#she was actually force to pose with only her drumsticks

[owldiurno]

Dr.

[angstama]

apple tree | chifuyu.m

pairing: chifuyu matsuno x reader

genre: angst, slow-burn, unrequited love, pining, fluff, chifuyu doesn’t love you that way :( 

warnings: as usual, heartbreak coming ahead <3

✧. in which you look back on the times that chifuyu had been the highlight and heartbreaker in your youth. 

you were five when you first met chifuyu matsuno under the big apple tree one summer day. 

head deep into bending the fragile weeds into a flower crown when a blonde haired boy with the prettiest ocean blue eyes approached you. “what are you doing?” he asked curiously, licking his already melting chocolate ice cream while looking at the imperfectly balanced flower that you had spent hours on crafting in your hands. “making a flower crown.” you answered simply, not even sparing the blonde haired boy a glance as you were too focused in tweaking the branches. 

“woah that’s awesome!” he beamed in excitement, plopping down next to you instantly and leaning in closer to take a look at it. “yeah i know right!” you smiled in triumph, finally looking up to see whoever was showing interest in your little hobby and behold, there sat chifuyu in a rainbow striped t-shirt with his legs crossed and eyes gleaming with interest.

 in all honesty, your flower crowns were horribly ugly, but in chifuyu’s eyes it was uniquely you. perhaps it was maybe because he hadn’t seen anyone making an actual flower crown before or perhaps maybe he was just feeling sorry for the girl who always sat alone under the big apple tree that never bloomed a single fruit all year round. whichever it was, you wished that it was the first. “teach me how to make one please!” he grabs your wrist, causing your cheeks to burn under the scorching hot sun and heart rate quickening though you were clueless as to why it happened being only at the age of five, so you decided that it was okay to have him around. 

strangely ever since then, you were never seen alone under the apple tree in the park again. 

you were nine when you first understood the concept of crushes, with the help of your best friend, chifuyu matsuno of course. 

“it’s when you want to share the biggest chicken drumlet with them dummy!” chifuyu explained, voice muffled from stuffing his face with fried chicken one after another. you weren’t sure how the two of you derived at the current topic, though you remember the last you checked, chifuyu was rambling on and on about the new girl in your class. “so, you’d share this with whoever you have a crush on?” you asked as you pointed towards the biggest drumstick that chifuyu had saved for the last, as always. 

he nodded impatiently, grabbing the very same drumstick and ready to devour it but only to come to a halt when the two of you locked eyes. “want some?” he offered, waving the fried chicken in front of you. “wh-what?” your words fumbled, taken aback by chifuyu’s sudden offer right after the whole sharing of the biggest chicken drumlet explanation he had just made. “you kept staring at it. do you want it?” he asked, with innocence laced in his voice, oblivious to the shade of red slowly making an appearance on your cheeks. you huffed, “am not!”. chifuyu only lets out a snort, “yeah sure,” he chuckles boyishly, leaning down to rest on your shoulders, causing your body to stiffen upon the sudden contact. that afternoon, for almost an entire hour you were forced to sit as straight as you could, afraid that something was going to erupt in your tummy again as you could feel the bubbling sensation that threatened to explode. 

you were thirteen when you finally realised that you, y/n l/n, wants to share the biggest drumstick with chifuyu matsuno. 

it was christmas eve and chifuyu had invited you over to his place for a dinner, claiming that his mother had threatened to throw his precious romance mangas away if he didn't invite you. 

you arrived at the matsuno’s household ten minutes earlier than stated with a tray of roasted potatoes held in your hands and beads of sweat running down your forehead despite the freezing cold temperature outside. for the eight years of friendship you had with chifuyu, you’ve never felt this nervous seeing him and his family. it’s the cold, you naively thought, when the door swung opened, revealing your best friend dressed in a maroon striped sweater with suspenders. his eyes widened, not expecting to really see you when he was just opening to check in an attempt to ease his mother’s sixth sense. “y/n? why didn’t you knock?” he gasped, gently tugging the tray on your hands into his as he looked at you in surprise. “well, i was gonna but you opened the door before i could!” you scoffed a white lie, wanting nothing but to cover up the fact that you had been standing outside because you couldn’t get your heart to calm down. 

“chifuyu why don���t you give y/n the gift you got for her now?” mrs matsuno chimed, elegance evident in her posture and movement when she lightly dabbed a napkin across her lips which made you wonder how is it possible that she's the mother of chifuyu when chifuyu shared not a single bit of her grace when it comes to eating. chifuyu pauses briefly, “give me a sec,” he nods before stuffing the roasted potato that was previously halfway into his mouth and standing up to jog over to his room. “he cleaned the house for two months for it.” mr matsuno chuckled as chifuyu jogs out again, this time with a paper bag held in his hand. 

“you better wear it everyday.” he sent you a playful wink, handing you the brown paper bag. you carefully unwrapped the ribbon that bounded the paper bag and pulling out an overly oversized hoodie enough to fit you through a lifetime. you noticed that it was same hoodie that chifuyu often wears except that yours was in the shade of emerald green, the colour that chifuyu had taken the effort to remember that you had once claimed as your colour when the two of you had a heated discussion on what colour represents yourselves. 

“wow! now we have a friendship hoodie!” you beamed in excitement, pulling the oversized hoodie over your sweater. “how do i look?” you asked, posing a few turns at chifuyu as he took a good look at you. “pretty.” he held a thumb up before stuffing another spoonful of pasta down. 

your lowered your gaze upon hearing the sudden compliment your best friend gave, opting to look at the last piece of roasted chicken that mrs matsuno had offered you earlier just now before chifuyu could lay his hands on it. your lips pursed, not entirely confident to do it but eventually picking up the piece of meat and placing it on chifuyu’s already dirtied plate from all the sauces he had mixed with his food. “thank you,” you mumbled, looking anywhere else but chifuyu’s burning gaze on you. 

the butterflies were taking flight soon and you on the other hand had no idea how to contain it. 

you were sixteen when chifuyu first broke your heart on the first day of the spring season, openly declaring in front of you and takemichi that he’ll be confessing to the pretty girl sitting in front of him during lunch time. 

her name is haru.

“no way! you’re kidding!” takemichi gaped, leaning in closer to chifuyu as the close proximity between the two of them wasn’t enough for him to hear chifuyu clearly. chifuyu crossed his arms, confidence evident in his posture, “of course not! i’ve already decided, there’s no going back!” 

