#david bowie x famous reader

[cannibalcoyote]

David Bowie: The Actress

Imagine David Bowie being interviewed, and the conversation suddenly focuses on you:

David Bowie's POV:

"So David, in the newest music video you had a lovely woman beside you. Would you mind telling us about her?" The question caught me off guard, we had previously been talking about advice for younger artists, so this was a drastic change.

I find myself tilting my head in confusion, Y/N was a well kept secret. She is beloved by all of America, yet somehow managed to stay hidden away from all of Europe; but I never thought she was so niche that the British media couldn't find any information on her.

The interviewer noticed my change in mood, deciding to reword her rather blunt question.

"I don't mean that in a rude way, we know that she is the lovely actress Y/N L/N. I was simply wondering how it was that you stumbled upon her... Over here many haven't even heard of her." She leans forward, eagerly awaiting my response.

"Of course, what would you like to know?" I don't really know what to expect, Y/N is quite the spectacular woman, and the questions are sure to be spectacular as well.

"Well... How did you two meet? Did her people contact you? Was it pure chance?" The interviewer clasps her hands together as she awaits my answer. I start thinking about how I got in contact with her, having to stifle a smirk at the memory of her manager's surprise when he learned that David Bowie wanted Y/N in his newest music video.

"I reached out to her." I state calmly as I imagine her serene voice, smiling slightly as I replay her moments of stubbornness during filming. She wasn't a rude sort of stubborn, but she stuck firm to her beliefs, and always knew how to win my approval.

"You did!?" She's clearly taken aback at hearing I specifically wanted such an 'unknown' actress starring with me. I can't help but want to sigh in annoyance, Y/N deserves much more recognition for her amazing skill. Her acting is stunning, and I learned over filming that her musical talent is just as brilliant, if not better. That reminds me, I'll have to ask her about a possible future collaboration.

"Yes... I had seen her in the film 'Poem to a Murderer,' and had subsequently written a song in admiration of her. Then when the song was chosen from my album to get a music video, I simply couldn't pass up on the chance to meet the wonderful actress herself." She was breathtaking in that film, gaining both my admiration and attention in the psychological thriller. The interviewer nods in thought, mulling my answer before opening her mouth to respond.

"Can you tell us anything about her role that caught your attention?" There's so much I could say, so much I want to say, but I don't want to spoil the amazing movie. How do I word this into a short sentence whilst still exclaiming my admiration for Y/N?

"Well, the movie itself was a beautifully written and produced piece of art in itself, disturbingly surreal in a way with the imagery they created. I don't want to spoil too much, but I can tell you that every second of that film keeps you on your toes, and Y/N's character kept me on the edge of my seat every scene she was in." I can't help but praise everything about her. She was exceptional in the film, and started me on a search to find and watch everything that she starred in.

"Ever since the music video, theories about you have been flying all through England. Any chance there might be some truth to them?" She asked the question so bluntly that I'm almost stunned. I'll never get used to interviewers being borderline rude while asking intrusive questions.

"Well it really depends on what's being said. I always have rumors circulating about me." I chuckle slightly, both in humor as well as hidden disdain at the truth of my statement. I am slightly intrigued about what she is talking about specifically, what theories have formed about me this time?

"I have sources who claim to have been on set during filming. They said you two were incredibly flirty with one another. They reckon a romantic fling occurred behind closed doors?" Her question isn't said cruelly, she genuinely seems curious; as does the audience from the looks of it. I hate these questions, why does everyone always have to spread rumors?

"Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no 'romantic fling'. Y/N was a very polite and professional person, so much so that I actually thought she didn't like me at first." I laugh through the latter part of my sentence, but I also cringe faintly at the feeling of dejection I had during that time.

"Really! She didn't like you at all?" This is becoming vaguely annoying, I tell them something, then they restate it wrong.

"That's not what I said, I said I thought she didn't like me. During the beginning of filming she was very closed off and focused, but even when the cameras were off she was professional to the point I thought she didn't like me." I explain with a sigh, remembering those moments where I shyly would try talking to her, only to be met with what I perceived as a closed off response.

"Oh, but... did she like you?"

"Luckily she did. It was funny, I remember the specific moment I realized that she didn't hate me. We were filming the fight scene, and the person I was sparring with, Jeffrey Callos, actually caught me in the jaw." I explained before she burst forward in astonishment.

"You were punched? Bet he got the sack." Her eyes are wide open as she surveys me, the crowd laughing lightly at the second half of her sentence.

"Ha ha, not quite. You see, my crew plotted this because they said I was being daft thinking she hated me. I had bet that she would stay in character and play it off, maybe even laugh. Practically everyone else bet that she might kill Jeff."

"Well! What did she do!"

"Funny enough, she nearly killed Jeff... " The audience burst out laughing at my statement, the interviewer and I were chuckling as well. I waited for everyone to settle before continuing my story.

"No no, she didn't kill him. She did run right over, fretting over me and asking if I was okay before running off IN HEELS to get me an ice pack and towel. I can't tell you the relief I felt at that moment. I was worried that she really hated me, but deep down she was incredibly caring and very sweet." I feel embarrassed in a way, describing how caring this reserved woman became when she saw me topple over from the punch.

"So... Does she know? The truth I mean?" Her question is quick to follow my explanation, so quick I don't understand it completely.

"What's that now?"

"Does she know the truth? Did she find out it was a set up?"

"Ah, yes well, it is kind of hard to miss when everyone is smirking at us as she helped me up. I had to explain the situation, and she got awfully flustered." A warm smile spreads across my face at the memory of her with a deep blush across her cheeks.

"I almost thought she would punch me as well, but she just kissed my cheek before saying she could never hate me."

"Aww." The crowd 'oohs' and 'awwws' at the story, I admit that the memory has me blushing slightly as well.

"She seems like quite the memorable lady." She smiles at me, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, she was great... I only wish I could've gotten to know her better, but her manager was getting calls for her every second of filming. She's probably much too busy to even remember me." I drop my smile slightly, I hope she remembers me, because I'll always remember her.

"I wouldn't say that David." Her response caught me off guard, what's she talking about?

"What do you mean?" My tone shows a little confusion, but I try to keep a check on my emotions.

"You know we invited you here to not only talk about this album, but also your future role in the film Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence?" She's grinning widely now, but I just want to know what she's building up to already.

"Yes... But what does that have to do with Y/N?" I squint my eyes slightly as I watch her sit up sharply.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the lovely Y/N L/N, who will be starring alongside David Bowie in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence." The shock on my face must have been priceless as I turned and watched as Y/N gracefully walked towards us, the crowd's cheers quickly shifting into a mixture of giggles and laughter.

I stand up quickly, wanting to be polite as well as impress her. I may have neglected to tell the interviewer, but I did develop a slight attraction towards Y/N during filming.

"Hello Jonesey." Her sweet voice has me ignoring the name, a wide smile erupting across my face. She leans forward to hug me, kissing my cheek softly in greeting before shaking hands with our interviewer. I wait for her to sit before following suit, nervously glancing sideways to see her smiling at me already.

The crowd cheers for a few more moments, gradually beginning to quiet down.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Jonesey?" I blush at the nickname, remembering when she first started calling me it. I don't even know how it started, but she first called me 'Jonesey' to make me laugh when I was filming a serious scene in the video, and laugh I did. From then on, 'Jonesey' was her go to nickname whenever she saw me.

"It's only been a few weeks, love." I grin, patting her hand gently as it rests on the armrest. Surprise gripping me as she lifts up my hand to her lips, gently kissing it before speaking.

"Too long for me." She smirks playfully to me, and I offer her a warm smile in reply before nervously glancing away.

The crowd has quieted down enough now, hopefully not noticing the intimate moment that passed between us.

"What was that? Seems like a lot more than costars catching up." Of course, the interviewer is sadly never one to miss a possible question. My mind stutters as I try to think of what to say, luckily not having to.

"I just love making Jonesey blush, surely he's told you that."

"What do you mean miss L/N?" Oh no, why do interviewers always manage to dig up embarrassing personal things. I'm usually okay with this, but being so near Y/N just has my mind fried.

"I mean, hasn't David told you of all the times I purposely just tried to make him blush during filming? I have a wonderful amount of memories where he couldn't even get a word out with how flustered he was." She giggles at the end of her sentence, lightly shoving my shoulder humorously as a blush dusts my cheeks again.

"David? You've been holding back on me?" The interviewer looks at me in a jokingly accusing way, crossing her arms as she looks at me.

"Nooooo... I've just been.. Selectively sharing?" My voice is uneven, I couldn't even form a proper sentence when she was near me. I glance to Y/N as I practically ask my sentence, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before shifting back to the interviewer a little more confident.

However, that confidence was a little damaged when the audience laughed at the interaction.

"Well, I think we know who wears the pants in the relationship. Anyways... " The interviewer continues on as I struggle to try and find my words to argue with her, but I'm quickly silenced by Y/N's gentle tug on my sleeve. She pulls me back in my seat, quietly whispering in my ears,

"You can show me who's the boss after... " Her words are delicate, no longer exuding the confidence from earlier, clearly unsure of how I'll respond.

The interviewer continues rambling, but I simply gaze deeply into her eyes, calmly kissing her hand in response before we both turn our attention back to the interviewer. But we aren't really paying attention, our minds wandering to scenarios of what might play out when this interview finishes.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Strut Like You Mean It ✨| Pete Mitchell Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s/90s supermodel!reader (romantic), Dagger Squad x reader (platonic)

Content Warnings: profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: in the entire time the dagger squad have known Pete Mitchell, they never knew just who the famous pilot was married to. Sure they knew he was off the market but Pete was very private of his relationship and the lady who stole his heart when he was just a newly promoted Lieutenant. So when he finally invites them to his home and meet his wife, they are in disbelief that she’s not just one of the most iconic supermodels of all time, but she’s got her own history with the Navy that’s been kept hidden from the public eye her entire career.

Requested 📨 yes/no

Note: so to the anon who requested this I hope you don’t mind that I made the reader more of a 80s/90s high fashion model. I still mention VS a lot and say that the reader was one of the OG angels, just now that VS doesn’t do their fashion shows anymore the end scene I came up with worked better how I did it. I still made Y/n renowned VS model, but put more emphasis on her being a supermodel so I hope you don’t mind I did that. This is my first request so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par 🥹 -Bee 🐝

“So…let me get this straight….” Jake rubs his hands together in front of the couple seated on the couch. Around the pilot were his fellow daggers/friends, all of whom were showing expressions of straight bewilderment.

“You,” he pointed to the beautiful woman seated beside his Captain. It blew his mind she still looked nearly the same as she did in the 90s despite approaching the age of 60. Sure there were some age lines and gray hairs but they didn’t take away from her beauty. In fact it only enhanced her stunning features even more. Her striking eyes that were her staple caught everyone’s attention the second they met her. They were so stunned by the revelation Pete was married to one of the most renowned supermodels they completely disregarded the height difference between the two.

She was one of THE supermodels really. Discovered at age 26 while working as a naval air traffic controller, Y/n L/n never thought her life would take a 180 when she traveled to New York City for a weekend getaway with some colleagues she was stationed with at NAS Oceana. An agent of Ford Models spotted her at a restaurant and was like, “You are stunning. My God, have you ever modeled before? You’d be perfect for this campaign I’m working on.”

And so it was history. Going from an active duty Naval officer and transferring to the reserves so she could balance her careers. Having met her husband, aviator Lieutenant Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell in 1986 at age 24, Y/n worried the relationship would become complicated, but Pete was the most supportive man she’d ever met and encouraged her to continue modeling. “I’ll miss hearing you in my ear when I’m flying, babe,” he joked, kissing her cheek when she made the decision.

“Don’t become too rebellious now, Pete Mitchell. Especially since I won’t be in your ear to talk you out of it.”

As a reserve member, Y/n only had to report to her duty station one weekend a month and two full weeks a year to the new job she was assigned. Being an air traffic controller was impossible now that she wasn't on full active duty, but she still wanted to be involved with planes so she was placed in maintenance. That was a challenge in itself with the type of people she worked with, men undermining her intelligence because of her looks. Wait till they found out she made ten times the money they made with her second job…

Eventually Y/n decided to separate from the Navy after 10 years. It became too much to balance the two careers when her modeling took off in the late 80s. People on base and in public started to recognize her, causing more challenges within her maintenance job. So, she made the best decision for herself and left the Navy. Though she loved her time and could say she was an officer, modeling brought her more opportunities and kept her busy. Pete supported her all the way, and whenever Y/n wasn’t overseas or New York for campaigns/shows she was with him wherever he was stationed.

An OG Victoria Secret Angel, Y/n one of the first to wear the iconic fantasy bras—her’s was worth $3.4 million. A muse of Gianni Versace alongside Naomi Campbell, she either opened or closed the Versace show during Milan fashion week. On the runway photographers loved her walk which was sassiness with a bit of flirt. Anytime she walked Yasmeen was behind her or vice versa which always had spectators in awe of the two. One of the best runway shows was when the lineup was literally the best walks of all time: Y/n, Yasmeen, Shalom, Naomi, Kate, Cindy, Claudia. One just had to be there to really feel how iconic it was.

The campaigns she did for Vogue, VS and Playboy were some of the most famous of the late 80s and dominated the 90s. Then in the early 2000s she basically was the face of VS until hanging up her angel wings in 2007. By then she was in her early 40s and had been in the industry for over two decades. Now in the year 2022 Y/n mostly did brand campaigns and was an ambassador for many. They ranged from clothing, to makeup, fragrances, you name it. Every now and then she walked a show for her favorite designers, who she was lucky to call friends, but she hadn’t done a full fashion week with several appearances in years. But..there were rumors circulating that she and many of the 90s supermodels were going to be reuniting at NYFW that coming February.

The poster of her 90s Victoria Secret campaign Jake had on his wall came to mind causing the pilot to blush a bit. She appeared amused by the whole scenario whereas the man was more embarrassed and shy. “You were in the Navy—a Lieutenant Junior Grade to be exact?,” she nods to confirm. “And that’s how you two met?”

“Yes,” she hums, nudging her husband with a smile. The memory of their first meeting flashed in her mind. Where a young, dashing Maverick waltzed up to her with Goose by his side and sang his typical rendition of ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling.’ “Feels like it was only yesterday.” Pete had love in his eyes when he looked at her, the pilots not missing how their Captain was a man smitten.

He sure as hell hit the jackpot. They were one fine ass couple when side by side.

Phoenix still couldn’t wrap her head around it. She loved fashion growing up and Y/n was one of her favorite models. Every year she tuned into the televised VS fashion show just to see Y/n, Gisele, Ariana, Tyra, Heidi, and Naomi walk the runway in their stunning outfits with wings. Her favorite was the year it was all holiday themed, the same year Gisele wore the Fantasy bra. When the squad arrived at the house, the pilot was in disbelief at the sight of one of the many pairs of wings Y/n wore framed above the mounted tv. How could she have missed that her former instructor was married to her? “How long have y’all been together?” The couple thought for a moment before Mav answered, “about thirty-five years.”

“Married for twenty-five,” Y/n adds before winking, bringing her left hand up to playfully brush away stray hair. Her diamond ring was on full display, “I had to make sure he was a keeper first before letting him put a ring on it.” The comment had Mav blushing, while a smirking Phoenix made a sound of, “well damn.”

“Pops got game,” Coyote said under his breath in awe. He really wanted to be like Mav when he grew up.

“I just wanna say that yes, I knew about them the entire time,” Rooster waves his hands, “But I was sworn to secrecy.” Y/n rolls her eyes, though she’s smiling. Rooster had been in her life since he was a toddler. The guy was basically like a son to her and Pete. It amazed her that even when Bradley and Pete were estranged he still kept quiet about their relationship.

But then again Y/n threatened to kick his ass if he tried shutting her out.

“How come you wouldn’t tell us, Cap?” Mickey questions curiously, “I mean we’ve been a team for so long.” The others nodded, wanting to know the same.

Mav shrugs, “I didn’t really know how to go about it honestly. Quite frankly,” he glances at his wife with a knowing look, “we find enjoyment in people finding out on their own.”

Y/n giggles lightly, “In the beginning no one would believe Pete—especially in the 90s when the term ‘supermodel’ was becoming a big thing and everyone pretty much knew who was a supermodel. I was very private about my personal life—I still am to be honest because let’s face it, the media are vultures and will say anything to cause problems. I didn’t want Pete to have to deal with that nor did I want problems with his job to arise, so we simply kept our relationship quiet,” she pauses to let out a laugh, “It wasn’t until he came out to New York fashion week in ‘95 that we were spotted by paparazzi.”

