucking wasn’t.

“Professor Jaskier?” said a voice next to him.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it.

“I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t… paying attention. Could you play it again, please? And it’s Jaskier. Not professor.”

The dark-haired girl next to him bit her lower lip. She was about as old as Ciri was, but nowhere near as talkative or confident.

“I know. You’ve told me. Mom says I’m only allowed to call you professor Jaskier… or Mr. Pankratz.”

“Don’t you dare calling me Mr. Pankratz,” he smirked. “And don’t worry. I’m gonna have a word with your mother.”

“That’s not gonna help, I’m afraid,” she sighed. “Professor...”

“Oh, dear. What?”

“Is that… The instrument you brought. Is that a lute?”

“Yes, Emma, it’s a lute,” he grinned. “You see, when I’m done here, I’m heading to my new band’s rehearsal...”

Where he would see Geralt for the first time in five days. He cursed the tiny flutter in his chest and focused on the girl again.

“Sorry. Not one of my best days,” he smiled. “Would you like to see the lute?”

The girl beamed. “Could I?”

“Sure. Why not?” he said, already on his way to get it. “You can even try to play it, if you want. Of course, it’s way too big and heavy for you, but it doesn’t really matter, you can try just for fun.”

He removed the lute from its casing and handed it to the girl.

“Just be careful, darling. Because I love her very, very much, and it would break my heart if anything was to happen to her.”

The door of the living room opened and a woman with her hair as dark as the kid walked in.

“I can’t hear any music. Is there a problem?”

The girl sighed, staring longingly at the lute.

“No,” Jaskier said quickly. “No problems. We’re just taking a little break, that’s all.”

“I’m not paying you for breaks, Jaskier.”

“Try the lute out, Emma,” he muttered to the girl. “I’m gonna have a little talk with mom, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about–” the woman started, but Jaskier was already grabbing her by the arm.

“Yes, there is,” he said, leading her out of the room and closing the door behind them. “You’re way too hard on that girl, Stella. Go on, and she’ll start to either be afraid of you, or hate you. And maybe both.”

“If I’m not hard on her,” she sighed, “she will come home at seventeen, impregnated by some idiot who will then pretend he’s never seen her and the kid definitely isn’t his.”

Jaskier wanted to say You mean like you did?, but he held his tongue.

“I don’t see how being able to play the violin could help in that situation, if you don’t expect her to shove a bow up that boy’s ass.”

“If she’s busy, she won’t have time to spread her legs to random boys.”

“Jesus Christ, Stella, she’s… what, thirteen?!”

“Nearly fourteen. How old were you when you had sex for the first time?”

Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the door.

“I just turned sixteen, and you know it damn well.”

She smiled at him.

“Oh, yes. So young and innocent.”

“You still can’t see how fucked-up it was, right? You were nineteen, for fuck’s sake. And already had a kid!”

“It was you who was so desperate to get under my skirts back then, darling.”

“Yes, but you could have stopped me. Should have stopped me.”

“You were singing ballads about me. You kept sending me poems. I’m not made of stone. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Jaskier sighed and shook his head. He did, right. As fucked-up as it was. Well, of course he did. He was sixteen, and she was the girl he’d been having wet dreams about for months, his first muse…

“She hates the violin, you know?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“She will keep playing it.”

“Come on, Stella. I mean… I get it that you want to keep her busy, but you could at least let her play another instrument. Something she really enjoys.”

“Could I?” Stella smiled, arching her eyebrow. “I could, of course. But how will you convince me to actually allow it, Jaskier?”

Jaskier sighed inwardly. He knew where she was heading. He’d been through this a few times with her already. And he wasn’t really into it now, but hey, it could really help the girl and take his mind off a certain white-haired wolf… And anyway, he wasn't a guy who would turn down an offer for sex, was he? Sex was good. She was hot. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't Geralt.

So he put on his cocky smile and leaned closer to her.

“What would you like me to do?” he murmured. “My dear Countess de Stael?”

“What the fuck you mean he can’t make it?!” Geralt snarled.

“How am I supposed to know?” Renfri shrugged. “That’s all he texted me. Emergency lesson with a student, can’t make it today, postpone to tomorrow?”

“What the hell is an emergency lesson, anyway?” Lambert frowned. “Does someone’s life depend on learning Beethoven’s Fifth before sundown?”

“No idea. Should I call him?”

“Nah. It’s probably an excuse, anyway. I’d bet he’s just tangled in someone’s bed sheets right now.”

“That’s just great,” Geralt growled. “So the band can go fuck itself, because Jaskier can’t keep his cock in his pants, right?”

“Come on, Geralt,” Eskel smirked. “Lambert’s just being a prick. As usual.”

“I think he’s right, though,” Geralt sighed. “Jaskier is a… Jaskier.”

“A whore is the word you’re looking for,” Lambert said helpfully.

“He’s not,” Renfri shook her head. “He’s just… easily distracted. And falls madly in love with everyone he meets.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Geralt muttered. “If I find out he was… warming up his sausage instead of being here, I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not,” Eskel said. “The battle of the bands is in a month, and I’d prefer not having to find another idiot who would be able to learn the lyrics and who can play the lute.”

“Hmmm.”

“And don’t hmmm me, Geralt. If you want to kill him, do it after the competition, you hear me?”

“Hmmm.”

“And I could kill him?” Lambert asked.

“Nobody’s killing anyone!” Eskel groaned. “Jesus Christ, I really hope someone’s life did depend on learning the Fifth before sundown...”

“So. I actually went to see you with your new band, Jaskier.”

Jaskier, who was just pulling up his underwear, paused.

“You did?” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled and stretched out on the bed, eyeing his cock.

“And?” Jaskier said, finally pulled his underwear all the way up and started to look for his pants. “Did you like it?”

“Honestly, I think it’s a tragedy,” she said. “To see you, with all your talent, in the middle of that… band of complete idiots.”

“I actually like those idiots, you know?” he sighed.

“Can’t really see why. But don’t worry, lovely. You were amazing, of course.”