“be sure not to scare her away!” you stuck your tongue out to which chifuyu rolled his eyes in response. “eh? you’re just jealous that no one’s confessing to you!”, wiggling his head in a playful manner as he brought an ‘L’ sign up to his forehead to further anguish you. you raised a middle finger, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation for you weren’t sure if you were able to contain the effect of your heart dropping six feet down. 

you knew chifuyu succeeded when he came running to you after school with the brightest smile you adored, a faint tint of blush coated on his cheeks. “guess i’m gonna see you lesser huh lover boy?” you chuckled softly, shoving your textbooks into your canvas bag as he swung himself onto your desk with a smug grin. “you’d wish huh don’t you? but no, you’ll still see me as often when i’m off from boyfriend duties,” he sang happily. perhaps maybe because it was chifuyu’s own words, you believed wholeheartedly that you were okay with being just his best friend and being supportive of his relationship. so you watched chifuyu’s love for haru bloomed into something more than just the typical puppy love you often watch on romcoms. 

in just a blink of an eye, two years had passed and the next thing you knew you were spending your birthday without your best friend for the second time in a row. “this sucks,” you grumbled, throwing your phone aside when the time struck midnight, announcing a new day had just arrived. chifuyu’s words were just empty affirmations when you realised that you barely ever saw your best friend. you weren't sure if the two of you were even best friends anymore. it felt more like he’s just a friend that you talk to occasionally now. you see, chifuyu is a loyal friend and that’s a widely known fact and that’s what made it even more heartbreaking for you because chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive and you had no reason to hate him for that. 

you rubbed your temples tiredly, wanting nothing more than to run your aching head into the wall when a packet of your favourite watermelon mints was thrown onto your desk. “rough night?”atsumu, your beloved table-mate asked smugly. “you don’t say,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at the obvious as you impatiently tore the packet open. “he didn’t wish ya happy birthday did he?” the freshly bleached haired boy questioned. atsumu got his answer when you didn't sat in silence, opting to look out the window to distract yourself from the threatening tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. and god do love to test you when the scene of chifuyu leaning in to kiss haru on the lips ever so gently unfolds at your sight. oh how you wished that it was you who he’s kissing right now. 

chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive. 

it was already late into the night when you heard a knock outside your balcony. your breath hitched when you saw that it was chifuyu who had disturbed your little movie marathon alone after the events that had happened lately. “hey,” he breathed, a soft smile wearing on his lips to which you returned it with an awkward one, inviting him into your messy room. “oh we’re in our friendship hoodie!” he chuckles nervously. your eyes travelled on him, realising that indeed he’s wearing the same hoodie that you were currently wearing right now. “it’s late chi, what’s going on?” you sighed, tone coming off harsher than you intended to. chifuyu nods slowly, face soon replaced with an apologetic look. “i’m sorry for missing your birthday, i feel horrible really,” he begun. “ i know i haven’t been around lately, so i want to make it up to you.” 

your brows furrowed at chifuyu’s apology, you knew he was being so sincere so why did you feel even much more upset hearing it? “that’s it? you could’ve just done this in school tomorrow chifuyu.”you sighed, trying your hardest to mask the pettiness within you with a tired voice. “ i know i know, but i couldn’t sleep knowing that i left my best friend alone on her 18th birthday.” he looked at you hesitantly as you quietly pulled your duvet over your lap. “how about let’s go hiking and watch the sunrise this weekend? just the two of us. i know you’ve been wanting to do that.” 

you wished you weren’t in love with chifuyu so that you wouldn’t give in so easily. you wished you were petty enough to make a scene and just be angry at him but you couldn't so here you are right now, hiking up the trail with your hand in chifuyu’s as you helped him up the slope. “your stamina really sucks,” you retorted to which chifuyu huffed in response. “it’s not that my stamina sucks, it’s that this trail is literally ninety-eight percent high slopes,” he pouts. 

“well you could've chose not to show up.” 

“no! i want to do this with you. what are you talking about?” 

you only smiled at his little defence. “whatever,” you mumbled as you quickly dropped your grip on his and walking ahead of him in an attempt to hide your blush. “hey! wait for me!” 

it was near autumn when one day chifuyu appeared in the wee hours of the night with tears streaming down his cheeks when he fell into your arms and hugged you tightly. you found out that haru was moving away to the states with her family and had broken up with chifuyu, refusing to try out long distance relationship. 

so like any other best friend, you let chifuyu cry into your shoulders as you sat in silence that night, heart breaking at the torn state chifuyu was in. he truly loved her. 

you were twenty when chifuyu held your hands and asked you to be his. 

“chifuyu matsuno! where the hell are my batteries?” your voice echoed through your shared apartment, causing poor chifuyu to jump and drop the eggs he was previously holding in his hands on to the floor. it’s been almost two years since haru and chifuyu had broken up and you had spent a great deal of time trying to mend his broken heart though you knew that it would never be fully healed. she was his first love after all. 

the two of you had moved in to a small apartment close to your university as planned since young, officially becoming roommates. “fuck!my eggs!” chifuyu cried out loud as he frantically lets go of the spatula in his hands to grab a kitchen tower and clean up the pool of egg yolk and egg white on the marble floor. you groaned in annoyance when chifuyu doesn’t answer your question, slamming the tools drawer shut and making your way towards the kitchen. 

“i swear chi-” you paused when you saw chifuyu kneeling on the floor with his pink kitten design apron tied against his body, a pout clearly evident on his lips. “what ever happened?” your head tilted slightly, annoyance slowly decimating. “you screamed like a mad woman. that’s what happened.” he retorted. you rolled your eyes, grabbing another kitchen towel and joining chifuyu on the ground. “well if you didn’t misplace my batteries, i wouldn't be screaming.” 

“if you looked close enough, it’s literally on your study desk.” 

“it’s not!” 

“it is!” 

“it’s not!” you huffed, getting up and stomping over to your room to prove a point but your eyes widened, horrified by the pure sight of your batteries accompanies by a fresh pack with a sticky note attached on top of it. ‘you’re welcome <3′, it wrote. you slowly walked out of your room with your head hung low, doing the walk of shame. “say it,” chifuyu taunts as he skilfully tossed the omelette onto the plate and placing it in front of you. you scrunched your nose, lips pursing and taking a deep breath. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly, fingers fumbling at the ends of your shirt. “ah-ah i can't hear you,” you hear him sing, a little too happy. obvious that he’s enjoying this. you sighed in defeat, clearing your throat loud enough. “i’m sorry,” you said it loudly this time. 

chifuyu lets out a laugh in satisfaction, throwing his head back while you on the other hand could only pout at his triumph. but that didn’t mean that your heart didn't swell up at the expression of happiness he has on his face right now. digging in at the breakfast that chifuyu had made for you which had now became a routine, you couldn't help but to feel small under chifuyu’s intense stare on you. “are you not gonna eat?” you raised your brow, eyeing the untouched omelette on his plate. chifuyu rests his chin on his palm, looking at you with a look of as if he had something to tell you. 

“i will.” he hummed before reaching out to grab your hands. your body stiffened, dumfounded at what’s currently happening. “you know, for the last two years, life was a little less painful thanks to you.” chifuyu confessed earnestly, “ i guess what i’m trying to say is that, you’re my end game y/n l/n. i don’t think i would've came this far if it wasn’t for you so i’m going to ask you this once,” he paused, intertwining his fingers in yours as he gazes into your eyes deeply, 

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

your relationship with chifuyu wasn’t a perfect one but the two of you always made it work somehow. which is why here you are sitting against your bed frame with luggages packed by the side wondering what exactly had gone wrong along the way? 

and you realised that you were never meant to be chifuyu’s end game. you were never meant to be his forever. 