“How did that happen?” Bob asks from his chair and Y/n turns to her husband, “Honey do you wanna say?”

“Um—uh,” His face goes tomato red, “I-well….I don’t think it really—.” Rooster took the liberty of finishing the job.

“They got caught making out at a nightclub and were seen leaving together,” Javy lets out an obnoxious laugh due to Mav’s reaction, while the others smirk and try to hold back their own reaction. “From what I was told, Mav looked to be on a mission—not like the ones we do—.”

“Okay, Bradley, thank you,” Mav stands up to leave, but Y/n takes his forearm and makes him sit.

“Oh honey, don’t be embarrassed,” she leans her head on his shoulder. “This is fun! I’ve been wanting to meet your friends for so long and it already feels like we’re gonna be a family!” She looks at the pilots with a grin, “We never had kids—with our jobs it just never seemed possible so forgive me if I treat you all like ones.” Murmurs sound of, “oh it’s no problem.” “I would be honored to be your kid.” “Y’all would be the coolest parents ever. No cap.”

Y/n clapped her hands, “This is exciting! Now that that’s settled, please please,” she laced her fingers together in a plea, “give me all the juicy details of what it was like having him as an instructor,” she pouts, “He won’t tell me no matter how much I beg.”

“Don’t you guys gang up on me now!” Pete points a finger when the pilots begin spitting out stuff all together. Y/n is in apparent glee at the sight, looking between the group and her husband with dazzling eyes.

For hours they talked, ranging from asking about Y/n’s decades-long career to her and Mav’s love story and all in between. “Guys, I was an air traffic controller once upon a time,” she pointed out when they were shook about her knowledge of aviation. “This face might be pretty and has gotten me far in life, but don’t think for a second my brains are nonexistent. In fact,” she gives a cheek look to Mav, “I probably know a thing or two more than hot shot over here.”

That started a whole other conversation, starting with Bob’s question of, “Do you miss the Navy at all?”

“Oh all the time,” she admitted, surprising them. “Don't’ get me wrong, I love what I do now and super grateful for all it’s given me. But the Navy is where my life started. It’s where I met Pete so I’ll always be grateful it brought us together. I loved aviation as a kid and being an ATC was challenging but I enjoyed doing it,” she then gives a tilt of the head. “Also had it not been for the Navy sending me to Virginia all those years ago, I would’ve never gone to New York and got discovered in the first place. So really the Navy is what made this all possible.”

“Wow,” Jake hummed, still in disbelief. Boy was this going to be something he remembered till he died. That his childhood celebrity crush was once an officer like him. Crazy how things could work out.

A text on her phone had the couple have to cut the conversation short. “As much as I would love to continue this night,” she stood up, the others following. Now they could really see the difference in their height. Pete stood at 5’7—maybe close to 5’8, but Y/n was pushing 5’10 almost 5’11. She was toe to toe with Jake and just about an inch shorter than Rooster and Bob. Payback was the only one who towered over her since he was 6’3.

“I have an early flight in the morning and need to pack,” she let out an embarrassed laugh at the fact she hadn’t packed yet. Pete playfully shook his head, Y/n was always packing last minute whenever she had a trip. She went to hug Bradley first, the pilot asking, “Where are you heading?”

“Miami,” she answered. “VS invited me to do a swimsuit campaign. I’m a little nervous,” she waves her hands, “It’s been years since I worked for them so I’m hoping it all goes well. I’m not young anymore you know,” she jokes lightly. It was true though, Y/n was just shy of turning 60 but she still looked amazing. With some touch ups to her hair and a little face powder she could easily pass for 30s/40s.

“I’m sure it will all be fine,” he assures her. “If anything you doing this is gonna have sales come in. They’d be lucky to have you on board.”

“Aw thanks honey,” she messes up his hair like a mom would, causing him to playfully slap her hands away.

“Stop,” he backs away, ignoring the looks of amusement from his fellow pilots.

“Anyways, it was lovely to meet you all and please don’t be strangers,” Y/n hugs them one by one, the team thanking her for letting them come to her home. “Now that we’ve finally met I hope we can have bonfires, dinners, the shabang. Hell, I would even love for y’all to come out to a show one time if you’re available.”

After they leave and she finished packing, Mav and Y/n had dinner before settling on the couch and turn on a random movie to watch. With his arm around his wife, Mav looks at her with knowing eyes, “You’re inviting them to fashion week, aren’t ya?”

She answers with a bashful smile, “Mayyyybeeee. Wouldn’t it be so fun?” Adjusting her position, her knees go on either side of hips so she’s basically straddling him. “Don’t tell them though. I want it to be a surprise.”

He makes a motion of his hand to his mouth, “my lips are sealed.” When his hand moves away Y/n kisses him lightly, Mav smiling into the kiss.

“You’re gonna be retired soon,” she runs a finger through his hair, “I know you wanna make as many memories with them before that happens and after. So, what better way than to have them sit with you at my show. That way you guys can witness something show-stopping together…” The trail off has Mav raise his eyebrows.

“What are you saying, Mrs. Mitchell?”

She leans closer to him, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell—just kidding I’ll tell you after it’s been confirmed. Until then,” she makes the same motion he did. “My lips are sealed.”

This was going to be fun.

Six months later—February 2023, New York Fashion Week.

“You think they’ll let me keep this suit?” Coyote whispered to Payback, who in return just nudged him with a shake of the head. The pilot was adjusting the cuffs of his Oscar de la Renta suit, which all of the guys were warming different versions of while Nat was in a gorgeous dress and trench coat. They looked like they belonged in a magazine with many around whispering with gazes of admiration.

It was the second week of February. New York Fashion week was in full effect with celebrities, photographers, models, and designers scouting every inch of the grounds. The naval officers couldn’t believe they were actually there and Y/n managed to get them spots at one of the shows last minute. She literally called them to the house and was like, “would y’all like to come to New York and see a show?” How the fuck could they say no to that? How the hell did she manage to pull that first of all?

But then again, when you’re a renowned supermodel like her anything is possible.

They were seated in the front row closest to the end of the runway at the Oscar de la Renta show. Anna Wintour was literally just a few seats down from them, sitting beside Chris Evans and Lenny Kravits. On the opposite end was Zendaya, Alexa Demie, and Sam Claflin. They weren’t the only stars in attendance. Pharrell was there as was Snoop Dogg. Spotted were the Kardashian/Jenners as well as the Jonas Brothers. Models like Bella and Gigi Hadid, Kaia Gerber, Yasmin Wijnaldum, and Adut Akech were seated in the front row. Anne Hathaway was with her husband, seated beside them was Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds.

Pete looked handsome in his own suit that the stylists provided. The rest of them were trying not to shit their pants with how nervous they were. The clothes they were wearing were double—maybe even triple the price of their officer paycheck. It would be a fortune to replace them if they were to spill anything on the material.

“My advice,” Reuben starts, keeping his attention on the entrance of the runway. The show was minutes away from starting. “Don’t mess it up just in case they do want it back.” Coyote huffs, but nods knowing he was right.

Seated in the middle of the row, Pete’s palms were sweating as he rubbed them together. The action has Phoenix ask, “You okay, Mav?”

“Just nervous,” he replied, adjusting the collar of his suit. “I always am when I see her walk. This one though,” he pauses with a look, “you haven’t seen this lineup since the 90s. I’m more nervous about what the reaction will be after.” He was referring to how the media loved to talk about the looks of aging models. They were still breathtakingly stunning even in their older age, but that didn’t stop the media from having to point out the fact they had gray hairs, age lines, wrinkles or the fact some of them weren’t as slim as they were because they had kids or just naturally curved out.

My God, everyone ages. Everyone’s bodies change. It’s a sign of life.

Thankfully Y/n didn’t give a fuck what the media said. She embraced her aging features and often told designers not to cake her with makeup on photo shoots and shows. Why hide it when it’s part of who she was?

But Pete, the sweetheart that he was, always worried about her. He knew what it was like to have people talk and point out flaws. The last thing he’d want is for his wife to be subjected to that.

Rooster pats him on the shoulder. “Well you don’t gotta wait any longer,” he says just as the lights dim and the logo for Oscar de la Renta at the entrance of the runway glows. Cameras are already flashing, spectators pulling out their phones to capture the memory forever.

Blasting through the speakers, David Bowie’s ‘Fashion,’ sounded in everyone’s ears. A fitting theme for the fact it was released in the decade most of the lineup was discovered. Oscar de la Renta was paying tribute to the supermodels of the 80s/90s, calling the show ‘The Muses’. They were going to wear designs from the 90s that given a more modern look.

No wonder so many stars were there.

Out first: the one and only Cindy Crawford. Cameras flashed all around, the stunning beauty coming to the end of the runway to do a typical 90s model turn. Nowadays models just turn around with any type of stop. But in the 90s? That stop and turn was every model's moment to shine. Following Cindy were icons Christy Turlington and Linda Evangelista. Claudia Schiffer and Shalom Harlow, Shalom with her iconic sway in each step. Kate Moss still looked as delicate as ever followed by Heidi Klum. Tyra Banks came out with her fierce personality, with Carla Bruni and Beverly Peele right after.

Nat had to slap Jake when she saw he was drooling slightly. Bob looked flustered, unsure how to react at the beautiful women passing by. Admiration and awe was behind Nat’s gaze, in love with not just the models but also the stunning clothing they wore. Oscar made sure his muses were goddesses in his designs.

The final three were none other than Naomi Campbell, Yasmeen Ghauri, and Y/n L/n.

Naomi’s walk was perfect as usual, gliding across the runway like she owned it. The shock of Yasmeen making an appearance had gasps rang out in the crowd. The woman had retired after 1997 so seeing her walk was surreal. She still had that aura to her that drew people in, walking seamlessly to the end of the runway to the blinding flash of cameras. Lastly, Y/n had every eye on her as she strutted down the runway. Giving side eyes with her staple tiny smirk, Y/n had to hold back a laugh when she saw her husband holding up his phone to take a video of her. Pete looked like a kid in a candy store.

She kept her composure, passing by Yasmeen who was walking back up as she approached the end of the runway. Stopping, leaned her weight from one side to the other to show off the design before turning, walking just three steps before stopping again to turn so she faced the cameras once more. Smirking, she winked and did one last final turn before strutting her way back up. As the closer she was the last to exit, but seconds later she appeared from the entrance again. Though this time, the other supermodels were behind her as she led them in the final walk.

People clapped and whistled, the dagger squad was the loudest causing Y/n to giggle when she passed by. Each model gave a final pose at the end and Y/n led them back up where they were met with the cheers of the backstage crew. “We fucking did it!” She shouted, embracing Naomi and Yasmeen in a hug before doing the same with the others. When Oscar de la Renta went to wave to the crowd, he brought the three out with him and they each blew a kiss to the spectators.

After the show Y/n dressed in a different outfit, still by Oscar de la Renta, and met up with the squad for dinner. She was met with hugs, kisses from Pete and a cheek one from Rooster, and flowers from everyone.

“That was amazing!” Mickey shouted, being a gentleman and pulling out her chair for her. “I know the year just started but that was definitely the highlight so far.”

“Aw thank you, Mickey,” she said with a smile, sitting down between Pete and Phoenix. “Are you guys ready for the party?” Like every fashion week, there was going to be a party to celebrate the end of another successful year.

“Hell yeah,” Payback said for the group, causing her to laugh.

“Well let’s eat, drink, and then head over there to dance the night away.”

Mav raised a toast, the pilots all congratulated the model on an amazing show, and Y/n took plenty of pictures for her memory book she started to put together. It almost gave a full circle moment for the woman, remembering her days as an ATC with her pilots and husband. Young, wild, and free. Now here she was decades later having a similar moment take place. With the little family she found along the way.

Funny how life can bring you just about anything when you least expect it.

……………..

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Welcome Home - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Okay so I know a handful of people have done this, but I am a sore sucker for hurt Roger.  Roger comes home from their first big tour and he's in pain from the constant physical demand of being a drummer. Also a little bit of angst but mainly fluff then soft smut near the end.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, pain (none inflicted by anybody, but if you are not a fan of reading about people in pain then skip this one), anxiety, smut (penis in vagina sex, riding, dirty talk/mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, no aftercare), note: the smut is fairly vanilla/soft, so if you aren't a fan of having the vagina referred to as a 'cunt' then you're fine to read this.

Word count: 4.1k

Enjoy!

     The crowd which surrounded you was yelling like you had never heard before. You were so proud of the kind of fanbase the band had attracted for themselves. The boys hadn't appeared on stage yet, and you knew all four band members were freaking out. They were about to perform at The Rainbow Theatre in London. Groups like The Who, Genesis, Jimi Hendrix and David Bowie had played there in the past, all people who influenced the guys. You were nervous for them, but you knew they would do excellent.

     Roger sits on a fold-out chair, carefully removing the wraps from his fingers. Luckily his sores had healed since the last show. His back still aches along with involuntary tremors from anxiety. The Rainbow was one of the most famous theatres in London. In their eyes, if you played at The Rainbow, you made it.

     “Have a beer, Roger. Might calm you down,” Brian suggested. “Don’t want a fuckin’ beer,” Roger replied hoarsely. Not only were they about to play in front of a sold-out show of 2,802 people, but the whole set was also going to be broadcasted on The Old Grey Whistle Test and the radio, as well. Beer wasn't going to help the nerves.

     Brian let out a sigh before taking a sip of his Coca-Cola. “Well, at least you have Y/n to watch,” he said. You haven't been able to watch the entire tour while you were stuck at home in London due to work, so you were glad you were able to watch the last show. “That's the worst part,” Roger mutters. “What if I mess up? I’ll humiliate myself in front of her and half of fuckin’ London.”

     “You’ll be fine, Roger. We made plenty of mistakes on stage throughout the tour. And if you make a mistake tonight, who cares? Whos going to notice and print on next week's paper ‘Queens drummer Roger Taylor messed up on stage’?” Brian asks in his fake coach-like tone. “Nobody. And especially not Y/n.

     Roger slowly looks up at Brian, removing his face from his palms. “Youre right,” he says. “Now let's go up on stage,” Brian grins as he gives roger a hand and all four head out of the dressing room.

     You watch as the house lights begin to dim. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the camera crew and radio men made sure everything was correct. You watch as a man in a white tuxedo comes out onto the stage, it was Bob Harris. You had spoken to him before, he was kind.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Queen!” he says proudly before you hear the familiar sound of Brian's guitar. You were amazed by the show. The use of colourful lights and smoke was perfect. You hadn't seen the boys play on such a big stage like this. You were so proud of them. 

     As the show comes to an end, Brian begins playing strong power cords along with some feedback from the amps. Roger bangs hard on the drums, and you watch as he knocks them over. He furiously throws them off the drum risers, Freddie and John getting out of the way just in the nick of time. That wasn't like him. Sure, he had an anger issue and often had tantrums over things, but he never took things out in front of fans.

     You feed your way through the crowd, finding the side door which was guarded by a crew member. You flash your VIP card at them and you are quickly let in. You are greeted by Freddie cautiously sipping on cold water, while Brian was icing his fingertips. “You guys were great!” you praise them before addressing the situation on stage. “Thank you, my dear,” Freddie replies through gulps. He finishes his cup before he stands up and gives you a hug. “Roger can’t wait to see you,” he tells you. “About Roger. Where is he?” you ask since he wasn't in the dressing room.

     “You saw his little outburst. He might be in the bathroom or one of the dressing rooms down the hall,” he tells you, and you thank him. “Tell me everything about the tour later, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit!” you say with a smile as you leave the dressing room on the hunt for Roger.

     You pass by his roadie and close friend, Chris “Crystal” Taylor. “Crystal, have you seen Roger?” you ask. “He’s in dressing room five. I tried to talk to him but he told me to leave him alone,” he tells you. “Thanks,” you reply and go down the hall to dressing room five.

     You knock lightly, unconsciously not wanting your knock to sound masculine so you wouldn't be sent away immediately. You hear a groan from the other side of the door. Roger was sat on a small couch, gripping his hair in anger while his feet stomped. He had already disorganized the entire counter along with kicking any piece of furniture he could find. “Roger,” you say as you slowly open the door.