“Oh, well. Thank you.”

“I still don’t understand why you insist on being in a band, though. You need to start your own solo career. That way, you would truly shine, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Stella–”

“Excuse me?” she said, arching her eyebrow.

“Countess de Stael,” he corrected himself. “But I really enjoy being in a band. Especially in this band.”

“Life’s not just about things you enjoy, Jaskier. It’s about things that are good for you. Things that need to be done.”

“I know. But if you can, you should do what pleases you.”

“And what is it that pleases you, hm?”

He pulled a T-shirt over his head, trying to force a pair of amber eyes out of his mind.

“Right now? Playing with my band of idiots,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow. Night, Stella.”

Jaskier wasn’t late to the rehearsal next day. In fact, he was twenty minutes too early, just to be safe. He hoped he would make up for his absence the day before, especially to Geralt. Because according to Renfri, Geralt was mad at him. Which was fair, he supposed. He really should have let them know sooner that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

Still, he kind of prayed to the gods that the Wolf would arrive last, so he wouldn’t have to face him alone.

The Wolf arrived first, of course. With Renfri, but it made little difference.

“You could have at least covered the hickey,” Geralt said after taking a single look at the bard.

Jaskier winced.

“I wanted to. But the weather’s a bit hot for a scarf, so it would be pretty obvious anyway,” he muttered. “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday–”

“Yeah, next time just text that you’ve got a date and don’t lie,” Geralt growled. “We know what you’re like, Jask, we won’t be surprised.”

That hurt. That really, really hurt.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

Jaskier bit his lip and looked away. He’d lied because the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Geralt, but it seemed that was exactly what he did.

He must have looked utterly devastated, because Geralt actually sighed and a tiny smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said. “Just… Please. I don’t like being lied to.”

“I won’t do it again. Promise.”

Renfri, who had been ostentatiously staying away from their drama, nudged Jaskier in the ribs.

“So who was it, eh? A new flame?”

“An old acquaintance, actually,” Jaskier smiled, glad for the distraction. “It’s an… on and off thing. We’ve known each other for a while. Spend a few weeks fucking occasionally, then go on with our lives.”

“Sounds horrible,” Geralt said.

“Well, it wasn’t the healthiest relationship when we started,” Jaskier admitted. Especially with the age difference. “But we’ve grown, and now we know exactly what we want from each other.”

She wants someone to obey her. I want a distraction.

“Sweet. What’s his name?” Renfri grinned.

“Her,” Jaskier said. “And well, if you need to know, she likes to be called Countess de Stael.”

“Even in bed?”

“Especially in bed.”

Geralt growled. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

“Oh, come on, Geralt. Don’t spoil the fun,” Renfri said. “Jaskier always tells us all about his newest conquests.”

“What conquests?” Lambert asked from the door. “So you were screwing some poor young maiden yesterday?”

“A Countess de Stael,” Renfri laughed.

“Oh, I’ve heard of her. Kinky. Good for you, I guess,” Lambert grinned. “Isn’t she older than you, though?”

“A bit, yeah,” Jaskier nodded. “But it really doesn’t matter. It’s just sex.”

“Right. From what I’ve heard, it would be extremely stupid to fall in love with her.”

“Extremely, yes,” Jaskier confirmed. “I actually managed to do it, a few years back. I was young and naive. I’m much smarter now.”

“Smart enough not to fall in love with someone you can’t have?”

“Dear gods, no. Never,” Jaskier chuckled. “Smart enough not to fall in love with her. I hope. Also, you’re a dick, Lambert.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my best qualities,” Lambert grinned.

“Oh, come on, guys, could you lighten up a little?” Renfri whined. “You’re making Geralt… Well, not sad. You’re making Geralt grumpy, and that’s even worse.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Geralt groaned.

“Oh, yes, you are,” Jaskier said. “Come on, Geralt, I said I was sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. Please, stop being mad at me. I won’t survive it if you keep being mad at me!”

A little smile tugged at Geralt’s lips.

“Of course you will survive, you overly dramatic prick.”

“No, I will not. I will die, knowing I will never see you smile at me again, my heart shattered to pieces, and it’s gonna be your fault.”

Geralt actually chuckled at that.

“Maybe you could ask the Countess to smile at you.”

“Yeah, I could. But she’s not you. Come on, Geralt.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “I can already feel my heart giving up, fluttering, trying desperately to–”

“You’re such a moron, Jask,” Geralt said.

“Are you smiling or not?” Jaskier grinned.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Damn you.”

“Honey, I’ve been damned since the day I was born.”

Geralt laughed.

“I’m glad to see you’re back to your old dramatics,” he said. “I was kind of worried for a while.”

Before Jaskier could reply, the door opened and Eskel stepped into the room.

“Oh. You’re all here. That’s new,” he blinked. “I come bearing good news. Well… maybe not.”

“Good news but maybe not?” Lambert frowned. “The fuck?”

“Vesemir called.”

“And he called you?” Geralt asked. “I mean… I’m obviously his favorite. Why didn’t he call me?”

“He did. You weren’t answering.”

“So… What’s going on?” Renfri said, just as Geralt fished his phone out of his leather jacket pocket, swearing.

“He got us a new gig. Full-length.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jaskier grinned. “We needed a gig or two before the competition.”

“It’s tomorrow,” Eskel said.

“Oh,” Geralt muttered. “Fuck.”

Jaskier took a bite of his hamburger.

“Dear Lord, this is heaven,” he moaned. “I really was about to die of hunger. Thank you, Geralt, thank you so much!”

“I just ordered the food,” Geralt laughed when he swallowed a mouthful of his own burger. “But it was Renfri’s idea.”

“You’re free to keep the credit for it,” Renfri winked. “Have you tried the potato wedges yet? They’re awesome.”

“Are they?” Geralt grinned.

“Hey! Those are mine!” Jaskier protested.

“Were,” Geralt said, stuffing a few wedges into his mouth. “Oh, yes. Delicious.”

