#amie x taylor surprise songs

[makeupinthedrawer]

what surprise songs do you want for your eras tour show

ahhhh!!! ok so i made this after the first show and i’ve been pretty safe so far but there’s still a lot of shows to go😭 hopefully she’ll do any of these for my show!

[holdmytesseract]

🩷Salut mon amie🩷

I just can't let this perfect opportunity slip... What about a Daryl x f!reader post-outbreak song fic with “So High School“ by Taylor leading your wonderful mind??? 😊

Clandestine Meetings

Daryl Dixon x fem!Greene!Reader

Summary: You sneak out to meet Daryl in the watch tower - the first moment of privacy you share since months.

Warnings: 18+!!! Minors do not interact! veeery suggestive smut/'smut' (not very graphic, but it's there), fluff, we ignore the age, humour?

Set in Season 3!

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Thank you for requesting, my friend! I don't know if it fits 'So High School', but that's what my mind came up with. Hope you like it! 🤍

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist

The sun was about to set when you made your way out of the C-Block. Snuck was probably the more fitting word, though. You snuck your way out of the C-Block. To your luck was everybody else occupied with other things, so you had more or less free rein to get unnoticed to your destination... The watch tower. Once you reached the yard, you adjusted the rifle strapped around your shoulder; a victorious smile spreading on your lips.

You crowed too soon.

"Y/N?" A very familiar voice suddenly cut through the air and caused you to stop dead in your motion. "What are you doing out here? Where are you goin'? It's almost dark..." Maggie... Your sister.

"Damn..." You cursed under your breath; now seeing her approaching you, wearing some of the police gear. A bloody knife was in her hands.

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. "I could ask you the same, y'know," you retorted playfully; hoping that you'd somehow get out of this situation. Maggie frowned for a moment; stepping closer. "Been out with Glenn; fixing the fence and gettin' rid of some walkers." "Ah..." You nodded, "Ya sure do look like it." and giggled; still hoping to get away.

"Where are you goin'? We shouldn't walk 'round here alone. Especially at night. Even though the yard is cleared." "I'm not plannin' to walk around," you immediately said; lifting your hands in surrender. "Don't worry, sis." Your sister crossed her arms over her armoured chest; a stern expression on her face - and you knew immediately that she wasn't up for jokes anymore. She was being serious now. "Spit it out, Y/N - and it better be the truth." You sighed defeated; knowing that you had lost. Well, perhaps you were just really bad at lying and keeping a pokerface. "I wanted to go to the watch tower," you finally admitted; nodding towards the tall building at the foot of the prison. "The watch tower?" Maggie raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Since when are you on watch this late?" "I'm not." You shook your head. "But, uh, Daryl is."

Maggie looked at you surprised. "Daryl?" You nodded; biting your lip. "Uh.Huh. Thought I keep him company for a bit." "Keep him company?" "Mhm."

Your sister gave you a suspicious look, before crossing her arms over her chest. "Is there somethin' I should know about?" "No," you said, but the pink on your cheeks was betraying you. "Y/N..." Maggie pushed; your awkward behaviour rising only more suspicions. "Okay, fine!" You sighed once more. Yeah. you had lost. For real now. Maggie wouldn't let you go without telling her the whole truth. She took her sister role very seriously.

"I, uh, I really like Daryl. Have been since the farm and well, uh, we're kinda together?"

A big smile stretched over Maggie's face. "Honestly? I suspected that you two were a thing." You blinked; shocked and surprised. "W-Wha'? How?" Her smile widened as stepped closer; wrapping an arm around you. "The looks you give each other? Him always making sure you're safe? Especially when we were on the road? I noticed, sis. You two were being not quite subtle..." Your cheeks reddened even more at her words. "Hey, sweetie. No need to be embarrassed 'bout it. I'm happy for you, truly. Daryl is a good man - but if he hurts you, I'll still cut off his balls." You couldn't help but giggle; your nervosity finally melting away. "He won't, Maggie. He's a keeper." "I know. I'm just sayin'..." Your sister said and started to walk away. Halfway, though, she turned back to face you; a smug grin on her lips. "Hey, sis?" "Yeah?" "If you need some, Glenn and I can spare a few condoms," she hollered over; winking and causing you to blush once again. "Maggie!" "What?" She laughed. "Wrap it 'fore you tap it." You rolled your eyes and reached inside your pocket; fishing for something. Once you found the little foil package, you lifted it up for Maggie to see. "I know! I'm prepared!"

Your sister's smirk even widened, "See you in the morning then." and winked at you once more. Before she could walk away, you stopped her. "Maggie?" Again she faced you. "Don't tell daddy yet, okay?" Your sister nodded, "I won't. This is up to you." and truly walked away this time.

Your gaze lingered on her for a moment, before you made your way to the watch tower; silently closing the door behind you and walking up the steps to reach the top door. Cautiously, you stepped inside; finding Daryl gazing out of the window.

"Yer late," his deep, gruff voice urged to your ears as he turned with the tiniest smirk twitching on the corner of his lips. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I, uh, ran into my sister on the way." He shook his head, "'No need ta apologise, darlin'. Hell, 'm happy ya even came." and put his crossbow carefully down; leaning it against the wall beside you rifle.

You raised a playful eyebrow at him. "Why on earth shouldn't I? This is the first time we have some real privacy since the farm." Daryl shrugged his shoulders; chewing on his bottom lip. "Dunno. Coulda lost interest in me or somethin'." "Lose interest in you?" You asked almost in disbelief, "Daryl..." and stepped closer to the archer. You casually leaned against his broad body; hands playing with the buttons of his ruby coloured shirt. "I will never lose interest in you. I love you way too much for that - and the things you make me feel."

A small, smug smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "The things I make ya feel, huh? Tha' good?" You scoffed and playfully slapped his chest. "You know damn well it is."

The archer held your intense gaze for another moment, before he cupped your cheeks and without further ado connected your lips with his; dragging you into a fierce, passionate kiss. A kiss which was enough to light up the fire between you.

With his lips still hungrily moving against yours, Daryl's big hands went to grab your waist and swiftly turn you around in order to urge you forward. When the back of your thighs collided with the edge of a little desk, you knew what Daryl had in mind. Before you were even able to finish your thought, one of Daryl's strong arms engulfed your waist and effortlessly lifted you onto the desk. A soft squeak escaped your lips at his sudden movement, but it quickly faded into a moan as the archer started to latch on your neck; his arm still firmly wrapped around you.

"D..." You gasped and tried to somehow signal him that you were in desperate need of more; arms clinging to his broad upper body. But the man was so lost in you and your sweet scent, that he didn't notice. So, you had to take the steering wheel.

Wrapping your legs around his thighs, you urged him closer; hips colliding with yours. A deep, guttural grunt left Daryl's lips. He pulled back to look at you; pupils blown wide - swallowed by love and desire. Now he got the hint.

Wetting his lips, he made quick work to open your tech-wear pants. "Get rid of 'em, will ya?" He grunted with a nod; now undoing his own rugged jeans. You giggled at his sudden impatience; shedding your pants and underwear, before hopping back onto the desk.

Daryl stepped between your open legs; calloused fingers dancing over your bare thighs, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

In a swift motion, he hooked his palms underneath the back of your knees and pulled you forwards; lips crashing against yours once again. Before your hazy brain was able to catch up, were Daryl's hips moving against yours. All you could do was moan into his kiss and hold onto the archer for dear life.

"D-Daryl..." You breathed; fingers clawing into his angel-winged vest. You could feel him shaking his head against your shoulder. "I-I know, s-sunshine," he grunted; biceps bulging at how tightly he grasped the edge of the wooden desk. You moaned; burying one hand in his hair, which had grown quite a lot in the past months.

Moments later, you fell into the sweet abyss of pleasure together.

The archer was panting hard against your neck; palms now resting on your thighs. "I love ya, too." You giggled and turned your head to press a lingering kiss against his scruff cheek.

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @celtic-crossbow @erebus-et-eigengrau @sweetz1919 @fuseburner @in-this-minute @stitchintimefan @suniloli @mandywholock1980 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @marvelcasey05

[daisyswift3]

Jumping in the Deep End 🐇🕳️💛

So there’s sth else I noticed related to the Gracie rabbit hole I’ve fallen down that I haven’t mentioned yet bc I feel crazy saying it but I’ve already said a lot of insane stuff lately so fuck it. But before u read this post I do recommend reading this other analysis I wrote as well as this post first bc it’ll make everything make more sense. Ok continuing….

Not long after The Secret of Us was released on June 21, I watched this interview that was uploaded the day the album was released where Gracie texts her fans. One of the first things I noticed was how Gracie suspiciously looks straight at the camera as she makes a typo which I mentioned in the analysis I just linked, but another thing that caught my attention was that one of the fans is named Aimee (3:06 mark in the vid). I thought this was a little strange bc Aimee isn’t really the typical spelling of that name, it’s usually spelled like this instead, Amy. But even more strange was that the day after this interview was uploaded, June 22, Taylor just so happened to play thanK you aIMee as one of the surprise songs in London. What an interesting coincidence!

June 22 was a big deal bc it was Midsummer Day which celebrates daylight. This is likely why Gracie made yellow 💛 the main color of the album and chose to release it on June 21, Midsummer Eve—bc this album is abt a coming out journey (see these posts for more on that: x, x, x, x, x, x, x). And if you look at the text “Aimee” sends, it sounds like sth an artist would ask another artist rather than a typical fan question. Aimee specifically asks abt her creative process which is a very artist thing to do. So basically all that to say I wouldn’t be surprised if Aimee was actually Taylor and this text was also an easter egg for us to find just like the intentional glitches and typos.

If this text was in fact from Taylor, I believe the purpose of it may have been to lead us down the Gracie rabbit hole where we could find endless cross references between Gracie’s music and Taylor’s music. If you watch the music videos for those 3 songs Aimee mentions and listen to the lyrics, they could easily be interpreted as being abt Taylor’s secret relationship w this korner of the internet that is almost like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon bc there’s no tangible proof it ever existed but there is a lot of folklore surrounding it and the story has been passed down and become a myth. “Wonder if you regret the secret of us.” I believe these 3 songs could be from Taylor’s perspective. And to go even further w it (fair warning, this is where we really go off the deep end), I think it’s very possible that not just these songs are abt this secret relationship, but most of Gracie’s songs bc all of them reference each other and have lyrical and visual parallels to each other much like Taylor’s songs (see this post).

Now I want to make it very clear: Gracie is her own person w her own talents outside of Taylor. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or think I’m trying to undermine Gracie’s artistry or give all the credit to Taylor. And I also don’t think this secret relationship was the only inspiration for these songs since it’s very clear Gracie uses her own personal experiences and feelings, and I believe she could be writing abt more than one muse or from more than one person’s perspective in each song, similar to how in hoax Taylor sings abt 3 different relationships simultaneously. I am simply trying to point out the insane amount of parallels between Gracie and Taylor’s music that I think are too abundant to simply chalk up to coincidence. And I’m not saying that my interpretations are for sure the right ones, I could definitely be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. This is just a fun clown theory that I think is worth considering.

So going back to those 3 songs in the text—Mess It Up, I know it won’t work, The Bottom—I wanted to do an analysis on them and the mvs bc I think the reason why “Aimee” might’ve been pointing us to those specific songs and mvs is bc they are an important part of this coming out story. Plus the specific symbolism and imagery used in the songs can be cross referenced w pretty much every other song in Gracie’s discography (and w many Taylor songs) making them all connected.

For instance, the main themes in Mess It Up are:

Not growing up -> minor, tehe, Wishful Thinking, Older, Better, Augusta, Alright, Difficult // Peter, The Archer, cardigan, betty, peace

Groundhog Day (This is related to the next theme) -> Under/Over, Risk mv, I Love You, I’m Sorry, us // The Prophecy

Making the same mistake over and over/Bad habits -> Long Sleeves, Rockland, The Bottom, Best, Will you cry?, Difficult, This is what the drugs are for, Fault line, Block me out, Blowing Smoke, I Love You, I’m Sorry, us, Let It Happen // Anti-Hero, coney island, Florida!!!, Fresh Out The Slammer, The Black Dog

Not being able to sleep at night -> Rockland, Hard to Sleep, Camden, Painkillers, Difficult, This is what the drugs are for, The blue, 405, Risk, Blowing Smoke, Let It Happen, Tough Love // Midnights the stories of 13 sleepless nights, hoax

The birthday cakes -> 21, Stay mv, Mean It mv, Risk mv // All Too Well short film, coney island

“Let it happen” -> The song Let It Happen on TSOU, Better

Lying -> For Real This Time, Best, Full machine, Where do we go now?, Block me out, Blowing Smoke, Let It Happen // Getaway Car, illicit affairs, the lavender haze/bearding/red herrings

Phone calls -> 21, Rockland, Full machine, I should hate you, This is what the drugs are for, The blue, Block me out, us, Let It Happen // cowboy like me, Anti-Hero mv, Fortnight mv

Going onto a porch in order to apologize to someone -> Risk mv (technically not to apologize but it’s still related to coming out and making things right) // betty, cardigan, this is me trying, long story short, Fresh Out the Slammer

The main themes in I know it won’t work are:

Closets -> Peter, seven, cowboy like me, I Know Places

Drawing the line in the sand and putting up boundaries or crossing boundaries -> Mess It Up, Long Sleeves, For Real This Time, Best, Felt Good About You, Let It Happen, Gave You I Gave You I

Cutting ties w someone -> Friend, Blowing Smoke, Free Now

Being someone’s ghost/haunting someone -> I miss you, I’m sorry, us, Block me out // Basically all of TTPD and much of folkmore and Midnights (Anti-Hero mv)

The main themes in The Bottom are:

“I told you I was down bad, you hate to see me like that” -> Down Bad

Making the same mistake over and over/Bad habits -> Long Sleeves, Rockland, The Bottom, Best, Will you cry?, Difficult, This is what the drugs are for, Fault line, Block me out, Blowing Smoke, I Love You, I’m Sorry, us, Let It Happen // Anti-Hero, coney island, Florida!!!, Fresh Out The Slammer, The Black Dog

Opening up the door and letting someone into your house, closing the door, or going into someone’s house uninvited -> Mess It Up mv, Under/Over, tehe, I should hate you, us, Let It Happen, I Love You, I’m Sorry, Gave You I Gave You I // cardigan, hoax, Anti-Hero mv

Dragging someone down/Hitting rock bottom/Coming down after a high or being high (drug metaphor; becoming more famous=“getting higher”) -> Long Sleeves, Rockland, Wishful Thinking, Painkillers, Alright, This is what the drugs are for, Fault line, Right now, Block me out, Blowing Smoke, I Knew It, I Know You, Gave You I Gave You I, Free Now // Many songs on TTPD use the drug metaphor, gold rush, long story short, Anti-Hero mv (pushed from balcony), seven, this is me trying, illicit affairs

Being the problem -> 21, minor, Rockland, Wishful Thinking, Older, Painkillers, Best, Difficult, Block me out, Unsteady, I Love You, I’m Sorry mv // Anti-Hero

Mess It Up

So as I stated before this song is all abt making the same mistakes over and over and reliving the same day like it’s Groundhog Day. Gracie, the narrator, keeps trying to make things right and apologize to the person she’s hurt, but every time she tries she messes it up which is represented by her dropping the cake repeatedly. But finally at the end of the mv, she is able to get it right and properly apologize. She knocks on someone’s door and they open it which symbolizes this person opening their heart to Gracie and forgiving her. If you go to the 2:12 mark in the mv when the letters and numbers on the fridge fall, you’ll see that they spell out a secret message “Hi (13, 31) Peter Pan - T” (the “I” doubles as a 1, the “3” doubles as an E, and the “L” doubles as an R/r if flipped on its side). Taylor was 31 yrs old when the Mess It Up mv was released on May 6, 2021. Peter Pan is the boy who never grew up. This means that it’s likely the narrator’s inability to grow up that is causing issues in the relationship. This is why the song starts w “Opened two double doors, typical, pretty sure I could grow up.”