“you think that i don’t fucking know that you were always looking at her instagram when you think i’m not around?” you screamed, body shaking from the exhaustion that’s taking a toll on you both physically and emotionally. “i don’t see how it’s wrong wanting to see how my friend is doing?” chifuyu snaps. 

you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. “yeah. as if you don’t still say her name in your sleep. as if you don’t fucking mess up our favourite food, as if you didn’t tell takemichi that you wished i was haru!” this was the last straw for you. you were too exhausted to try anymore. haru was irreplaceable and you were just a temporary band aid for chifuyu. 

it was as if you had hit jack pot when your lover went silent. “i’ve loved you for so long chifuyu. but loving you hurts too much. i’m so tired of this.” you finally allowed yourself to break down, letting yourself go loose on the emotions you’ve suppressed for years as chifuyu could only watch in remorse for tearing you apart till this state. 

you finally understood why the apple tree never bloomed any apples.

you were twenty seven when you decided to leave chifuyu matsuno. fifteen years of friendship and seven years of being each other’s significant other. you finally walked away, planting one last final kiss on chifuyu’s lips and shutting the door on your ex-lover’s sleeping figure. 

[carsontheleft]

Hot Mess

Summary: Hot Space is a hot mess and John does not want to not talk to Roger anymore. Things get more emotional than any of them bargained for.

Pairing: JohnxRoger (platonic), RogerxDominique (mentioned), JohnxVeronica (mentioned)

Comment: Hey, look, I’m still alive! I started this a while ago and then I spontaneously finished it yesterday and THEN I thought about posting it immediately and then I DIDN’T and now it’s John’s birthday it just fits quite nicely. Happy Birthday, John! Have fun with this, y’all.

John has to forcibly hold himself back from slamming the coffee pot back into its place. No coffee would only worsen the already disastrous day. Week. Month, almost. For the first time, Munich doesn’t seem to be their lucky place.

But maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s because John finally lets himself push for things he wants, that he likes and doesn’t let himself give in just because Brian is pushing for his way.

Brian. The mere thought of the guitarist turns John’s stomach into knots and pushes up his blood pressure. How can a single person be so fucking obnoxious, bull-headed, old-fashioned-

Okay, stop.

John takes a deep breath of stale basement air and decides he needs to breathe real, fresh, cold air without a huge grey, looming building pressing down on him.

Arriving on ground level, he takes one of the back doors leading to a narrow alleyway to escape. The air here smells a bit sweetly of the rotting food in trash cans, but it’s cold and sharp and already saturated with bluish smoke of cigarettes.

Roger is crouching beside John’s feet, leaning against the grey stone, with a pack of Marlboro Reds at his feet. It’s half empty and it’s not even noon.

“It’s not really the right weather for being outside without a jacket, is it?”

It isn’t. November in Munich doesn’t provide conditions to do anything outside. Where Montreux may have gotten the last golden sunrays of the year or the winter’s first snow, Munich is just grey, dreary and dark.

“I don’t see you wearing one”, Roger squints upwards at John having forgotten his sunglasses downstairs.

“Fair enough.”

Neither of them talks when John lights his cigarette.

Normally, that would be unusual. There has hardly ever been a time where John and Roger didn’t talk to each other, may it be because of an argument or because they didn’t have anything to talk about.

But not-talking is the safer choice of interaction nowadays. Not-talking doesn’t pose such a high risk for arguments.

But they’re friends and John wants to talk to Roger, he wants to explain his ideas and visions just like he’s always done it, but he’s not sure Roger would listen. And he just doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get why Roger and Brian are so afraid of some change, when that’s what’s Queen been about all along, a band not succumbing to trends and expectations, a band that always knew to surprise.

“John, I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

John nearly drops his cigarette when Roger’s voice rips him out of his thoughts.

He’s looking at him, and John is suddenly hit by how young Roger appears with his tousled blonde hair and wide blue eyes, that, admittedly, are blood-shot, but that doesn’t take the child-like innocence out of them.

Despite that, John scoffs.

“It’s hardly me who’s at fault here.”

Roger visibly flinches at that, recoils and turns his eyes back to the dirty pavement in front of him.

John’s worked hard to build up the defenses he’s calling his own now, so thick and impenetrable that not even Brian with his jabs and sniping remarks can get through them.

But now Roger’s ripped through them, just like that.

“Rog…”

“No, no, it’s fine, you’ve made your point”, his voice is a little husky, only barely betraying his hurt, “I’m going back inside, see you there.”

And it’s actually this eerie calm, which is so unlike Roger, that John wakes from the stupor he’s worked himself into and makes him realize they really should stop fighting and get to talking instead.

 Roger’s quiet for the remainder of day, too. And John’s not the only one who notices, Freddie asks if Rog is alright and earns himself a grumbled “Just want to get out of this shithole”; Brian only grants him an irritated look when Roger doesn’t jump to his defense. Mack, Crystal and the other roadies opt for not saying anything at all, they know better but to get into arguments that cannot be stopped anyway.

It’s when Roger practically flees from the studio after they collectively decide they won’t get much more done and doesn’t stay back to joke around with the others that John decides he has to do something immediately.

He gets some beer, the German stuff isn’t really his taste, but Roger seems to have taken a liking to it, grabs two pizzas from the Italian place Mack did recommend and walks over to Roger’s apartment.

It takes the drummer some time to answer his door, two rounds of insistent knocking and a raised hand to start a third one, only then there’s some shuffling, the clicking of locks and Roger opens the door a fraction.

“Why’re you here?”, his blond hair is sticking up in every direction and he’s wearing a dark fluffy bathrobe. There is a flush to Roger’s cheeks that tells John he either pulled his friend from a bath or was just lucky to catch him coming out of the shower.

“To talk. Not to fight”, John holds up the pizza boxes with the beer stacked on top, “Please, Rog.”

Roger stares at him for a moment and for once John absolutely can’t read the usually so emotional face. Then he heaves out a sigh and opens the door to let John in.

The place is cluttered in a typical Roger-fashion. An overflowing ashtray, papers with what could be lyrics or shopping lists, a part of a drumstick for some reason and a colorful array of take out packaging. John winces, maybe he should’ve brought stuff to cook a fresh meal instead of gifting Roger yet another pre-made supper.

“How’s Dom?”

“She’s good. Took Felix and went to visit her parents, escaping the rain and stuff. You know how she hates it”, he does his best to declutter the couch table, mindlessly stacking pieces of paper on top of each other without looking at them or at John, for that matter.

“How are Ronnie and the kids?”

“They’re good, Ron wants to come down next week, but we’ll have to see if it works with Robert and the school. I miss them.”

Now Roger looks at him, but it’s not the look of disdain and almost disgust he wore when John presented them the lyrics of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ and he threw a fit over ‘I’m happy at home’. This one is one of understanding and compassion.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s have a taste of that beer you brought, yeah?”