“Come on, Geralt,” Lambert mumbled. “How do you want to keep being skinny if you eat like a pig?”

“Maybe I don’t,” Geralt shrugged.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to grow that layer of nice, protective fat?” Jaskier asked.

“Maybe,” Geralt smiled. “And stop grinning like an idiot, Jask, and eat. We need to get back to work if we want to wrap up before midnight.”

In the end, they wrapped up at half past eleven, exhausted, but satisfied. Jaskier was about to drop dead, really, but he was happy. A few hours ago, he had been panicking about the gig, but now he felt ready for it. They rehearsed all the songs he hadn’t played with them before. They did it again, and again, and again.

“Good job tonight, Jask,” Geralt said, clasping his shoulder. “Can we drop you off at your place?”

“I’m not going home,” he sighed. His mind was a little fuzzy. “Wait, we?”

“I’m going with Geralt,” Renfri said. “Obviously, since I live with him.”

“You live in my house,” Geralt smirked. “In your own flat.”

“Shush. It sounds better when I say I live with you.”

“Whatever,” Geralt shrugged, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go, Jask.”

Jaskier blinked. “I just told you–”

“Yeah, you’re not going home. I get it,” Geralt nodded. “Just give her address to me, I’ll drive you there.”

“It’s fine, Geralt. I can walk. it’s not far–”

“That wasn’t a question, Jask. It’s nearly midnight and you’re tired, if you think I’m gonna let you walk… Well, you’re wrong. Let’s go.”

“Jaskier,” she said when she opened the door for him. “I almost stopped hoping you’d show up.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” he sighed. “Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Well, you should have went home. You look horrible. And you’ve already disappointed me. I was looking forward to spending a nice evening with you, but you decided you’d rather be with that group of–”

“Stop,” Jaskier said. “Keep that tone for your toy boys, Stella. You know, those who are seven years younger than me and madly in love with you.”

“It used to work on you, too,” she smiled sweetly.

“Yeah, but I was seven years younger than I am now, and madly in love with you,” he smirked. “Do you want to fuck or not?”

“Look who’s showing his claws,” she laughed. “Come on, then. Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” he said, but then grinned. “Well, I am, but… not like that.”

“Oh? What are you hungry for, then?”

“I think you know,” he muttered. “My dear Countess.”

“Good boy,” she nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #the bard and the wolf #my fics

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teasungg · 5 years

Text

skz as art school students

note: this is pretty much a high school au. since I just graduated and I had the random thought of “stray kids at my weird ass art school” so if you’d like full stories about art school!skz request it in my inbox thank u ily

bang chan

everyone knows chan as the art school king.

he is such a versatile artist so he wanted to try out all of the art forms the school offers.

he’s tried many classes in different departments and of course he excelled in all of them.

the teachers love him because he’s so good at what he does and he always has a positive attitude when it comes to the different art forms.

he played guitar and piano for band, sang in vocal, studied modern dance, acted in theatre, and so much more.

this guy was good at everything and everyone either looked up to him or was jealous of him.

out of all the art forms he could have focused in, he chose recording arts.

he liked how he could incorporate his love for writing and music so that he can produce his own songs.

he self produces all of his own songs, writes his own lyrics, sometimes sings/raps himself, and even collaborates with underclassmen changbin and jisung.

overall just an extremely talented artist and can succeed in any art form he chooses.

woojin

dear lord woojin is a king within the vocal program.

right when he started the art school he joined the vocal program without any prior experience and everyone was blown away.

he was gifted with an amazing singing voice that had to be shared with the whole world.

his solos are so good that the audience always comes to the next shows just to hear him sing.

although woojin is an amazing vocalist, he is very humble and very kind towards his other classmates

people expect him to be front and center all the time, but he actually wants the other students to get their time in the spotlight.

since he is known for his singing abilities, the recording arts students always try to get him to be a part of their songs or recording pieces.

one time he was a part of the school’s musical even though he didn’t have any background in acting, but almost every show was sold old because of him.

he’s even collaborated with band to perform live jazz songs which people also love.

he just loves to sing and be an artist and wants to continue performing on stage.

minho

minho dedicates so much of his time and energy into the dance department.

he’s been in the dance department for the longest and has participated in almost every show at school.

most of his free time was in the dance studio but occasionally he would be hanging out with his friends.

his actual personality vs his stage presence is so different it even makes the teachers confused.

outside of school he also studies dance at different studios which means even more shows that he has to participate in.

he has performed in hundreds of “nutcracker’s” and he’s getting pretty tired of it.

not only is he a great dancer, but he is also a great choreographer.

he has choreographed performances for himself, his class, and the students who are taking the beginner classes.

everyone loves seeing him in the dance studio as he comes up with new choreography and also its kinda hot not gonna lie.

changbin

when first coming to the art school he wasn’t sure what he wanted to focus in so he tried everything.

eventually he chose recording arts since he was able to incorporate some of his interests and allowed him more creative freedom.

he enjoys producing his own music, making beats for others, writing lyrics, and more.

he would get help from the other art form teachers when it came to writing or music composition because he just wants to get better.

aside from chan, changbin is the student who is in the recording studio the longest.

before, during, and after school he is in the recording studio coming up with new songs and beats.

he also has experience as a dj so he's the one the school pays to play at all of the school dances.

one year the school had someone else dj a school dance and almost the entire student body wanted changbin back because he actually has good taste in music.

changbin knows what people want to listen to, but he also isn't afraid of experimenting with new sounds.

hyunjin

a part of the dance program with minho.

he is incredibly talented as a dancer and everyone knows him.

people just like to watch him perform because not only is he good looking but his stage presence is captivating.

hyunjin has participated in many dance shows throughout the year and enjoys every one of them.

like other upper level dancers, he also takes classes outside of school so that he gets the practice he needs.

which is why he is usually busy.

he helps out the visual artists and photo students as a model because look at him he is literally ethereal but also he likes to help his fellow classmates.

he also enjoys being a part of vocal, but unfortunately he couldn’t fit it in his schedule.

he continues to do singing and likes to write his own lyrics that he shares with his recording arts friends.