“Did I fall out of like when I called you” -> Did I cross a boundary and make things worse when I called you? Boundaries are one of the main themes in I know it won’t work. I believe that Gracie and Taylor could be using “phone calls/texts/letters” as a metaphor for the anon messages and riddles we’ve received over the years. As a result of trying to solve these messages and riddles, kaylors have gotten a ton of hate and many have had to leave the fandom bc the environment is so toxic. This song could be Taylor acknowledging these issues and apologizing for how we’ve been treated.

“'Cause every time I get too close, I just go mess it up” -> It’s possible Taylor has tried many times over the years to properly apologize to us by giving us more cryptic messages containing these apologies, but the problem is that these anon messages and riddles are the main reason why we get bullied so this only makes the issue worse in the end.

“Funny that (Funny that) didn't work (Didn't work), I could be anywhere, I'm on your block” -> I believe this could be related to I Love You, I’m Sorry. “The way life goes, Joyriding down our road, Lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me, (I'm wrong again, wrong again) I love you, I'm sorry.” This song also has the lyrics “I wanna speak in code” which makes me think of the anon messages and queer flagging.

“I keep thinking, maybe if you let me back in, we can make it better, breaking every habit” -> Taylor talks abt breaking bad habits in The Black Dog which I believe represents putting an end to the bearding/lavender haze/red herrings/smokescreen/blowing smoke/not growing up.

It’s very interesting that Gracie uses a birthday cake to apologize. Birthday cakes are a common symbol that shows up in Gracie’s music. They also appear in 21, another apology song, and the Risk mv which is likely abt the mass coming out (see this post). In the All Too Well mv, Sadie’s character receives a birthday cake at the same time that Taylor sings, “But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willin' you to come, And he said, ‘It's supposed to be fun turning 21.’” In both 21 and ATW 10 min version, the older person in the relationship misses their significant other’s 21st birthday which greatly hurts them. These songs could be 2 sides of the same coin from opposite perspectives like dorothea and TTDS. With how many connections there are between Gracie and Taylor’s music, I’m inclined to believe this isn’t a coincidence.

(From the Mean It mv. When the 21 candles are thrown in the box they almost look like a backward "t" and "s")

“If it doesn't go away by the time I turn 30, I made a mistake and I'll tell you I'm sorry, ‘Sorry.’” The narrator is saying once she turns 30 she’ll apologize to the 21 yr old if her feelings haven’t changed by then. This is immediately followed by a “sorry” meaning the narrator has actually already turned 30 yrs old which is another indicator that Gracie is in fact speaking from someone else’s perspective bc Gracie was only 20 at the time of this song’s release in 2020. Plus just a few tracks later in the same album, the narrator says "I miss you, I'm sorry" which she said she wouldn’t say until after she turned 30. Taylor was 30 yrs old when the album minor was released in July 2020 and when 21 was released as a single on Feb 20, 2020. If this song is from Taylor’s perspective at 30 yrs old, then the significant other/ex being 21 indicates it (along w all the other cross-referenceable songs) is likely not abt a literal romantic relationship; rather, the song is an allegory or metaphor. The 21 (acoustic) mv has "I miss you" on the piano and "I'm sorry" in the notebook which indicates that 21 is directly related to I miss you, I'm sorry. The emphasis on birthdays and age in 21 fits well w the Peter Pan metaphor that shows up in many of Gracie’s songs. Even though the narrator is getting physically older, she is not getting metaphorically older. To add even more credibility to this theory, the song minor has the line “Hit me 3-1-0” which could represent both Taylor turning 31 in 2020 and a backwards 13. 13s show up several times in Gracie’s mvs and songs. The Secret of Us is a 13-track album that was released on June 21. Additionally, the first 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 message was sent July 21 and the second to last message, which I’m now pretty certain is abt Gracie’s album TSOU, was sent May 21 (x).

Look at the numbers on the houses ⬇️ Going column-wise there’s 226(1), 226(3) which is a 13 and there’s also ✌️✌️ which Taylor has used a ton for TTPD (Taylor said in Nov 2021 she wanted to try to plan sth 3 yrs in advance); 2267 -> 6+7=13. Adding up 2+2+6+3 also gives u 13 while 2+2+6+1=11=K. And 6+6 from the 2261, 2263 (again going column-wise) is 12 which is 21 backwards. The 13 showing up in the Risk mv just confirms these choices in the Mess It Up mv were completely intentional.

Gracie and Taylor performed I miss you, I’m sorry together at eras which was Taylor’s suggestion since Gracie’s set was canceled that day (x)(x). I just think it’s very interesting that Taylor wore a yellow dress when they sang this song and then a yr later she just so happened to be featured on the title track of Gracie’s very yellow album 💛 which they (allegedly) didn’t start writing until Nov 13 a few months later (x). This indicates that this performance was likely planned ahead of time and not a last minute decision like they said. I think much of the timeline we’ve been given for Gracie and Taylor’s friendship might be a red herring to prevent ppl from figuring out what these songs are really abt. Gracie and Taylor (allegedly) wrote us together on Nov 13, 2023 spontaneously; but Taylor wearing yellow during IMYIS along w the pap walk w the Cassandra handbag, almost burning down the house 🕯️🧯, and and the fact that all this happened on Nov 13, the day Karlie and Taylor met, indicates that us was actually written much earlier and that the Nov 13 story was just a red herring.

I know it won’t work

This song is all abt boundaries. There are different types of boundaries that show up in the mv: A shoreline, a line in the sand, a fence. It’s clear the narrator doesn’t want to end this relationship and put up walls but she believes she has no other choice bc of her circumstances (not being able to grow up -> Peter, closets).

“I left you here, Heard you keep the extra closet empty, In case this year I come back and stay throughout my twenties” -> The narrator knows there’s no guarantee she’ll actually “grow up” and come out of the closet so her ex keeps the closet empty just in case she wants to move back in and stay in the closet.

“What if I won't? How am I supposed to put that gently? And down the road you will love me until you resent me” -> Since these lines directly follow the ones I just mentioned, you might be inclined to think that “What if I won’t?” is the narrator asking “What if I won’t move back in and rekindle our relationship?” BUT I believe the wording was intentionally ambiguous bc that way it could also mean “What if I won’t grow up and leave the closet? Will you eventually come to resent me if I can’t be the hero you want?”

“But it's a lot, All the shine of half a decade fadin', The whole facade seemed to fall apart, it's complicated” -> This perfectly parallels the 11/09/2019 ♠️ message. The narrator is saying her ex is asking a lot of her by wanting her to come out and destroy the facade. I believe decade might’ve been changed to half a decade so as to not make it obvious Gracie is singing from Taylor’s perspective. The “shine” symbolizes the love and support from fans that has come w being such a famous and successful artist. That’s not an easy thing to give up.

“Why won't you try movin' on for once? That might make it easy, I know we cut all the ties, but you're never really leavin'” -> Taylor knows that even if us kaylors walk away from her we will always eventually come back bc we can’t help but be invested and this puts a lot of pressure on Taylor that she doesn’t want.

“I'll open up, I'm thinkin' everythin' you wish I wasn't, The call was tough but you're better off, I'm bein' honest, So, won't you stop holdin' out for me when I don't want it? Just brush me off 'cause I'm your ghost right now, your house is haunted” -> This entire 3rd verse is extremely telling and fits perfectly w the 2019 failed coming out. The call to not come out was tough bc she was conflicted abt it but she thinks she ultimately made the right decision. Taylor is asking us to stop holding out for a coming out bc it’s not what she wants. Of course I don’t think this is how Taylor currently feels bc I think she’s getting ready to burn down the closet but I think this song shows how she felt at one point. I think the ghost imagery is supposed to connect this song w I miss you, I’m sorry and us as well as all the ghost imagery Taylor has used.

The Bottom

This song is abt hitting rock bottom and being worried that you will drag the ppl you love down w you. It’s kind of a more scathing version of Anti-Hero. I think this song could be directly related to the Mess It Up mv. Someone opens up the door to let Gracie in bc she wants to apologize by giving them a cake. But the narrator warns this person that they should keep their guard up bc she will always be doomed to repeat the same mistakes and drag ppl down w her. Since this song is kind of self explanatory, I’ll instead focus on the mv.

The first thing I noticed when watching this mv is the striking similarities to the Bejeweled mv. Both seem to be inspired by Disney movies/fairytales and even the bells during the title card parts sound similar. PLUS 🎃 anon told us to watch out for things that “ring a belle” -> there are bells in both mvs and one also shows up during the burning castle scene at the end and it is literally ringing; and Bejeweled should look and sound familiar if u have watched The Bottom mv; AND Belle is a Disney princess which is another indicator that 🎃 was referring to these mvs (Taylor wears a yellow dress just like Belle at the end of Bejeweled). Gracie said that The Bottom is supposed to be a satirical mv (see description of vid) and this parallels the Bejeweled mv being satire.

Another thing that’s interesting is that The Bottom mv is kind of the opposite of the Bejeweled mv. In The Bottom, Gracie is dragging a body down the stairs and burying it (descending) while in Bejeweled, Taylor is using an elevator to get higher and higher until she reaches the top floor (ascending). Ascending and descending are things that 🫚 emphasized in this message. Ascending and descending are also things a plane does when flying from one place to another -> “I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around” and all the plane imagery lately. I think 🫚 could have been trying to get us to realize that the beginning stages of this coming out plan (the “ascent,” PR stunts w MH and 🏈, red herrings, 2023-early 2024 🛫) aren’t what we should focus on, it’s the end stages of the journey (the “descent,” cracks in the facade, getting louder w queer flagging, mid 2024-Dec 2024(?) 🛬) that are important.

Yellow shows up a few times in this mv, and I think it’s significant that the room in which the murder happens is a bright one w yellow chairs. Yellow is commonly used to symbolize happiness; Taylor and Gracie use this color in a very similar way to represent daylight/sunshine/summer/being out of the closet/not hiding your real self 💛🌼☀️🏝️ So putting these things together, this scene is symbolically similar to the yellow closet in the Lover house where Taylor has had to put away her sunshine and happiness bc she wasn’t able to come out during Lover era. What was supposed to be a joyous celebration ended w death and destruction.

It’s also interesting that throughout the mv, Gracie is dancing and performing (showmanship/PR) while in a literal spotlight. This ties in perfectly w the very last scene where Gracie is smoking a cigarette which represents bearding/red herrings/lavender haze/smokescreen/smoke and mirrors magic/Blowing Smoke/bad habits. In The Black Dog, Taylor uses smoking as an example of a bad habit/self-destructive behavior she is trying to quit.

Lastly, I wanted to leave you w a few things that I think are very interesting and that could tie in w this theory:

[darkpeacemusic]

Creepypasta Headcanons: Theme Songs

Jeff the Killer - Numb by Linkin Park

Homicidal Liu - Never Too Late by Three Days Grace

Sully - I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters

Randy - Psycho by Hardy

Keith - Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots

Troy - Welcome to my Life by Simple Plan

Ben Drowned - Discord by The Living Tombstone

Jane the Killer - GRRRLS by AViVA

Mary Vaughn - Wrap Me In Plastic by Chromance

Masky - Hide 'n Seek by J-honny

Hoodie - Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

Toby - Freaks by Surf Curse

Kate the Chaser - Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez

Charlie Matheson Jr. - Thanks for The Memories by Panic at the Disco

CR - Nowhere to Run by Stegosaurus Rex

Lulling Lauren - Secret by The Pierces

Cat Hunter - Kill the Lights by Set It Off

Third Base - Little Swing by AronChupa

Rouge the Prowler - Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Wilson the Basher - Another Way Out by Hollywood Undead

Skully - Sleeping Powder by Gorillaz

Chris the Revenant - Where the Lonely Ones Roam by Digital Daggers

Slenderman - Come Little Children by Eurtan

Splendorman - Buttercup by Jack Stauber

Trenderman - Fashionably Late by Falling In Reverse

Tenderman - Death Bed by POWFU

Offenderman - Teeth by 5SOS

Zalgo - When You're Evil by Voltaire

Laughing Jack - Left Behind by DAGames

Eyeless Jack - Cannibal by Kesha

Doctor Smiley - Happy Pills by Weathers

Nurse Ann - Dark Horse by Christina Grimmie

Doctor Pain - Dr Sunshine is Dead by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

X-Virus - Drugs by Falling in Reverse

Dr. Locklear - God Syndrome by Madame Macabre

Lifeless Lucy - Cradles by Sub Urban

Lily Kennett - Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez

Sally Williams - Hide and Seek by Lizz Robinett

Sam Williams - Little Game by Benny

Lazari - Monster by Mia and Dia

Slendrina - Killing Butterflies by Lou Bliss

Nightmare Ally - Whisper by Evanescence

Vailly Evans - Control by Halsey

Lulu - Alice by Avril Lavigne

Nina the Killer - Pretty Little Psycho by Procelain Black

Kagekao - Aishite by Kikiuo

Clockwork - Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott

Smile Dog - Lion by Hollywood Undead

Grinny Cat - Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace

The Seedeater - I Will Find You by Moikkz

Mr Widemouth - Cartman by SPBeams

Will Grossman - At The Huts of the Underworld by Korpiklaani

Laughing Jill - Carousel by Melanie Martinez

Jason the Toymaker - Hypnotic by Zella Day

Candy Pop - Balloon Animals by Madame Macabre

Candy Cane - Circus by Britney Spears

April Fools - Cirque by Sub Urban

Nathan the Nobody - A Match In Water by Pierce the Veil

The Puppeteer - Cigarette (duet) by Princess Chelsea

Emra - Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

Zachary the Proxy - Hayloft II by Mother Mother

Sonic.exe - Monster by Skillet

Tails Doll - Can You Feel The Sunshine from Sonic R

Dark Link - Someone Must Get Hurt by She Wants Revenge

Herobrine - Andromeda by Dance With The Dead

Lost Silver - Game Over by Falling In Reverse

Glitchy Red - Haunted by Laura Les

Strangled Red - I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

Oliver Henderson - Dumb Dumb by Mazie

Stripes - Limbo by Freddie Dredd

Rosie - Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani

Scarecrow Girl - Rät by Penelope Scott

The Skroll - Sarcasm by Get Scared

The Rake - Night of the Hunter by 30 Seconds to Mars

BOB - Six Foot Deep by Creature Feature

Bloody Painter - Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

Judge Angels - Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift

Suicide Sadie - Goodbye to A World by Porter Robinson

Roadwalker - The Zombie Song by Stephanie Mabey

Zero - Everything Black by Unlike Pluto

Hobo Heart - My Demons by Starset

Dollmaker - Creepy Doll by Jonathan Coulton

Killing Kate - Not Nice by Megan the Stallion

Ted the Caver - Blood // Water by grandson

Frankie the Undead - Coming Back Down by Hollywood Undead

Evan - I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy

HABIT - Boogie Woogie Wu by Insane Clown Posse

Jeff Koval - Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell

Alex Kralie - Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People

Jessica Locke - No Surprises by Radiohead

Amy - If You Seek Amy by Britney Spears

Sarah - Sarah Smiles by Panic at the Disco

Seth - All I Wanted by Paramore

Screaming Dawn (oc) - I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace

Queen Blackheart (oc) - Bring Me To Life by Evanescence

[walkerwords]

“To Feel Better” Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

Request from Anonymous: for your requests i saw a prompt where it was person A finding excuses to hold person B's hand such as my hands are cold will you warm them for me I think that would be cute with Daryl. 