     He perks up at the sound of your voice. “Y/n?” he asks. He stood up, seeing your worried gaze staring back at him. He hugs you with the force of a thousand lost men. “I missed you so much…” he whispered into your ear. His angered and broken voice rang throughout your head, and you hug him back.

     “I’m so sorry. I got angry on stage, and- and I broke the kit, and you had to see me like that,” Roger says. “I was just so nervous about playing in front of everybody, and I didn't want to disappoint you and I did exactly what I was trying not to do,” he whimpered into your neck. All his outward anger was gone. All that was in his heart was remorse.

     “Roger,” you say, taking his cheeks into your palms and looking at him. You use your thumbs to slowly wipe away the tears. “You didn't disappoint me,” you tell him. “You did amazing. I just knew you would,” you smile.

     Roger slowly smiles back at you as tears form in his eyes again. It was so hard to be away from you for so long. His strong and callused hands grip your waist and his shaky breath blew against your lips. He slowly kisses you, tears running down his face as his eyelids meet. You missed his touch. You missed his kisses. You wished that your welcome home to him was under different circumstances. He parts from the kiss, his face returning to the crook of your neck as he begins to cry. You heard his voice breaking as sobs come from him.

     “Baby, why are you crying?” you ask as you gently run your hands through his sweaty hair. “I just missed you so much…” he whispered. “And… and I don’t deserve you…” he confesses. Every day he questions why you haven't left him yet.

     It takes you every ounce of strength in your body not to start crying with him. “Don't say that, my love” you tell him. You place a kiss on his cheek as you feel his shaky grip become tighter around you. You have seen Roger in emotional states like this, but he had never presented himself to be this vulnerable before.

     You bring his gaze to yours, yet again wiping the tears from his eyes. “Let's go home,” you say. “But- the after party,” he says, and you shut him up with a single finger on his lips. “Your well-being is more important than an after-party,”

     After a couple of gentle kisses on the lips and forehead, and two or more tears shed, Roger agrees to go home.

     You arrive home with Roger. He sighs as he enters the apartment, and he slowly removes his shoes and jacket. “Are you hungry? I can order some food if you’d like,” you suggest, and he nods. “Japanese, please,” he says. “I was going to order that. I know it's your favourite,” you smile and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “You go get changed while I order it,” you tell him. Roger walks off and enters your shared bedroom. He hadn't been there in months. It was exactly as he left it, maybe a bit cleaner, but still the same comforting bedroom.

     He changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants. It had been ages since he wore comfortable clothes. Most nights he ended up sleeping in his leather pants and button-up because he was too exhausted or drunk to change.

     You walk into the bedroom, Japanese food in hand and you see Roger laying stomach-first on the bed. “The food is here,” you tell him as you shake him out of his half-awake state. “Oh,” he says groggily and sits up. He takes his portion of the food and begins eating after he thanked you.

     “Tell me all about the tour,” you tell him with a smile.

     “The fucking tour…” Roger muttered. “I was great and all, but physically it was horrible,”

     “What do you mean?” you ask as you slowly place a hand on his back. Roger hisses as you touch the sensitive muscles on his back. “That-” he says. You frown. “My whole body hurts. My back, my hands, my legs. Pretty sure I sprained my ankle. First I tried painkillers, but they only helped for a bit. I tried drinking, and I tried drugs. It helped for a bit, but when I come down from it everything hurts again. Fuck- jerking off didn't even help. Fred said it would but it didn't,”

     You could hear the pain and frustration in his voice. “Rog, baby, if you were hurting all tour you should have asked to go home early,” you tell him. “I wanted to, believe me, I did. But I couldn't, the band depended on me, just like I depend on them. Plus every show was sold out. I couldn't leave.

     “Why don’t I run you a bath?” you suggest. “The hot water might help ease your muscles, then we can go to bed,” you tell him.

     “You think that will help?” he asks. “It should help your muscles, at least. I’ll bandage your ankle up and if your pain gets any worse we can go to the doctor,” you say. “I’d like a bath, then,” he smiles softly. “Okay,” you tell him and gave him a kiss before you stood up and walked to the bathroom to run the bath.

     About 10 minutes later Roger looks up from his book when you walk into the bedroom. He rips off his reading glasses and puts away the book he was reading. He hated his reading glasses, you loved how they looked. He never believes you, of course.

     “Bath is done,” you tell him. He stands up from the bed and follows you to the bathroom. He sees as you put epsom salt and some bubbles into the water and mix it with your hand. “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and gives you a warm kiss before he undressed and got into the tub. You couldn't help but watch. You hadn't seen him naked in almost 3 months besides the naughty polaroid photos he left behind for you. But, right now was not the time for lust. Your job as his partner was to comfort him.

     Roger hisses as he leans down into the scorching hot water. “Too hot?” you ask worriedly. “Little bit, but that’s probably good,” he says. He slowly adjusts to the temperature and leans his head back onto the cold tile.

     The two of you had shared baths before. Roger had suggested it once a while back as a bonding moment. He made it quite romantic. There were much more bubbles than the current bath, and he poured you both a glass of wine with candles. Even if it felt a bit cheesy, you loved it.

     “I’ll be in the bedroom when you're done,” you tell him and stand up to leave. “Y/n,” he says, grabbing your dry hand with his wet one. “Don’t leave,”

     You look down at him, his wide, remorseful eyes staring back at you. “You're doing all this stuff for me, getting food, running me a bath. If I were you I’d be struggling to keep my hands to myself,” he says. “It's nice to have a welcome home like this, so stay. The last thing I want is to not be able to see you, or hear your voice, or smell you…”

     If you weren't his girlfriend, you’d be creeped out by the last sentence. But you had to admit, you felt the same. Even just a reminiscing smell that was similar to Rogers's cologne or sweat brought you comfort.

     “Okay, I’ll stay,” you smile. You sit down on the floor mat, still holding his hand in yours. “Is the bath helping?” you ask. “A bit. It does feel nice on my muscles,” he replies. “Maybe you could give me a massage after?”

     “Is that an excuse to have my hands all over you?” you tease with a smirk. “Partly,” he grins and gives you a superficial kiss as he purses his lips at you. You laugh and nudge him a bit. “Creep,” you joke. “You can't deny it, you love that creep,” he barks back at you. He always made you blush, even with the simplest of words.

     Roger slowly brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing your hand gently before resting his cheek against it. “I love you…” he whispers. You smile softly. “I love you too,” you whisper back. You lean over, giving him a slow and loving kiss. “Why don't you join me?” he asks, using his hand to tap the water a bit. “I already showered today,” you tease. Roger groans with a smirk. “You always play hard to get,” he chuckles.

     Roger stayed in the tub for almost forty-five minutes before he gave you the queue he was ready to get out. You handed him a towel and he wrapped it around his waist. “Don't forget that massage,” he grins. “Don’t worry, I didn't,” you giggle. He was always so needed sometimes.

     You lead him back to the bedroom once you grabbed the massage oil from under the bathroom sink. He lays down on the bed, taking off his towel as he did. You could feel the smirk on his face. “Cover your arse,” you tell him, even if it was cute. “You're no fun,” he laughs and puts the towel back on.

     You put the tiniest amount of oil on your hands, rub it between your palms to warm the liquid before gently rubbing it up and down Roger's back. “Where does it hurt, baby?” you ask. “My upper back, near my shoulders, and my spine,” Roger says while burying his face into his arms. You begin kneading his shoulders, digging your thumbs into his muscles. “Fuck-” he groans. “Hurts?” you ask. “Yes,” he mutters. “Sorry,” you reply, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. “It's okay.”

     You knead his muscles slower, adding less pressure so you could ease him onto it. You worked on one section, and once Roger gave you the okay, you added a bit more pressure, and then more after. He groans again as you push harder. “I’m sorry,” you say. “No- no, keep going,” he whispers. “Fuck-” he growled.

     It felt so good but hurt at the same time. “You’re great with your hands, Y/n,” he tells you. “In multiple ways,” he smirks. “Oh shut the fuck up,” you laugh.

     After half an hour or so of massaging, you were finally done, and by the time you had finished, Roger was almost asleep. “You’re done, love,” you whisper to him with a gentle kiss on his cheek. That was able to wake him up from his light sleep. “Thank you, babe…” he mumbled as he pushed himself up. He sighs as he moves his spine. “It feels much better,” he smiles, and you smile back at him. “I’m glad it does,” you tell him, and give him a kiss on the lips.

     Roger sits up, taking the towel from his behind and wrapping it around his waist once again. “You know,” he says, looking over at the clock on your nightstand. “The night isn't over yet,” he smirks. You knew exactly what he meant. “You're right, it isn't,” you say. “I have another welcome home gift for you,” you hum before you kiss him. It was gentle and soft. You always played hard to get with him, even if Roger acted as if he hated it, it made the night feel even more erotic.

     Rogers' hands make their way to your waist, gripping your shirt before they venture under the fabric. “Somebody is needy,” you tease. “I haven't seen you… in months. Of course, I'm needy,” he says between kisses. You shiver at his touch. Even if you loved teasing him, you couldn't resist him either.

     Your hands run down his bare chest as the kiss becomes more sensual. Roger was always the first one to use his tongue, and you didn't mind, especially right now. “You know,” you begin through a small moment of a parting of your lips. “When you were gone…” you whisper, trailing your kisses down his neck to suck hot sores onto his skin. “I used to ride my pillow… pretending it was you,”

     Shivers went through Roger's body as you spoke. He held back a moan, letting out a soft groan instead. “Yeah? What other dirty things did you do while I was gone?” he asks against your ear while his hands tried to undress you. “I’d moan your name as if you were in the room,” you tell him, letting the lewd noises of your wet kisses echo through his ears. “I’d touch myself in the shower and pretend it's your hand…” you whisper. “I’d even go as far as touching myself while reading your interviews in magazines,”

     “Fuck…” Roger whimpered. He was already hard as a rock at the thought of you doing all those outlandish things just because you missed him. “Well, the real thing is here, now. No need to pretend,” he hummed. He takes off your shirt and shudders as he cups your bra. He bit his lip at the sight of your breasts. He had looked at them in the dirty polaroid you gave him, but finally seeing them in person, even with a bra, felt so rewarding. “I need you, baby…” he whispered.

     You push him down onto the bed. You were much more forceful than you had ever been. “I love when you beg,” you grinned. You begin undoing your pants after Rogers's many failed attempts. “Please…” he whimpered. “I jerked off almost every night to that little sexy photo I have of you… just wasn't the same-” he says breathily.

     Once your pants were off, which felt like forever for Roger, you straddle his hips. He hisses as your panties rub against his cock. “Baby- please…” he begs. “Please, what?” you ask in your menacing teasing tone. “Please fuck me,” Roger says. He wasn't afraid to beg. If he had to beg you to get what he wanted, he would. You grin. You slowly remove your underwear and toss them to the side. It took every ounce of strength in Roger's body not to grab your panties and smell them.

     You lift your hips, letting his tip run through your folds. You were already soaking wet for him. “Shit-” Roger mutters. His tip twitched against your wetness. You reach behind yourself, slowly unclipping your bra and sliding it off. The desperate and amazed look on Roger's face almost made you laugh. He looked like a child in a candy store. Rogers' shaky hands reach up to gently cup your breasts. His thumbs run over your nipples and he watches as they become pointy in his hold.

     “Are you ready?” You ask in a similar fashion to how he asked you the first time you had sex. “I’ve been ready,” he huffs. You smirk at the desperate look on his face. You feel Roger's hands slowly run down to your hips, ready in position to help guide you. You slowly sink down onto his cock once you aligned his tip with your entrance. You let out a whine as he finally goes inside you. You have used dildos occasionally while he was gone, but it never felt the same.

     “Fuck, baby…” Roger groaned as you squeeze around his length. His hands grip your waist, knuckles on the verge of going white. His hands and your body begin to move in unison. “Oh, Roger…” you whisper between soft moans. Your hips slowly move up and hit down onto Roger's pelvis. The first bounce of many made you whine and made Roger bite back a moan.

     “Faster…” Roger begs quietly, and you comply. You needed to be faster, you needed him. His hands helped your hips move as you rode him. You were weak with arousal, and it took great strength to move your hips.

     Every movement sent waves through your body, rewarding Roger with the sound of your sweet moans every time his cock hit just the right spot inside you. “You feel so good, baby…” Roger whispers before letting out a groan. His head was swimming. Every time he watched the way your breasts moved with your hips, or how his cock disappeared inside of you, he moaned almost femininely.

     By now, you were bouncing on Roger like it was your last day on Earth. And your moans were erotically loud. Roger shouted obscenities that would have his mother fuming from the unholy words, but neither of you cared. You needed each other more than you needed air. You needed each other's body and soul. You knew that after this night, not only would you both be sore, but you would have an angry note from your elderly neighbour the next morning.

     “Babe- fuck, I’m close…!” you moan. Your face was unpleasing to you, with your eyebrows scrunched together and your mouth hanging open. Roger loved the sight, but, he could barely look because he was engulfed in pleasure. It was a strain to open his eyes.

     “Cum for me, love,” Roger tells you. “Cum,” he repeats. You couldn't feel your body besides the constant pleasuring feeling of Rogers' length plunging in and out of you. You had lost full control of your hips, but the rewarding feeling was too strong to stop. “Cum all over my cock,” it was so erotic to say something like that, although it wasn't the worst of the dirty talk that Roger had in store. But, it was enough for you to finally go over the edge.

     You moan loudly as Roger's cock hits just the right spot, and you tighten around him. “Fuck!” you moan, along with multiple other forms of The Lord's name used in vain. Roger groans as your walls squeeze around his length. “Y/n…!” he moaned before his cum spewed into you. You were both wet and sticky with each other's arousal. It felt disgusting but you loved it.

     Roger pulled you against his chest, groaning into your neck as he gripped your hair. His arms were around you in a bear hug, chest heaving against yours with a silent promise to never let you go.

     “Rog…” you whisper. Roger took a moment to answer, he could hardly breathe. “Y-yes?” he asks. “I love you…” that made him smile. “I love you, too…” he whispers back.

     You didn't dare to move, and neither did Roger. “I don't have it in me for a second round, baby…” you whisper. “It's okay, me either,” he huffs. You slowly lift your head from the crook of his neck, you see the weak smile on his lips and you couldn't help but smile back. You kiss him, gently like before. “Want me to-” he hisses as you slowly lift your hips, removing his length from your pussy. “Want me to clean you up?” he asks.

     You shake your head. “No,” you tell him. You roll over, resting your head in your hand as your look at him. Roger's hand gently caresses your cheek, twirling a strand or two of hair around his finger. You noticed the sores on his fingers where calluses usually were, but you didn't comment on it.

      You were so beautiful, sometimes he didn't believe that you were his. He often questioned his religion because of you. He didn't understand how he could be given such a goddess-like being like yourself without the help of some higher deity to bless him with such a gift.

     “Now can you tell me about the tour?” you ask, and he smiles. “Sure,” he says, and he began rambling on about the great time he had in America, leaving out the parts about his pain. You had helped him with his wounds, and he finally felt at peace again.

[oasis-for3v3r]

Cloud 9 <3

Prompt-reader is a famous singer and performs her first live performance with David Bowie, doing a duet of Under Pressure on Live Aid

David Bowie x Reader Platonic Pairing @laneofpennies​ @a-none-bee​ @angelofhell323​

Warnings: none unless you count descriptions of nervousness. And a lengthy fic

Okay, let’s do it.

Was the first thing you said to yourself. At eight am. On a Saturday. In the middle of July. You usually be sleeping until 2pm on weekends since you were usually so busy on the weekdays. Being Englands new up- and- coming musician is all. 

“Ow!” you said as your foot slipped on something and stubbed your toe on the edge of the dresser. You bit back a mirad of curses as you picked up the foul weapon.

Oh.

Sky Heavens- Head in the Clouds. Your first album. Of course. You were lucky enough to get one from the store. Nearly all of the record shops were sold out. You should be happy, I mean sales were doing great, and as for the royalties-

Oh my gosh how has it ben 25 minutes already?!. 

It was a very important day for you.. you were preforming for your first crowd ever. So of course you were excited. but more nervous because, it was your first time. And you had terrible stage fright. And you were doing a duet with David Bowie. Oh you almost forgot.

Your first performance was gonna be Live Aid.

As you tucked in your fancy bell-sleeved bloused you asked yourself a string of questions. For example:

How in the hell did you get into live aid?