an amazing choreographer who makes dance pieces for his solos and teaches some of his choreographies to the lower level classes.

jisung

originally jisung started out in the literary arts program.

jisung wasn’t much of a multi-chapter or long story writer, but likes writing short stories and song lyrics.

sometimes in his writing class, he would perform the songs he self composed and people loved it!!

people usually asked why he wasn’t focusing in music and he says that he just wants to improve on his song writing abilities.

that was when his friend, changbin, suggested recording arts.

once he joined recording arts, he dedicated so much of his time in it.

during school hours, he is found in the recording arts studio with changbin and chan where they would all come up with new beats and making songs together.

he really enjoyed producing music and is one of the youngest students within the recording arts department.

he also hands out physical copies of the albums he has made and will casually promote his soundcloud to other students.

felix

felix is a part of the dance department, but also got convinced to join vocal and recording arts.

his friends begged him to be a part of vocal because he was the only person that could hit all of the low notes so he joined for just a year.

then he was dragged into recording arts.

he wasn’t an official student of the class, but he was seen in the studio a lot with his group of friends who called themselves 3racha.

he was a vocalist and rapper for some of their songs and he was GOOD.

no matter what he is a dedicated and very talented dancer.

he practices a lot in the school’s dance studio in the mornings and local studios in the afternoons.

he likes performing with minho and hyunjin because they also make their own choreography and just likes dancing with his friends.

occasionally he sneaks in meme dances in the actual choreography and it pisses off the teacher.

although watching him perform his solos during dance shows is actually breathtaking.

seungmin

many people thought he would be a part of the vocal program, but he is actually in the photo department.

he doesn’t talk much about his photography, but everyone loves his art!

when there’s gallery shows, his photos are some of the main pieces that are showed.

seungmin always carries his camera around just in case he sees something that catches his eye.

he carries it to all of his classes, to school, to work, and while hanging out with his friends.

his laptop is almost out of storage because of all the photo files he has.

he always begs his friends to be models for his photoshoots or help with lighting or props or other things.

no one can really say no it him so everyone agrees to help him out.

other students even PAY him to take their photos whether it be for senior photos, prom, weddings, etc.

he’s won a lot of photography contests and had his art featured in photography/art magazines.

jeongin

jeongin is a dedicated music student.

he is mainly a vocal kid, but also plays piano for some of the band classes.

other students love his style of singing and also the fact that he has the ability in singing trot.

he has this bright personality that makes the class light up and always tries to keep an uplifting environment.

he’s in the upper level vocal class, but he’s also the youngest.

since he is the youngest, he gets lots of help from the older students whether he asks for it or not.

pretty much either you love jeongin or you haven't met him yet.

he hasn’t done much self composing but would like to work on it later in his school career.

one year the school added music theory as a course option he decided to join it.

he actually liked learning about music theory and later some of his friends joined the class with him.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #woojin #lee know #minho #changbin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #Han #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #i.n #stray kids art school au

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twin-heroes · 5 years

Text

mdzs idol au part 2

mdzs idol au part 2 bc ive been inspired these days !! part 1 can be found here uwu pls do take a look at part one for some context w stage names !! this is the one au i rlly do wanna write at some point after this semester is over 😩

• last time it was just profile stuff, now we gonna dig a lil deeper uwu

• i think everyone dabbles a little in lyrics writing and composing, but lwj is known for composing some bops for their group ok

• i feel like u would think he composes some beautiful ballads, n he does !! things with a melancholic piano, robust strings, a longing guqin, a merry flute— sunshot never has a boring ballad

• on the flip side, i can totally see him composing some chill, but trendy sounding edm songs ??? i mean not 2 be kpop, but shinee’s good evening comes to mind— something a bit vougeish and kinda evolves as you listen— i feel like he’d take a very nuanced approach to composing music !!!

• wwx writes a lot of a lyrics and has a notebook full of controversial lyrics 😔 no one ever lets him add those lyrics to their songs bc they don’t want to get banned from the country LOL

• jc writes a lot of his own raps! also imagine a yunmeng duo mixtape jUST—

• i feel like as a group, they have a trendy and experimental concept— high fashion, contemporary (oh no, this sounds familiar 😔) but individually, they have their own unique sense of style !! which shines through their solo stuff !!

• jzx, nhs, and lwj are always looking great and stylish even outside our their schedules, actual kings of airport fashion !! jc and wn opt for something comfortable and honestly— no one knows if wwx’s terrible taste in fashion is just him trolling or if he’s genuinely thinks he looks cool 😔 (we stan him anyways)

• wwx likes to strip on stage, much to lwj’s dismay

• but also imagine this— they are on a variety show, the host asks jc “if u were to introduce your sister to any of the members, who would it be?” n wwx sudden cackles “NOT JIN ZIXUAN!!!!!” wwx n jc high five each other and laugh while jzx is flushed and miserable

• wn is always so soft n shy but he was the first to go solo and surprised the world with a dark concept called the ghost general 😩🙏

• recently, nhs has been delving into acting and had been really successful with it!

• sunshot’s labelmates are 3Z and [insert girl group name here bc i can’t think of one]

• [insert girl group name here bc i can’t think of one] is a girl group duo consisting of jiang yanli and wen qing !!! they’ve got a girl crush vibe and the gays are here for it 😔💕 sunshot are always hyping them up !! and jzx may or may not have a gigantic crush on jyl.

• 3Z is a band consisting of nmj, jgy, and lxc— but they’ve been on hiatus for quite a while. rumor has it that members nmj and jgy seem to have,,,a lot of differing opinions and that jgy is more interested in acting— they haven’t had a comeback in the last few years

• mxy and miammian are part of a smaller, indie company !! mo xuanyu is a indie solo artist w a bol4 vibe hhhhh he’s always got his guitar with him! mianmian, or luo qingyang is and actress who used to be a part of a bigger company but left after a dispute—

• some fandom things !!