Word Count: 1859

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Cardigan” by Taylor Swift

Note: I love fluff requests yall! This one is set during the time our survivors are looking for shelter after the fall of the farm!

---------

When the farm fell, nobody knew what they were doing. 

Herschel and Rick were doing their best to keep some sort of order within the group, but they could only do so much once the cold set in and the food became more scarce. Then after losing some people during the invasion of Walkers and Shane’s attempt at a coup, pieces felt as if they were being broken off.

Andrea had been someone who you trusted wholeheartedly. You had been with her and her sister, Amy, since the beginning. Andrea had protected you both, but in the end it had been Amy who befell the fate of the new world. Her death still followed you around and you knew that it had haunted her sister for a while as well. If anything, it had made Andrea harder and more resilient. Still, she kept her eyes on you and you knew that if it came down to it, you would protect her with everything you had. That remained true until you saw her go down on the farm and never saw her reemerge from the horde as Daryl pulled you on to the back of his bike and took off down the dirt path. 

Now it was only a matter of time before someone else was lost. With the larger herds moving North all the time, the group had to keep moving and there wasn’t any time to rest for more than a couple of days. With Lori being pregnant, it was definitely causing more issues. You were exhausted, Shane was dead, Rick was keeping something a secret, and Carl was growing up before your eyes. It was too much, too fast. 

Winter was coming and going, the weather never staying the same in the South. You had been used to that your entire life, but without constant shelter or warm meals, every time the temperature dropped even a fraction, stress levels skyrocketed within the group and it was starting to get to you. Daryl, someone you had grown closer to since the farm, had tried to keep your spirits up the best he could, but there was only so much he could do. 

It was late one night when you found yourself alone on watch. Rick and Maggie had found a house that was far enough from the road with working locks and insulated enough to offer warmth. Nobody dared light a fire in case the Living decided to poke around, but it was better than sleeping in another field with one eye open. 

You were rubbing a stray bullet between your fingers as you saw on a bench just in front of the house when Daryl approached, the gun that housed said bullet was in your other hand. “I got watch,” he said, taking a seat next to you. 

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping your eyes on the dark wall of trees before you. 

“Ya need sleep,” he argued, but you remained still.

“I said, I’m fine,” you repeated. 

“Ya, that’s what ya always say,” he said. It was silent then as he sat next to you. Daryl knew when not to push you and this was definitely one of those times. If there was one person who could sit in complete silence and say more with just their body language it was you and Daryl appreciated that after hours of constant noise from the rest of the group. 

It was after a while that Daryl finally realized what you kept playing with in your hand. He recognized it as a gun that was once shoved in his face when he had first arrived at the quarry with Merle. “That Walsh’s gun?” he asked, nodding his head toward the pistol. You nodded, turning over the weapon in your hand. He wasn’t sure where you had found it, but he could tell that you had cleaned it up. “You thinkin’ about him?” 

“I don’t know what happened,” you finally said. “He was so strong…”

“Even the most level-headed people can get corrupted by this world,” Daryl said and you thought it was one of the most profound things he had ever said. Then again, you figured that Daryl was incredibly bright and he just didn’t let people see that side of him. 

“I thought he’d be one of the last people standing,” you admitted. 

“Didn’t realize you were that close,” Daryl said with a frown. 

“He saved my life,” you said with a shrug, remembering back to all the times Shane had pulled a Walker off of you when you were distracted. “He always looked out for Amy, too. Look, he wasn’t a great man, I know that, but I owed him enough. I was hoping he’d make it at least a few more years.”

“I get that,” Daryl said with a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. You had noticed that it was getting longer, especially on the sides. 

“Sorry,” you said, “I know you hated him.” 

“I didn’t trust him,” Daryl clarified. 

“Fair enough.” 

You sat back into silence then. Your ears were scanning for the familiar groans of the Dead or the subtle footprints of the Living, but so far, nothing had approached the newest nest for the group. You were definitely missing the RV on the more treacherous nights.

Daryl was quiet before he looked over at you. You could see his face out of the corner of your eye, but you tried your hardest to ignore him. You knew Daryl had been looking out for you for a while. Or rather he had been watching you and you knew he was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take any extra steps towards him. No matter how much you wanted it. 

“You know,” you began, breaking the silence, “I wanted to study old bones and all that.” 

“So, an anthropologist?” Daryl said. You looked over at him with shock on your face and he clocked it immediately. “What, I watched the History Channel,” he defended, causing you to laugh. 

“Yeah, Daryl, just like that,” you said. “I wanted to know how humanity began, but I’m only seeing what we’ve become,” you said as you stared at a Walker corpse that Maggie had downed a few hours before. 

Your hand began to twitch then, a nervous habit you had developed as a teenager. It always exposed everything that you were too afraid to say. There was something about the way your body always knew what was wrong before your mind did. You figured it was something to do with the survival instincts that had kicked in the night they dropped fire on Atlanta and other major cities. 

Daryl noticed your hand instantly. “You’re doing it again,” he said quietly. 

“Nervous habit,” you said, clenching your fist, trying to quiet your nerves. “It used to drive my mom crazy.”

“You don’t talk about her anymore,” Daryl noticed. Turning to look at him, you furrowed your brow. “It’s just, ya used to talk about her at the quarry with Amy and Andrea a lot,” he said with a shrug. 

“Guess I haven’t been in the mood to be sentimental lately,” you said. 

“I get that,” he said as he continued to watch the slight tremor in your palms. “My mom died before all this,” he said  and you were surprised to hear him say anything about his family. Besides Merle, Daryl never mentioned anything about his past. At least, not to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“I’m just glad ya know, that she didn’t have to see all this shit,” he said and you knew what he was talking about. In an odd way, anyone who had died before the outbreak lucked out. Nobody deserved to see the new horrors of the world and nobody deserved to be fighting tooth and nail just to survive. Lifting your head to the sky, you watched as a single star shot across the darkness before it disappeared again in the plethora of stars and scattered moonlight. 

“Odd, isn’t it?” you asked. 

“What?” 

“That because the world is dark, we finally see the stars. Living in cities always hid them,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said, following your gaze. 

“ ‘Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars’,” you quoted with ease.

“Tolkien, huh?” Daryl said, recognizing the words. 

“Look at you,” you teased and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“I read,” Daryl defended and you raised your hands in surrender. The movement then sparked something in Daryl as he caught your hand in his and held it gently. Your hands stilled from the warmth and firm grip of the archer’s hands. You were sitting in silence as he began to rub his thumbs along the nerves and muscles in your hands. 

Daryl was silent as he caressed your hand, taking his time to soothe your anxieties away. “You are gonna be okay,” he whispered, his focus on his task. 

“How do you know?” you whispered back. 

“Because ya ain’t one to let this world beat ya,” Daryl said simply. You took a minute for that to sink in and you knew that he was right. If anything, you were not going to give up so that the dying world took you with it. You knew that death was inevitable, but you also knew that you had come too far already to start to give up now. “Do you know the story of the man who fought off three bears and lived?” Daryl asked suddenly. 

Looking over at him, you raised your brows. “What?” Daryl nodded. 

“Yeah, the crazy son of a bitch jumped into a bear enclosure at a zoo to test if he could survive the worst possible thing,” he said. “Fought them all off with his hands and a tree branch. Nobody thought a person could do that and he did. Only came out of there with a broken hand.” 

“Is there a moral to this story?” you asked. Daryl turned your hand over in his, tracing the lines on your palm. 

“Don’t try to fight bears unless you’re high on pretty hardcore shit because he had to have been, right?” Daryl said easily and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of your chest. Daryl gave you a smile then and you realized what he was doing. 

“Was that story even true?” you asked. 

“Nah,” Daryl said. “Does it matter, though?” 

“Not at all,” you whispered, wrapping your other hand around the joined ones between you. Moving closer to him, you leaned into him, feeling his body heat. “Thanks.” 

Daryl gently lifted your hand to his face and pressed a kiss to the back of it in a very rare act of tenderness. His lips lingered on your skin for just a second before relaxing further into you.

“Anytime,” he murmured as you sank into comfortable silence and watched for the enemy that was sure enough to break through your newfound bubble of peace. However, you knew that when that happened, the man by your side would be the one to jump into the fray and wrestle with a few bears of his own. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @moonstuffsteve​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ 

[allamericansbitch]

Hey everyone! Here’s this weeks (november 28 - december 5) addition to my Creator Shoutout Series! For info about the series, I explained it in the first post here, but generally, it’s to show appreciate to editors and their creations that i love from the past week. To track this series or look at previous shoutouts, please check out the tag on my blog *creatorshoutouts. Have a great week everyone!

taylor swift: music videos + emotions gifset by @nessa007

succession: 3.07 too much birthday gifset by @jakegyllenhals

taylor swift graphic by @thisisustrying

brooklyn nine nine: jake peralta gifset by @lolasteppe

phoebe bridgers: moon song graphic by @promqueendyke

succession gifset by @naiey

taylor swift: all too well graphic by @sawthetruthinme

stranger things: steve harrington gifset by @scoopsahoy

succession: 2.04 x 3.07 parallels gifset by @rory-amy

taylor swift: call it what you want graphic by @cruellesummer

you netflix: love quinn gifset by @shegos

all too well: the short film graphic by @queenofbadlands

taylor swift: victoria’s secret fashion show performances gifset by @xiexielians

stranger things: steve harrington gifset by @rebelharrington

hunter schafer: harpers bazaar 2021 gifset by @hunterschafer

taylor swift art by @xjulianaz

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer gifset by @naiey

never have i ever gifset by @bellamysgriffin

taylor swift: surprise album concept design by @cellphonehippie

phoebe bridgers x taylor swift graphic by @lovelycloudsart

brooklyn nine nine: memorable quotes gifset by @brooksdavis

taylor swift: music videos gifset by @mancskins

olivia rodrigo gifset by @zeindaya

ted lasso: 2.04 episode gifset by @trentcrimms

taylor swift: red (taylor’s version) gifset by @paintedmesgolden

anya taylor joy gifset by @kateverdeen

olivia rodrigo: sour gifset by @bestmistake

taylor swift: december/winter lyrics gifset by @cametotheshowinsd

doja cat: planet her + singles gifset by @melodramas

the great gifset by @murdock-matt

taylor swift: evermore gifset by @melodramas

only murders in the building gifset by @levy-tran

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer gifset by @morozko

taylor swift: red (taylor’s version) tracklist gifset by @onlyhereforangst

succession: shiv roy + season one gifset by @succescion

lorde gifset by @zeindaya

taylor swift: dorothea gifset by @midsummerknife

olivia rodrigo: drivers license gifset by @bestmistake

f.r.i.e.n.d.s: holiday episodes gifset by @torisvega

taylor swift art by @mitsutay13

the office gifset by @leojfitz

the princess diaries gifset by @frodo-sam

taylor swift: speak now (taylor’s version) album design concept by @summertimelover555

paramore: ignorance live in chile 2011 gifset by @headfirrstforhalos

orla gartland collage art by @peachstiicks

taylor swift: all too well short film x tolerate it gifset by @tayloralison

brooklyn nine nine: raymond + kevin gifset by @userleias

orla gartland: woman on the internet graphic by @andtosaturn

taylor swift art by @sandviart

parks and recreation gifset by @rizahawkais

taylor swift: red (taylors version) lyrical parallels gifset by @thatwasthenightthingschanged

olivia rodrigo: deja vu gifset by @bestmistake

a charlie brown christmas gifset by @gregory-peck

taylor swift: back to december music video gifset by @wishfulthinkinglove

high school musical: troy boltons character arc + bi allegory gifset by @tonyleunq

olivia rodrigo: sour + singles gifset by @queenofbadlands

taylor swift: evermore x back to december gifset by @starlighdt

gilmore girls: rory x jess + all too well gifset by @endiness

taylor swift art by @ohnoballoons

tangled + letterbox reviews gifset by @kingreywrites

taylor swift: the swiftmas chapters gifset by @hermionegrangcr

succession: tom wambsgans art by @tomgregs

tangled gifset by @loveyazy

taylor swift: holiday headers and icons by @sadbeautifutragic

new girl: holiday gifset by @jakeperalta

taylor swift: debut (taylor’s version) t-shirt design concepts by @cellphonehippie

[letshideoutandread]

24 songs for Kate Sharma and Anthony Bridgerton

for @lizzibennet. surprise! thank you for all the content you create <3

1. Bundle of Joy by Michael Giacchino (just think about the fact that both kate and anthony are children born of pure love and yet both for some reason denied it from themselves for so long????? idiots)

2. The Best Day by Taylor Swift (both of them have daddy issues. so)

3. Everything Else from Next to Normal (VERY obsessive anthony vibes here. mozart was crazy and so is he)

4. Sola by Jessie Reyes (okay this is in spanish and i encourage you to look up the translated lyrics and think about kate. the pre-chorus: “i’m not the type of woman that your mom wants to see you with. i’m lacking in so many other things, and so many others fail me. i could never please you.” HELLLOOOOOOO????? )

5. 20 Something by SZA (both their 20s suck tbh)

6. Being Alive by Steven Sondheim (I ALREADY WENT OVER THIS WITH @lizzibennet THIS IS THE ANTHEM BOYS)

7. Starting to Get To You by Jensen McRae (just such a specifically applicable song??? and jensen is so so good. her lyrics drive me consistently insane??? also “she took your crown but she can’t hurt you now. i will lay my weapons down.” tell me you’re not thinking of siena and kate and the impacts they had on anthony’s perception of love)

8. It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift (modern au childhood best friend vibes im just saying)

9. Don’t Make It Harder On Me by Chloe x Halle (so many of these songs past this point are just “please stop being so you or i will fall in love”. anthony’s “you have to STOP “ meet chloe’s “I need you to STOP”)

10. Nobody’s Supposed to Be Here by Deborah Cox (YEAH)

11. Pink in the Night by Mitski (YUP)

12. To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles (“and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry. don’t call me baby again…” like hi anthony didn’t know you ghostwrote for harry styles)

13. I Didn’t Mean To Fall In Love by Snoh Aalegra (self explanatory. also groovy)

14. To Know Him Is To Love Him by Amy Winehouse (cry)

15. Garden (Say It Like Dat) by SZA (“YOU’LL NEVER LOVE ME, BUT I BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT” LIKEEEEEEEE PLEASE THIS ONE IS PERFECT FOR KATE)

16. Love Affair by UMI (another not very widey known song that’s surprisingly applicable here. inspired by anthony’s “wanting to run away with you” line because it’s so sweet and so overlooked. so here’s a sweet often overlooked one song for that)

17. Hold Out by Aly & AJ (again just another really sweet song about what it means to be vulnerable and depend on someone else. learn to let people catch you when you deel like you’re falling. hyper-independent older siblings im looking at y’all)

18. Same Team by Labrinth and Steffon Don (super fun super groovy super romantic)

19. Romantic Flight by John Powell (literally this is from the How to Train Your Dragon score. i don’t know why it’s on here. it’s romantic and it belongs.)