What song were you gonna sing with David, er Mr.Bowie?

Were there gonna be high notes? Could you even hit them?

Am i dressing too casual?

Oh my gosh, were going after Queen.

Your final though was punctuated with a hailing of a cab. You felt dizzy after you entered the car so you focused on the horizon, which made your eyes get heavier and heavier until...

“Ma’am this is a cab not a daycare” the driver grunted.

Your head snapped up, wiping the drool off off your chin. You have got to stop making this a habit. You scolded to yourself.

Every time your legs hit the ground of Wembely Stadium, you could feel the muscles in your leg turn into jelly. Your heartbeat is playing the percussion. And your pretty sure that your haven’t taken a breath since coming out of the cab.

You finally taken a breather when you hear commotion coming from the nearest hallway. You saw so many stars you could’ve swore you were in space. You saw Elton John, Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, (you couldn’t find John Deacon) Adam Ant was sitting on a couch reading a magazine. Next to him was Elvis Costello sticking straws down his hair, you were about to laugh when-

“Boo!”

“Jesus!”

 “No this is David.” joked a lanky man with blond hair, and a pastel blue suit, matching your all white outfit (with a pale blue headband) making you too look like the color of the sky.

“Mr.Bow- David, hi!” you exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. 

He hesitated for a moment looking in your eyes as if searching for something only for a moment. “Come into my trailer, i need to talk to you.” he says softly.

You followed him into what looked like a portal to the personification of serenity. There were books piled on top of a small table. A kettle burning on low. With not surprisingly, a pile of teacups littered on top of the counter.  You also noticed (on nosier inspection) small annotations scribbled in the corners.

“Y/N!!”

“YES” you exclaimed, jumping slightly. You have got to start paying more attention to your surroundings.

“Tell me whats on your mind, and be honest” his voice was filled with concern, but somehow still comforting.

You took a breath- seventh one today. And started:

“ I feel like everyone will be disappointed, when they see me. All I ever wanted to do was make music that someone will relate to and find comfort in. And now that I have that, which I am very grateful for, I have to handle the price of fame as well. People put celebrities on pedestals and if they make one mistake in the public eye the pedestal crumbles. And don’t even get me started on the media. And today one of the biggest days in history, and if I do bad, then i will not only disappoint myself but the families in Africa who are relying on me to succeed. And-”

“Y/N” David said sternly “Calm down, you will be fine.” He took a breather and said.” You remind me of myself when I was younger, a shy little Capricorn boy, I just wanted to make music, and the fame tagged along. Its what happens eventually. I just used theatrics to cover up the stage fright.” “Now I just focus on the crowd as if they were one person and give them ll the light I have.”

“As for you when singing Under Pressure with me- while singing Freddie’s part- I want you to take all of the audience’s energy, make it into light and give it towards the sky.” “Give everybody hope.”

Just then you heard.a knock at the trailer. it was time for you to get ready. 

You watched as Queen rocked the show. This was gonna be hard for you to follow up. You felt like this performance was gonna be talked about for decades. You felt pity for the future generations that wont get to see this. 

You watched with butterflies in your stomach, as you saw David perform TVC 15 which bleed into Rebel Rebel. You smiled with fondness, as the corners of your mouth twitched,(which happened often when you’re nervous). When you were turned around.

Moustace, Freddie Mercury.

“Hello, Darling. You’re going up next with Under Pressure, right?”

“Y-Yes ” you were shaking

“ Well don’t fuck it up darling. And make everyone proud.” He said with a smile (that was also in his eyes)

You nodded, and he turned you back around. Just in time for you to be handed a microphone and introduced by David.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage-for the first time ever- Sky Heavens!!!”

You heard more applause than you expected. But then again it was your very first time ;)

You heard the beginning of the song, and you knew you had no time to be nervous as you started:

Mmm num ba de Dum bum ba be Doo buh dum ba beh beh

Then together-

Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets

Um ba ba be Um ba ba be De day da Ee day da- that's okay

So far you have just been looking at the horizon, seeing the sun begin its descent, little by little. 

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, "Let me out!" Pray tomorrow gets me higher Pressure on people, people on streets

This is for peace and hope in Africa.

Chipping around, kick my brains around the floor These are the days it never rains but it pours Ee do ba be Ee da ba ba ba Um bo bo People on streets Ee da de da de People on streets

This is for anyone who has felt stress for being themselves

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, 'Let me out' Pray tomorrow gets me higher, high Pressure on people, people on streets

The sun was setting now, making the crowd look like angels and your outfit dipped in the sun. David was looking at you with the biggest grin on his face as if seeing his child gain confidence. The high note was coming, and you were ready.

Take all the Audiences Energy

Turned away from it all like a blind man

Make it into light

Sat on a fence but it don't work

Give it towards the sky

Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn 

Give everybody hope

Why, why, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!

That was the highest note you had ever hit. The energy that the crowd was giving you was electric. You felt unstoppable.

Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking

David was practically yelling into the mic, as he felt unstoppable with you too.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we give love that one more chance? Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

Because love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night And love (People on streets) dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves under pressure Under pressure Under pressure Pressure

On the final word you hugged David, he shouted in your ear so you hear him over the roaring crowd. “YOU DID IT LOVE!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU111″

You look over his shoulder to see Freddie Mercury.

Clapping.

For You.

You felt as if there was the sun poured inside of you. As if you were weightless. You found your new home; on Cloud 9.

[classicrockshenanigans]

Hi, can I get a David bowie one please? Maybe something where the reader is also a singer? Thank you so much!

Pairing: David Bowie x Singer!Reader (reader is gender neutral)

Word Count: 1,534

Summary: Reader performs at a nightclub. They close the show with a haunting cover of “Heroes”, not knowing that the man himself is in the audience.

Warnings: Smoking

Author: Whitney

A/N: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Also, reminder that requests are open!

Your heart pounds as you get ready to take the stage of the small club. It’s nerve wracking to take the stage even though you’ve performed here at least half a dozen times. You peak out from behind the curtain at the small crowd gathering around the stage. With all the lighting focused on the stage, and the cigarette smoke circling around the room it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly how many people are out there. 

The manager ushers you out there, and you get a bit better of a look at the crowd. It’s not as busy as you’ve seen before, but that doesn’t do much to ease your nerves. You wave to the crowd, feeling a little silly when you do so. Still the crowd welcomes you warmly with a few familiar faces looking up at you. You smile as you make your way up to the microphone.

“Hello, I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself. 

You open the show with one of your original songs. You strum your guitar softly as your voice carries through the club. People listen intently, their eyes glued to you as you sing. The insecure side of you worries people are bored, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. The club that had been so loud just moments earlier, is captivated into near silence by you standing on the stage. Your voice lulling the chaos into peace. You do a couple more of your own songs before setting your guitar to the side. You make your way to the piano, taking a seat on the bench before clearing your throat.

This was the part of the performance you were the most concerned about. David Bowie was one of your favorite artists, and you’ve always considered singing one of his songs. 

One night while you were at your house tinkering on your own piano, you’d inexplicably begun playing “Heroes” in a low key. You’d sang the song in a whispery tone, and the way it sounded to you was so sad. You’d felt confident that it would add something to your performance, but as you sat on the stage preparing to cover the song in the same way your confidence was faltering. You consider making a small introduction, maybe provide an explanation. But as your hands begin shaking, you realize it’s now or never.

You begin playing the familiar tune on the piano. It’s a shock to you that your voice doesn’t quiver a bit when you begin singing. Instead you’re as confident in the words as you would’ve been if you’d written them yourself. You end your performance with this song, to a surprisingly enthusiastic response. You shyly bow and thank everyone before leaving the stage.

It takes a while for you to get calmed down. You step outside the club to the small alleyway to smoke a cigarette. Still feeling buzzed from your performance, your hand shakes a bit when you lift the cigarette to your lip to take a deep drag. You  lean your head against the wall as you exhale the smoke. The street seemed to exist in a completely different world than the club. It’s quiet and dark in the alley. Only the streetlights on the blue neon sign of the club provided any kind of light, and where you stood around the corner even that was muted. You close your eyes as you feel yourself slowly begin to unwind.

“I liked your performance,” a man’s voice interrupts your silence.

You open your eyes, and pull your head forward from it’s previous resting place against the wall. In the split second it takes to do this, you’re prepared to chase off some unwanted drunkard. Instead you see a thin figure leaning against the wall opposite of you. The blue neon hitting his angular face reveals his identity to be David Bowie himself. You want to say a thousand different words of praise, but instead you simply smile in an attempt not to seem starstruck. 

“Thank you very much,” you smile. 

“I must say I’m particularly fond of the last song,” he smirks. 

 “Me too,” you agree. “It’s my favorite. Although, I was afraid I might butcher it.” 

“Not at all,” he leans forward. “I’m a little envious I never thought to sing it that way.” 

Your heart is racing, sending a rush of blood to your cheeks. You know in the light you probably look purple, and for some reason your brain wants to replay a children’s film in your mind at this moment. 

“No need to be envious,” you tease. 

He steps forward, taking the cigarette from your lips. He takes a drag from it before giving it back. 

“Perhaps the next time you perform, I could join you,” he suggests. 

Your eyes widen at the suggestion. All you can think to do is nod. You flick the cigarette onto the ground, and finally find your bearings again. 

“I would love that,” you agree. 

He chuckles as you let your admiration show for the first time. He pulls his coat closer to his thin body. 

 “Next time then,” he promises. “I get to choose the song though.” 

“Of course,” you smile. 

He starts to walk away, but then hesitates. He turns to you again with a small smile. 

“Do you come to this club frequently?” you ask, hoping all of this wasn’t just empty promises. 

“I do,” he nods. “Although, I hope that won’t affect your performance. I quite like listening to you sing.” 

“There’s nothing that could stop me from singing,” you promise. 

He smiles, “Good to hear it. So many people are quick to give up on their dreams.” 

“That’s the great tragedy of life, I suppose. Probably more so than death.” 

He nods thoughtfully, for a moment his eyes seem to look just past you. You don’t interrupt what seems to be a deep train of thought. Instead allowing him to pull himself back into the moment. 

“There’s a little cafe down the street, the people there don’t really bother me,” he explains. 

You nod, still a bit oblivious to what he was implying. 

“Would you like to go with me to get some coffee or something?” 

A small gasp leaves you, but then you try to regain your composure. As though you always meet famous people, then of course get invited to go somewhere with them. Just another day in your very exciting life. 

“That would be nice,” you agree. 

He offers you his arm politely. You try not to die as you intertwine your arm with his, and he begins leading you down the street. 

“Won’t anyone miss you?” you ask as the neon lights from the club fade, and everything is bathed in streetlights. You knew he didn’t come to this club alone, why would he? 

“I’m sure the fact that I’m missing will come to their attention at least once.” 

You laugh, “I’m sure more than once.” 

“It will be fine,” he assures you.

Your mind is swimming with questions. You look up at him. His hair is combed back rather neatly, and his mismatched eyes watch the street carefully. He looks different than you’d imagined he would. Somehow he seems incredibly alert and relaxed at the same time. 

He leads you to the small corner cafe, and you take a seat at the back booth away from the window. A waitress comes by to take your orders, there’s a glint of recognition in her eyes as you both order coffee. But she doesn’t say anything. Finally seeing him fully in the light, you’re struck by how handsome he actually is. 

“I like being able to move around freely,” he says unprompted. “It’s always a delight to meet people who will go along with that.” 

“Everyone should be allowed to live freely,” you agree. 

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you. You steal glances at one another, smiling when one of you is caught. The waitress brings your coffees and sets them down. You add cream and sugar to yours, noticing how closely he seemed to watch you as you did so. There’s a curiosity in his eyes you didn’t expect. You bring the mug to your lips, taking a careful sip. 

 He’s the first to break the silence, “So, you wrote the first songs you performed?” 

You nod, “I did.” 

“Very good,” he compliments. You feel your cheeks blush a bit. 

“Thank you,” the insanity of it all seemed to hit you for the first time. 

“I own all of your albums,” you blush at the confession. “I suppose you could say I think you’re rather good as well.” 

He laughs at this, “Thank you very much.” 

You take another sip of your coffee. You want to ask how you ended up here in his company, his eyes seemingly locked onto you. Watching every move you make as though you’re half as interesting as him. Somehow you fear that questioning the moment will absolutely ruin it. So, you sit in the cafe sipping your coffee and allow yourself to indulge in the moment. 

There’s a hope lingering in your chest that perhaps this will lead to more than just one cup of coffee. 

[zodiyack]

Catching Feelings - Part One

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE PROLOGUE, YOU CAN READ IT HERE!

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: Swearing (it’s Billy, what did you expect), Billy being a flirty little shit

Note: Thank you all so much! I’m glad you liked the trailer and prologue! Sadly, I had written them months ago on quotev, getting stuck on the first chapter after they were published. I tried my best so I hope you like it! (Full note at the end)

I might end up redoing this at some point in the future. Feedback appreciated!

Y/n walked into the highschool building, inhaling her first breath of air at the Hawkins school. It was all new to her, the rules, people, food, even the air. Now that she thought of it.. it was making her want to ship herself in a box back home and wait there until her parents came back. It was too new and she didn’t like it. Of course, she loved being with her uncle and cousin, but she hardly knew Jane. Was she just supposed to pretend she knew what she liked and get along just fine?

Family aside, y/n was thinking about other things, such as the parties that the other teens held here. Were they different from the one’s back home? She didn’t know yet, but she was excited to find out. She was also excited to get her infamous party rep known in the new place. Y/n smiled, remembering all her drunken moments with b/f/n. The reflective nostalgia taking over her mind before she could realize it.

“Excuse me.” Her comforting thoughts left her head when she bumped into another girl. Y/n’s eyes scanning the person in front of her before responding. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.. I’m Nancy, Nancy Wheeler. You’re the new girl, right? Hopper’s niece?”

“Yeah. I’m Y/n L/n.” Y/n guessed that Nancy knew her uncle Hop, as he didn’t talk to people about his family every day. She was still embarrassed from the collision, but happy that Nancy didn’t make a big deal out of it. Fishing the schedule out of her bag, y/n decided to make good use of her accident turned meeting; “Oh! Do you know where this class is?”

Nancy took the paper from her, looking over it and then nodding. “Mhm, I actually was heading there if you wanna wait for my boyfriend with me so we can head there together?” 

Y/n agreed and attempted to make small talk with Nancy before a guy with carefully styled hair came up behind the Wheeler girl, kissing her head and greeting her good morning.

“Is that natural? Your hair?”

The couple stopped what they were doing to look at y/n, who was squinting at his head. “Uh..well kind of? I’m Steve. You visiting or something?” Nancy hit his chest and whispered something into his ear. Whatever she had said made his eyes widen, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I knew you were going to be here but I just didn’t know what you would look like.”

“Did you think I’d have a mustache, smell like beer and be a strict cop guy?”

“What? ..Oh that was a Hop joke..okay I get it now...” 

Awkward silence was shared between the three, Nancy breaking it by announcing that they were now going to head to class.

. . .

After school got out, Nancy took her on a guide through the building. She also included information she thought was important for y/n to know. By the end of it, Y/n knew almost every student’s name, a few things about each person who’s name she learned, the boys Nancy thought were cute, where to find each class, and the best place to sit at lunch. The girls arrived back in the gym to find Steve and a curly haired blonde bickering.

“Is that-”

“Yup. Hargrove himself, in the flesh. Remember what I said, don’t let your guard down, got it?” Nancy rubbed y/n’s back reassuringly when she didn’t get a response. 

The boys stopped conversing when they realized they weren’t alone in the room. Steve went straight to packing up his stuff and Billy sat on the bleachers, observing the new girl. Y/n mimicked his actions, titling her head when he tilted his. He chuckled and smirked his famous panty-dropping half smile, surprised when she didn’t react. Billy didn’t say anything about it of course, let alone let his surprise show.

Steve came back into the gym, tugging on Nancy’s arm to get her to go with him. Nancy rubbed Y/n’s back one more time before telling her it was time to go, the two girls following behind Steve. She didn’t leave the room completely, turning for a quick second. “Bye Hargrove.” She fled before she could see his reaction, smiling and holding in her laughter when she pictured the many possibilities it could be.

. . .

“How was school?” Jim Hopper sat at the table, eating dinner with his daughter and niece. Obviously, he didn’t expect to choke on his potatoes when Y/n said she had met Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. “You stay away from mullet kid, you hear me?” She rolled her eyes, but nodded. 