• everyone calls lwj bluetooth bc he’s always around wifi (and his color is blue)

• during a livestream wwx called jzx a peacock and its become an affectionate name for him

• there is a wn protection squad 😔 wq is their leader

• wangxian, sangcheng, and xuanli are the most popular ships

• wwx gets a lot of hate sometimes bc of his loud personality and the fact some people think he gets “too much attention” they wanna call sunshot wwx and the boys

• similarly jc and jzx both get hate for their personalities too and some people think lwj is arrogant

• but the boys got each other’s back 😔💕

• wwx tends to brush off hate and it makes lwj upset (it makes jc upset too bc hey, that’s his brother!)

• their twitter is a mess bc the one brain cell trio (wwx, jc, and jzx) are always clowning each other

• anyways, everything is all well and good until jzx and jyl end up having a scandal together 😔 its a dating scandal that only got worse because it turns out jyl is pregnant

• it causes a lot of tensions to rise between both groups— both of the groups stayed lowkey for a while and it hurt cloud recesses entertainment very much

• during their hiatus, wwx and lwj release a ballad duet called “forgotten envies” and the entire fandom went nuts at what it might imply

• they never deny or confirm anything 😌

• soon xuanli get married and both groups have really successful comebacks !!

• a side note, wwx is really good friends with actor hua cheng uwu and has been hyping the outta his new drama, heaven officials blessing! rumor has it that xie lian, a former child actor with dying career is said to play the mc

• aka stay tuned for the tgcf and the eventual sv expansion of this universe 😉

• THIS IS SO MESSY N I HAVE MORE IDEAS BUT I GOTTA STOP FOR NOW DNDJJSNDDN

#mo dao zu shi #headcanon #au where #idol au #mxtx idolverse

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sarinataylor · 5 years

Note

So this Music And Lyrics AU, I’m seeing washed up John from his Gone To Bali years and sunny moppet Roger as the plant-watering lyricist who bounces into his life, but I can also see Roger as the pop idol who has gone slightly to seed encountering the blend of innocent sweetness and zinger put-downs that is John

oh oh oh roger is defs the pop star gone to seed??? in my og version of this au but now im like hmmmmm. but ok so like

roger was part of a band with.... lets say brian and tim (bc well we need a bad guy, and poor tim is the fall guy). time fucks off with the music that brian and roger had written together and makes it big as a solo artist.

brian well. he’s pissed? but also, kinda wants to get his PhD, ya know? it was fun while it lasted, but. it’s not worth bankrupting themselves trying to prove their case, and the bands clearly over now anyway?

and roger, well. all roger ever wanted to be was a musician, right? and tim and brian have fucked off (and depending on the day he either respects brian’s decision or feels betrayed by it) so he’s.... stuck

and he puts out a solo album but it doesnt do well, and everyone’s comparing him to tim and he just. sort of gets in a rut. the music starts to run out and he’s fucking not gonna be the old time wonder working at fucking Sainsbury’s, okay? he’s not. this is not a pauper to popstar to pauper story, no way, no how.

so he starts.... picking up gigs where he plays their old songs. it’s. it’s not great? but! he gets to play his music, he gets to sing, and he fucks around with his own music back at home but he learned his lesson. he’s not putting out any solo stuff any time soon. it’s fine.

(freddie is his best mate who is, ya know, also a successful musician? he has a brilliant solo career and he’s constantly trying to convince roger to collab with him, or even just come on tour and drum for him? something????? but roger’s got it into his head that that’s not meant for him, that he fucked up his chance. he’s comfortable where he is even if he’s a little bit miserable.)

ANYWAY john comes to water his fucking plants

and john is, it should be noted, terrible with plants? like he does NOT have a green thumb at all, but a friend of a friend needed a favour for a week or so and

so when he walks in he immediately knows who roger is? cause like. his little sister julie? had SUCH a thing for him when they were teenagers. like, cried when the band broke up. was potentially one of the only people who bought his solo album, and definitely the only person who gave it a 5 star review. and johns like...... oh look at this sad sack of shit.

which like. roger is.

and freddie is over too with this lyricist they’ve rumbled up to work with roger for this pop sensations requested song and the lyrics this guy is coming up with are just.... they’re so bad? and freddie is taking a nap on the sofa because it’s so awful, roger looks about three seconds from strangling the guy

and john doesnt even mean to? he’s honestly jut talking to himself really but he comes up with a few lyrics and next thing he knows roger is inviting him to “a small performance tonight” (freddie rolls his eyes so violently he almost falls off of the sofa) and begging him to think about being his lyricist and

john makes the mistake of mentioning it to julie. then makes the mistake of agreeing to take her and. god it’s.... it’s sad okay? like roger is? 35? and doing high school reuinions? it’s just fucking sad.

and what makes it worse is that roger seems to know? like roger isn’t so much as in on the joke as he is.... resigned to it. makes the jokes before anyone else has the chance to.

freddie finds john to the side of the audience and is like....... pls be his lyricist because i dont have the time and, fucking hell, this might be his last chance to escape the clutches of bingo nights and high school reunions. he almost did a bar mitzvah last month.

and john really cant say no to that

and roger’s fun! like john is surprised to find that misery doesnt come easy to him? like he has his self pitying moments, is certainly the first to say something disparaging about himself and his abilities, but! he’s fun??? his music is good! he had stacks of cd’s just wracked up and when john asks about them roger just shrugs and says, oh you know, just songs i’ve played around with over the past few years

he’s fun and he genuinely believes that john’s a good lyricist. he makes contributions, he’s honest. he writes music like it comes to him as easy as breathing and ok

johns not proud but he sorta has a crush on the guy he thought, like three days ago, was a washed up sad sack of shit

look ok! he didn’t know him! he was jusging the book by its cover! it’s a pretty dingy cover. it’s all marked up and the corners are bent, and like yeah it’s pretty but it’s pretty in that way that’s like three vodka soda’s from crying about how sad it is, deep down.