20. To Be Loved by Adele (opening yourself up to love is so scary but so worth it and this song is all about that. this one reminds me most of violet more than anyone else tbh and that makes it so much more heartbreaking)

21. Slow Dancing by Aly & AJ (aj michalka and her husband wrote this about being separated in recent years due to COVID and just listen. think about kate and anthony dancing the days of their marriage away and dreaming of doing so when they’re apart. its about the YEARNING. and the SAXOPHONE.)

22. Bound To You from Burlesque (listen to the first verse and think of them and don’t cry i dare you)

23. Rather Die Young by Beyoncé (FULL CIRCLE PEOPLE. anthony “i can’t let anyone love me because i’m destined to die young” bridgerton is a fucking idiot. anthony “i would rather die young than live my life without kate” is a fucking icon)

24. Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine (yeah it’s the wedding song from twilight what did you expect)

im unable to make this into something linkable, but feel free!

[kendrixtermina]

The Types as Musicians

i was initially doing research to make “unstereotypic own words playlists” for the other 8 types after i made the 5 one, but i soon realized that i wouldnt have enough material for many of them. 

Personality Database proved utterly useless in this endeavor because they type everyone & their dog as infj 4. 

It’s like they’re too preoccupied with empty praise to really try to understand what makes their favs the way they are. 

Still, this is what i noticed trying to look up musicians of different types. 

1:

drawing a blank, maybe they’re all in classical or some other genre I don’t listen to. 

2:

I can only think of Dolly Parton

3: 

Their songs come in roughly two genres: “self-referential badassitude hymn” and “unironic passionate lovesong” ( can also be directed at friends or Family). The latter are the really good ones IMHO. 

Examples:

Britney Spears

Taylor Swift

christina aquilera 

madonna

bebe rexha

4:

I think most of you can picture this one. theyre very concentrated in the arts.  Back in my day it was rockbands, nowadays a lot of them are in indie. 

Of course saying this is tantamout to summoning att the ones from the woodworks who like some completely different genres and do not want to be associated with the above

[ducks]

Examples: 

 Amy Lee of Evanescence

Emilie Autumn

Taylor Momsen of The Pretty Reckless

Toopoor

marylin manson

the frontman from mindless self indulgence. 

the mcr frontman

lana del rey

Jonathan Davis from Korn

5:

Avantgardistic and high-concept stuff. Grunge, Metal, and a sizeable fraction of  european bands that dont sing in English

Also, nearly all those “one guy and his laptop” acts 

Examples:

Kurt Cobain of Nirvana

Trenz Reznor of NiN

Honey Malecki of Welle Erdball

Matt Bellamy of Muse

Thom Yorke

Whoever was in charge of lyrics for the earlier albums of In Flames. i bet you my glasses. 

Blixa Bargeld of Einstürzende Neubauten

Sophie Xeon 

6:

supposedly theres quite a lot of them in hiphop/rap as well but im not an expert in that. probably punk & alt rock, too. You’ll recognize that those two genres often have alot of quick rapid fire lyrics.

The ones I was personally familiar with were mostly singer-songwriter types

Examples: 

Mitski

Meg Myers

La Roux

if you asked me to find the common denominator of these, i would say “a lot of feelings”. 

7:

Also come in two grenres: “Terribly Sad Wailing Breakup Song” and “associative Thinking galore creativity explosion”, surprising propensity of ‘layered’ writing where a song will sometimes be about several things at once

Sometimes the same artist will go back and forth between Wailing Breakup and Creativity Explosion, or even pull off both at once. 

Lady Gaga

Tori Amos 

Lindsay Stirling (the violinist)

amy winehouse

rihanna

Fiona Apple

Cardi B

8: 

There were not many examples but i did find a few:

Garbage’s Shirley Manson

P!nk

Peaches

What would I say the common denominator is? It’s dangerous to extrapolate from so few data points, but I’d say a love of scandalous costumes, and the more emotional songs having an undercurrent of tiredness.

9: 

Many widely beloved, ‘iconic’ artists with devoted worshippers. A lot of colorful dreamy/whimsical clothes & aesthetic. 

Otherwise run a pretty wide gamut.  I see a lot more common through-lines with 9 writers. (though many of them are also super beloved household names)

Examples: 

Shakira

Hayley kiyoko

Lil nas x

Beyonce

Ashnikko

Björk

Enya

Note that contrary to popular belief not all of these even have a vibe that could be described as particularly chill. if anything the through line seems to be flexibility & quirkyness. 

its striking that i was familiar with so many of their names & the few most famous songs though im not a big fan of any of these nor intently following popculture. theyre just very popular & ppl frequently gush about them. 

Seems like type 9 has the optimum balance of unique creativity and broad relatable appeal. Plus, you can talk in normal-sized sentences unlike us head types

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[makeupinthedrawer]

surprise song update 😭 me disappointed when taylor songs a song i like (i like all her songs) & also having no other shows to go to

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 9

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 9 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 8 / Part 10

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies: 

Only Freddie and Brian went to see Zandra Rhodes on that first evening. Also, this event occurred in 1974 and not in 1975, as I’m writing it :)

Word Count: 4.2k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Zandra bloody Rhodes?!” Roger cried for the hundredth time. “And she took your call?”

“Pretty fucking fantastic, isn’t it?” said Freddie excitedly.

The meeting had lasted hours, from morning until lunch— in which Roger and John had gone to pick up Indian takeaway— and into late afternoon. Freddie had a multitude of different ideas, and the others had passionate opinions on these ideas, so the morning meeting had quickly turned into an all-day event. Reid had left early on, claiming he had another meeting, this time with Elton— Elton bloody John— but you suspected he was just tired of you and Freddie and Brian and Roger and Deacy yelling ideas back-and-forth at the speed of derby commentators.

Now evening was rapidly approaching, the last sunlight of the day slipping slowly from the sky. The five of you were walking down the road to the flat of the one and only Zandra Rhodes.

Zandra Rhodes. You could hardly believe it. Sure, Freddie was brilliant, and persuasive too, but you hadn’t imagined that even he would be able to win an audience with one of the world’s most promising designers.

Freddie led the parade with you and John at his side, and Roger and Brian followed behind. Freddie glanced back at you, flashing a giddy smile. Roger stuck him a cigarette and the two of them sparked up in the amber glow of the streetlights. Deacy made a face, and you and he fell back to walk apart from the two smokers.

Brian was deep in conversation with Rog and remained that way, talking animatedly about something, a song, maybe, that you only caught snatches of because of the way the wind blew.

Just then, Roger made Brian laugh. Not quietly or shyly, but properly laugh, where Brian threw his head back and his shoulders shook and his smile spread across his face, broad and beautiful. You’d made Brian laugh like that once— when you’d sat on the wall outside of the Union Pub, months ago. Months ago.

It felt an age ago, it felt like yesterday, and how those two ideas could coexist was beyond you, and yet, exist they did. Brian was familiar, like the stars that wheeled above, like the soft sheets of your bed against your skin, like the strings of your guitar that were and would always be in E-A-D-G-B-E form. He was reliable, he was always there. If six point six seven times ten to the negative eleventh was the gravitational constant, then Brian was yours.

John’s voice startled you from your thoughts. “I see the way you look at him.”

You felt yourself flush, heat rushing through you in the same way that happened when you missed a step on the stairs and only just managed to catch yourself in time.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t play silly with me, Y/N,” Deacy looped his arm through yours. “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. You’re always looking at him when he’s not looking at you, and you look quite besotted.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then realised you had nothing to say. You watched your shoes hit the pavement instead. “It’s nothing,” you said finally, lowering your voice. “I’m just a little...” you bit your lip, searching for a word. You gave up. “I mean, look at him,” you gestured vaguely in Brian’s direction. His elegant silhouette seemed to shimmer in the darkness, as though he were made of dark matter, effervescently gorgeous in the shroud of mystery.

Deacy raised his eyebrows. “I do, quite often, and most of the time, it’s to snap at him for being too obstinate with his guitar solos. I don’t,” he pointed to you, “look like that.”

“It’s nothing,” you repeated, shaking your head. “And even if it was something, it would be one-sided, anyway.”

John scoffed. “Ridiculous, Y/N, you’re being ridiculous. You’re all moony, and he goes all starry-eyed—”

The need to justify yourself was suddenly overwhelming. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little starstruck, but that’s all it is!” Your tone had gone shrill, and the heads of the others in front of you turned, wide-eyes and questioning expressions abundant.

“Deacy darling, what did you say to her?” Freddie piped.

“Not a thing,” Deacy raised his hands in surrender and Roger laughed.

Brian slowed until you and John caught up with him. He smiled at you, and you melted a little. “Deacy’s talking your head off, is he?”

John rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk, Mister Back-Chat.”

“Oh, leave us, John,” said Brian, and Deacy winked at you, jogging a bit to catch up with the others.

“Put those out, I’m here now,” you heard him say, and Freddie and Roger dutifully crushed their cigarettes.

“Oi!” said Brian. “In the rubbish bin, not on the ground!”

Freddie and Roger exchanged a look of ugh, mum, then once again proceeded to do as they were told.

Brian shook his head at them while you laughed.

“So, that rascal John Deacon bothering you?” he asked.

“I heard that!”

“Oh, he could never,” you said fondly.

“Does his hair make him more likable?”

You blinked, surprised that Brian remembered your conversations as well as you did. “No,” you said. “That’s your privilege and yours alone.”

Brian looked positively chuffed, and squaring his shoulders, he tugged the lapels of his jacket and pretended to fix a tie he wasn’t wearing.

“You’re secretly just as obsessed with your hair as everyone else, aren’t you?”

“No…”

“Yes,” you pushed him, “you are.”

“Okay,” he pushed back, “perhaps just a bit. But I used to hate it, you know.”

This surprised you. “Really?”

He nodded, tugging absently on a curl. “Brushed it out. Every day.”

“I’ll need to see those photographs,” you told him, admiring the way a ringlet framed his face in the dim light of the street.

“Ha!” said Brian. “Not if I have my way.”

“No?”

“They’re hideous,” he declared. “Can’t possibly let you see me like that. You’d never want to look at me again.”

Then, as though he really were afraid of you never looking at him again, his eyes fixed firmly upon yours, his gaze almost plaintive. The flecks of green amongst the hazel of his irises glittered, trimmed by dark, pretty lashes. The amount of sway he held with a single gaze would have been enough to disintegrate anyone.

“I think you underestimate the power of your presently curly hair,” you murmured, unable to look away from him.

Brian laughed.

Properly.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Freddie rang the haphazardly hung doorbell to Zandra Rhodes’ small attic studio, and the sound of high heels against wood reached you through the door.

You and the others exchanged glances of anticipation. Freddie looked about ready to burst with excitement. You couldn’t blame him.

The door swung open.

A broad-shouldered yet petite woman, perhaps about five years older than you, held open the door. Her denim trousers were decorated in gems and assorted swatches of fabric, and her top was flowing, stitched of a fabric that looked to be African influenced. Wooden beads hung around her neck, and her boots were a white leather. Her bright eyes twinkled.

“Hallo! Come in. You must be Freddie Mercury,” Zandra ushered you all inside, then shook Freddie’s hand.

“Oh, I’m delighted to finally meet you, darling,” Freddie beamed.

“Likewise! I’ve been listening to your records everyday,” said Zandra. “You really ought to make another one. Roger Taylor?”

“I am,” Roger shook her hand with a grin.

“And you must be Brian, the studious one,” Zandra quirked an eyebrow at Brian.

“Sometimes,” he said with a friendly smile, and she laughed.

“That leaves John Deacon— or is it Deacy?”

Deacy shrugged. “Either one works, hello.”

Zandra nodded, “Noted.” Then she saw you. “And who might you be, my dear?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking her hand.

“Ah,” she smiled, “you must be… Brian’s wife?”

Freddie sputtered, then elbowed Roger who was looking like he wanted to laugh.

Brian’s cheeks had turned the same colour as Betelguse, the red star of Orion. You imagined your pallor was something similar.

“I’m sorry,” Zandra apologised, “Freddie mentioned someone in the group was married, and I just assumed, since—” she gestured at how you and Brian had come to stand side by side.

“No harm done,” John swooped in to save the day. “I’m the only one who’s married, but my lovely wife is at work, currently.”

“Y/N’s a friend,” Brian added. “Practically family, she’s been with us so long.” He had regained his composure and now had the gall to wink at you, so that your own composure crumbled further.

You managed a tight smile at Zandra, who above all seemed amused by the whole thing.

“Well, thanks for tagging along, Y/N. I could always use another set of eyes and another pair of hands to help me do fittings. Come on through,” she waved you all down a hallway.

Sorry, Freddie mouthed to you as you followed Zandra.

It’s okay, you mouthed back.

“Secret language?” said Brian from behind you, and his soft exhale tickled your ear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you replied over your shoulder, and Brian chuckled.

Zandra led you into a wide room crammed to the rafters with racks of clothing in all the colours of the rainbow, and all the glamour of Marc Bolan. Although, you supposed the glamour was Zandra’s own; she had only designed for Bolan just last year.

“Voilà, mes amis.” She swept her arms around the studio, and Freddie let out a little gasp.

“It’s stunning,” said Roger, and the others murmured in agreement.

“Thank you,” the designer said humbly. “I like to think I work hard.”

“So, now what?” asked Freddie, and Zandra shrugged.

“Go wild. Pick some things off the rails so I can get an idea of your concept.”

“Oh, be careful saying things like that,” Brian intoned. “Freddie’s like a child at a sweet shop.”

Sure enough, Freddie was already rifling through clothing pieces like he was on the clock.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t destroy anything, by accident,” said John, and followed after him.

“I could never!” Freddie cried.

“By accident,” Deacy reiterated.

Roger ambled off to the other side of the studio, and Brian turned to you.

“Where to start, then?” you asked him.

He pulled a feathery hat down from a stand and plonked it on your head.

“Right here,” he decided. You dipped the brim of the hat and lifted your chin, posing. “Gorgeous,” said Brian, “but I think it needs something more…”

“What about this?” Zandra appeared with a swath of sparkly fabric, which she handed to Brian.