Jane, who was waiting until Hop was done speaking, put her hand over Y/n’s, “I know Steve.” 

“You do? How?”

“No. That’s enough talk about boys. I asked how your day was, it’s Jane’s turn.” 

Dinner continued past the awkward tension in the room. Jane and y/n rushed to bed, giggling in their dark room about the boys they were banned from talking about. Jane told her cousin about Mike, doing a bad job at denying it after y/n teased her in a sing-songy voice. Staying up until past midnight becoming a usual thing as the girls grew closer to one another. 

A month in Hawkins had passed, only feeling like a week. Time really flew by, but Y/n and Jane had gotten to know each other really well. Y/n also met more people, including the group of kids that Steve hung out with. Her friends in highschool were still almost to nonexistent, but she was so distracted by family and her new friends that she didn’t even notice. It was fun, going over to the Byers’ house to hang out, meeting Joyce and her sons, even funner to convince the group to tease Mike and Jane in the embarrassing moments.

Halloween was next month, so it was time for Nancy to tell Y/n about the “annual Halloween Bash” Tina holds. Y/n planned for it right away, it being a perfect opportunity to get back to partying. She thought of all the costumes, different themes she could go with. There were honestly so many to choose from. Clearly there were going to be girls in “slutty” versions of costumes, but that wasn’t y/n’s style. She would be ready, that’s all she needed to know.

Billy and her didn’t talk much, but they saw each other almost every day, exchanging glances while pretending to be interested in what their friends had to say. Nancy saw how distracted she’d get when Billy was in the room, doing the same thing she did the first time Y/n was at a loss for words

Blasting David Bowie from her new room, she jumped onto her bed, relaxing back and thinking of what the next day could hold. Would she actually say hi to the teenage rebel? That was the thing. Billy was making her curious. Y/n had to know his secrets. It was nagging at her, the mysterious bruises that she knew weren’t hickeys, the girls he would fuck and then drop a week later, the fights he had with Steve. It all just made her more curious. What was the truth about Hawkins bad boy? And why was not knowing it keeping her up at night?

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦  

SO! I didn’t quite know how to end this and I decided that after each part, I’m gonna put a gif that’s..similar (?) to the last sentence. Anyways, it took a tiny bit, but after reading and writing other things, I finished it. I don’t know how it turned out, however I really do hope you guys like it. 

I am open for requests including things you’d like me to include in this series. Don’t be afraid to ask for AUs, oneshots, HCs, songs like my Draco fic, or really anything, I love it when I get requests cause it lets me know you enjoy what I’m writing. Also feedback; feedback is appreciated ‘cause it lets me know what I should change or work harder on, as I’m still figuring out this series due to it being picked back up here on tumblr. I love you all so so much, thank you for reading!

✘ Bowie

[cannibalcoyote]

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):

"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.

"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.

"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.

"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.

I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.

"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.

"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'

To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.

"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.

"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.

"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.

"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.

"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.

"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.

"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.

"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.

"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.

The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.

"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.

"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.

"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.

"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.

"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.

This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.

"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.

"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.

"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.

"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.

"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.

"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.

"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"

"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.

"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.

"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.

"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.

"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.

"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.

"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.

"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.

"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.

"Did he ask you to do any of this?"

"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.

"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"

"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.

"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.

"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.

"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.

"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.

"David said that?" They say in shock.

"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.

"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.

"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.

"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.

"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.

"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.

"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.

"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.

"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.

"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"

"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.

"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.

"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.

I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.

"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.

"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.

"What did he say to that?"

"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.

"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.

"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.

"That must've been tough." They state seriously.

"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.

"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"

"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.

"Really? How did he know what number to call?"

"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.

"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.

"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.

"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.

"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.

"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?

"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.

"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.

"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.

"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.

"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.

"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.

"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.

"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.

"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.

"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What if he doesn't reciprocate!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.

"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.

"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.

I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.

"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.

"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.

"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.

"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.

"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.

"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.

"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.

"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.

"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.

I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?

"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me?" His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.

"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.

"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.

I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.

"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.

I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.

[moonlightsolo]

Live Aid 1985

request: She’s in the band (she plays the piano) and on live Aid, Freddie gets the crowd to sing Happy birthday! - @80s90steen

pairing: queen x female reader (platonic)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fluff, a lil bit of crying, stage fright, anxiety, overall lots of fun & proud moments!

a/n: ok so all the boys supporting their younger girl band member is the cutest thing ever. i kinda made roger her closest band member? although all the boys are close tbh. i hope you like it, i worked really hard on this lol. (maybe i’ll do a backstory pt. 2 to this? leave some feedback)

The muffled music on the loudspeaker in Wembley Stadium gives you goosebumps, you sit in the trailer with the boys relaxing as you try to get your nerves to calm down. You couldn’t get over how Live Aid is broadcasted to billions of viewers across the globe, it doesn’t feel real.

The laughs of conversation of your band mates made you smile as you focus on their conversation, “What are you going on about, Roger?” Your accented voice fills their ears, you reach over to slap Rog’s arm.

“Just makin’ fun of how you’re zoning out, love.” He playfully tells you, that’s obviously not what they were talking about, right? You just roll your eyes at his comment. Although, the peaceful sound of Brian strumming on his guitar makes you feel less anxious.

A knock that sounds on the door of the trailer makes everybody shut their mouths. Jim gets up from his seat to answer it and before he could speak, Brian peeks his head around the corner of the doorway. “Hello, Mary.” He says with a grin.

“Hello Brian. We’ve just come to wish you good luck.” Her soft voice speaks which makes Freddie perk up and waltz over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek. Fred introduces Jim to Mary and David.

You can’t keep your hands still as your fingers absentmindedly ‘play’ the piano keys on your knees, almost like you’re practicing. Roger, being the closest one to you, notices and puts his hand on top of your fidgeting ones. “Calm down, we’ve done concerts before, right?” You just smile and agree. It didn’t really help much though.

Fred and you will be playing as a duo on the piano together for the opening song, Bohemian Rhapsody. It’s what you both always do. You notice Freddie usher Jim to go with Mary and David, leaving the band to themselves.

“What do we think of David?” Fred asks in thought as he leans back in his chair, you and Rog look at each other.

“Nice chap,” Brian says with a small smile as he nods, his curls bobbing along with it. “I think he’s gay,” Freddie says with a smirk. Roger chuckles in response. Everyone chats among themaldives, you join in on some conversations too.

“We’ll be on in about one minute.” The announcer tells the crowd, you can hear them all applaud out there.

Freddie looks over the band, “There’s no need to be nervous, loves. How many times have we done this? I cannot count on my fingers and toes.” He gives the band his famous grin.

He sends a reassuring nod your way when the door is knocked on once again; You just smile at him. Rog gets up as Fred leaves the trailer, taking his leather jacket off to hang to the crew member outside.

When you get up, you check yourself in the standalone mirror next to your seat. You’re wearing a fitted white v-notch neck tee that’s paired with high waisted denim cuffed jeans, layered gold necklaces, and white hightop chucks. “You look great, don’t worry.” Brian chuckles as he walks out after Rog and Deacy.

The crew members walking backstage all focus on the band, starstruck by the five of you. It felt nice to be back in this element. You watch as Fred jumps excitedly, pumping his fists back and forth in the air. John puts an arm around your shoulders as you all walk up the ramp, his own smile is big too. Everyone is so ecstatic.

“You ready, birthday girl?” He asks as you all near the white curtain, a man pulls it back for Queen to walk on the stage; Freddie being the first one out, not wasting any time.

The four of you lose your breath for a moment as you look over all the people, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” John pulls his arm off of you as he walks out to his bass guitar on stage, his hand coming up to wave. You take a deep breath and take a step onto the stage, the crowd screams as Queen begins to set up.

You wave with a big smile on your face, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you look over the crowd and blow kisses to the— Your signature move.

Freddie begins to play some keys on the piano, the crowd dying down slightly as they listen. You slide next to him on the piano bench as he starts to play the main notes to the song. Your hands instinctively play the right notes. You press the keys, creating a beautiful melody as he starts to sing. The stadium roars, you can’t help but get emotional.

Your vocals join in with Freddie’s as you sing, “Mama... Oooo ooo oo,” into the mic with him. His free arm slings around your shoulders as you both double task to play the piano and sing. You smile and lean into him for the last part, “Cause nothing really matters...” You move your mouth towards the mic to sing, catching Freddie’s eyes. You can tell he is so happy.

-

After Bohemian Rhapsody, you move over to the keyboard to play it as Freddie sings and prances among the edge of the stage. Your body bounces with the beat as your fingers press on the keyboard to create sound.

You sing into your provided mic, “All we hear is, radio gaga! Radio goo goo! Radio gaga! All we hear is, radio gaga! Radio goo goo! Radio blah blah!” You sing into the mic as you watch the audience clap.

“Radio what’s new? Radio, someone still loves you...” Freddie sings as he walks up to the drums then back down in front of them. “Loooooves....!” He sticks his tongue out at the camera before continuing, “Yoooooou!” Freddie gets down on the stage floor, extending the mic stick next to his leg.

Your hands pull away from the keyboard when the rest of the instruments cut off, rocking on your heels excitedly your hands pump in the air. Your eyes look over the band, your family. You’ve all come so far from the little pubs in London.

Rog catches your eye as he nods his head towards Freddie. You watch as he walks to the edge of the stage. “Ayo!” His magnificent voice sings. The audience instantly mimicked him making goosebumps stand on your skin.

You looked over at Deacy with a proud smile, he has the same look on his face. Freddie continues having the audience echo him. It is surreal how the audience reacts to him, how he controls what they say. “Alright!” He finishes with a smile, reaching the mic over the stage towards the audience.

“Hey hey hey hey hey! Hammer to fall!” On that cue, Brian and John start to play the guitar part as Roger hits his drums. Your hands go to your keyboard to play again.

-

“Loveys! Before we leave, I have a special request for you all today...” He trails off as he glances back at you, his chest heaving from extertion. The crowd cheers in response. “Before we leave, I have to announce that one of our band members is celebrating a very, very special day. Not only is it Live Aid day but its... her birthday.” He emphasizes the words as he points at you. Your cheeks instantly redden, shaking your head as you grin from ear to ear.

Freddie walks over to the grand piano, his hand expertly plays the tune to the ‘happy birthday’ song without looking. You walk in front of the keyboard as the rest of your band members come to stand next to you. Rog puts his arm around your shoulders with Bri next to you and Deacy next to Bri.

“Sing it!!” He screams enthusiastically into the mic. The audience and the boys sing along with him, “Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, Miss Y/N Y/L/N...” His dark brown eyes trail to you, your own eyes obviously glistening with happy tears. “Happy birthday to you!” He presses some keys to finish the song before he comes running over to you.

He practically tackles you in a hug and almost lifts you up from the ground. Then the boys join in, you’re surrounded by them all; although it was definitely a very sweaty group hug. “I love you, boys!!!” You say so they could only hear.

“We love you too!” They said in unison before pulling away. You all walk confidently to the front of the stage to bow. Roger’s arm still around you as you both bow in unison. You raise your hand to blow a kiss to the crowd and wave. Roger walks with you off stage, his arm falling from your shoulder to go celebrate with the boys.

Your eyes search around for Freddie, seeing him talking to Bowie near the picnic tables. Your eyes light up as you jog over to them, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but you did anyway.

As you gain speed, you pounce onto Fred’s back and wrap your legs around his waist. A big smooch landing onto his cheek, “You did amazing, darling.” A nickname you’ve grown accustomed to. “As did you, lovely.”

Freddie smiles at your response. “You’ve met before right?” Fred says sarcastically.

“God, Fred... You’re putting me under pressure with that question!” You let out a faux groan. Your smile widened when you saw the pun click in their heads.

Brian comes up behind you three, “Wow, Fred. I don’t get that kind of treatment.” He motions towards you with his hand. “I’m just special.” You stick your nose up in the air with a smug grin.

“Oh okay. Mhm.” Brian has a mischievous smile on his face. Before you could question him, his hands clutch your waist to pull you off of Freddie. Of course, you didn’t want to drag Mr. Mercury down with you so you let go of him.

“Ya twit!” You yelp, pushing him away. You grab the scrunchy off of your wrist to tie your hair on top of your head in a side pony. “You’re gonna get it, May.” You started to run after him like playing a game of tag.

“Even in their early thirties, they still act like damn children.” Freddie scoffs, crossing his arms as he proudly watches you tackle Brian successfully.

“Ha! Even with those long legs, I still caught up to you!” You exclaim loudly, people sitting and some walking around all turn to stare but you couldn’t care any less.

[bowieandqueen11]

Instant Star/ Platonic!Freddie Mercury x Reader x David Bowie

Prompt: can i request an imagine where you’re Freddie's very best friend who’s not famous, and he takes you to a party where you meet David and then it’s like love at first sight?? thank you!! 

Thank you so much for sending this in love, my poor heart :*))) <3

Freddie’s steps echo throughout the bustling London street, soft rain pattering down upon his sleek hair as his leather jacket whips around his swishing hips, low puddles on the pavement reflecting the low neon lights that ripple through the water like strays of the silvery moon. As his shoulder bumps across a red phone box, he turns back to look at you, a bright smile lighting up his face, his teeth shining like stars under the streetlight as he reaches back to grab your hand, tugging you into his side as he gazes up at the stars, making you laugh as he swings your intertwined fingers into the sky and shouts, ‘you’re going to LOVE him darling!’ A blush rises on your face slightly, reflecting like blooming roses in the sleek blackness of the taxi that splashes by on the empty road as you shoot side eye glances to your best friend, his countenance unaware and unconcerned as he shoots smiles and friendly hellos to passerby's. 

‘I’m nervous, Freddie’ you murmur slightly, shifting your collar uncomfortably as heat ripples over your skin, your shoulder bumping into Freddie’s as people squeeze past the two of you and enter the bar, a grin twitching at his lips as his arm wraps up around your shoulder and his hand clamps down upon your arm, squeezing you tightly as he presses a loving kiss against your forehead, his eyes titling slightly at your downcast expression. ‘Darling, I’ve known you for how many years, and you’ve let precisely zero things shake you this much,’ he whispers against your hair.

‘What did you tell him about me, Freddie?’

‘Only the best things, darling, which is everything!’

Shaking your head slightly, you let out a shaking breath as you whisper, ‘okay, let’s go meet this mysterious date.’

You somehow lose Freddie in the midst of the crowd, your shoulders desperately pushing through the crowd of dancing drunk people and limbs flung haphazardly around the room as you watch his white cotton vest be dragged off by singing, clinging men who cheer as Freddie harmonises. Huffing slightly to yourself, you pat down your shirt as you stand in the middle of the dance floor, rustled and hustled about by elbows and hips as you gaze around like a lost puppy, the hot strays of lights flashing red and blue and yellow into your burning eyes, splashes of fat auburn beer dropping onto your arms and fringe as you push your way out of the flashing dance floor, broken bottles crunching under your boots. Emerging next to the sleek black bar, finally able to breathe, you lean your elbows against the cold tile as you gaze wondrously around the room, loneliness surrounding you as the fast beat wraps around your mind like a squeezing vice.

Little do you realise, David was sitting at a table across the way, his head resting heavily against his hand as his elbow heavily thumps down onto the table, splashes of white burning vodka fluttering onto his suit jacket as he watches Lou with half-lidded disdain, his forehead furrowed and fingers tapping against his cheek as Lou thumps his head down onto the table, sunglasses climbing further up his nose as his empty glass clinks against the oak. Leaning back against the seat, folding his arms against his chest, his tie itchy against his palm as his navy blue dress shirt sticks uncomfortably to his fluttering chest, he blows a stray curl of his ginger locks out of his eyes. Gazing around the room, boredom lacing his features as his foot taps against the floor, he freezes suddenly, his breath itching painfully in his throat as he spots you leaning against the bar.

His eyes widen almost as far as saucers, the colour draining from his cheeks as his teeth begin to bite against his bottom lip, his thick eyelashes beginning to flutter heavily, his hand coming up to rub against his eyes as he realises this only happens when he becomes extremely nervous. He looks between his fingers to throw blushing glances at you, his heart performing cartwheels which fizz like fireworks as he catches your eye, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he gazes down to his hands, his fingers wrangling and playing with each other as he looks back up to smirk at you, looking like a nervous schoolboy as the dim lights illuminate his pale skin, making him look beautifully otherworldly amongst the sweating crowd.