They mostly eat in silence, only interrupted by the quiet murmuring of the TV and one of them occasionally commenting on the food or the beer. When John’s done with his food Roger is intently watching the 10 pm news. He’s not sure the drummer understands much of it, but John is willing to indulge him a while longer. It’s not like he’s looking forward to this heart-to-heart, but he knows it’s necessary and they’ll feel better once they’re done. John only wishes he could fast forward everything in between now and then.

“We need to talk about this”, John starts eventually when the pretty blonde woman on the TV is done with telling them that the next days will be just as dreary as today.

“And what exactly does ‘this’ entail?”

Roger is already in full on confrontation mood, and John has to force himself to stay calm. It’s Roger, he tells himself, no matter that it was actually him who put up the white flag this morning, he still doesn’t like to be cornered.

“Us not working like we used to. The constant fighting and discussions and nothing coming out of it. You constantly siding with Brian without listening to a word I say!”

Oh shit, he really could’ve worded that better.

“Me not listening? I AM listening, other than Brian and you! I’m listening to both your opinions and then I decide!”

“And it’s always in favor of Brian!”

“Well, if we share an opinion, then yes!”

“But why? Why are you so intent on keeping everything as it is?”, they’ve gotten louder and John really, really doesn’t want this to evolve into another shouting match, but he might not be strong enough to reign himself in.

But, much to John’s surprise, Roger sighs and slumps back against the couch rubbing his eyes.

“Because it works! We’re doing this how long now? 10 years? People know us, they expect our product to meet a certain standard, an expectation.”

“Our- our product? A certain standard? Roger, what are you talking about? Isn’t our music about how we feel? What we think? It’s not supposed to be some commercial bullshit”, John is seriously flabbergasted. Not in a million years he would have thought Roger would start to view their work as a ‘job’ only consisting of deadlines and expectations and goal fulfilment.

He scoots over to the other end of the couch where Roger is sitting and bumps their knees together.

“What brought this on, Rog? What’s going on?”

“It’s just…”, the drummer shrugs, rubs his eyes again and then starts to knead the shoulder muscles that John knows are always a bit tense, always a bit sore.

“We’ve been doing this 10 years, John, ten years! How many bands have made it farther than that? Who says it won’t just all fall apart next month? We can’t just start making different music now!”

“We’ve been always aware of that possibility. There was always the chance we wouldn’t make it, but now we’ve got number one hits in America! We’re an established name!”

It feels a bit weird to take on the motivational part, the part of convincing the others that they have actually made it. Usually, it’s Roger who does that.

“Yeah, but…”, Roger blows out a breath, “Don’t you feel like- like you were 27 just yesterday, snorting all the coke in New Orleans without a care in the world and now, now there’s a child and- and a-“

“A woman you might as well just marry”, John tightly presses his lips together to not let the laughter escape. So, that’s what all this is about, Roger just realized he’s actually a grown-up now and he doesn’t feel too comfortable about it.

“It’s not that!”, Roger argues, “What difference does a bloody certificate make?! I have a family now; I have to provide!”

John sucks in his cheeks to keep himself from grinning. He gets it, he does, Roger’s worries are understandable, and he doesn’t want to ridicule his friend, but from John’s position his worries are a bit ridiculous, when they’re in far better position now than when John first became a father.

“Dom has a job, too, you know?”, John teases, fully intending to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect.

“That’s- Stop making fun of me!”, Roger jumps up from the sofa and hovers over John, fists clenching at his side as if he has to keep them from either punching something or someone or from thrashing his apartment.

“You know, sometimes I feel like that’s the only thing I’m good for! The dumb blonde, that crazy drummer guy, let’s make fun of him, he deserves it! He’s no good for anything anyway, can’t manage to write a good song, and we don’t even need him for drumming anymore!”

Oh. Oh.

So that’s where all this moodiness is coming from.

Roger rarely shares his feeling so honestly, usually none of them does if there are not copious amounts of alcohol and or other substances involved, but Roger especially likes to keep everything bottled up, until it implodes. And that leaves either a destroyed room or drumkit, or Roger in front of a toilet puking his guts out and avoiding just about everyone for a few days after until he’s okay with himself again.

So, to say the least, this emotional outbreak with feelings actually being articulated is uncharted territory for John. And for Roger too, who’s staring at John like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Rog-“

“Forget it!”

He stalks away, fluffy bathrobe and naked feet, and slams his bedroom door shut.

John sighs and settles back into the sofa. He came to talk and he’ll get his talk, even if he has to stay the night. With Roger, that might just be the case.

Well. At least the apartment has a second bathroom.

 John wakes a couple of hours later, around 3 am. It’s a weird feeling, usually they’d still be out and drinking, but it’s probably not the worst thing to get a whole 8 hours of sleep at what is actually night.

A sharp gust of icy cold air wafts through the room and John finds that it was that what woke him in the first place with the flimsy throw he used as a blanket not providing adequate cover.

The apartment is mostly dark save for the lights of the city streaming in through the window and John can see through the door gap into the hall and that Roger’s bedroom door is open again.

He finds him in the kitchen, standing in front of the open window smoking.

“You’re still here”, he notes when John steps up beside him.

“I wanted a talk, an honest conversation. I won’t leave until I get one.”

“Took a note out of Freddie’s book then, huh?”

“Freddie?”, John scoffs, “Try your own.”

Roger turns to him, mouth open and already gesturing with the softly glowing cigarette. “I’m not-“

“Ridge Farm?”

That takes his drive. He turns back to the view, deeply inhaling the burning smoke. John takes one out of Roger’s packet. He doesn’t really like the brand, but it’s better than nothing.

“You taped my drums, John”, Roger eventually says.

“Are you still mad about this? I’m sorry and I promise not to touch the kit again without you knowing.”

“It’s not that- well, that too, but-“, Roger takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “You tape my drums and there’s nothing I can do that a drum machine isn’t able to. Hell, I’m not even the best drummer without them taped, my technique is weird, if you can even call it that, there are guys who are a lot better than me and understand this disco thing you’re prattling on about.”

“It’s not like Brian-“

“He’s trying, okay? He’s trying to get into that kind of music, he’s not sprinkling guitar solos all over the songs like you’d do it with coke on a hooker because he wants to annoy you! Well, not primarily anyway, but he’s trying to make his contribution to what you’re doing! He wants to have part in this and I, I just don’t see it, I’m sorry.”

Roger flips the butt of his smoke out of the window and rubs his eyes.

“But we can’t just stop! We can’t just stop at The Game and that’s it! We need something new, start fresh like we’ve done it with each album.”

John finishes his cigarette as well but makes a show of putting it out in the ashtray.

“I know that, Deaks, I do! I really don’t want to become the guy that needs to be dragged off stage because the people got tired of him playing the same things over and over and over again! But I just can’t do this disco thing.”