(he tells this to roger, one day, once the song is released and they’re a collab team and, y’know..... just a team. roger is so offended. he’s never even had a vodka soda in his life. give him like one and a half gin and tonics, however)

anyway they work together and get closer (john shares his own Dark Backstory: basically the same as in the movie, he got taken advantage of by a professor at his university who then went on to write a book about it.) and then.......... roger’s a dick

they run into the professor and roger is. he’s projecting. he’s projecting his own issues onto john. like roger needs to confront tim (and not so much confront, but clear the air with brian) but he cant and the root of john’s own issues is standing right in front of them and so he.... basically forced john to confront him

and it goes badly

it goes really badly

and so john is embarrassed and angry at roger for making him do that, and roger is frustrated because it wasn’t meant to go like that (in all his fantasies, he and brian are friends again at the end of it and tim is humiliated in the corner and.... that’s how it was supposed to go for john). and so they both start saying things they.... both mean and dont mean (because the worst things you can ever say to someone are the things just rooted enough in truth to hit home and scrape at their insecurities, but exaggerated enough that you create little pinpricks of paranoia that actually those little truths aren’t so little at all.)

and, well.

john shows up to see their song performed and

roger sings a song for him

and song that roger wrote

which is a huge, big deal. because it’s not a joke. roger isn’t making a joke with this song, he’s not laughing at it before anyone else can. he’s singing it for john and he means it. and that’s

#joger hc's #headcanon ask #lo talks #Anonymous

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wackygoofball · 5 years

Note

Hey, I want to say that I absolutely love your Jaime x Brienne moodboard AUs and cannot WAIT for Season 8 to kick off! I was watching Music and Lyrics the other day and was wondering if you'd done a moodboard for that yet? Because I think that would be amazing!

Hi anon, thanks for the lovely suggestion and for enjoying my moodboards! I love the movie to bits and pieces, it’s such a fun movie. Since I haven’t created a moodboard yet, it is now done. I hope it is to your liking:

Jaime Lannister is afailing musician. Back in his prime, his little brother and he started a kindof boyband, or a “mock band” as they called it, formed for the sole reason tospite their father and repay him for the unfair treatment particularly towardshis youngest son. Jaime played guitar, composed, and was the lead singerwhereas Tyrion took care of writing the lyrics, background singing, and themarketing behind the scenes.

Surprisingly, their mockband proved successful and soon they were actually superstars, gave concerts,landed on cover magazines and were offered dozens of contracts. In fact, theymade enough money to have a chance to break free from the family business, awelcome opportunity after Tywin threated to disown them both, should they continue“this utter folly any longer.”

However, things turnedsouth after that rather quicly: Jaime and Tyrion parted on very unkind terms,resulting in the younger brother going to Essos whereas Jaime remained in Westeros,with their mock band’s success soon no longer living up to its former glories.

Not wanting to crawl backto his family, Jaime decided to stay in the music business on his own andattempt a solo career. However, that didn’t work out greatly either, which lefthim under the belief rather fast that Tyrion was right with what he said to himbefore they parted – that Jaime never had any actual talent as an artist and hadonly ever been there for the looks. Then, Jaime got into an accident whileonstage, which left his right hand permanently damaged, thus making itimpossible for him to play instruments the way he used to.

In the present day, Jaimelets his not-at-all-too-great manager Bronn Blackwater run his business andorganize gigs in theme parks, furniture stores, and for mall openings where he performsthe old songs from the mock band all by himself.

Bronn surprises him withthe sudden job offer by rising star Daenerys Targaryen, a blonde beauty whocaused one sensation after another back in Essos, and now wants to launch hercareer in Westeros. She is invested in mixtures of modern beats with touches ofthe music of those places she visited on her journeys, including Dothraki folkmusic. Daenerys is looking for someone to write her a love song after she justrecently had to break up with her boyfriend Daario Naharis, to pursue her musiccareer in Westeros.

Bronn’s first attempts tofind Jaime a songwriter, since Jaime refuses to write songs, well aware that heis “not good with words,” quickly end in disaster when the man thinks his edgylyrics will do them any favors and insists on his artistic genius whereas Jaimejust finds that he is a pain in the arse.

His attention soon driftsaway from the self-absorbed guy over to the mannish woman who suddenly winded upat his apartment this very day to water his plants. She appears in place forhis old friend Catelyn Stark who normally volunteers to the task because shewants to check on him and Jaime just lets it happen so Cat won’t make noiseabout it. The blonde woman keeps humming along to the first music tunes Jaimestarted to put together, but soon makes up her own lyrics as she continues towater his plants – including those made of plastic – and Jaime must say: herlyrics are on point.

On a whim, he decides tofire the self-absorbed pain-in-the-ass songwriter and asks the woman carrying ablue watering can whether she wants to become a songwriter for him.

“… I don’t even know you. Iam just here to water some plants.”

“The name is JaimeLannister, pleased to meet you. And I think you drowned all of themsufficiently, Miss…”

“Brienne of Tarth, butBrienne’s enough.”

“Well, Brienne, then I’m just Jaime to you. So now that we are on firstname basis, how about you reconsider my offer? You would be paid real goodmoney and did I mention that you would be writing for Daenerys Targaryen?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“She is the next risingstar in the music industry.”

“I honestly don’t know herand I should be on my way. Good day, sir, I mean… Jaime.”

And with that, shedisappears as fast as she came. Normally, Jaime would leave it at that and lookfor someone else, but time is scarce and he has to get that tape to DaenerysTargaryen as soon as possible if he wants to have any chance to get out of the endlesslimbo of mall openings and having his butt grabbed by way too eager fans. Thus,he continues to chase the woman, thankfully, Cat proves useful by providing himwith some information about her, though she cautions him that she is protectiveof her employee and won’t allow any harm to come to her.

“I wouldn’t ever. Cat, you knowme.”

“Well enough to know thatthis is right up your alley.”

“I thought you grew tobegrudgingly accept me.”

“Because you helped me getmy girls back. Other than that, I still consider you a nuisance at best.”

“You always have such nicewords for me, I feel blessed.”