“Oh I shouldn’t— we’re not here for me,” you said. But Zandra shook her head.

“No one comes to my studio without the opportunity to feel fabulous.” She grinned, then swept away in a jangle of beads and gemstones.

“I think she’s right,” Brian said, and he draped Zandra’s fabric about your shoulders, arranging it with careful fingers. He adjusted your hat so that it sat at more of an angle. “Magnificent. I must be a genius,” he sniffed in a haughty manner, and you laughed.

“Your turn, then,” you declared, ushering him down a row of racks. “Here’s the starting piece,” you reached up and threw a silky, checkered scarf around his neck.

“Hmm…” you squinted up at him. He narrowed his eyes in response. From another rack you drew a fashion piece that was something between a kaftan and a kimono, printed with little birds. Brian bent his knees slightly so that you could wrap the material around his shoulders. He placed his hands on his hips and pouted.

He looked absolutely divine. His angles were accentuated by the way the fabrics hung from his frame, and his volume of hair and the heartbreakingly gentle line of his lips rendered about him a feminine sort of beauty that looked better on him than it ever would have on you.

All that was missing from the picture of glamour was the makeup.

“I think we need Freddie to do your eyeliner,” you said, leaning against the wall.

“Oh, love,” he said, and your stomach flipped. Leaning against the wall too, folding his arms and peering down at you, “you think Fred does my makeup? I’m glam too, you know.”

He was so close to you that his curls nearly hung over your face as well as his. It was difficult to breathe when he was this close, as close as when he’d helped you to play guitar the first time. You yearned for him to touch you, or for you to muster the courage to reach out and touch him. Still, no one moved. But his proximity was startling, and the thrill of it rushed down your spine like shooting stars.

“Well, Spaceman,” you said softly, “be glamorous. It suits you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and you could have sworn that his fell to your lips.

Then he looked away, and your shoulders sank.

But who were you kidding, anyway? You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him. You’d meant what you’d said to Deacy, because just like your thoughts of worthlessness, this too was all in your head; anything that truly existed was one-sided, a lonely phone call with no reply. Better to bury whatever fluttery notions that surfaced in you at the thought of Brian. He hadn’t wanted to give you the wrong idea. He didn’t want you.

“We should… We should see what the others have found,” you murmured half-heartedly, deliberately not looking at him.

“Oh. Yes… Good idea.” He cleared his throat quietly, a finger brushing the side of his nose. It was a nervous tic he had— you’d noticed him do it before, when he was uncomfortable. Around you, he did it often. You made him uncomfortable. Yet another reason to get as far away from Brian May as possible.

Brian retraced his footsteps, putting the checkered scarf and the kaftan-kimono back into their rightful places. You took off your flamboyant hat and replaced it from where it had been taken earlier, but you remained cloaked in the dark sparkly fabric, because you had no idea where Zandra had picked it up from.

“There you are, darlings!” Freddie said upon spotting you and Bri. “Come see— I’ve fallen in love.”

Deacy and Roger and Zandra joined you as well, and you found Freddie holding up a lovely white top with flowing sleeves.

“Fred, that’s a wedding top,” said Roger.

“And what is a performance if not the marriage of music and fashion?” Freddie proclaimed.

Zandra bore the expression of a proud mother. “He understands,” she said. Then she urged, “Try it on.”

Freddie was in and out of the changing room in moments, which was really quite a feat, given the structure of the white top.

“Oh, I see what you mean, now,” said Roger, a faint smile appearing on his lips at the sight of Freddie, who looked like an avenging angel, with his dark eyes and hair a brilliant contrast to the paleness of the top he wore.

John looked impressed too. “Stunning, Fred.”

“Very regal,” agreed Brian.

“Very Queen,” you said as Freddie spun in view of the mirror.

“Enough room to move about in, onstage?” Zandra asked.

Freddie nodded. He stopped spinning, facing her. “Darling, I feel I could fly.”

Zandra had genuinely gone teary-eyed. “Oh, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for people to feel.” Then she sighed, composing herself. She clapped her hands, “Time to get you fitted!”

“Excellent, Zandra dear,” said Freddie with a contented air. “Have you got anything similar that the others could try on, to be fitted as well?”

Zandra shook her head. “Sorry, that’s a one-of-a-kind. I’m going to have to fit you all to the same top, then have you tell me your design preferences and replicate the model.”

Deacy exhaled, “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It will be. So how many am I fitting?”

Roger squinted at the white top Freddie modelled. “Mm. I might have a bit of a hard time drumming in that. Think I’ll keep browsing.” He disappeared between the racks again.

“Yeah, might get a bit on the sweaty side,” Zandra mused. She turned to John. “Deacy?”

“I’ve actually got my eye on another one of your other pieces.”

“Ah, lovely! Well, point me to that one, and I’ll sort that for you as well, while we’re here.”

Deacy went to retrieve his garment of choice.

“Brian, darling?” said Freddie in dulcet tones.

You watched the exchange from a distance, perched on a chair that was more for decorative than for accommodating purposes but lifted the weight from your weary feet nonetheless.

“You’d look like that lovely White Queen you’re always waxing lyrical about…”

Something shifted in Brian’s features at the mention of this White Queen, but you couldn’t distinguish a single emotion from the plethora of those that flashed across his face.

“How did thee fare, what have thee seen, the mother of the willow green; I call her name,” Freddie recited with a flourish of his hands. When Brian said nothing, only let his jaw tighten, Freddie went on. “And ‘neath her window I have stayed—”

“Alright, yes, I’ll do it,” Brian muttered through clenched teeth.

“Oh brilliant!” Freddie clapped.

You leaned your chin on your palm, wondering at the scene before you. When Brian’s stare caught on you, his eyes were so intense that you blushed and looked away. You felt like you’d been going through his diary and he’d caught you reading.

“Right,” Zandra dragged a crate towards where you were sitting, just as Deacy reappeared with a shiny black top, and Roger with a kimono. “I’m going to need some help, I think.” She tossed you a roll of measuring tape, which you caught deftly, despite your tiredness. “Will you take some measurements, please?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you nodded. She gave you some quick instructions as to which measurements she needed, then settled a pair of thick, round framed glasses on her nose, and went to work on scavenging fabric and threads.

You took Freddie’s measurements and then John’s, proving that both tops needed quite the alterations; they had been designed for women and thus did not fit the boys quite right.

Roger’s kimono, on the other hand, fit perfectly, and so he went on to peruse Zandra’s vast collection of fancy hats.

Freddie handed the white top over to Brian before joining Roger in the scavenger hunt for hats, and Bri went to change.

When Brian returned, you couldn’t help but stare.

Softness made his being— rounded lips, delicate curls, sleepy eyes— and he seemed wrong for this world; he belonged to the stars.

You stood motionless, the world spinning gently out of time.

And dry my lips no word would make. White Queen indeed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and his voice too was soft.

You nodded but said nothing. Tearing your gaze away, you strode toward him and wound the measuring band behind him, around his back, drawing the ends to meet at his front. You felt his chest contract as your fingers skimmed his collarbone. But you wouldn’t let yourself think about how he breathed, how his head dipped toward yours.

“There, done,” you said, short of breath and scribbling down the measurements without much thought at all. Then you slipped away quickly, weaving through racks of clothing before Brian’s gentle touch could unravel you.

In your mad rush to get away from him, you ran straight into John.

“Deacy!” you cried when you collided. “Sorry!”

Deacy took one look at you and frowned. “Y/N. Stop running.”

“I’m not running,” you said.

“Only because I literally stopped you,” he sighed. “Stop running from Brian.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” John sighed again, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, he spent the entire morning with his arms wrapped around you.”

It was true. Brian had made no move to get you away from where you’d perched on his knee that morning. If anything, he’d settled farther back into the plush of the settee to make you more comfortable, arms encircling your waist lightly, as though he feared both shattering you and not holding you tightly enough.

“Look,” Deacy had both hands on your shoulders now, compelling you to meet his eyes. You did, though with heavy reluctance. “Brian… he may have his cheeky side, but he’s not a flirt like Rog. You can’t pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

From the way your heart thrummed, anyone would have said you’d run a marathon. But the only thing that ran was thoughts of Brian, through your head.

You were breathless, “But don’t you see that I have to?”

Someone like you and someone like him. There was only an abundance of ways in which such an affair could fail.

“No,” said John firmly, but he didn’t get a chance to develop the argument further.

“There you are!” Roger exclaimed, sounding rather exasperated. “This place is a maze. Freddie says it’s time we’re off.”

Deacy frowned, still in his thoughts, but Roger roped an arm around you both in a Freddie-esque manner.

“We must be nearing Brian’s bedtime,” Roger said. “He’s awfully grumpy. Again.”

“That’s not—” Deacy began, but you glared daggers, and he backed down.

The three of you reached the door of the studio, where Freddie, Brian, and Zandra stood waiting, the former two back in their usual garb, and Zandra without spectacles once more.

You handed Zandra your list of measurements, and that was that.

The past few hours felt like they’d passed in a dream.

“So,” said Freddie when you’d bid Zandra goodnight and started down the road again, “we’ve got the costumes, the finances, and the music, more or less, sorted.”

Deacy smiled bemusedly, and Roger stifled a yawn as he nodded. Brian had sunken into silence, and there he remained, distant and inaccessible.

Freddie continued, “But what about a place to write it all? This new album? We need to get away from all of this city buzz. It’s distracting.”

“The city itself, or the people in it, Fred?” Roger chuckled.

“Aha-ha. Very funny,” Freddie elbowed Roger in the ribs. “Quite seriously though darlings, that empty lecture hall just isn’t doing it for me.”

“Don’t think it does it for anyone, excepting our two resident scientists,” Deacy joked.

You rolled your eyes good humouredly, but Brian gave no indication of having heard John’s quip.

“Any real ideas?” said Freddie.

No’s were mumbled and heads were shaken. But for you, a thought blossomed.

“Yes.”

They all— even Brian— looked to you expectantly.

“Well?” Freddie prompted.

You wrung your hands, swung them by your sides. “Well, it might be a little silly.”

Freddie shrugged. “We’ve got nothing, Y/N dear, so have a go.”

“My family owns a farm…”

“Go on.”

“My dad has a recording studio.”

It wasn’t anything fancy, but he did, and the studio was fully functioning in every sense.

“Does he really?!” Freddie exclaimed with childlike fascination.

“That’s pretty fantastic, Y/N,” Roger commented, genuinely interested and for once devoid of sarcasm. “Do you think he’d let us use it?”

Deacy wondered aloud, “Do you think we could stay at your farm?”

“At a reasonable price, of course,” added Freddie.

“Your family has a studio,” Brian repeated, as though he were only just catching on.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m sure you could use it, and stay,” you blurted.

What the hell, stop talking! your internal monologue reprimanded you.

Freddie’s face was lit up like a ferris wheel, and Roger and Deacy exchanged a glance of excitement.

You grinned back, their happiness contagious, until your eyes caught on Bri’s and your heart skipped a beat.

“When can we go?” Freddie inquired, looping one arm through yours and another through Deacy’s, who in turn linked arms with Roger, who pulled Brian into the chain.

“The summer holidays,” you said, as it was the first thing that came to mind. Apparently, the link between your brain and your mouth had been severed. “When I go home to visit anyway, and I can take some time off from studying.”

“Oh this is brilliant!” cried Freddie, pressing a delighted kiss to your cheek. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

But you couldn’t stop looking at Brian, and now you were inwardly kicking yourself; only a day ago, you had resolved to get as far away from Brian as possible, not spend an entire summer with him!

But from the way Roger cheered and Deacy literally waltzed down the deserted street with Freddie as partner, there was no backing out of this now. You would only let them down, and that was one thing you could not bear to do, no matter how selfishly your thoughts might have been inclined.

You would just have to face the dire consequences of your actions.

Even if those consequences involved Brian May. 

And his damning smile.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: the ridge farm era is coming up!! fun fact— this whole fic was inspired by a dream i had about living on ridge farm when queen turned up. the prologue to starstruck is actually a transcript of my dream. wild.

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @hgmercury39​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @topsecretdeacon 

Masterpost / Part 8 / Part 10

[captainscanadian]

Star Crossed | Chris Beck x Reader (Fly Away)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Just when you had thought that you were ready to move on, you were reminded that your heart would always belong to a certain flight surgeon. 

Word Count: 2100+

Pairing: OMC Tudor Hartland x Reader, Chris Beck x Reader (not much of him in this part, but it’s still relevant to the series...) 

Warnings: Heartbreak, Angst (just a little). 

A/N: The concept was inspired by @baezen​‘s It’s Time (seriously, go read it!). Dedicated to my darlings @nasabeck​ and @dramadreamer14​! This one shot came to be when I found myself thirsting over another man (who shall remain nameless) and felt as though I was cheating on Seb (who will always have a special place in my heart). I DON’T DO TAGLISTS! 

Your hands were clammy as you clutched tightly onto the steering wheel, feeling the brisk New England breeze that slipped through the rolled down windows of your car, trying but failing at calming your nerves. 

A part of you wanted to turn the car around and drive back to your apartment, but you knew that you would be in for a rather stern lecture from Amy. After all, she had spent the last two hours helping you get ready for this date when she could have been doing something much more worthwhile of her time. 

Besides, she would certainly give you a piece of her mind for having wasted her time like that, along with blatantly expressing how much you had disappointed her by not making it to your date on purpose. Even she had lost faith that a certain someone would ever return from his travels in space, and she hated to see you wallowing in your own loneliness. She believed that you deserved a second chance at love, even if it meant that it wouldn’t be with her brother. 

You owed it to her for going through with it. 

Not to mention having to face your own conscience for having texted this man for a few weeks before agreeing to meet him, only to stand him up at the very last minute. You could never forgive yourself for leading him on and not even having the common decency to go on one date. 

What the hell were you supposed to do anyways? Your mind was telling you that you were ready to move on, but your heart was telling you to keep waiting for the man whom you knew was never coming back. He was too far gone, a few million miles to be exact. 

Christopher Beck was the star crossed love of your life, the one that got away; you were never meant to be. He was definitely not the right one for you, and you knew that by now. You both wanted different things in life; you wanted to be confined in a lab and fight against deadly diseases, while he wanted to fly away. 

Sometimes things end up not working out for a reason, and you had to accept that. Or so, you had convinced yourself as you arrived at the Yale Center for British Art. 

You had met Dr. Tudor Hartland at a medical conference in Boston a few months ago. While you had taken the stage to present your research, he had watched you from the front row and approached you for what was meant to be a purely academic discussion - but it had turned out to be anything but. 

The conversation had started with you butchering one of his recent articles on neuroimmunology, but it had somehow ended with him recommending what kind of artisan chilli jam from Britain could go well with the vegan cashew cheese that they were serving at the conference. While your fellow medical scientists from Yale had claimed that there were sparks flying all around the two of you during that wine and cheese event, you had begged to differ. There was no such thing, right?

Okay, maybe that was a lie. You had found his British dialect and his keen intellect rather attractive. By the time the conference had come to an end, you had exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch - a promise that had been kept since then. 