John understands this. You can’t force yourself to produce music you just don’t feel. This is like Fred and his love for opera and musical theater, something John will never get the hang of, no matter how often he’ll take Ronnie to the ballet. And while Roger does like a more electric style of music, he’s not really known for setting the dancefloor on fire. Maybe the women on it but not the dancefloor itself.

“I know you and Freddie don’t need me to realize your vision, this album but I- I can’t lose Queen, John, I can’t. It’s everything.”

Roger’s almost too quiet for John to understand resting against the kitchen counter in the dark, half of his face illuminated by Munich’s night life in a loose shirt and a pair of boxers.

And John thinks, this is it. This is what all this is about.

Because John started to play with those guys he now calls his brothers as a hobby, as a distraction and creative outlet opposite his studies. He had never envisioned to become a famous musician; this never had been a goal for him. So he had sat back and let Freddie, Brian and Roger work on the music, on the band, had let them work on their dream.

And then he had turned 30 and for the first time John had thought that this might be what he’d do the rest of his life. And he decided to give it his everything all, to make a monument for himself, to really give his very best.

And for Roger it had always been like that. There never had been a second option, a plan B, go big or go home. John’s pretty sure even if they hadn’t made it, Roger still would still be a musician. If not in Genesis then in some local band or a studio musician, but he never, ever would have gone to work in some lab or, even worse, in a dentist’s office.

“What are you talking about? You won’t lose Queen! Never! We’d lose all our female fans if we kicked you out!”

“Great to hear that that’d be the greatest loss”, Roger grumbles and turns away but John catches his wrist.

“You won’t lose us. We need you. Who’d be there to back up Fred when his voice is shot? Who’d argue with Brian just to draw him out of his funks? And heaven knows, not Brian nor me can keep up with Freddie.”

“Like I can these days.”

And there’s the other worry hanging in the air around them, Freddie leaving them behind more often than not, being more elusive than he’s ever been. But that’s a worry for another night, right now this is about the two of them, the Sonic fucking Volcano.

“Come on”, John tugs on Roger’s wrist, “Get over here.”

“Deaks, no, I don’t-“

John tugs a little harder and then Roger’s body is pressed flush against his.

“Like you ever say no to a good hug.”

“I hate you”, the drummer mumbles against John’s shoulder and heaves out a mighty sigh relaxing into the embrace.

“I’m sure you do.”

They rest like that for a few minutes, which is not really a thing they’d normally do, but they’re both tired and miss their partners. It’s okay.

“Y’know”, Roger says as he detangles himself, “I’m not sure Queen would lose all its lady fans if I left. Not with you looking like some kind of… Greek God.”

He wrinkles his nose and pokes John into his right pec.

“It’s called exercise, Rog, you could try it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t exercise daily on those bloody drums. Also, Dom likes it. She calls me soft and cuddly.”

He sticks out his chest.

“Wow, look at that, Roger Taylor is proud of being called soft, what a turn of events!”

“Well, at least I don’t look like handlebar with an exploded mop on top.”

“Handlebar? I seem to recall you calling me a Greek god not 30 seconds ago!”

“Yeah, and I regret it already. Just wait until I throw you out of the band!”

[bumblebeug]

A Presentation to the Matchmaker Pt. 4: Something Else

Hey Everyone! Penultimate Chapter!

Part 4: Something Else

Alya shaded her eyes against the unrelenting sun as she watched Felix fussily wipe down Kitty Section’s keyboard. Beside her, Marinette was scratching away in her sketchpad, lost in her own world of patterns and textiles.

“New costume design or something else?” Alya asked to pass the time. With the way Felix was scrubbing at the piano keys, the practice wouldn’t be starting for a little while longer.

“Mmm?” Marinette glanced up from her work. “Oh. New designs, sorta,” Marinette answered.

“Sorta?” Alya repeated questioningly, “Like a different colour scheme?”

Marinette shook her head, “Not exactly. Just trying to make them lighter so they don’t sweat to death in the summer.”

“Makes sense,” Alya agreed. She held up her phone, shielded the lens, and snapped a couple of photos.

“But a new colour scheme could be fun…” Marinette trailed off to herself, eyeing her sketch and writing down a small note, “I’ll have to ask the band about it.”

A tap on Alya’s phone drew her attention back to Marinette.

“New blog?”

Alya smiled, “Nah something else.” She waved her phone at the makeshift stage, “If these guys make it big, big, then years down the road the media’ll want ‘early days’ pictures. Imagine their surprise when they learn that their star reporter knew the band from way back when.”

Alya pulled Marinette to her side to take a selfie with the band in the background. Marinette laughed and posed with Alya before pulling away.

“Imagine their surprise,” Marinette began playfully. She pulled out her phone with an air of superiority, “When they learn that only I have pictures of the band’s actual practice. I even have videos.” Marinette finished smugly.

“Oooh, look at big-shot designer over here,” Alya retorted bringing both hands palms up in mock awe, “Getting pictures of ‘actual practice’ and shooting ‘real videos’.” She said with exaggerated finger quotes.

Both girls giggled.

Marinette fanned herself lazily with her hand. “Anyways, it was really nice of you to convince Felix to join the band.”

Alya glanced back over to where Felix was now cleaning the keyboard stand. A small pile of paper towels were gathering beside him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Joining the band might be too strong a phrase.”

“Well, I hope he sticks with it – he could be just what the band needs. And, it would be fun to have more chances to hang out with him,” Marinette said with a small smile, “Plus, it would be a shame for all that cleaning to go to waste.”

Alya smothered a laugh, “True, true.”

Both girls lapsed into a comfortable silence as they watched Felix nod to himself, apparently satisfied, and begin warm up scales. Luka, noticing that Felix was finally finished cleaning, placed a couple of music sheets near Felix. Alya was too far to make out what exactly Luka said to Felix but Felix offered a tight smile to the older boy. A thought wormed its way into Alya’s head.

“Hey girl?”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm,” Alya wasn’t actually sure how to broach this subject, “Are you… does Luka…?”

She trailed off, frustrated that she couldn’t come up with a decent way to phrase her question. The last thing Felix needs, she thought, was too much competition.

The only reason Alya was sure that Marinette could be swayed from her crush on Adrien was because of Luka in the first place. But Alya wasn’t sure how easily Marinette could be swayed from Luka. Marinette had a tendency to hold onto her crushes tightly and if Luka was Marinette’s new crush then getting Felix to join the band had been a very, very bad idea. Guilt began to creep up Alya’s spine.

Luckily, Marinette seemed to know what Alya was dancing around before Alya could start mentally berating herself.

“No, we’re not,” Marinette replied simply.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” She lightly swatted Alya’s shoulder, “Nothing dramatic happened without you noticing. Luka got to know someone from one of his class better and something clicked between them.”

Marinette shrugged as if this all was no big deal, “I’m glad he’s happy. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to expect him to wait in the wings forever.”

Alya let out a small breath.

Crisis averted, she thought.