He knows in his heart he’s seen an angel this night, his fringe trembling as it slicks down upon his forehead, pupils wide and intense as he stands up, his slender fingers fiddling with his suit trousers as nerves bubble in his throat, his steps hesitant but desperate as he strides towards you, his mind whirring like a rusty clock as he ponders over what to say to the person he knows he can’t spend the rest of his life without. Sitting there, the lights illuminating your every curve and falling on the dips and bumps of your face sculpted by the gods, David swallows thickly as he comes to stand by your shoulder, a hoarse cough interrupting you from your daydream as you look up to smile at him, not wholly feeling the intimate and burning gaze that erupts from his eyes like lava.

Holding out a slightly shaking hand, he whispers into the heat of the club, ‘hello, love, my name is David Bowie.’

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

 ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

 Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

-

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

-

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

 But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

 "I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Meeting the band; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey all well will you belive I have another part of my Rock Angel chapter for you all. This time this is the very beginning, from when you the reader first get the internship and the bonding between the band members began. I am soo happy to see everyone liking this series and I hope to have a new chapter up which will soon lead to about 3-5 more chapters that are already complete. Enjoy my lovelies :)

Warnings: Meeting the band (obviously), fluff, now I mention the Queen song “Don’t try suicide” so some description of suicide (NOT SELF inflicted) but if anything suicide is trigger to anyone THIS IS YOUR WARNING. Other than that not really anything else,  

Taglist *open*

@onebigfangirlworld

@mr-badguymercury

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@naturalswifty89

@isabella-bby

________________________________________________

*September 5th, 1980*

My name is (y/n) (l/n). Yeah, yeah I know it sounds common but aren’t all names like that? I’m 18 years old currently enrolled at University studying music, specifically songwriting and accompaniment, hoping one day to maybe become a Rockstar like all the top ones like David Bowie, Elton John, but above all else, Queen.

Yes the famous rock and roll band that came out in the 70’s and just skyrocketed the charts.  Doing something that no other artist has done in history. Combining genres, mixing them up to create a master piece, like their song Bohemian Rhapsody.

Ohh I will never forget the first day I heard that song on the radio, in fact that song is what inspired me into wanting to also study music accompaniment, maybe I could get that creative and maybe mix some genres of my own one day, or mix up different instruments like they do.

And I’ll never forget the first time I saw Queen in concert.  It was my 16th birthday and a friend of mine had a brother who was working backstage as a stage handler for a Queen concert they were going to do in London, so my friend managed to nab two tickets for us and that night changed me forever.  I had fallen more in love with the band than ever before.

So when the time came for University and Jim Beach, the current manager for Queen themselves had announced to my University that he was looking for an intern to help him manage the band, of course I jumped at the chance to do it.  Of course I was one of hundreds if not thousands of students trying to get the same internship, plus I’m just a freshman at this point so the chances of me getting that well…..

One in a million.

Well it seemed my parents were smiling at me from Heaven because the following week at my flat that I shared with my boyfriend, I got a letter from Jim Beach himself telling me that he had accepted my internship, thinking that this internship could help me more by gaining more experience firsthand.

So here I am.  Standing right outside Trident studios ready to start my new semester off as an intern to Jim Beach and potentially Queen.

I took a deep breath and entered inside.

Inside I could see some people walking through the lobby.  I walked up to a woman who was sitting at the front desk and I said to her.

“Hello.”

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes I’m here to see Jim Beach, I’m (y/n) (l/n).”

“Oh yes the student intern, just have a seat and I’ll phone Mr. Beach of your arrival.” I thanked her and took my seat while she phoned up Mr. Beach.  I waited and waited for about five minutes until finally a man with cowlicked grey hair, wearing a full on grey suit came down and he came up to me and said my name.

“Yes.”

“Welcome to Trident records, I’m Jim Beach.” He held out his hand and I shook it as I said.

“Mr. Beach I just want to say it’s an honor that you chose me out of hundreds if not thousands of other interns.”

“Oh please Mr. Beach sounds weird, call me Jim darling,” he corrected me.  Wow okay so my boss wanted to go by a first name basis, okay easy for me.

“Okay Jim.” I smiled and then he said.

“Come on, let me give you the tour and then you’ll be given your first assignment for the day.” I then followed him further past the lobby and was shown and told about all the locations of every important room that I needed to know.

So after getting the tour and making myself an official member of the building, I was given my first task of checking out the recording booth and making sure that all the instruments were in tuned. So here I am in the actual recording booth that Queen themselves and probably hundreds of other artists do their recordings at.

After tuning up a couple of the guitars, my attention soon turned to a grand piano.  I then began to remember back when I was a little girl how my mother first taught me how to play, and I remember the first song she ever taught me.

You see it was my parents who helped inspire music in me, no they weren’t famous musicians but they loved music so much, that it was actually at a concert they first met each other at.  And ever since then music had become a part of their lives.

But when I was just 8 years old, they were killed in a car crash. It was rainy and they decided to go up for a drive but their car slipped off the road and they both were killed before they even reached the hospital.  I was then given to my aunt and uncle since my aunt was my mom’s older sister.

Ever since that day, I never touched a piano again. Thinking of how much pain it remembered every time I would try to play, it’d bring back all the grief and sorrow knowing that my parents were gone.

But for some reason it felt like my mom was telling me to go for it.  I gently stroked the keys so lightly they didn’t make a sound.  I took a seat and I softly began playing the song my mum first taught me and I then began to sing.

As I began playing the song, all the lessons we had together came back to me as I began to play the piano with more passion as I kept singing.

Play video

*Me*

Now I've heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this the fourth, the fifth The minor fall and the major lift The baffled king composing "Hallelujah"

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain I don't even know the name But if I did, well really, what's it to you? There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn't matter what you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

*3rd Person POV*

        They had finally arrived at the studios to talk to Jim or as Freddie liked to call him, Miami about their next upcoming album that they had in mind.  When they passed by the recording booth, Freddie Mercury stopped and could hear singing.

        “Come on Fred you’re gonna make us late, and we’re already late as it is.” Urged Brian.

        “Shh Brian, don’t you hear that?” They all stayed quiet and John said.

        “Someone’s singing.”

        “Yes, but just who is that angel singing?” Freddie said as he walked on towards the recording studio.  He quietly opened the door and soon the four members of Queen came upon to see a young girl with (h/l) (h/c) wearing a simple pair of jeans, t-shirt and jacket playing the piano as well as singing.

        She was playing on the piano and as it turned out the voice was coming from her. They silently walked up towards the door and they each showed a look of wonderment at how beautiful this young girl’s singing voice was.

        They were especially impressed with how she could control her voice from making it raw and vulnerable of an alto to an angelic soprano.

I did my best, it wasn't much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you And even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelu- Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelu- Hallelujah

*My POV*

“That was beautiful love.” I turned around in shock and gasped.  For standing right before me were the four boys of Queen.

Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon.

“Sorry we didn’t mean to intrude, we just….we were on our way to meet with Jim when we heard you singing, you’ve got quite the voice there love.” Oh my god. Brian May just complimented my singing, ohh what Jade and Chloe wouldn’t give to hear that?

“What’s your name dear?” John Deacon asked. But before I could answer, we all heard Jim’s voice call out my name.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) have you finished with the…..well about time you boys showed up.” Jim said almost scolding the boys of Queen.

“Sorry we’re late Jim, traffic was just god awful.” Said John.

“So your name’s (y/n).” Roger said as he turned back towards me.

“Ahh I see you gentlemen have met my new intern (y/n) (l/n).”

“Miami how could you hide this girl from us? She has a gift that must be shared with the world!” praised Freddie.

At this point I was blushing mad, I must be redder than the reddest apple if not even blood itself.

“Freddie, she’s a student at the University going for her internship credits. I just hired her today.” Jim stated.

“Still Miami it’s no excuse from hiding her from us! Darling you must play for us some more.”

“I…..”

“I’m sorry Fred but we really must discuss issues up in my office and I’m afraid (y/n) has work to do. I expect to see all of you in my office in the next 25 seconds. We have a lot to discuss. Come along (y/n).” Jim said.  I shyly walked past the boys of Queen and just as I passed Freddie, I felt him take my arm and he whispered to me.

“I still hope to hear another song from you one day darling.” He then released my arm and I quickly raced out of the recording booth.

I leaned up against the wall and exhaled a long breath of air that I didn’t even know I had in me.

“I assume you’re a big fan of the boys?” Jim said as he came up to me.

“Yeah, I saw them in concert one time too, changed my life forever. Just what they can do with music that’s what’s inspired me into also having my concentration be music arraignment along with songwriting. But I promise you sir I won’t let that distract me from my work! I swear. I will be professional around Queen 24/7.”

“Ahh don’t worry about it love. They all seem to like you, and that’s a rare case in itself. Not a lot of interns end up being liked by them cause they either fuck up the job or are just trying to get a shag with each of them. And plus I know that if I were to fire you, I’ll never hear the end of it from Freddie.” I smiled softly and then he told me to go run a few files down to Jessica at floor 12.

Three days later and I had just gotten done with my classes for the day and I was now on my way to the studio.  Once I got there, Jim told me that I was to sit in with the boys during their recording and give them whatever they wanted since he was currently swamped with paper work.  

So here I was in the recording booth keeping an eye on the boys while I was getting some homework done since I was to stay here till 10pm which meant I had 10 more hours left.  But right now the boys seemed to struggle with one of their recent songs as they were now arguing and almost ready to throw down.  So I tried to lighten up the mood.

“I’m gonna get something to drink down the street, you boys want anything?”

“I’ll take a coffee darling, black 2 sugars.” Said Freddie.

“I’m good thank you (y/n).” said John.

“I’ll take a chamomile tea.” Brian said.

“I’ll also have a coffee with 1 and 3/7th sugar please.” Roger said.

“Oh god here we go again” I heard Brian mutter.

“Shut it!” Roger said as he punched Brian in the air. I smiled softly and said.

“Okay so one black coffee two sugars, chamomile tea, and one coffee 1 and 3/7th sugar? Last call if anyone wants anything? John you sure I can’t pick you up a snack or something?”

“I’m sure (y/n), don’t worry about me.” He said with a soft smile.  I nodded then I left the studio and headed down the street to a nearby coffee shop that I’ve come to call a second home ever since I began this internship.

I entered inside and stood in line and luckily it wasn’t as busy at it usually was so right after the person in front of me ordered, I went ahead and placed the order in for the boys and I also got me my favorite brand of tea, Jasmine.  Once I paid for the teas and coffees I waited for my order and I reminded the cashier that for Roger’s coffee it needed to be 1 and 3/7th exactly otherwise he’ll throw an even bigger fit.  It took a while but I was finally given my order and once I got the drinks I walked the three blocks back to the studio.

When I arrived back at the studio, I wanted to make sure of something regarding Roger’s drink.  Because like Roger my friend Chloe always takes her coffee with a weird fraction of sugar and if its larger than that, since she has a health condition that can’t allow her to have a certain amount of sugar, she ends up having a body meltdown out so I wanted to make sure Roger got the exact amount he needed.

I opened up the lid of his drink and dipped a finger inside to have a quick taste and I knew right away that that was too much sugar.  Like they gave it 7/1th sugar.  Quickly thinking, I went to the rec room and dumped out Roger’s coffee and prepared the coffee in the coffee machine and then I measured myself the 1 and 3/7th Roger required.

I then poured the sugar into the coffee cup and stirred it up and after a bit I stopped and checked it again and was satisfied with the result.  I put the lid back on top and back on the tray and headed back to the studio.

When I returned, the boys were now just sitting around with either grimed or pissed off faces.

“Drinks are here.” I said. I walked over to Freddie and handed him his coffee.  He took it and took a sip of it as I headed over to Brian and handed him his chamomile tea, I then headed over to Roger and he said.

“About bloody time, hope they didn’t screw it up again.” He took his cup and I took my Jasmine tea and as I headed back to my little table where Jim usually sits, I heard Roger say. “Huh, they strangely got it right this time.”

“Actually they didn’t. They added too much sugar to it.” I said as I sat down at the desk.

“Ahh fuck!”

“But I fixed it up in the rec room. I hope I got the right amount for you.” I said.  Roger looked at me and said.

“You—made this cup yourself?” I nodded.  He then looked down at his drink and took a sip of it and his face showed pure shock.

“Did I not get the right amount Roger? I can try again if you need me to……”

“No it’s—it’s just the right amount.” I smiled and said.

“Glad that it is, one of my friends has a medical condition and if she’s given more sugar than what she requires she shuts down and has to go to the ER. Now I didn’t know if it applied to you so I wanted to make sure it was the right amount.” I then went back to my homework, unaware that the guys were staring at me bewildered, most of all Roger and if I did look up, I would’ve seen a hint of a smile coming across his face.

After the coffee/tea break, it seemed the boys were really struggling with this song of theirs.  And I don’t blame them, based on the lyrics Freddie had presented, it was about not taking suicide.  And this was a serious message and if no one can get the message correctly, or says something offensive, then you have a riot of people on your hands.

It almost seemed they were about to give up on the song when I stood up and I said.

“Hey guys,” they turned towards me and I continued, “If I may interject. I think the lyrics are fine, nothing needs to be changed with them, I think what needs to change is the rhythm.”

“What do you mean?” asked John with a quirked brow.

“I mean, you guys are known for taking risks for your songs, crossing genres and doing what no other musician or artist has ever done. This doesn’t have to be a solemn, sad melody ballad type song, why not make it like a ‘Crazy little thing called love’ mixed with ‘another one bites the dust’? Like….uhh John may I borrow a bass?”  he then handed one of the bass guitars.

I adjusted it onto my shoulders and I said.

“Can you guys clap like this for me?” I then clapped once, then again and again before doing a double clap.  The boys followed my lead and I said. “Keep that time okay,” I then waited and proceeded to do three note bass intro to the same rhythm of the claps.  I paused and I said, “And here I imagine a small guitar strum.” As I came right in with the bass again on the same note structure.

“Oh I like it, yes I think it’s very nice. Alright boys let’s get to work.” And for the next few hours I helped the boys with their new song that Freddie had titled “Don’t try suicide”.  I helped them with whatever they needed for the song.  I told them that at one point they should slide on the word ‘suicide’ towards the end of the song.

I helped keep rhythm for them should they need it and soon the song came into place so we did a full run of the song and when it was over, the boys cheered and they thanked me for the help of which I was happy to oblige.

At that moment Jim came in and he asked.

“So how did it go lads?”

“I think we’ve got it, with a little help. Miami never let this girl go.” Freddie said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder bringing me close to him.

The boys soon stood around me and agreed with Freddie and I couldn’t believe that these boys were sticking up for me like this after only just three days on the job.

“Well (y/n), you willing to stay with this lot for the rest of the internship?” Jim asked me.  I looked up at the guys and they all looked at me with anticipation and eyes pleading for me to stay.  I smiled and said.

“I’ll stay.” The boys of Queen soon cheered and I was brought into Freddie’s arms as he spun me around hugging me tightly.

“Welcome to the family our little Rock angel!” He praised.  

It was at that moment, I became an official member of the Queen crew.

[rogerisakindofmagic]

It’s so easy, all you have to do is (not to) fall in love and play the game Roger Taylor x Famous!Reader

SUMMARY: You are a famous actress that casually meets Queen on a night out, ever since then you are inseparable, especially with the handsome drummer Roger.

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, also a little of Brian x reader but not much.

A/N: This is the first time I post one of these here, I hope you like it and do tell me if you want me to write more! I am open for requests. Thanks for reading!

You’ve met the boys at a bar.

It was their last day London before they went touring in America. You decided to go by yourself because work was stressing you out and you wanted to relax a little.

You were a famous actress, recognized for being pretty much extravagant and weird as the critics would call you, but really talented too, you were a singer her too, but sang mostly in movies and sometimes in musicals. Famous singers like David Bowie would often invite you to their tours and maybe sing with them at their shows.

Freddie found you sitting alone and immediately recognized you, so he quickly made his way towards you.

“Are you by any chance Y/N?” a familiar voice asked you, you turned around only to find the one and only Freddie Mercury standing next to you. you smiled excitedly.

“Yes, that’s me” you answered, the smile never leaving your face “And you must be Freddie Mercury”

“The one and only” he answered with a bow and you smiled, excitement filling your senses.