Jaime eventually tracksBrienne down and confronts her about his offer another time, finding himselfalmost (but just almost) pleading herto at least give it a try.

“I need someone to writethe song for me.”

“But you are a musician. Youare a professional. Can’t you do that yourself far better?”

“I’m not a songwriter. Ican’t write lyrics for the life of it. I shit you not, I even struggled readingin school. C’mon, help a failing artist in need, wench.”

“What did you just call me?”

“I love old insults.”

“You are serious aboutthis.”

“As serious as someonefrequently showing up at furniture stores with sequined jackets can possiblybe.”

“Wow, you are desperate.”

“You have no clue.”

“Well, I suppose it can’tharm. And anyway, I still ought to water your plants.”

“They are all dead, buttheir sacrifice will be worth it so long you write this song for me.”

“They are all dead? What?”

“Well, the plastic ones arejust drenched. But that shouldn’t matter, we ought to get started. Now.”

And so, Brienne findsherself at Jaime Lannister’s apartment, pondering song lyrics for the veryfirst time in her life. It’s not like writing is at all unfamiliar to her. Backin college, she even took writing classes, always having felt an affinity forknightly tales already during childhoold. And of course there was that oneshort excursion into the life of an author, but that is something she won’tever revisit in a lifetime.

No thanks.

She remains surprised athow enthusiastic and eager Jaime is about her lyrics, which poses a starkcontrast to him being annoyed with her and her methods half the time, butBrienne finds that Jaime has to deal with that if he wants those lyrics fromher.

Though he won’t stopcalling her wench, no matter her insistence.

And Brienne must say, JaimeLannister is not at all what she first thought him to be, even more so aftershe watched some odd videos of hispast performances and finds herself dragged to one of his gigs in a theme parkshortly thereafter. Because Jaime did not lie about the women grabbing him in very inappropriate places. While he canbe a pompous ass, Brienne soon has to realize that beneath the sequined jacketsand easy smiles is a man who struggles with his identity as a musician afterhis injury made it impossible for him to compose the way he used to, thus beingforced to keep that old spark alive with playback tunes of the former mock band’sgreatest hits.

And oddly so, she findsherself relating to that. Because Jaime Lannister is not the only onestruggling with coming to terms with the past.

The deadline keeps drawingto a close, but they are making good progress. To celebrate, Jaime invites Brienneto have some dinner in his favorite restaurant just down the street when thingstake a sudden turn. Brienne storms out of the restaurant when she catches sightof a man enjoying dinner with some business friends, it appears. Jaime chasesafter her and has to tease it out of Brienne that she and the man in therestaurant have a history:

Some years back, Brienne workedat Renly Baratheon’s company as his personal assistant but soon grew to be hisright-hand woman, impressing with her writing talent that soon surpassed thoseof any other senior, something that did not sit well with most of thepredominantly male staff. Though Brienne didn’t really care in the beginning,since she joined to be around the man she was secretly in love with, she becamemore conscious of her position as she was more and more successful over time.However, then Brienne found herself caught up by sudden attention coming from anumber of co-workers who suddenly wanted to date her. One man went too farduring a team-building exercise, and she pushed him away, only for him to burnhis arse in a campfire. As a result, she was ordered to a mediation sessionwith him and personnel manager Randyll Tarly, the very same man currentlydining in the restaurant. When the guy threatened to sue for assault, Briennethreatened back with charges for sexual harassment, only for the man to saythat this was “not worth the wager.” It was thus revealed that he and the guyswho wanted to suddenly date her had a bet on who would get her to sleep withone of them first. Brienne thought Mr. Tarly would be on her side, but, despitehis insistence that he would have sanctions be handed out to the menresponsible, insisted that she certainly was to be held responsible for it aswell. What did she expect, as a woman in her position, taking up all thatattention?

That alone nearly brokeBrienne, but things just kept getting worse because Renly’s company had to filefor bankruptcy and he had to return back to Storm’s End. Not wanting to accept“defeat” and to go back to her father as utter disappointment, Brienne took theoffer Catelyn, a business partner she got to know through Renly, made her inthe aftermath. Thus, she departed from Bitterbridge and followed Cat to King’sLanding to start working for her instead.

Brienne spent most days inhiding thereafter, always feeling haunted by rumors about her, a circumstancethat found its epic peak when Randyll Tarly published a guidebook for personnelmanagers wherein he described “fictional cases,” at the heart of which stoodBrienne’s case. And the light he shed on her was not at all favorable, to saythe very least. To make matters impossibly worse, the book became a bestseller,as most people found Mr. Tarly’s dry and tough retellings oddly amusing.

“End of story.”

Brienne doesn’t want to goback into the restaurant at all, which is why she begs Jaime to just leave andgo somewhere else, but Jaime decides that it’s time she lives up to her ownbest example, being stubborn and brave past the point of sense at times, andfinally confront the man who brought her so much harm.

Brienne reluctantly agrees,but remains somewhat mute, until Jaime takes the lead and echoes what she toldhim, emphasizing how she is now a successful songwriter. Mr. Tarly lives up toany negative expectation Jaime may have had of the guy, revealing himself asthe cock he took him to be. Brienne is utterly shocked that Jaime comes to her defenseand understands just how much it hurt her, since she is so used that men expecther to always be strong and tough when deep-down, she could use some support,too. But Jaime gets it – and gives it to her when she needs it most.

In the aftermath, the twofall into bed together, or rather, under the piano, no longer able to denytheir burgeoning feelings for one another, no matter how dead Jaime’s plantsmay continue to be as a result of that union.

As things continue, Jaimealso finds himself opening up to her about how he ended up where he is now, howTyrion went behind his back to destroy his father’s company and that this wasthe reason why they broke up their partnership as fellow musicians and puttheir relationship as brothers on a hold.

Jaime admits he becamehesitant to compose, let alone write lyrics, after his injury, and after hissolo album flopped so badly that no one bought the last CD in the store downthe road for the past years – and he should know, he marked it. Jaime stuck toplaying the old songs because he doesn’t have to present anything new. Instead,he can just hit play button and make his audience happy.