But her relief was short lived when she worked through the implication of what Marinette said. She must still like Adrien, Alya thought, looking over her shoulder to where Felix was reading through the sheet music. Her stomach sank slightly. They still hadn’t come up with a good plan that would bring Felix and Marinette together.

The band began their practice in earnest at the sound of Ivan’s drumsticks measuring out the opening beat. Felix, for the most part, seemed to be keeping up with the music’s lively pace. He wasn’t perfect but if he stuck around for more than a practice, which Alya suspected he would – it was impossible to miss that sly look of joy when he managed to save a mistake with an improvised piano riff, then the band had gained a great addition.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Alya watched Marinette watch the practice.

Just because she isn’t broken up over Luka, doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s back to crushing on Adrien. Felix might still have a chance. It was an optimistic thought, but it was all Alya could think at the moment.

Marinette nudged Alya out of her thoughts, “Hey Alya?”

“Yeah girl?” Alya was tempted right then and there to spill the beans. To just let Marinette know about Felix’s crush; ask her if he had a shot. But she held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to say – she wouldn’t betray Felix like that.

“Do you think you could find a private place at school for me this Friday?” Marinette asked too casually for it to actually be a casual question. Alya’s heartbeat pounded along with the song.

“Sure. Uh, classroom? Courtyard?” Alya replied just as casually, trying to quell her panic. If Marinette were asking for a private place then that mea–  

“Oh, either.” Marinette replied, blushing slightly before leaning in as if she was sharing a great secret, “I’m planning on confessing.”

“Oh, of course,” Alya said softly to herself before forcing a cheesy smile onto her face, “You can count on me!”

Marinette smiled at Alya before looking at the band for a long moment. Then she flipped her sketchbook to a new page muttering to herself that she’d just come up with the perfect plan.

Alya craned her neck to see Marinette’s plan but Marinette pulled the pad to her chest, claiming that she didn’t want to jinx anything.

~

After practice, after Marinette wandered over to chat with the other band members, Felix walked up to Alya with a rare smile, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “You should have seen the state of that keyboard – it was like they used it to mop a jam spill and –”

“Marinette is going to confess to Adrien on Friday.” Alya interrupted urgently, “We only have a week for you to confess to her first.”

-----------

Part 3

Part 5 (final chapter)

Taglist!

@call-me-nerdy​, @vivilakitty​, @a-6-yearold-inside, @the-real-gingakid, @redscarlet95, @ashes-wind, @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry, @kali-girlonfire,  @aegyobutpsycho2,  @gal-egg-xy,  @kris-pines04,  @bleeding-heart-romantic, @juhavs, @symwinter, @eva-emaria, @umiko9692, @7-sage-7, @northernbluetongue, @nightstarblue, @marinettepotterandplagg, @hauntedfreakdeputyhero, @greenishivy, 

[oscar-piastri]

perfect family [ben hardy]

summary: you’re roger taylor’s daughter who had been dating ben for a few years and you decide it’s time to reveal your pregnancy

words count: 1k

requested: by @kellysimagines

notes: sorry you had to wait c:

Being Roger Taylor’s daughter was nice and you enjoyed it. But it got a little bit more awkward when your boyfriend was cast to play your father in the Queen biopic.

Ben and you had been dating for nearly three years, so of course he met your father and when he had the opportunity to go to the casting, he didn’t hesitate any seconds. Ben truly wanted to portray your father, to tell Queen’s story to honor your father’s career with his friends.

When Ben told you he got the part, your first reaction was to say “Not weird at all! My boyfriend is playing my father”. You thought it was kind of weird, but your father was really excited about it because he liked Ben and he knew he would nail it. And you saw the chance for them to become closer, and it was very important for you, to have your boyfriend and your father to get along, especially since Ben and you were talking about starting your own family.

You often joined you father when he was on set watching the cast, giving them advice and being a fanboy. Your heart melted as you watched your father teaching Ben some tricks on the drums.

Months later and it was finally the big day; the movie premiere. It was an important day for the whole crew and Queen, but even for you, as you let Ben convinced you that it was time to reveal your pregnancy.

You dropped some hints before the event but it looked like no one got the message. So this night was the perfect night. Ben would put his hands on your belly while you were posing with him, the cast were in awe and your father looked at you weirdly. Didn’t seem to understand too.

After the red carpet and before the screening, everyone was gathering to drink champagne and celebrate. You refused when someone offered you some, instinctively putting your hand on your belly, and that’s when you heard your father scream.

“Your pregnant!” Your father exclaimed, his eyes full of light. You didn’t had time to answer to he was already hugging you. “Darling, this is awesome!” He said, this time more calmly. You couldn’t help but smile at your father’s reaction, you knew he would be the best grandfather.

“Please, don’t cry. Or I’ll cry” you said when you noticed tears in his eyes.

“We’re all gonna cry! This is too fucking cute” Joe exclaimed before hugging Ben.

Everyone soon did the same as Joe and they all hugged you, saying congratulations.

Your pregnancy was now announced and the whole word knew, at least those who cared. You didn’t expect the journalists to be so curious, you’d been asked to attend many interviews with Ben and your father to talk about it. Tabloids were exploding with titles like that “Ben Hardy aka Borhap!Roger is gonna be the father of Roger’s granddaughter”.

Roger your father was over the moon and begged you to give only one interview, all together. He wanted to tell the world how happy and proud he was, and that Ben was the perfect man for you.

You never did interviews and you were truly freaking out but Ben and your father handled it pretty well. “Ben is part of our family now and I couldn’t be happier” Roger said and it made you emotional.

“Oooh love, don’t cry!” Ben told you.

“That’s the hormones” you justified yourself, putting your hands on your growing belly. “This little baby is gonna be a lucky one” you said.

One year later and your daughter was born. She was the cutest thing in the world and she had Ben’s eyes. You were attending a new premiere with Ben and the journalists all asked about your newborn baby girl.

“My father is babysitting her tonight. He’s over the moon. And even though she is only a few months old, she already has him wrapped around her tiny fingers. He asks about her all the time, he legit forced me to go tonight so he could babysit her.” You told them, making Ben chuckle. But it wasn’t a lie, your father was really in awe every time he was near her, and seeing that made you happy because family was important for you and now, your daughter was well welcomed.

“He just texted me a picture” Ben added, showing the picture your father just sent. He was holding your babygirl on his knees, placing a drumstick in her baby arms. “Looks like she’s gonna be the best drummer. She’s learning from the best” he said and you kissed his cheek. Ben and your father were really close and Ben was really impressed of your father’s drumming skills. He never talked about his father in law without mentioning that.

“Are you gonna take her to a premiere someday?” The journalist asked and you politely smiled.

“She’s too young! And those movies aren’t her scene I guess” you laughed. “But maybe in a few years?”

“I’ll definitely bring her to a Disney movie premiere!” Ben was quick to answer, a big smile on his face.

Years later, and there you were, at the new Disney princess movie. Of course you brought your daughter, and she was actually excited about it. Ben and yourself made your best to keep her away from the spotlight, but your five year old daughter was still attending some events with when it was appropriate.