“I’m a huge fan, really” you started “I’ve followed you since the beginning and you guys are the best” 

“I’m honored to heard that darling! I’ve heard so much about you, I always wanted to chat with you”

“I hope good things, though” you said, your happy mood suddenly changed and Freddie noticed “The media comes up with many lies” you took a sip of your drink and Freddie smiled.

“Yeah, they do, I’m familiarized” he said and you smiled. 

“Why don’t you join me and the others?” he suddenly asked taking you by surprise 

“Really?”

“Of course! The other die to meet you too” you agreed and took your glass, Freddie turned back to the bartender and asked for drinks before taking you towards their table.

Brian and John were laughing at something Roger said and as soon as Freddie came back the three turned to look at you.

“You won’t believe who I found while I asked for drinks” Freddie said

“Is that Y/N?” Brian said, standing up from his seat to greet you properly

“In the flesh” you said and the others stood up as well.

“I am a huge fan” John said, shaking your hand timidly “All your work is truly amazing and honestly your an icon for our era” you smiled.

“Thank you John” 

“Wait a second, you know us?” Brian asked 

“Of course! I am a huge fan” you admitted and the whole band smiled widely

“It is an honor to finally meet you, love” your eyes finally turned to Roger, e/c eyes meeting a beautiful pair of blues. You have seen Roger in pictures before and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t hot.

“I can say the same about you” as she shacked his hand a warm feeling traveled from his touch towards her, making her cheeks a faint pink. 

Your drinks arrive after the greetings and you all took your seats, you sitting next to Roger

“Y/N is having problems with the media” Freddie said

“Oh really? We haven’t heard” Roger sarcastically said and you laughed 

“Yeah, they are full of shit” you took a sip of your drink.

“Don’t listen to them, you really are an inspiration for a lot of people, pretty badass too” Brian added

“Thank you Brian” you said “But don’t worry, I told them that myself”

Roger chuckled and Freddie smirked amused while John and Brian said “Cheers to that” and drank the rest of their drinks.

You were also famous for not taking everyone’s shit, you were nice and kind and always managed to say what you thought freely in a nice way. And though you had a lot of fans and a lot of countries loved you, some magazines talked shit about you, like how you are so rude to people and also kind of a slut, which you are the complete opposite and everyone knew, but there were still stupid people that believed that.

“The second round is on me” you said and the boys cheered.

Once the drinks were refilled Freddie asked for your attention.

“I propose a toast” he raised his glass “For the upcoming tour and new friendships”

“For the upcoming tour and the friendships!” the rest of you cheered and sipped your drinks. Your gaze meeting Roger’s with a smirk as he placed his hand on your thigh.

•••

You groaned opening your eyes “What the hell?” You said as you looked around the strange room.

“You’re finally up” 

You were fully awake now, rapidly looking at yourself realizing you were pretty much naked.

Roger appeared with two glasses of water and handed you one, you thanked him and the memories from last night came back like a splash of cold water. You remembered the band, you singing, the drinks, the plane, Roger’s lips as he kissed down towards your… Wait a minute THE PLANE!?

You quickly stood up, ignoring the fact that you were completely naked before the ages of an Stranger an looked out the window 

Roger smiled “I didn’t know you liked to be seen” he joked and you’d have laughed if the shock of being on a foreign country wasn’t overtaking your body. Roger thought you were going to faint, and his smile turned into utter shock as he heard you laughing.

“Well, I didn’t expect that reaction”

“Oh my god” you said “I took it really far this time” you continued laughing and Roger joined you.

“You really are a sight right now” He was walking towards you, closing the distance.

You smirked at him “Oh really?” You turned to him crossing your arms across your bare chest “How so?”

He smirked devilishly at you as he grabbed your wrist exposing your chest. “You know…” he started, pulling you closer “Naked with not a care in the world, laughing your ass off in a foreign country not caring about what you left in London”

His hands were starting to caress your skin, his rough hands against your soft skin felt incredibly good and your breath started shaking a little

“That really turns me on” you closed the distance kissing him hungrily He returned the kiss and quickly discarded his boxers, taking you towards the bed.

•••

“Look who decided to show up” Freddie said as you and Roger walked inside the restaurant.

“Had fun last night darling?” Freddie asked you and you smiled 

“Yes I did” you smirked at Roger

You toured around America with them and became really close with them afterwards. 

You occasionally slept with Roger and with Brian too, not really looking for anything serious until you started having feelings for the blonde. You hates to admit it, knowing Roger. But you couldn’t help but feel jealously every time he found someone new at a bar or at a party.

Or every time he’d bring some other girl to the studio. Freddie obviously noticed before everyone else, Brian and John catching your feelings towards Roger after a few death glances you gave to his last hook up.

Freddie, John and even Brian would try to encourage you to tell him but you’d always ignore them.

You’d usually take your frustration out with Brian, though you knew it wasn’t the best, you still did it. 

Roger cheated his last girlfriend with you, and deep down you wanted to feel bad but you didn’t.

Roger was completely aware that you slept with Brian too. He tried to push the anger as far away as he could.

But every time he’d take your blouse off and find dark spots that he was certain he didn’t give you, he’d let the anger take him and fuck you merciless. Sometimes he’d be sweet and slow and other times it’d be hard and sensual.

You obviously noticed his change in behavior and sometimes you’d still think about it as you lay alone on your bed.

It was getting harder each time because he would ask you to do things he normally doesn’t.

Once, he asked you to stay afterwards to cuddle and you declined, saying you had to see Brian. You visibly saw his jaw clench as you mentioned his band mate and your heart raced. You gave him a passionate kiss as a goodbye, one that was obvious he didn’t want to finish but you pulled away and just like that walked out of his apartment.

He was left alone with his blood boiling as he thought of you with Brian. He’d remember you losing yourself beneath him, hands gripping the sheets tightly and chest heaving up and down as you came down from your high. Swallowing the words he meant to say, resisting the desperate need to tell you that Brian would never make you feel like he did, and that he would never love you as he did.

He groaned and decided to call someone else.

•••

“You know, you really have to tell Roger” Brian said as he lit his cigarette

“I can’t” you sighed 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid he’ll break me” you admitted 

“You know Y/N, you are the strongest woman I know” he sat next to you, pulling you into a hug, his bare chest against your bare back.

“Not when it’s about him” you said “I’m sorry Brian, I feel really shitty doing this with you” 

“Don’t feel like that Y/N” he said “You are really amazing” 

You smiled and kissed him lightly

“Let’s sleep” he said and you nodded, letting him hold you as guilt flooded your body.

The next day, you arrived with Brian at the studio and as you greeted everyone you obviously noticed the blonde girl sitting next to Roger, anger going through your veins.

“Oh Hi!” You faked happiness “You must be Vanessa, I’ve heard so much about you” you said, throwing a smirk towards Roger’s way and e looked back at you angrily 

“No, I’m Sophia” the blonde said, anger lacing her words 

“I’m so sorry!” You faked an apology as everyone in the room looked at the scene amused.

“Let’s get to work!” John said, trying to break the tension that had suddenly appeared in the room.

The rest of the day you made it he’ll for Roger and that girl, occasionally calling her other names, knowing exactly that her actual name, and also being clingy towards Brian, noticing Roger’s discomfort.

Freddie and John only laughed. Brian was anxiously waited for Roger to snap and let you continue with your plan.

After a few more hours of this, Roger finally said something “Okay” He abruptly walked towards Sophie “Annie its time for you to go” he said, wincing when he noticed he got her name wrong 

“It’s Sophie” she angrily said and walked out with Roger.

As the pair disappeared you bursted out laughing and the rest of the band did too.

“I see what you are doing darling” Freddie said “I like it” you continued laughing  

“I’ll step out for a bit, I need some fresh air” you walked out of the room and headed outside, only to find Roger at the end of the corridor walking angrily back.

You smirked and acted innocently 

He pushed you against the wall, completely trapping you between his arms “I noticed what you did back there” he said

“Oh really? And what are you going to do?” You sarcastically answered him and he growled, almost capturing your lips with his. But Brian came out and asked Roger to come back inside to continue working.

He growled angrily and you walked away, swaying your hips as he walked behind you.

It was already pretty late and you were starting to feel tired so you decided it was best to say goodbye to everyone and go back to you place. As you said goodbye, Roger was the first to offer you a ride home, and you accepted.

“I guess it’s better if we all go to our homes” John said 

“He’s not coming back” they all agreed and walked out.

•••

The car ride was full with tension, and you hated it.

“Why did you do that?” Roger finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play the innocent card with me, you know exactly what you did” You stopped breathing, panic taking over your body as you thought of what to do.

“Well?” He looked at you for a moment and then back at the road.

“Because I hate when you bring other girls” you started “And I hate the way you make love to me as if you didn’t have hundreds of girls waiting” you started to feel confident

“I hate that you always make me feel like I’m the only one and I hate more that I’m not” tears were starting to fall down from yours ayes and you angrily whipped them away.

“And what I hate more is that I just can’t hate you” you sobbed “I hate that I can’t stop loving you” 

Roger was speechless, looking at you with wide eyes

“I love you asshole” you gasped out, heart racing.

Roger quickly stopped the car, finally arriving at your house.

He grabbed your face and kissed you so slow and sweet that it made you weak. “Thanks for the ride” you said, and the sadness in your voice made Roger wince. You stepped outside and Roger followed you quickly “Y/N wait” he said You turned around, surprised to see him inches away from you.

“I love you too” He managed to let out, the feeling of letting those words out after months making him smile brightly.

You looked at him surprised trying to process everything. The feeling of his lips making you come back to real life and you quickly kissed him back. He opened your door, and as you got inside you quickly made your way towards your bedroom.

As you lay down next to him trying to catch your breath you smiled, looking over at him to make sure this was really happening and as the words “Stay with me” escaped his lips you felt whole and secure, making your way towards his embrace.

He smiled as he felt you relax against him, more relaxed now that he was sure you were his and he was yours.

He fell asleep happily thinking that you’d still be on his arms in the morning.

[sliceannarbor]

Jeff Gordinier

Food & Drinks Editor, Esquire Magazine Author/Food Journalist Hudson Valley, New York jeffgordinier.com noma.dk Photo by Andre Baranowski

SPECIAL GUEST SERIES

In this, our 122nd issue of SLICE ANN ARBOR, we are honored to present food journalist and author Jeff Gordinier. Gordinier talks with SLICE about his new book Hungry: Eating, Road-Tripping, and Risking It All with the Greatest Chef in the World — and life.  

Jeff Gordinier is the food & drinks editor at Esquire and a contributor to The New York Times, where he was previously a reporter. In his latest book, Hungry: Eating, Road-Tripping, and Risking It All with the Greatest Chef in the World, Gordinier chronicles four years spent traveling in Mexico, Australia, and Denmark with René Redzepi, a Danish chef and the creative force behind Noma, often referred to as the best restaurant in the world. Gordinier provided commentary for an episode of Netflix's Chef's Table series featuring Jeong Kwan, a Buddhist nun in South Korea and an avatar of Asian temple cuisine. His work has appeared in Travel + Leisure, Real Simple, Entertainment Weekly, Details, Elle, Fortune, Creative Nonfiction, Spin, Poetry Foundation, and anthologies such as Best American Nonrequired Reading. A graduate of Princeton University, Gordinier is also the author of X Saves the World and coeditor of Here She Comes Now. When he’s not working, you can find him taking care of his four children. Gordinier lives north of New York City with his wife, Lauren Fonda; they have a view of the Hudson River from their bedroom.

[Jeff Gordinier will be at the Shinola Hotel in Detroit on Tuesday, July 23, 2019, to celebrate the release of Hungry: Eating, Road-Tripping, and Risking It All with the Greatest Chef in the World, where he will be in conversation with chef George Azar, owner of Flowers of Vietnam, Detroit. The discussion will be moderated by Devita Davison, executive director of FoodLab Detroit]. 

FAVORITES

Book: Impossible to say, but for now, Patti Smith's Just Kids, James Schuyler's Selected Poems, Alexander Chee's How to Write an Autobiographical Novel.

Destination: Anywhere I have never been before, so I will say Japan.

Motto: "I promise I will get back to you."

THE QUERY

How [and when] did the concept for Hungry originally take shape?

When I first met chef René Redzepi, in 2014, I was working as a food writer on staff at The New York Times, and it's safe to say I was wary of the fame he had achieved and skeptical about the New Nordic movement that he had instigated. Redzepi and I wound up traveling through Mexico together for a story I wrote for T Magazine, and that led, over time, to more Noma-oriented encounters and experiences. I soon started spending my own money to check out what Noma was doing in Copenhagen and in Australia, et cetera, and eventually I became intrigued enough that I quit my job to join the circus: I left my post at the Times and began tagging along on the trips that make up the bulk of Hungry. (My gig at Esquire gives me a lot of leeway to travel, and the only way to tell this story was to be free to hop on a plane at a moment's notice.)

For decades I've been a fan of the D.A. Pennebaker documentary Don't Look Back, which captured Bob Dylan at a crucial moment in his career, with all of the friction and frustration that that entails. We're lucky that Pennebaker managed to be present to get footage of Dylan, this pioneering cultural figure, when the singer-songwriter was in the midst of so much pressure and transformation. I guess I hoped to do a similar thing, in a book, with Redzepi — I felt as though I had warts-and-all access to this influential person during a genuine inflection point, and I didn't want those observations to go to waste.

What if, I thought, you were riding alongside Dylan from, say, 1965 to 1968 — from the moment he (controversially) went electric all the way through the recording of Blonde on Blonde and John Wesley Harding? That sort of framework seemed available with Redzepi, because he and the Noma crew were preparing to embark on a series of risky, difficult pop-ups (in Japan, Australia, and Mexico) at the same time that the chef was planning to shut down the restaurant that had made him famous and reopen it in a new form on a site that looked like an abandoned nuclear dump. It was a dramatic set-up - and impossible to resist.

What was your overall vision for the book, before you embarked on the journey?

I had embarked on the journey long before I envisioned it as a book. I was just taking these crazy trips. Along the way I got to thinking that I might have material for a book. The structure of the book came together finally, in my mind, when I realized that it was a cult narrative: Hungry is ultimately the story of a lost man (that would be myself) who found clarity and purpose by joining a cult, only in this case the cult happens to be a restaurant called Noma.

How would you describe the evolution of your relationship with René Redzepi, from day one to the end of the travels? 

He talked. I listened. At first I was slightly dubious regarding the whole mission of Noma, but eventually I realized that there was no point in trying to say "no" to this chef. It was more fulfilling to say yes.

What was a typical day like as you worked your way across the globe?

A lot of eating, a lot of driving, a lot of talking, a lot of analyzing. By the end of each day I tended to be exhilarated and exhausted. But I should point out that I didn't perpetually travel with Redzepi for years on end. Most of the time I was simply back home with my family, working on articles, et cetera. And Redzipi was back in Denmark with his family and his restaurant team. We would take these trips now and then, usually on a whim, over the course of about four years.

Who did you meet along the way from the culinary world (or from other worlds) that you'll likely never forget, and why?

Reporting the book was like being stuck in a culinary version of The Canterbury Tales, because famous chefs floated in and out of our orbit as we moved along. David Chang, Kylie Kwong, Danny Bowien, Enrique Olvera, Roberto Solís, Rosio Sánchez, to name but a few. What I won't forget is the summer day when René and Nadine Redzepi held a picnic in their backyard at which some of the world's top chefs got together and cooked: Jacques Pépin, José Andrés, Danny Bowien, Kylie Kwong, Jessica Koslow, Gabriela Cámara. Daniel Patterson, Bo Bech, Alex Atala. That was wild.

Is there a moment that stands out as most remarkable during the journey?

Really it was one remarkable moment after another. That's why I kept going back. It felt like an amplified version of life.  

How has Redzepi changed the global culinary dialogue about wild and cultivated sourced ingredients?

Answering that would take a couple of days.  

Why did Redzepi "have to do this," a question you asked early in your travels, referring to the closing of Noma in 2015 and its reopening/reinvention in 2018?

Most chefs work hard in a ridiculously challenging environment. Many chefs are perfectionists. But Redzepi is unlike anyone I have written about in the sense that he is never satisfied with sitting still. As readers of Hungry will see, he's allergic to coasting. At this point he and the Noma crew could just keep cranking out the most popular dishes. Customers would continue to beg for tables. But Redzepi seems convinced that his creativity would dry up if he let that happen. So he's always conjuring new challenges — exercises in team-building and flavor-searching that would wear most of us out.  