You had agreed to meet when he would be moving to New Haven in the near future - which happened to be last week. As his sixteen year old sister, apparently a prodigy of some sort, had been pursuing a Master’s Degree at Yale’s Graduate School of Art, he had ditched his position as Head of Neurosurgery at Massachusetts General Hospital to purchase a private practice in New Haven so that he could keep an eye on her. 

If the intelligence or the accent wasn’t as attractive as it was, the protective older brother part was definitely a selling point. 

“I almost thought you would stand me up.” Tudor remarked as he walked over to greet you with a soft kiss on your cheek, his hand resting at the small of your back before he pulled you into an embrace. “But I’m glad you made it, love.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the way he spoke, his deep voice soothing your nerves and letting you accept his arm and enter the venue. “I could have let you chase me around for another month or two, but I couldn’t resist saying no to a night at the gallery.” 

“I’m sure Eleanor really appreciates that you could come.” He admitted, referring to his younger sister who was having her work featured in tonight’s exhibit. 

You knew that his sister had most of his attention for the night, but you could not complain about it at all. You adored the kind of relationship that he had with her, which certainly made you find him much more attractive. You liked a man who had strong ties with his family.

Once the exhibition had ended, Eleanor had requested that her brother take her home for the night. The rest of the artists who had been featured that night were going out for drinks to celebrate, but since she was only sixteen years old, she couldn’t really join them. Perhaps that was the downside of being a graduate student at her age, you had no idea how you would have coped if you had been in her place when you were sixteen. 

After a whole night of chatting about what art really meant for the two of you - which came as an interesting debate as you were both medical scientists by profession, Tudor had walked you back to your car to bid you farewell for the night. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to join Eleanor and I for our little movie night?” He asked you for the umpteenth time that night. “My place is not far from here and I hate to cut our date short like this.” 

You chuckled softly and shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I had a wonderful time tonight.” You admitted, leaning against your car as you crossed your arms against your chest. “Tudor, I really don’t mind. Your sister needs you for tonight, and you are going to be in town for a while, right? I’m sure we’ll see each other some other time.” 

“So… does that mean that I have a shot at scoring a second date?” He asked you, his lips curling into a smirk. “Or are you going to have me chasing after you for six more months again?” 

“I’ll call you.” You replied, grinning widely at him. “And maybe even visit you at work during your lunch hour, bring you some clam chowder to beat the cold.” 

“Hm… I do like the idea of that.” He whispered, leaning towards you. 

“Oh do you now?” You teased, your hand making its way to run your fingers through his curly hair. 

“Kiss her, you idiot!” You heard a rather high pitched English girl exclaim, causing you to laugh softly as you looked over the man’s head to see Eleanor groaning from his car on the other side of the parking lot. 

“I’m so sorry…” He apologized, looking over at his sister and shaking his head. “She may be an artistic genius, but she’s still a teenager.” 

“No need to apologize.” You reached down to grab his jaw and gently pressed your lips against his. “She’s not wrong.” 

Tudor looked a bit surprised that you had kissed him like that, but he chuckled softly as he leaned in for another kiss. “No, she’s not.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up once again as you pulled back. You had to cut it short, even though you did not want to. Damn this man and his British charm. “I should get going. I have an 8 am lecture in the morning.” 

“Oh that’s right, Professor. I shouldn’t keep you here too long.” He grinned, cheekily. 

“Goodnight, Tudor.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You had been smiling from ear to ear during the car ride home, blasting an old Taylor Swift song from your college days in your car and singing along as though you were still that twenty-two year old girl. You could not wait to get home and tell Amy all about your date with Dr. Hartland, and you felt giddy just thinking about everything. 

But when you got home that night, you had been greeted by the aroma of Amy’s famous one pot pasta and her startled reaction to your return. 

“Uh… I wasn’t expecting you to be coming home tonight?” She kept her eyes on the pot, which she was stirring constantly. 

“Tudor had to take his sister home, so we decided to call it a night.” You responded with a shrug of your shoulders, slipping into one of the stools by the breakfast bar. “What’s got you cooking up a storm at this time of the night?” 

“Uh… no reason.” She replied, quickly, but it was way too obvious that she was lying. 

It took you a moment to hear the sound of running water, making you raise your eyebrow at your best friend. “Wait, I didn’t know you had company tonight. You know, I could get out of your hair if you want me to. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Oh no, it’s… not a bother at all.” She shook her head before biting down on her bottom lip. “Y/N, I’m… I’m so sorry.” 

Just then you heard the sound of running water come to a stop, and you looked over at Amy with a rather confused look on your face. “Amy, it’s fine… really, I can go if you want me to.” 

But it was too late, as it was Chris Beck who had gotten out of the shower and made his way towards the kitchen. 

“Man, I missed your cooking so much!” He called out to his sister as he dried his hair off with a towel, stopping suddenly as he came across you once he entered the kitchen. 

Your eyes glazed over at the sound of his voice that echoed through the corridor to reach your ears, and you found yourself looking over at Amy in utter shock. 

You knew that he had been back on earth after his second mission to space and was currently preparing for his third one - this one was to Mars as part of the Ares III crew. 

But you hadn’t been made aware of his sudden return to New Haven, which you had assumed was because he wanted to see his family before he left on this incredibly time-consuming mission. 

A part of you wanted to scold Amy for not telling you that Chris was here, but the look on her face had been enough for you to know that she didn’t know beforehand either. If she did, she would have at least warned you before you had left for your date with another man. 

Chris hadn’t seen you since that dreadful day, when he had bid you farewell the way that he had before he had left Hartford for good. He wondered if you remembered his last words to you, for you had been unconscious in a hospital room, barely aware of your own surroundings let alone his presence. 

He remembered Amy telling him that you hadn’t wanted him there, yet he had showed up because he had loved you as much as he loved the stars. But you would never know. 

Unbeknownst to him though, you had loved him just as much. You knew that you loved him, which was why being in his presence had now tugged at your heartstrings. A part of you felt guilty for ever convincing yourself to move on, for all it took was just the mere reminder of his existence to bring you back to the harsh reality. You could never move on from Christopher Beck, as your heart would always belong to him. 

That was probably why you wanted to curse the stars for playing with your heart like this. For a moment, you had been the happiest you could ever be since your break up with Chris. You had felt as though you could finally have a second chance at love. You were willing to take the chance on Tudor. You really did take a chance on. 

But your heart, it was still longing for Chris. It was longing for him to eventually return to earth for good, in hopes that the two of you could someday have the happy ending you so rightfully deserved. Perhaps that was why you never called Tudor back; you just knew that it would be unfair to him if you dated him, all the while still being in love with your beloved flight surgeon. 

[sam-writes]

A Lover's Note

Cherry Smoke series

Roger Taylor X original male character

Word count: 1683

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Note: part four!! I was so so so tempted to just make it full of angst at the end.

__________________________

It was the early morning, and Nicholas hadn't been able to sleep for more than an hour or two. The faintest blue light managed to seep into his room, just enough to show the figure of Nicholas, hunched over, head in his hands. He say cross legged, the sheets of his bed were pooled around his waist. He wore a loose tank top and tracksuit pants. He massaged his head through his unruly hair and groaned lowly.

Ever since Eric and Damien had made him realise what his feelings truely were the previous week, he hadn't stopped thinking about Roger; about the chance he had completely thrown away. He should have gone back to sleep. He should have talked about it. He should have stayed. Stayed in Roger's arms and have forgotten about the world for even a moment. He had thrown all of that away.

Nick decided he didn't want to stay in his room any longer and he went to go boil the kettle. He needed a strong coffee.

He was pouring the hot water into his cup when he heard feet lightly walking on the hardwood floor. He turned quickly and saw a drowsy Eric.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you..." Nick rubbed his neck, feeling bad for waking his roommate at such an insane hour of the morning.

"Don't worry, mate, just grab me a coffee and I'll forgive you." He yawned and rubbed his eyes, taking a seat at the bench.

Nick smiled to himself and filled another mug before sliding it over to Eric. Nicholas sat opposite him and sipped at his coffee, careful not to burn his mouth. The morning birds had began their song and the wind was rustling through the trees that lined the streets down below. As painful as it was to be awake this early, he did enjoy witnessing the world at a time everyone would usually be sleeping.

"I'll take one guess as to why you're awake right now." Eric grabbed Nicholas' attention, "It's Roger, isn't it."

Nick cringed at the fact that it was that obvious. He breathed out slowly, trying to release any tension he was holding.

"What are you going to do about it?" Eric was soft and genuine. He tilted his head slightly and resembled a curious puppy.

"I don't know... I don't even know where to find him..." Nicholas grumbled, swirling his coffee with a spoon and watching it become one uniform colour.

"Well, you're going to have to figure it out. Miranda will murder you if you don't get your shit together." Eric swung around and pushed off the counter, his steaming coffee in one hand, and he wandered back to his room. Nicholas dropped his head to the table and wished to just stop thinking, if only for an hour.

It was band practice that day. Both Eric and Nick had were exhausted from being awake so early, so Miranda and Damien had decided to cut the practice short. For some reason all the and decisions were left up to Miranda and Damien. Eric, Michael and Nicholas were like the children of the band, seemingly incapable of making a sound decision. Everyone had packed up and was leaving. Michael had somewhere to be that he didn't want to disclose. Eric was meeting up with a friend. It was Nicholas, Damien and Miranda still there. Nick was sat at his drum kit, drumsticks still in hand. He hadn't bothered to pack up as it just consisted of putting his drumsticks in his bag. He tapped the snare drum absent-mindedly as he watched a girl walk into the studio. she walked over to Miranda and kissed her on the cheek. Nicholas recognised her as the girl from the party. She was quite beautiful.  She had dark skin not not as dark as Miranda. Her thick hair hung loose and it bounced as she walked.

"Boys, this is Amy." Miranda slipped her arm around her waist and hooked her thumb in the belt loop of her pants.

Amy waved politely and smiled, genuinely happy to meet the band, of what was left of it.

"Nice to finally properly meet you, Amy! Miranda dosent shut up about you." Damien offered his hand and, like a gentleman, kissed her hand lightly. Miranda swatted him in the face, telling him to back off of her girl. Damien laughed before gesturing to Nick, "I doubt he's been paying attention to you though," he put a hand against his mouth, pretending to whisper but didn't bother to lower his voice, "he's got boy problems."

Nick was already moving towards them and punched Damien in the arm when he got there. "It's nice to meet you, Amy." He shook her hand, but unlike Damien, didn't make any moves.

They spoke for a while, getting to know each other. Amy was a wonderful girl, she was incredibly wise for her age; Nick could use some of that wisdom right now.

"Well, we better be off. I'll see you boys around." She waved them goodbye before picking up her bag and exiting the studio. Amy moved to hold he hand and Nick smiled at the small gesture.

After a moment Nick swung back around to face Damien, uttering a shocked, "Boy problems? Really?"

Damien shrugged as we walked back over to his guitar case. "It's the truth."

Nicholas stood in a shocked silence until Damien piped up again. "Oh! Buddy, I saw the man that plagues your thoughts yesterday afternoon by chance at the pub, and he gave me this." Damien held up a slip of paper between two fingers. He took it, on one side it said:

Incase you change your mind. Rog.

And on the other side was his address and phone number.

Nick stared at it for a long time, memorising the street name and the numbers, enjoying how his letters curled and looped. Damien slung the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder and grabbed his bag. He put a hand on Nick's shoulder and spoke, very seriously, "I think you should go talk to him." Nick just nodded as Damien patted him on the shoulder and left.

He felt nauseous and like he was going to collapse any second, but here he was, on Roger Taylor's doorstep. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered just turning around and driving back home. Maybe he didn't need to do this, he could just leave and Roger would never even know he was here. Nick shook his hands, anxious and unready. In a strange surge of faux confidence he was not expecting to have, he knocked on the door. It took a while, but eventually the door opened to Roger.

"Nick? You actually came..." His voice was full of surprise and shock.

"Can we go inside?" Nick was almost visibly shaking. He was so unsure if he made the right decision. "I want to talk..."

Roger ushered him in, taking him to the lounge room. Nicholas took a seat on the edge of the lounge. Roger sat next to him, but kept a reasonable distance.

As the silence drew out, Roger spoke up. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Nick dug his fingertips into his temples and rubbed them, he looked up at Roger and felt time stop. It hadn't even been that long since he had last seen him, but god he had missed him. And the look of worry that was plastered on Roger's face wasn't helping. Finally he replied, "Us."

Roger let Nicholas take the lead and let out what he needed to say.

"Roger. I know our bands don't like each other, that they wouldn't work together, and that this whole thing could jeopardize our entire careers but I..." He stopped. He hadn't said it out loud before. Not even to Damien or Eric.  He took a shaky breath, "I like you. I don't want to lose whatever it was we had and I know I was an idiot and I threw it away because I was scared. And I don't know if you could forgive me and maybe try and work this out, but I would love to try... I don't want us to just have been a one night stand." He looked up at Roger, so unsure and scared to be rejected.

The silence that followed was the scariest part. It seems to stretch, going on and on, lasting a lifetime.

"Look, Nick..." Roger slowly began, Nick closed his eyes ready for this whole effort to be worthless. "I like you too, but..." He stopped there for a moment, thinking, making sure Nick knew there was more to come. "You said it, we could jeopardize our whole careers. We've both got good things going for us. I'm sure you don't want to ruin that, I definitely don't. Maybe we shouldn't... As much as I want to."

Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows, a stone dropped in his stomach and he felt sick again. He steadied his rapid breathing and held his hands still. "I know, I don't want to screw that up. But I don't want to screw this up anymore than I already have." He waved his hand between the two of them. "I want to be with you, Rog..." His voice dropped to a whisper.

Roger matched his tone, "You should have stayed with me... We should have just stayed in bed."

Nicholas felt tears prick at his eyes, he felt so guilty. He was full of regret. "I'm so sorry... I can stay now... If you'll let me. If you let us try."

Roger held his gaze for a long while, just watching him, almost giving him a chance to take it all back. And when Nick didn't look away, or open his mouth, Roger finally nodded. Slowly and unsurely at first but quickly it became a strong, certain nod.

"Okay. Let's give this a shot."

___________________________________

Comment and reblogs are highly appreciated!! 💙

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Cherry Smoke Taglist:  @itsanarrum @fire-and-blood-got @bitemerog @rogersmeadows

[flyaway-33]

Yesterday-- (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: Pre-Smile Era. You and Roger are best friends with benefits after having met at a dorm meeting the first night at university. The two of you navigate the newfound freedom of life away from home and learn more about each other and yourselves than you ever expected. 2.6k words.

Warnings: hints of smut, language, fluff.

Disclaimer: This is only a work of fiction. Song lyrics— Yesterday by The Beatles.

A/N: If anyone reads this, I would like to know what you think. I had a lot of fun writing this bit and would like to continue it if it gets any response.

You yawned and stretched, staring up at the rays of sun filtering in through the haphazardly bent window shades, highlighting the particles of dust that floated up by the drab, gray ceiling. Your body was squished against the cinderblock wall of the boys’ dormitory, once again sharing a twin sized bed with your fuck buddy, who also happened to be your best friend in the world.