You were surprised when you saw how comfortable she was and how naturally she was posing. But she had that in her blood: her grandfather was a rockstar who attended many events, just like her father who was a well known actor.

The next day, you received a notification from your father’s instagram, telling you he posted something. You quickly looked and were overjoyed when you saw it was a picture of Ben, your daughter and yourself on the red carpet from yesterday’s event, with the loveliest caption. “The perfect family, I love them all, especially this little blond cutie. Of course I’m talking about Ben Hardy. (Only joking, I’m talking about the best granddaughter ever).”

You had the perfect family

[an-aura-about-you]

gentleoverdrive replied to your post “hey guys I’m sort of getting back to using my computer. I’m getting...”

Use a song most people would never expect you liking as a basis for a fic.

A song most people would never expect me liking? That might be a bit difficult because I’m of the opinion that part of being a music nerd is liking ALL genres of music. But I guess people do have certain expectations of me since my primary fixation is classical music, so I can play off of that. And I can also play with that in the fic itself.

“My headphones aren’t working! Fakir, my headphones aren’t working!”

Duck holds her headphones in her hands, kneeling on the ground and head lowered. But even from this position, Fakir can tell her tears just aren’t stopping.

“What kind of agent am I if I can’t dance without my headphones?! The Raven’s already got Rue and he’s probably gotten Mytho by now, too! But I- I-”

Fakir kneels down in front of her and carefully touches her face to tip it up. He doesn’t bother wiping away the tears. “Hey. Headphones or not, you have the most important thing to be an Elite Beat Agent. I didn’t even realize it at first, not until you had been on my team for a while and I saw just how many successful missions we had together. It’s not just rhythm with no mistakes. It’s hope. You don’t need headphones to have hope.”

Duck sniffles, and her tears slow down a little.

Fakir offers Duck his hands and gently pulls her up with him, both on their feet.

“Duck, I know we can help Mytho save Rue if we work together. Will you dance for my team?”

She thinks back involuntarily to the first time she ever met Fakir. She can remember his scowl when he learned she was joining his team and how many times he berated her for her clumsiness. But the more they danced, the better she got, and a light seemed to come on in Fakir’s eyes. And then when the inevitable slip-up did occur, Fakir wouldn’t even worry about it. He’d just say, “Good job, team,” at the end of the mission.

Duck nods, sitting her headphones on her neck for safekeeping. “Thanks, Fakir.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and goes, “It’s what we do. Now, let’s get some music and some hype going.”

And with that, Fakir pulls out his phone and makes a call.

Autor runs his hands over his face, nearly ripping his hair out at his room full of currently useless sound equipment. The oppressive silence of Goldkrone weighs against him, the Raven’s anti-music magic forcing itself into every space. It won’t even let the ringtone on his phone play, the device on vibrate instead when he gets Fakir’s call.

“Fakir, please tell me we have a plan,” he says in answer.

“We do, but we need you more than ever,” Fakir replies. “Do you have any way to make sound? Anything at all? If you can make any music, even just the bare bones of a beat, that’s all we need.”

“That might be a tall order. I might have an upright piano, but I can’t guarantee I can get any sound out of it with whatever the Raven’s doing. That and me attempting to sing might be the best you get.”

“It’s enough to get us going. Thanks, Autor!”

Autor hits end call without bothering with goodbye and turns to hunting through his sheet music.

“Well, I’m no Mick Jagger, but it’ll have to do,” he mutters, pulling up the tattered copy and putting it on the piano. “Uzura! Are you still here?”

Uzura pops out from the other room, still armed with her drum and drumsticks. “Yes?”

“The EBA are on their way! I’m working on the music, but the town needs to know. Help me open up all the doors and windows and get the hype going!”

“I’m on it, zura!” Uzura confirms, already hitting her snare on her way.

What started as a quiet murmur just outside of town only grew louder and louder as Duck and Fakir approached. The Raven laughs in the face of Mytho, the people of Goldkrone, and their foolish hope, covering up what they’re actually saying. But as Duck and Fakir get closer, the chant becomes clear:

“EBA! EBA! EBA! EBA! EBA!”

And as soon as they actually make it back, the crowd starts parting for them into a path to Mytho and a cheer goes up like a wave.

Mytho turns to where the crowd parts, hope born anew in him. The fight against the Raven thus far had been exhausting, even for high ranking agents like him and Rue. He knew he couldn’t stop, but only one agent against a force beyond anything the EBA had ever seen before has been overwhelming to say the least. But he can feel his eyes light up at the sight of his fellow agents arriving.

The air carries the sound of a piano to them just as Duck and Fakir unite with Mytho.

Mytho grins and, skipping the formalities, strikes his attack pose. “Mission!”

Duck and Fakir jump into formation with him, tapping their toes to the beat of the faint music.

“Are you ready?” all three call to the crowd.

The people of Goldkrone erupt in cheers.

“3! 2! 1! Go!”

“I was born in a crossfire hurricane, and I howled at the morning driving rain,” Autor sings as loud as he can with his piano. The instrument had been quiet at first, though he wonders if that was just because of the chanting Uzura led outside, but the instrument is getting louder and louder as he plays. “But it’s all right now, in fact it’s a gas! But it’s all right, I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash! It’s a gas, gas, gas!”

Duck falls into muscle memory in a way she never has before. The more she moves, the more she realizes Fakir was right. Hope is guiding her now in ways her headphones never did. But even so, the music feels like it’s getting stronger with every step.

“I was raised by a toothless bearded hag!” Autor calls out, and it seems like as soon as the words leave him all his equipment comes back online. “I was schooled with a strap right across my back!” He sings as he jumps off the piano and starts cranking all of his stereo systems to full volume. “But it’s all right now, in fact it’s a gas! But it’s all right, I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash, it’s a gas, gas, gas!”

“You’ve got this, Duck!” Fakir cheers as he walks through the familiar steps. “We can do this!”

“We’re gonna get Rue back!” Mytho tells his team. “And we’re not gonna stop until music’s back for good!” The last part is barked out to the Raven, and Mytho swears he saw the Raven falter.

“I was drowned, I was washed up and left for dead!” Autor sings from the roof of his house, hands cupped around his mouth. “I fell down to my feet and I saw they bled, yeah yeah!”

“I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread! Yeah yeah yeah!” the people of Goldkrone sing as loud as they can. “I was crowned with a spike right through my head! Fuck my head! But it’s all right now, in fact it’s a gas! But it’s all right, I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash! It’s a gas, gas, gas!”

And as the crowd sings the song home, the Raven’s wicked magic fully dissipates, freeing Rue from his prison and restoring music to Goldkrone.

“Rue!” Mytho calls, running over to her.

He scoops her up in his arms and spins her around only for Duck and Fakir to join the pair. Fakir puts a hand on Mytho’s shoulder, and Duck tries to put her arms around the entire group.

Mytho grins at the entire group and announces, “Mission Complete!”

[sserpente]

Condolescence (Chapter VII)

Pairing: Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive) x OFC Language: English Rating: M

Read it on AO3!