How did this experience ultimately create reinvention in your life; how did it change you?

When I first met Redzepi, I was feeling stuck, which is something that happens to a lot of us, of course. Redzepi's philosophy — his whole approach to living — represents the opposite of stuckness. Like so many intensely creative people (from Bowie to Beyoncé), he's adept at escaping stuckness by propelling himself forward. He doesn't like to dwell on the past; he doesn't like to stay put. When he and I met, I was in a period of my life that was pretty much all about dwelling on the past, and that contrast seemed narratively fruitful to me. (The book starts off by quoting the first lines of Dante's Divine Comedy, which is sort of an inside joke, because from one vantage point the Divine Comedy can be read as an extravagant metaphor for Dante's midlife crisis.) I felt like both Redzepi and I were at pivotal moments in our lives. As readers will see, I wound up getting kicked out of my mental rut.

What is the wisdom of tearing it all down and starting over?

I think what drew me to Redzepi, long before I tasted his cooking, was his crazy commitment to making the most out of his life and the opportunities that have come his way. For those of us (and maybe it's all of us) who toy with the notion of reinventing ourselves, well, Redzepi comes across as a kind of mad avatar of renewal. He has reinvented Noma itself over and over, and he has also, in a way, reinvented Copenhagen, almost single-handedly turning it into one of the most compelling culinary cities in the world. It can be seductive and intoxicating to be around people who have that kind of energy.

What do you think the Danish chef might have learned from you along the way?

I am still much better than he is at making tortillas.  

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Synesthetic

Author’s note: This chapter is based on the moment before Adrian goes to Adam Vega’s house to buy his vote. I’m not an Adrian stan, but he got me when he said he’s a David Bowie fan and I love a man with good music taste. It’s been a while since the last time I posted a fic and I’m happy to come back on a Thursday. [All characters are owned by Pixelberry studios] 

Book: Bloodbound Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Samantha) Rating: E Word count: 1481 Summary: Adrian and Samantha drive back from the meeting with Adam Vega and get to know each other better through their music tastes. Based on the (music) prompt: Do I Wanna Know?

Warning: This piece contains scenes (mentions of blood kink) unsuitable for minor audiences which may be disturbing/offensive for some people. Reader discretion is advised.

On the way back from the meeting with Adam Vega, Samantha rests her head against the window of Adrian’s car. With his eyes entirely focused on the road, the car is filled with silence. She fidgets for a moment, then plays with ends of her hair trying to think about something else except being anxious about meeting powerful vampire clan leaders who had to be bribed so Lily could have a chance to be alive. To get her mind off things, she turns the radio on and an upbeat Latin pop song starts pumping in the car stereo speakers. Adrian cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, right. You probably prefer classical?”

“Why? Because I’m two hundred years old? Awfully presumptuous of you, Samantha,” he says dryly.

She blushes, “No, I… I just thought… I mean…”

He chuckles. “I’m joking. I do like what you call ‘classical’… But I also enjoy modern music, I always have. I was actually quite good friends with David Bowie, you know.”

“You do know Bowie isn’t exactly modern, right?”

“That’s a relative term and he released his last album just two years ago,” he smirks.

“Okay. Wait… was Bowie a vampire?”

“No, but I remain unconvinced he was entirely human,” he gave her a skeptical look.

“Heh…but at least your alien friend used to listen to some of nowadays music artists,” she giggles.

“I highly doubt he liked one of these Selena Gomez’s songs,“ he crinkled his nose, "but he introduced me to Lorde.”

“Have you actually met Lorde?” her eyes go wide. He nods smiling. “How often do you go out to parties with famous people? Is it always just business? I mean, you were friends with Bowie and he was a wild guy back in the day. Do you like to attend all these extravagant parties?”

"Are you always this curious?” he questioned, smirking slyly in an attempt to intimidate her and make her stop asking so much about him. The more she knows about him, the more complicated their boss/employee relationship can get.

"Only when I’m eager to know more,” she says. His plan to intimidate her backfired, she’s getting more audacious. He shouldn’t indulge her answering, yet he finds himself trying to satisfy her curiosity.

“I go out a lot, but it’s usually business. People don’t want to talk about business during formal meetings and it’s actually easier to find potential partnerships at eccentric parties than anywhere else. I’ve been introduced to many celebrities, but I just keep in touch with the ones I work with. And no, I’d prefer to stay at home or go to a rock concert in a small venue or have a drink in a low key jazz and blues club.”

“Rock, jazz and blues fan, huh? Do you mind if I listen to one of my favorite rock songs?”

“By all means,“ he replies. He can’t deny he wants to know more about her and her music taste is a good start. She connects her phone with Adrian’s car audio system and scrolls on her phone screen looking for a song. She smiles slyly and presses play. A low enticing rock beat comes out of the car speakers. From the corner of the eye, he watches her moving her upper body to the rhythm of the music as she begins to lip-sync the song.

“I had no idea that you’re in deep / I dreamt about you near me / every night this week / How many secrets can you keep?”

He tries to focus on the road again, but Samantha is giving him a hard time. He craves her more than she could ever imagine and succumbed to her needs in the night before by Turning Lily and when she wanted to cuddle. But right there, in his car, he could sense her eyes lusting him, her mauve plush lips whispering those suggestive lyrics about wanting someone so badly and wishing to be reciprocated. He is slowly losing willpower.

Adrian makes a detour and stops at a secluded place by the Hudson River. He unbuckles his seat belt and pulls Samantha by her neck and waist into a searing kiss. 

She frees herself from the seat belt and straddles Adrian, tugging his suit, earning a groan in response. 

He lifts her skirt up as caresses her thighs and buttcheeks, revealing her black stockings. "Damnit, Samantha…” he says marveling at her delicate underwear.

“If you like the stockings, I’m sure you’ll love to see the whole set,” she purrs unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it aside, exposing the black organza bra with small embroideries. 

He hungrily kisses her cleavage, his teeth scraping her skin as he pulls down the sheer fabric. 

She gasps, her fingers twining in his hair while she moves her hips against him. 

He sucks one of her nipples, teasing the other with his thumb and forefinger. His free hand roams up her thigh, pushes her panties aside and caresses the pink wet flesh between her legs. 

She moans quietly, grinding on his hand. She unzips his pants, fishing his cock and strokes it. His hot and shallow breath against her chest builds a warm sensation all over her body and she can’t take it anymore. “I need you inside me,” she murmurs.

“Are you sure?” He stops, studying her face, searching her approval.

“Yes. Please, just take me.”

He obliges pulling down his seat as she helps him remove his suit and pants. 

She lowers herself on him, relishing the feeling of Adrian into her watching his clear blues eyes turn red. She rocks her body, ranking her hands up her own torso as the pleasure slowly increased. 

He bucks his hips, holding her by the waist, mesmerized at sight of her riding him. Breasts bouncing, teeth nibbling her bottom lip, sun-kissed skin glowing from sweat, flushed cheeks. His car has tinted windows, but he’s quite sure she wouldn’t care about being caught by people jogging at the riverbank. The thrill suddenly makes him thirsty. He inhales sharply and concentrates on her giving her pleasure. I can’t feed on her. Not right now.

“You’re so good, Adrian. So good,” she pants. 

He helps her move up and down but doesn’t set the pace. She’s the one taking control and she’s loving it. Her hand slides down her back and reaches for his testicles, rubbing them gently. He closes his eyes, letting out a guttural grunt. 

She has no idea how bad he wants her blood and the effect of her hand caressing is driving him insane. His thrusts meet her pace and her eyes flutter shut. “I’m so close,” she whimpers.

He sits up and grabs her ass, moving her faster. She wraps her arms around him for support pulling him closer. Her smell is intoxicating, the proximity to her skin and her walls pulsing around his length send him to the edge. 

Samantha runs her nails on his back and shudders, finding her release at last. 

Adrian lies down and heaves a deep sigh. 

She follows, resting her head on his broad chest. “Are you alright?” He says, pushing a strand of hair from her sweaty face.

“Yes,” she answers trying to catch her breath. “It’s just… It was… Wow!”

He chuckles. “I’m elated to know you enjoyed it,” he replies, staring at the ceiling of his car.

She notices his sudden aloofness and tilts her head to look at him. “And did you enjoy it?”

He’s hungrier than before. His blood red eyes could give him away, yet she doesn’t know him that well to recognize the signs. “It was marvelous, Samantha. But we have to avoid doing this in public places under the sunlight.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We should go, right?”  

“Yes, we should,” he plants a soft kiss on her lips and they collect their clothes to get dressed before they adjust the seat and drive back to Raines Corp building. While she chooses the next to play in the car, he smiles to himself, unaware she is glancing at him from the corner of an eye.

“I couldn’t help but notice, Mr. Raines, that you said ‘we have to a avoid this in public places’. Does it mean you want it to happen again?” She smirks.

He shakes his head thinking about the mess he just himself into. “And that’s what I get for hiring a perceptive assistant. Are you sure you don’t want to be debriefed?” He smiles sardonically.

“Ha ha. Not a chance, Adrian,” she leans in to kiss his cheek. He grins and, despite his hunger, drives calmly during all the way back.

[theblueroute]

On March 27, four Widener English majors–all Blue Route staff members–and two faculty members traveled to Portland, Oregon to attend the annual Association of Writers and Writing Programs conference. Along with nearly 12,000 other writers, readers, editors, and publishers, the team enjoyed three amazing days of panels, networking opportunities, enlightening readings and keynotes speeches, and of course, the pacific northwest! Read on for a few words from all four senior English majors about their time in Portland!

Kelly Bachich Carlie and I signed up for an hour of manning the FUSE table in the book fair section of the conference. While we were setting up, Carlie nudged me and said, “Kelly, doesn’t that dog on that poster over there look just like the one you wrote about in Historical Fiction class?” Low and behold, I look over and the juxtaposing booth is sporting a poster of Laika, the space dog from the Sputnik II mission that I had just written about the week before coming to AWP. Naturally, I had to go over and investigate. I asked the woman working the booth why Laika was on the poster and she informed me that their book press had published an author who just wrote a biography on Laika. Not only were they selling copies, but he would be there signing them in an hour!

I purchased the book and stood waiting in line, mustering up the courage to ask the author, Kurt Caswell, if I could send him my short piece to read. I am a pretty confident and outgoing person but, for some reason, the minute I was next in line I almost chickened out. I told him about the poster and why I had to buy his book and meet him to tell him that I had also just written about Laika. He handed my book back to me after a really great conversation about Laika and I knew my window to ask him to read my story had closed. Then, to my complete shock, he asked me to send him my story to read and even gave me his personal email to send it to. I was elated.

Later that night, Rohan met a panelist named Shayla Lawson who wrote a poetry chapbook mixed with Frank Ocean songs and got us invited to a “battle of the bands” where she performed her work with her band. One of the opening acts, however, incorporated the song “Space Oddity” by David Bowie into his piece. The minute I heard the lyrics my head snapped over to look at Carlie who was already staring at me, mouth agape. “Space Oddity” is also an integral part of my short story about Laika. In a three-page story there is not much room and for two major aspects to crop up so blatantly at AWP had to be a sign for me to continue working with that piece. AWP is an invaluable resource for English and creative writing majors, it is a hub for creative minds and a space where we can feel important and bond with other professionals.

Vita Lypyak The first panel I attended at AWP was one of my favorites. It was titled “Translators Are the Unacknowledged Ambassadors of the World,” which is a play on the famous Percy Bysshe Shelley quote, “women are the unacknowledged poets of the world.” I speak two languages besides English, so languages and translation is something that always interested me. The final panelist opened my eyes to the Iranian culture and the struggles associated with translating Iranian literature to English. Unlike the first two panelists, she explained that Iran, as a nation, hinders its own artist by utilizing strict censorship and even executing writers. As a whole, this panel made me understand the crucial role translators have in the dissemination of literature. It helped me understand that translating is also a form of creative writing; a translator has to not only present the same meaning of the original work, but also closely match the same style.

In a sense, translators are poets and makers of things, too; they give readers access to things they could have never reached, due to a language barrier. AWP features a lot of intellectually stimulating and educational panels, which are great, but they can also cause a lot of mental fatigue. By attending poetry readings and readings of other kinds, it really helps your mind slow down and recharge, at least that was my experience. At “A Wild Girls Poetry Reading,” I was particularly moved by one poet, who wrote a collection of poetry where she was attempting to deal with the grief associated with her younger brother’s suicide. The stories she told the audience and the poetry she read were so raw and they made me empathize with her so much. I attended this reading on the first day and I could not stop thinking about her work. Her words impacted me the entire trip to the point that on the last day, I went and bought her book. I had to or I would never forgive myself. After I purchased it, I sat outside and read it from cover to cover, and her words continued to move me.

Rohan Suriyage I decided to go to Page Meets Stage, a reading that is a yearly tradition at AWP. This was the best decision I made throughout the time of the conference. The reading consisted of five poets reading and performing poems after one another, “popcorning” in order and choosing what to perform based on what was read before them. The panel was led by Taylor Mali, four-time poetry slam champion and arguably the most famous American spoken word poet, and consisted of other notable poets like Anis Mojgani, Mark Doty, and Shayla Lawson. For the whole hour I just sat there, mouth agape, at the incomparable stage presence and refined performing art they all shared with the room. When it was time for Shayla Lawson to read, she prefaced her poems in explaining they were all from a book of poems inspired by Frank Ocean, an R&B artist and one of my main artistic inspirations. When Shayla finished performing “Strawberry Swing” from her poetry book I Think I’m Ready to See Frank Ocean I struggled to retrieve my jaw from the floor and knew I had to speak to her after. Upon the panel’s conclusion I was able to do so.

We talked about Frank and our common interests, and after we spoke, she invited me to come to a reading she was orchestrating in downtown Portland. Of course, I obliged and I ended up going after the last of the panels of the day. In the library room of the Heathman Hotel, I heard Shayla and 4 of her colleagues read marvelous poetry. All of them are part of an association of writers called the Affrilacians, about 2,000 southern writers strong (per Facebook). Two of them I met and spoke with, published poet and educator Mitchell L.H. Douglas and former Kentucky poet laureate and educator Frank X Walker. Both were incredibly down to earth men who gave me insight on getting published and furthering my education, and I thank them for that. To whoever made the decision to take me as one of the students to go on AWP this year: thank you. Thank you. What I owe you can never be repaid. This was a span of days I can’t see myself ever forgetting, a span of days I firmly believe will prove to be important as I further my writing career.

Carlie Sisco One of the panels I attended was titled “8 Techniques Guaranteed to Take Your Script to the Next Level.” Using examples of films such as “Juno,” “Star Wars: A New Hope,” “Pulp Fiction,” and “Little Miss Sunshine” among others, this panel offered techniques relative to character, scene structure, descriptions, and dialogue. Though I do not write screenplays myself, I have always loved reading the screenplays to my favorite movies and television shows. It makes a very visual experience feel like reading a book. This panel demonstrated the ways in which some screenwriting techniques have the ability to transcend into fiction writing, because, even if I am not worrying about camera angles, it is still storytelling. Screenwriting can sound like a novel just as a novel can read like a screenplay.

Something that stood out to me in particular had to do with a tip on character development: “we watch movies because we want to connect with our characters.” Is that not the same for fiction writers? Shouldn’t I also be focusing on want versus desire, asking emotional questions in scenes, considering symbolism and foreshadowing, making my language visual or finding imaginative ways to introduce my characters? Isn’t it good advice regardless of the medium to think about increasing tension and suspense by slowing down, using misdirection to reveal information, or revealing my characters through their actions? I chose to go to a variety panels on screenwriting and playwriting not because I want to try my hand at either one, but because I know that the techniques between them and fiction writing are interchangeable. I also know that films and television serve as my influence, the driving force that compels me to provide visual detail and intricate characters. I would not have been able to explore what that means to my writing or how related the two mediums are had I not been given this opportunity. My path may not have been the one most fiction writers would typically take, but I think that is what was so amazing about AWP at the end of the day. I was able to find what interested me and gained insight from an influencing medium all while taking my own unique path.

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by Carlie Sisco

Recently our senior staff members attended the 2019 AWP Conference in Portland. Click the link to read about their experience! #AWP2019 On March 27, four Widener English majors–all Blue Route staff members–and two faculty members traveled to Portland, Oregon to attend the annual…

[cannibalcoyote]

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have an reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain is refreshingly cold. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.