Peeking your head over the mess of dark blond hair that was your friend Roger, you noted that his roommate had not yet returned from the weekend. This prompted you to elbow the naked, sleeping body beside you hard enough to tip him over the side of the bed.

“Argh!” He bellowed, crashing to the cold, linoleum floor as you cackled deviously. “Damnit, Y/N, what did you do that for!?” He pulled himself up on the bed frame and climbed back into the sheets, huddling for warmth. The cool, autumn air outside often made for chilly mornings in the poorly insulated dorm room.

“Just giving you a rude awakening.” You laughed as you snuggled under the blankets, stealing them from him. He deserved it after the awakening he’d given you last week where he’d loudly crashed his hi-hat beside your head as you snoozed. It was one of the pieces of his beloved drum kit he couldn’t fit in the back of his closet and he claimed he had to put it to good use if it wasn’t going to be stored. It was a recent morning ritual for you two that they first person to wake up would play a prank on the other to wake them up, and it was a direct result of the goofy, open, no-strings-attached relationship you shared. You had never had a friend like him before where you felt like you could completely and wholly be yourself, and you loved that he matched your goofiness, ditziness, and intelligence perfectly, though he sometimes amazed you with how thoughtful and down to earth he could be half the time, while being an absolute asshole other times. You’d become friends the very first night of college and had been joined at the hip ever since.

*** Flashback ***

You nervously leaned against the wall, wringing your hands as dozens of other sweaty, exhausted college students filed into the lobby of your new building. Move-in day had been tiring for everyone and there had hardly been enough time to think of the fact that you were away from home, living on your own with no one to answer to for the first time ever. Your pretty, blonde roommate, Amy, stood beside you, surveying the area like a hawk seeking her prey. She was a gorgeous biology major who hoped to become a veterinarian and you felt that you were pretty but average compared to her, though you already loved her personality. You hoped the two of you would become good friends this year, but you were nervous to live in such close quarters with so many other people.

The RA’s eventually called for order and gave their speech about the dorm rules and common courtesies. It felt like it took forever for them to go over basic life skills such as remembering to lock your door, take out your trash, and do your laundry, and you rolled your eyes when one of the RA’s said she was offering laundry lessons. Once they came to the end of their lecture, they encouraged socialization and the crowd dispersed, some running back to their rooms and others remaining behind to mingle. You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to stay. No matter how much fun meeting new people could be when they were nice and welcoming, you felt awkward and out of place in a room full of equally awkward strangers. Amy had started chatting with a few other girls who were whispering to each other, pointing at random boys around the room. Standing there alone you began to panic, hating being the odd man out, and you searched the room with your eyes for another loner who looked friendly enough to approach.

There he was, standing against a support column, his legs crossed and a pair of aviator sunglasses shading his eyes. He was skinny as could be but fit and was wearing a pair of white jeans with a black polo and purple high-top converse. His dark blond hair fell to just around his jawline and sprawled in messy tufts around his face. He took his sunglasses off to reveal large, stunningly blue eyes. You felt something stir in your chest as you made eye contact across the room, and though normally you would be panicking over how to start a conversation with a stranger with no topic to begin with you felt a calm wash over you as you began to make your way over. Something about his soft, baby face and kind, intelligent eyes told you that you didn’t have to be nervous.

“Hi there, darling.” He began, his voice surprisingly high and airy. “Name’s Roger.” He stuck out his hand and gave you a warm smile.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Roger.” You took his hand and marveled at its warmth, but it was rough, making your mind wonder what kind of things he did to make them that way. Did he work? Maybe he was a mechanic or a construction worker. Maybe he worked on a farm. You were already curious about this handsome boy’s life, just from a handshake.

“Sorry if I’m awkward,” you sighed, dropping his hand after having held it a moment longer than necessary. “If I’m being honest, I don’t have any friends yet and you looked nice enough to give it a go.” You joked, a smile coming to your lips as you shamelessly admitted your reason for approaching him, hoping he got your self-deprecating humor.

“That’s alright, love. I haven’t any friends here myself. Glad to hear I look nice.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked at the way he managed to twist your words, and your cheeks reddened despite the giggle that escaped your lips.

The conversation began the usual way, what’s your major, interests, where are you from, etc. You learned that he was a pre-dental major but that he really didn’t care for dentistry, but rather was interested in the science behind it and the potential to make money; he was a drummer for a band back home in Cornwall and had brought his drum kit to university. It was now shoved in his closet, so he said. So that’s why his hands were so rough. He learned that you were an art major, that you liked to paint and sing, and that you were from Surrey.

Music was what sparked the deepening of your conversation. Jimi Hendrix, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and on and on. You found he was extremely intelligent and had a deep understanding of the way the music was recorded, how the songs were sung, and why it worked. He was fascinating to listen to, as you had never thought about the complexities before.

The two of you sat at one of the study tables in the lobby and talked for hours, and by the time you noticed how late it was, it was well past the time you should have been in bed, having class the following morning. He was reluctant to let you go, so he enthusiastically invited you to come to his dorm to listen to an album, and though you were cautious of all the warnings your parents had given you, you absolutely did not want to let this treasure slip through your fingers, so you followed him down a first floor hallway to his room. “Just one album, Rog.” A nickname for him already.

One album, then two, then a third, the two of you laying opposite directions on his soft, blue bedspread, listening, chatting, giggling about the things you heard and the thoughts you shared. You had never been so comfortable so fast with someone before in your life, and he didn’t pressure you for anything, much to your surprise.

The first week flew by and the two of you couldn’t go a day without seeing each other. He distracted you from the homesickness and the loneliness you felt whilst sitting in your drab dorm room. He found every excuse to talk to you, and invited you to coffee, to work on school stuff together, to listen to and talk about music, and you reciprocated, loving how easy he was to be around. The level of comfort you felt was as if you’d known him forever. You’d found a best friend, something you hadn’t had in years.

*** End Flashback ***

“Oh, come off it,” he groaned snapping you back to reality, tugging the blanket back over himself but still allowing you to keep half. “It’s bloody freezing!”

“Wanna heat it up?” You asked, rolling over to straddle him over the blanket.

He gazed up at you, momentarily stunned by your boldness, and his eyes took on a flame of lust as he studied your form in awe. “Hell yeah.” he near whispered, still stunned.

“Too bad!” You pecked him on the tip of his nose before rolling off him and began collecting the clothes you had discarded on the floor the night before.

“Ugh, you’re killing me.” Roger groaned as he rolled over onto his side to face you. “Can’t we just go one more round?”

You studied him: the way his blue eyes sparkled mischievously, how his soft hair fell in his face and framed him beautifully, he was like a painting of a Greek god. “Well…” you began, trailing off as you tried to fight back a smile.

“Come on, at least stay a bit.” He scooted back against the wall where you had been and patted the space beside him. “I need someone to keep me warm.”

His charm was irresistible, and your resolve crumbled. The clothes fell out of your arms, abandoned once more as you slipped back under the covers. Roger’s smile dazzled you, and you stared into his deep baby blue eyes as he studied your expression. He brought his thumb up to trace the corner of your mouth and he sighed in contentment.

“Come on, Rog. What, did you bring me back to bed just to gawk?” You teased lightly, biting your bottom lip seductively.

Without another word his eyes traveled down the bit of your body he could see through the gap in the covers and he pulled you closer, his warm hands on your hips. “Warm me up, Roger.” You breathed against his neck before nipping it gently. Then your kisses trailed to his lips and caught his bottom lip in your teeth playfully, and pressed yours to his, inviting him in. His hands wondered and he grabbed your leg to hitch it over his hip, his calloused hand running the length of it sensually.

It wasn’t rushed or selfish. Over the past two and a half months you had both learned each other’s personalities, wants, and needs as if they were your own, and that day three weeks ago where you’d finally made the agreement you’d been contemplating for weeks prior had been one of the best days of your life, despite the stress you’d been feeling at the time.

*** Flashback ***

It wasn’t until midterms came around that the fuck buddy arrangement developed out of the stress your schoolwork caused you both.

“What’s wrong, love?” Roger asked, watching you crumple up yet another piece of paper that should have been the start of your essay.

“I can’t bloody focus!” You spat, throwing the paper ball aggressively at the wall of Roger’s room where you had been holed up studying all day. “I can’t do this, Rog, I came here to learn more about how to make my art better, not to write essays about the history of medieval scribbles!” Tears of pent up frustration began to well in your eyes and you swiped at them furiously.

Roger cautiously got to his feet and walked around the desk. He rested his hands on your tense shoulders, coming to hover behind you as he gently began to massage out the tension. “Relax, love.” He hummed, and you nearly melted at his touch. He began to hum a familiar tune and you immediately recognized it and began to sing along to his sweet sound.

“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh, I believe in yesterday”

He pulled you to your feet and twirled you around as your voices harmonized perfectly. By no means was he the best dancer, but the simple act had all your cares beginning to get pushed to the back of your mind. As you reached the end of the song you were producing together you placed your hands on either side of his face, rubbing your thumbs over his soft cheeks, gazing into his blue eyes.

“Rog.”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Oh.” His eyes lost a touch of sparkle for a split second, but it immediately returned. “You mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And you are my best friend. You make this hell hole of a school bearable.”

“So, do you. Roger?”

“Yes?”

“I have an idea… if it’s not okay we can totally forget I said it.” Your thumb traveled softly to the corner of his mouth and hesitated.

“Okay?” Confusion was painted clearly on his features as he met your gaze, a line forming between his furrowed eyebrows.

“Weshouldbefuckbuddies.” You said in one breath and squeezed your eyes shut, fearing his response.

And of course, he started laughing and your heart wrenched.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just forget it. I’m sorry.” You babbled, pulling away.

“No! No, I’m sorry! I just didn’t expect that from you. Is there a reason you’re suggesting this?” He pulled you back to him and his excited mischievous smile dazzled you.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, unsure of yourself, and looked down to study the stitches of your shoes. “Truthfully, I think we both could use the stress relief. I’ve never felt so comfortable with another human before in my life, and we’re with each other all the time. It doesn’t need to be anything serious at all. Just casual. Just two best friends helping each other get off. Nothing has to change. So why not?” You were starting to ramble and bit your lip to stop yourself.

“I actually think that’s a great idea.”

“Really?” You asked, hopefully, meeting his eyes once more. They were warm, welcoming, and now darkened with something you’d never noticed in them before.

Lust.

He nodded silently and began to move you backward slowly until your back hit the side of his bed as your heart began to beat double time and the breath left your body. His tongue flitted out to wet his lips as he began to lean in. Centimeters from your neck, he paused. “You sure, love?”

“Yes. Please.” You whimpered, feeling the desire intensify inside of you, and he pressed his lips to your neck softly.

The rest was history.

*** End Flashback ***

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! please let me know if you’d like another chapter! I have a plan for this one... 

[omdaily10]

IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW

Album: Second

Writers/Producers: Claude Kelly, Steve Robson, Jim Eliot, Alex Smith, Samuel Preston, Mark Taylor, Adam Argyle, Martin Brammer, Andrew Frampton, Bayku, Patrick Jordan-Patrikios, Wayne Hector, Karen Poole, Matt Prime

Release Date: 28/11/2011

Chart Positions: #1 (UK), #2 (Ireland), #2 (Scotland), #10 (Sweden), #18 (Germany), #19 (Switzerland), #68 (Poland), #68 (Austria)

Sales: 1.12m (UK, 3x Platinum), 30k (Ireland, Platinum) 1m (Europe, Platinum)

If his debut album had been the sound of Olly trying to find his musical identity, then 'In Case You Didn't Know' was the sound of him finding complete clarity, taking and owning a sound and running with it. But his second album was as much about his own artistic and musical evolution as it was consolidation.

Much like his predocessing greats before him, he wasn't wanting to be stuck in one box for too long. And whilst his aptitude for melody, unusual lyrics and strong pop vocal sensibilities remained, he wanted to experiment and push himself to all boundaries where he could. And so out went the laidback reggae and ska influences of the debut, and in came a nod or two to the swinging 60s.

'Heart Skips A Beat' is a bit of an anomaly therefore – at least, where the album is concerned – with its early 90s dance leanings out of kilter with what follows on the other twelve tracks. But Olly's inclination towards revivalism of a musical decade that was over half a century old by the time he started writing and recording the second album wasn't too odd a proposition – his performances on his series of The X Factor of the likes of ‘Twist & Shout’ and ‘Superstition’ highlighted this.

True, artists such as Adele and Amy Winehouse, and even the likes of Baby Spice herself, Emma Bunton, had dabbled in a revived 60s sound with great success in the preceding decade of the 21st century. But the ethos of some of the 60′s greats seep through into the album, although not in a reductive way, but one that pays knowing respect and allows Olly to bring his own interpretation of the audial motifs and melodic ideas at work.

Motown, and in particular Stevie Wonder and early Michael Jackson seem to be his greatest musical influence on here, which is especially true of songs like ‘Just Smile’ and ‘Tell The World’ which fall right in the middle of the album, resplendent with sweetly soulful crooning, triumphant brass and clip clop drum beats. The former was co-written by Olly with ex-Alisha’s Attic star Karen Poole (Kylie, Sugababes, Will Young) and Matt Prime, whilst the latter had a guest rap from Abeeku Ribeiro, aka little-known songwriter and rapper called Bayku, who also co-wrote it.

The title track, another collaboration with Claude Kelly and Steve Robson, is a continuation of the story about the same lady friend that was being sung to on ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’, which finds Olly still unable to move on from her, even when on the rebound, hence the wittily brilliant lyric of ‘Why would anyone stick around / When I can’t help screaming out at the worst time your name?’ It’s quite clear that this is the album where his character started to shine through more – ‘I Don’t Love You Too’, which reunited Murs with Wayne Hector, was inspired by an argument between his grandparents.

The simplicity of a Stevie Wonder or Diana Ross ballad is also felt on the song which many fans to this day cite as their favourite. ‘I Need You Now’ closes the album on a simple piano and cello backing, as Olly really proves his vocal chops on a song that is heartfelt, sensitive, and in comparison to the slower numbers on the first album, is delivered with belief and conviction. It’s not surprising that it was touted by many as a potential single after his show stopping rendition of it on The Xtra Factor on the eve of the album’s release. Alas it never came to fruition, but even now it’s still included in his setlist on tour.

Indeed, that song was a highlight of the nineteen-date sold out tour that accompanied it in February 2012, which less than a year after his first theatre tour, saw him progress to the arenas of the UK and Ireland. The story of his time on the road was chronicled for a three part documentary series for ITV2, called Olly: Life On Murs, which not only followed his antics on tour, but also saw him surprising some super fans in each city along the way – one of which just so happened to be the present writer on board an open top bus in Central London.