Adam attempted to sleep that night, for he would need his energy and a cool head but most of all—he had to be able to control himself. Tal had no idea how alluring she looked when she slumbered. Her wavy brunette hair fell over her shoulders, hiding that deliciously pale neck. If he listened closely, he could hear the blood pumping through her veins, luring and seducing him.

Of course he couldn’t find some sleep himself, no matter how hard he tried. He kept forcing his eyes shut, turning restlessly on his black couch but whatever he did, he remained awake.

Ridiculous, he scolded himself. He was a vampire, after all, an eerie creature of the night. How could he possibly sleep when it was dark outside, when the night embraced his tall figure protectively, hiding him from unwanted eyes so he would ambush his prey?

When it finally dawned, Tal shifted uneasily on his bed. She stretched, sighing softly as she opened her eyes and then, with a start, remembered what had happened last evening.

Instantly, she sat up straight, her beige eyes darting through the room to find Adam watching her like he had the night they had met. Only this time his impressive form was spread out on the black leather couch, his eyes closed, his flawless features relaxed. He was still sleeping, she figured.

Not wanting to wake him, she got out of the comfortable and warm bed, tiptoeing over to her suitcase to search for her toilet bag. Apparently, the rustling woke him, after all.

“Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. Can I… can I use the bathroom?”

The bathroom. Adam sighed mutely, relieved that he had finally bothered to move his blood supplies to the cellar. Closing his eyes in a tired manner, he nodded.

“Of course. In the hallway, the first door on your right.”

“Thank you.”

Waiting until she had disappeared, he sat up, rubbing his palms over his eyes in an attempt to see a little clearer. How long had he slept? It felt like mere minutes but still, there was no reason for him to complain. He had asked Tal to move in with him, at least for the time being, so he would have to deal with the consequences. He really needed to talk to her today, for he couldn’t possibly stop sleeping, apart from that, she needed sustenance. He would give her money and send her out, asking her to buy whatever she wanted.

Five minutes later, the brunette girl returned. She was smiling when she saw him sitting there, his elbows propped up on his knees.

“You look tired.” She stated quietly, frowning in a concerned manner as she did. When she moved to join him, he resisted the urge to move away. As for now, he was hungry. He needed blood and every time he breathed in, he could smell that delicious essence of life pulsing under her skin.

“I barely slept.” He replied.

“Let me sleep on the couch from now on. It’s your house, after all. And your bed.”

“There is no need.”

“Please don’t make me feel bad. I already feel so guilty because I practically… never mind. I will sleep on the couch.”

“There is another bedroom downstairs. I will move your luggage there if you insist.”

Tal smiled once more; Adam nearly flinched. It was heart-warming. “Thank you. I could make us some breakfast?”

“No, thank you… I don’t have breakfast. I’m… not hungry in the morning.” He quickly responded, kneading his fingers rather nervously in the process.

“Look… there isn’t much food left.” There is no food at all, he added silently as he pulled out another bundle of bank notes. “Take this and go buy whatever you like. I usually go out for dinner and I never cook, actually.” At least, that was a half true.

Tal’s lips parted in protest, this time, however, she knew better than to refuse. Defeated, she nodded a little confused before she accepted the bundle of bank notes he handed her.

“Also, I…” Dear… How was he supposed to explain her that he usually slept during the day? “My sleeping rhythm is all over the place. I prefer to work on my music at night so I normally sleep when there is broad daylight outside. You should know.”

Instantly, her smile was back and she nodded again. “Of course. I will not disturb you. Maybe I could adjust my sleeping rhythm to yours? So we could… I mean… spend some time together regardless?” Perhaps this was how real rockstars lived. She chose not to pound on it. Adam had taken her in when she would have been homeless and without a job and she was grateful for that, despite she still didn’t really know him yet, despite his habits seemed strange and despite they had… kissed.

The vampire himself replied nothing then. Tal took his embarrassing and pathetic excuses without questioning them, surprising both him and herself in the process. All he could think of now, however, was how much he craved to break the soft skin of her neck, to bury his sharp fangs in her flesh and drink until the hot feeling of hunger surging through him like electricity finally left him.

“I would appreciate that. Go now, you must be hungry.” So he could finally have a glass of ice cold blood for breakfast.

It was all irrational. Dangerous, thoughtless… with a loud crack, the drumstick he was holding broke in two but Adam didn’t even flinch. After he had had breakfast and decided it was pointless to go back to sleep now, he settled for working on his new record.

He still had to find someone to bring them to the public, someone who would accept the fact he wanted to remain unknown, at any cost.

His concern right now, however, was how he was going to manage to live with a human. A zombie. What had driven him? Tal had been so desperate, so broken, defenceless and helpless. He had felt obliged to help her, especially after he had so mindlessly kissed her. It shouldn’t have happened, not so soon and still… he wished he could do it again.

Closing his eyes in a tortured manner, the vampire could see Eve’s face before him smiling down at him tauntingly.

There is no need to wrong your feelings. You need to live, my love.

“She’s a zombie, Eve. A fucking zombie.” He said aloud, gnashing his teeth as he did.

Ian was a zombie and you liked him regardless. You have lived for so long, my love. You can control yourself, I know you can. Let her in. You deserve so much affection and yet you conceal yourself from the world. It has changed but it still has so many beautiful things to offer.

It was like she was standing next to him, whispering into his ear. Almost, he could feel the light touch of her cool fingers on his skin and how she brushed a streak of his black her out of his face before she leaned down and kissed him tenderly.

Adam forced his gaze to his hands which were still holding the now broken wood of the drumstick. Fortunately, it hadn’t been a special or particularly old one. He despised breaking valuable and meaningful things from the past.

Mere seconds later, he could hear the door being opened. Tallulah was back, her hands, so he spotted when he stepped into the hallway and peered downstairs, struggling to hold two brown bags full of food. There were cans, vegetables, fruits, pasta and other things among them, all of which she could cook with. And still, when she greeted him and let him show her the way to the kitchen where she could store it all away, she returned the remaining money he had given her—it was much, not even half of it was gone.

“I didn’t know what you like so I bought a bit of everything. Thank you so much, Adam. I promise, I won’t stay for too long. In fact, I will start searching for a new job today.”

The vampire only shook his head. He was rather embarrassed his kitchen was so dusty and not at all suitable to be cooked in. Also, he tried hard to ignore her asking about his favourite food.

O negative, he told her in his mind, imagining her confused and terrified expression.

“Take your time. You can stay for as long as you want.” His own words scared him, for deep inside, he knew he didn’t mind her presence at all. His hunger, the monster inside of him was ready to pounce on her in her sleep, when she wandered, unknowing of the threat he posed to her, through her dreams, peacefully and innocently.

But no. He—he wanted her to stay, wanted her close, feel her body, talk to her, listen to her soft voice, spend time with her. It was against all reason, it was against his nature but maybe Eve was right.

Maybe he could indeed do with a little affection and give love a second chance.

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