It is Brienne who encourageshim to try again as a composer, to dare to be an artist again, after he came tobelieve that he never was one. After all, they will have to present somethingnew to Daenerys if they want to convince her. She also encourages him to takeadvantage of “the flaws” Jaime now finds in his music that come due to hisinjury, telling him that this is what she aimed at when she unsuccessfullypublished her own book as a struggle against Mr. Tarly that sadly failed, towrite flawed characters, and cherish their imperfections.

“That’s what makes theminteresting. That’s what makes them unique. And that is what makes your musicunique, too. I think you have to dare to tell your own story, because there issurely a lot to tell. But for that… you have to dare.”

The two make it at the verylast minute to deliver a decent song, and at last they meet the starletDaenerys Targaryen. While she likes the song and agrees to go with it, shedemands that they compose another verse.

As the two continue to worktowards the new deadline, they enjoy their blooming romance, but drama is justaround the corner when Jaime finally meets Daenerys’s manager – namely hisformer manager, Tyrion.

The younger man actuallypushed some buttons to get Jaime on Daenerys’s list because he hoped to takethat as a starting point to renew their relationship, but Jaime feels all themore betrayed because he does not need his brother’s pity.

“You made clear that youthink I don’t have talent, but if you think that pitching me as a partner foryour client only just to get closer to me again, then you are perhaps not thebest manager after all.”

“I am honest about this.”

“You knew that I was andwon’t ever be a gifted songwriter. That was always you, not me. So why assignme to a task involving such to repair our relationship? Why embarrass me likethat?”

“Because I… I was wrong andwanted to show you that you were never without talent. It’s something I saidout of anger, to piss you off. And I stopped writing songs long time ago.Daenerys writes her own. I am just… a shitty manager, it appears.”

“Well, I don’t need yourpity points. I managed without you, even after you abandoned me.”

Jaime feels like cancellingthe entire plan for a while, and is surprised when Brienne isn’t in the leastmad at him but shows understanding for his situation, actually supporting himwhatever decision he may make. While she insists that she believes what theycreated thus far is better than just “pity points,” she will respect hisdecision, so long he commits to it. Jaime eventually agrees to carry on and thetwo get back on track to finish the last verse.

They are invited to seeDaenerys before the deadline, who says she did some adaptations to the songsshe would want them to hear, but neither one can say they are particularlyimpressed.

“I believe this is thesound of a Dothraki wedding, and those are scary as hell, involve sex andpotentially murder,” Jaime whispers at Brienne, though he won’t say so out loudwhen Daenerys wants to hear their opinion, declaring how proud she is of theproduct since it is a way for her to “honor” her “heritage.”

Brienne wants to tell herthat she finds the song horrid, but Jaime prevents her from it, something thatupsets her very much since Brienne always lives by the paradigm of honestyforemost. However, Jaime says that she asked him to commit, and he committed tohave that album produced.

“If we tell her that thisis shit, I will get fired and we end up with nothing. Then all of this will befor nothing.”

“You wanted to call it off before!”

“Because of my brother. Thatwas something entirely different.”

“And not because theproduct is bad? I thought you wanted to finally become an artist in your ownright.”

“Well, maybe that’s just asfar as I will ever get. Ever crossed your mind? I also have to pay a rent, youknow? And who knows, maybe other arrangements will follow after I get my footback into the door of the industry. You told me I should stop standing still,and now you tell me to do just that. You have to make up your mind at somepoint.”

“You are craven.”

“Well, that’s rich comingfrom a woman who spent her entire career in hiding. First under Renly, thenunder Cat. You could be so much more if you finally stopped tailing afterpeople who treat you with no more than basic human decency. You knew Renlywouldn’t love you back, and yet you stayed. Why? Because you hide away as muchas I do. Because you are afraid of actually… being in love.”

“I did love him. What are you saying?”

“You loved him because itwas safe from a distance. You had some bad experiences with those guys, but notall are like that. You hide away from love because you are afraid of people’simperfections. Because no one will ever match those knights you write about. Becauseyes, I read your book. I bought it like you bought my last CD.”

Brienne is all the moreshocked, not having anticipated that suddenly, this conversation would be aboutthem as a couple the same way it is about them as partners in the production ofthis song.

“You told me you embracedthose flawed characters. I read every single page. That guy? He is bloody wellall that you thought Renly was to you. Flawed characters don’t have happyending stories, Brienne. They don’t realize how wrong they were all along andfinally go for the girl who’s hidden in the shadows. They make mistakes, a lotof them. They sometimes love so much that it hurts. You are in love with afantasy of what love is, but you wouldn’t know what it is if it bit you in the arsebecause you can’t even bring yourself to love yourself despite or ratherbecause of your flaws. So really, get off your high horse and stop blaming mefor not living up to the fantasy of a man you will never meet because he is notreal. This industry is no fairytale, we are no characters in this fairytale. Thereality is that I am trying my best, but if that is not good enough for you,then maybe you should see whether your expectations, in any way, match realityof… life, not fiction.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Because I am not Renly.Because I am no knight in shining armor. I am a failed musician who is holdingon to his career by a single thread who listened to you and now is getting shitfrom you because he is doing just what you told him to do.”

“I told you to commit.”

“And I commit to my career.”

“You commit to thisbullshit she calls a song.”

“Because that is thebusiness.”

“Which is why I can’t everbe a songwriter, I fear.”

“I fear so, too. Because theenvironment wherein you can live and never eat some crow along the way, acceptsome missteps, is, in fact… nothing but fiction.”

Brienne storms out afterthat, leaving Jaime to finish the verse by himself, even though that provesnearly impossible, considering that all he can think about is Brienne. To hissurprise, Brienne forwards the last verse to Daenerys to save his career, whichmakes him feel doubly bad for how they parted and what he said to her. However,it may be true that their fantasy is over and they played their final song.

Or maybe not?

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got moodboard #got aesthetic #moodboard #aesthetic #anon #thanks anon #i love this movie so much #wacky tries gimp

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