And it was not just his rip-roaring live show that confirmed him as one of pop’s hottest tickets in town, but slowly, the critics were starting to get on board with Olly and give him the praise he was due. The Guardian, offhandishly dismissive of his debut a year before, did a U-turn and praised his ‘refusal to be mired in a swampland of balladry…he darts lightly from sax-blaring 60s pop to Bacharach/Davidish lushness and sounds as if he's enjoying himself enormously.’ The Sunday Times Culture concurred, arguing that he was delivering pop ‘with more wit and invention then expected...he leans heavily on doo-wop and stretches his voice out, giving it's more soulful qualities a chance to shine.’ Over a million copies sold later, both in the UK and in Europe – it gave Olly his first of four number one albums on home turf – it was clear that not only was he serious about his standing as one of British pop’s liveliest new characters, but that in case anyone didn’t already know, he was here to stay for a while yet.

[robronsecretsanta]

Hi @scrapyardboyfriends ! I was so thrilled to be assigned you as my secret santa giftie! I love your work so much and wanted to make you something that was both inspired by it, and that maybe you might find inspiring as well. So, I have made you three playlists each with a small fic attached. 

Listen to all three playlists on Spotify here or on Youtube here

Liv’s Break-Up Playlist

Listen on Spotify here

i. Somebody That I Used To Know- Gotye (feat. Kimbra) // ii. Shut Up and Let Me Go- The Ting Tings // iii. Heart of Glass- Blondie // iv. New Rules- Dua Lipa // v. Shout Out To My Ex- Little Mix // vi. I’m Not in Love- Anastacia // vii. Ever Fallen in Love- Buzzcocks // viii. Go Your Own Way- Fleetwood Mac // ix. Rolling in the Deep- Adele // x. Tears Dry On Their Own- Amy Winehouse.

Aaron protests, but he’s still not sleeping very well and he hasn’t had enough caffeine yet to argue with Liv’s teenager-logic (if Robert were still here he would probably say that Liv needs to start a debating club, or maybe try taking Law at A-Level). Aaron agrees to a compromise as long as they can listen to something he picks the following morning and Liv reluctantly agrees.

Robert’s Guilty Pleasures Playlist

Listen on Spotify here

i. Look What You Made Me Do- Taylor Swift // ii. Painful to Watch- FOURS // iii. Rather Be- Clean Bandit (feat. Jess Glynne) // iv. Don’t Kill My Vibe- Sigrid // v. Green Light- Lorde // vi. Cry When You Get Older- Robyn // vii. Cheap Thrills- Sia // viii. You Can’t Get Us Off Your Mind- Music Super Circus (feat. Lisa Collins)* // ix. Waiting (Acoustic)- BETSY // x. Million Dollar Man- Lana Del Rey. *You Can’t Get Us Off Your Mind is not available via the Youtube playlist.

Rob’s phone is the one hooked up to their sound system, so Aaron grabs it from where it’s sitting on the coffee table and scrolls through the playlists on his Spotify. He is suddenly struck by the fact that he hasn’t got a clue what to look for- neither of them could be described as music fanatics- and he realises that he has no idea what music Robert might be wanting to hear. They’ve teased each other about their music choices many times before, but Aaron supposes that he should be open to all aspects of his husband’s personality; terrible music taste included. So, he scrolls down to a playlist called “Guilty Pleasures” and hits play.

Aaron’s Running Playlist

Listen on Spotify here

i. Smother- Daughter // ii. If I Had a Heart- Fever Ray // iii. Arsonist’s Lullaby- Hozier // iv. Bedroom Hymns- Florence + The Machine // v. Real- Years and Years // vi. Dangerous- The xx // vii. I Follow Rivers- Lykke Li // viii. Too Close- Alex Clare // ix. Human- Rag’n’Bone Man // x. Paradise Circus- Massive Attack.  

All of the songs speak to the darker parts of his and Aaron’s history together. Loss, lust, and longing. He often wonders if he would change any of it given the chance. Of course, he would take away all the pain and suffering he had caused, the memory of it all leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But once late at night, Aaron had told him that despite it all every step they had taken was a journey that had led them to each other and that he wouldn’t ever want to turn back.  

Fics under the cut!

The Break-Up

This playlist was inspired, with kind permission, by a fic by @iwillsendapostcard. Read on AO3 here.

**

Music notes: half of this playlist was already written for me! I filled in the gaps with my favourite break-up songs or songs that are about ‘tainted’ love. I wanted to make sure I used music that fitted in with Liv’s canon music tastes but that she would have also found quite easily via a quick google search when trying to make the playlist for her brother.

Guilty Pleasures  

The smell of burning still lingers, though Aaron has done his best to get rid of it. He’s thrown open all the windows and used nearly a whole can of air freshener in the lounge. It really isn’t his fault that the first batch of gingerbread men had burnt- it’s not like he’s incompetent- but Vic had come round full of the joys of planning a New Year’s party at the Mill and they’d talked for so long that Aaron had forgotten to check on them, resulting in the smell of burnt sugar, cinnamon, and ginger currently sticking to every surface of the house.

Luckily, he’s planned ahead and bought extra ingredients, just in case.

What he hadn’t planned for was his husband coming home from Christmas shopping early.

“Something smells good,” Robert says as he walks through the door and dumps a load of shopping bags on the sofa.

Aaron isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth, the smell of burning still completely obvious to him, but he gives his husband the benefit of the doubt and kisses him hello.

“What are you up to?” Rob asks as they break apart.

“It’s a surprise for Liv,” Aaron says, gesturing to the oven where the (second) batch of biscuits are baking away nicely.

“She’ll love it,” comes the reply. His husband snakes his hands around his waist as they watch the gingerbread turn golden together.

When Aaron takes them out of the oven he is relieved to see that this batch is perfect, aside from the occasionally oddly shaped ginger-person.

“Do you want to help decorate them?” Aaron asks once he and Rob have put away the shopping and had a cup of tea together.

“Do you not want to wait until Liv gets home?”

“I think she’ll appreciate laughing at our efforts more than putting in the work herself, don’t you?”

Robert chuckles at that. “I’ll make the icing. Can you stick some music on?”

Rob’s phone is the one hooked up to their sound system so Aaron grabs it from where it’s sitting on the coffee table and scrolls through the playlists on his Spotify. He is suddenly struck by the fact that he hasn’t got a clue what to look for- neither of them could be described as music fanatics- and he realises that he has no idea what music Robert might be wanting to hear. They’ve teased each other about their music choices many times before, but Aaron supposes that he should be open to all aspects of his husband’s personality; terrible music taste included. So, he scrolls down to a playlist called “Guilty Pleasures” and hits play. He sees straight away why this playlist is named this way, as the first thing that comes out of the speakers is Taylor Swift. And it’s one of her most irritating songs at that.

“Really Rob?” Aaron asks as Robert ties an apron around his waist and grins at him.

“I’m too sexy for my shirt” Robert sings over the chorus and Aaron rolls his eyes at him and takes the red icing so that he can start decorating.

The playlist, Aaron soon discovers, is full of upbeat female-led pop songs, some that Aaron recognizes and some that he doesn’t. As he puts the finishing touches to his first attempt the playlist has already run through a band with a lead singer that sounds like someone else, the music from the M&S adverts, and has moved onto a slightly more chilled out track that he’s never heard before.

He looks over at what Robert is doing and is shocked to see that Robert has created a near perfect rendition of Liv and Aaron in biscuit form.

Aaron looks up at him in surprise and sees Robert biting his lip as if he is unsure whether Aaron likes them or not.

“These are brilliant,” Aaron tells him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I had no idea you were so good at cake decorating!”

Robert blushes a little. “I’m not. I don’t think so, anyway. But I used to like drawing… I practised loads, back when I was trying to get Katie’s attention. She was into photography and I wanted to show her that I was a better fit for her than my Neanderthal brother. But then, after everything that happened, I stopped…”

The moment hangs in the air, the mention of Katie cold against the bubbly upbeat pop currently blasting through the speakers. Aaron almost wants to get up, turn them off, and tease out this moment a little bit more. But then Robert is plastering a smile on his face and pointing to Aaron’s attempt at making a Father Christmas.

“You’re doing good too!”

He’s not. And he would still rather talk about the memory that is currently sitting heavily on Robert’s shoulder. But Aaron lets it go. There will be other times.

He gets started on making his own edible version of Rob (not that the real version isn’t just as tasty) as Robert works on the rest of the Dingles. By the time that the music has mellowed out again they’ve run out of icing and have got up to make some more.

Aaron’s concentrating so he doesn’t realise why Robert has suddenly pulled him into his arms and started swaying him around the kitchen. But then his ears tune back into the music. Lana Del Rey is crooning about lost love, and Robert is whispering lyrics into his ears.

“It isn’t that hard, boy, to like you or love you,” Robert half-sings to him. “Just grab me and take me…”

“Not while there’s food on the table.”

“I’m trying to be romantic,” Robert laughs at him.

“I know.” He puts his head down on Rob’s shoulder, using the fact that his husband is slightly taller than him to his advantage. “I like this song.”

“Me too. It always makes me think of you.”

“Really? It always makes me think of you,” Aaron confesses. “Mr Million Dollar Man. I used to play this sometimes, in the early days, and when I missed you.”

“You don’t have to miss me anymore,” Robert tells him, pulling him in even closer.

They keep swaying together even after the playlist ends, content to breathe in the each other’s scent mixed with freshly baked biscuits and sugary icing. Aaron notices a smudge of sugar on Rob’s nose and he kisses it off. And as he does he realises that while Rob may think his pop songs a guilty pleasure, Aaron knows that they make up part of the whole package that is his husband- screwed up, brilliant, and sweet.

**

Music notes: For this playlist, I wanted to pick a mix of female lead songs that were also pop songs, as these are both parts of Robert’s music tastes that have been mentioned in canon. I was less concerned about linking these songs together thematically than with the two other playlists- instead I wanted a mix of popular songs and ones that are less well-known, to show that this is a genre that Rob enjoys beyond what is just played on the radio. This playlist contains some of my favourite songs by the artists I picked, plus a handful of wildcards that I thought might be new to some listeners.

Fic notes: I knew I wanted a scene where Aaron would be curious to find out what Rob considers to be a “guilty pleasure”. I was initially going to have them in the car, but then I saw your brilliant art of Robron making gingerbread and this fic was born! I have always thought that Million Dollar Man makes a great affair era song, and this fic provided the perfect opportunity to explore that a little.

Running

There is a phone charger thief in the house and that thief’s name is Aaron Dingle. 

It’s not a big deal really; there’s enough charge on his phone for someone to reach him in an emergency, and a landline at the Mill if anyone is feeling particularly old-fashioned. But Robert can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. His New Year’s resolutions this year include a promise to look after his health a bit better after a playful bantering session with Aaron about their age gap turned into a worried revelation that one of Aaron’s biggest fears is Robert becoming ill.

He’s been trying to get out for a run every now and then, building up his strength and stamina, so that eventually he can suggest that he and Aaron work out together without fearing that Aaron will start panicking as soon as Rob becomes out of breath.

The problem with the phone charger is that he wants to take his phone with him in case of an emergency, and he wants to listen to his 80’s running playlist whilst he’s out. The phone has enough battery for one task, but not the other. And so, he’s been hunting all over the house for any of the spares he knows the three of them must have between them.

What he finds instead is an old MP3 player that Rob recognises as the one Aaron used to use all the time before his last phone upgrade. Amazingly, it’s still got quite a bit of charge on it. 

Obviously, their music tastes are different, and Robert is unsurprised to find that most of the artists and songs on there are ones he doesn’t recognise. But, helpfully, there is a playlist called ‘running’ (a very Aaron title) which he switches on as he starts to stretch in the driveway of the Mill.

The music swells, dark and almost sexy, and Robert lets it carry him away from the house and down by the river that Liv’s bedroom overlooks.

He’s not really paying attention to the lyrics, as he is too focused on setting a good running pace and sticking to it. The music doesn’t really help with that much. Rather, it provides a moody and ominous kind of atmosphere that keeps his mind off the first pangs of pain in his already-tired legs. Robert almost feels like he’s running through a film set, the music blending beautifully with the river and forest that surround him.  

Soon, the gloomy music gives way to songs that have a stronger beat, pushing him forwards and deeper into the woods. As he starts focusing on the lyrics more he becomes aware of a sense of familiarity that lurks beneath his skin.

He recalls a winter like this, a long time ago, in these same woods. A night that he spent trying not to worry. A night Aaron spent trying not to die.

“Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash…”

“Such selfish prayers, I can’t get enough…”

“Oh, I think that if I had been enough for you would I be better, would I be good?”

Robert stops, recognising this song from a time when he’d thought he had a crush on waif-like Ben Whishaw before realising that what he really desired was broad shoulders and muscled thighs. His heart aches as he remembers the festival that he and Aaron nearly attended together- this band were due to headline.

All of the songs speak to the darker parts of his and Aaron’s early history. Loss, lust, and longing. He often wonders if he would change any of it given the chance. Of course, he would take away all the pain and suffering he has caused, the memory of it all leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But once, late at night, Aaron had told him that despite it all every step they had taken was a journey that led them to each other and that he wouldn’t ever want to turn back.  

Robert does, though, taking the path that will lead him to the scrapyard and Aaron’s office instead of back to the Mill.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to breathe…”

“Don’t ask my opinion, don’t ask me to lie…”

“Love is like a sin, my love, for the ones that feel it the most…”

By the time he bursts through the port-a-cabin’s door he is a sweaty and shivering mess.

“Are you ok?” Aaron asks straight away.

Robert doesn’t even try to respond. Instead, he goes straight over to Aaron’s desk, pulls him out of his chair, and into his arms. He wraps himself around his husband as tight as he possibly can, breathing in the scent of him and cherishing the thud of Aaron’s heartbeat against his own skin.

Aaron doesn’t ask again. He just return’s Robert’s embrace with an equal strength.

“I’m sorry,” Robert eventually chokes out.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

Aaron strokes his hand down his back and waits for Robert to explain further.

“I listened to your playlist, and I just… I just felt so sad… after everything I put you through…”

Aaron simply nods then turn them both about so that Robert is manoeuvred into Aaron’s chair and Aaron is kneeling in front of him.

“Did you listen to the songs properly?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll know that they were all about love,” Aaron explains. “I loved you then, even when I couldn’t have you. I love you now because I know that you are mine.”

He places a small kiss on the inside or Robert’s wrist in a gesture so sweet Rob almost wants to cry.

“Better?” he asks when Robert stops gasping for breath.

“I’m ok,” Robert replies.

Aaron smiles at that. “Next time, let’s go for a run together though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robert agrees, finally pulling his husband in for a well-deserved kiss.  

**

Music notes: I had the idea that during the affair Aaron might use music as a way of experiencing some catharsis. It seemed only natural to me to combine my coping mechanism (music) with Aaron’s (running). It was only after putting together the first parts of this playlist that I wondered how Robert might react to having Aaron’s feelings from the early affair days laid out before him in these more explicit terms. As a matter of personal taste, this playlist contains both my favourite song and my least favourite song in all three playlists.

Fic notes: this is mostly wish fulfilment on my part as I would like robron’s past addressed in a more direct way, mostly so that we can move on from it. This is the playlist where I focused more on the lyrics for so I wanted to incorporate them into the body of the text. Also, I wanted Robert and the reader to go on something of a journey through Aaron’s feelings through the playlist and fic. I have a real soft spot for Aaron taking care of Roberts feelings and so this seemed like a natural conclusion for the fic.