#and the frontman decided that was something he really needed to hear

[trashabilly]

the sound of a room full of 60+ people all cracking their knuckles at once is really something

[coneyislandbabey]

(i'll never be) your beast of burden. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: just some profanity, based off the rolling stones song 'beast of burden' which i think is maybe the most eddie song there is

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. This is the first part of a new eddie series that I think will be three parts! word count: 2,632

Pittsburgh, 1967

You shook out your hands, bouncing on the balls of your feet and trying to calm your nerves. You were standing outside Graham Dunne’s garage, the strap of your bass slung across your shoulder, trying to pretend that you didn’t actually care how this all turned out. Eddie Roundtree had approached you at your job the afternoon before, telling you about the band he was in and how they needed a bassist, rounding out the conversation by asking you to come by and play something. You didn’t even know how Eddie knew you played bass; sure, you’d gone to school together for most of your lives, but you had never been close, or even really spoken much outside of the occasional conversation in class. You didn’t dwell on it though– you had been knocking around the idea of starting a band or trying to find one to join for a while now, and now the opportunity you had been looking for had fallen right into your lap. You told him you’d stop by. 

“Just trust me on this one, okay?” you heard Eddie’s voice, muffled and distant, from inside the garage. They didn’t know you had arrived yet, and you took a minute to idle outside to hear what they were saying. 

“Alright, but I mean, I’ve never heard her play. I didn’t even know she played an instrument at all,” a different voice piped up. You placed it as Billy Dunne. You didn’t know him personally, but you and Graham used to do homework together at his house in grade school since you lived just up the street, and Billy was always lurking around. 

“Well she’s coming today so you could hear her play,” Eddie responded indignantly. “She’s good. I’ve heard her down at Music Barn, testing out different basses.” 

You raised your brows. So that was how Eddie knew about your bass playing. You were at Music Barn, the music store in the neighborhood, all the time, and now that you thought about it, you remembered seeing Eddie there a few times, checking out guitars or records. Taking a deep breath, you walked forward, deciding it was time to make your presence known. 

“Hey, guys,” you smiled, coming around the mouth of the garage. Eddie, who had his back to you, turned and smiled, as did Graham and Warren. Billy, standing in the center of the floor, merely fixed you with an appraising frown. 

“Hey, (y/n)! Glad you came,” Eddie said. “So, I told you about it yesterday, but let me give you a run-down. Billy’s our frontman, Graham’s on lead guitar, I’m on rhythm guitar, and Warren back there is on drums.”

“Cool,” you nodded, looking at each of them as Eddie introduced their roles. “So, you’re looking for a bassist?” 

“Maybe,” Billy cut in, before Eddie could respond. “We just wanna hear you play today. See what you can do.”

You shrugged, getting yourself ready to play. “Not much of a band without a bassist.” 

Warren snickered from behind the drum kit, and tried to hide it by turning it into a cough. You smiled to yourself, before blanking your face to look over at Billy. His expression towards you had grown slightly more hostile. “Can I play now?” 

“Floor’s yours,” Billy said, stepping back to give you some room. You had decided on playing Sunshine of Your Love, off Cream’s new album. It was what you had been working on learning anyway before Eddie asked you to come play for them, and you spent all of the night before polishing it up. 

Despite your anxieties, you played the whole song flawlessly. The further you got into it, the more everything dropped away, until it was as if it was just you, standing alone in the garage, playing your heart out to a familiar song that you loved. You could feel it in your very bones, at the end, that you had killed it. There was no way those boys could be anything but blown away. When you opened your eyes, you saw all four of them staring at you, and you smirked, reveling in the success. 

Billy cleared his throat. “Okay, do you mind if the four of us talk alone?”

“Sure thing, I’ll be out there,” you said, backing out of the garage. You went to sit on the back stoop of the Dunne house, pulling a cigarette from the carton in your jacket pocket and lighting it. You forced your mind to focus on anything but the band huddle happening thirty feet away from you; it would do you no good to start getting anxious all over again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Billy strolled out of the garage, followed by the rest of the band. 

“Okay,” he said, coming to a stop in front of where you were sitting. “You’re in– on a trial basis. We’ve got a few gigs coming up, so we’ll see how you do.”

You stood up and nodded, offering your hand for the taller man to shake. “Thanks, Dunne.” 

***

You were standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner when the phone rang. Quickly, you slid across the room to turn the radio on the counter down, before pulling the phone off the hook and nestling it between your head and shoulder, resuming your chopping. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n), it’s Eddie,” the boy’s smooth voice filled your ear. “Billy asked me to get you familiar with our songs before the gig on Saturday. You free any time before then that we can get together?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded. “I’ll be home tomorrow by seven. Bring you and your guitar over my place?” 

“Alright, see you then.”

Eddie turned up at your house five minutes after seven, guitar slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. You had been idling in the living room since you got home, practically hovering by the door so you could make sure none of your other family members could answer it before you got there. 

“Hey,” you smiled, stepping out onto the front stoop and closing the door behind you. “We’re gonna go ‘round back to the garage, a’right?” 

“Sure, sure,” Eddie nodded, following you down the driveway and toward the small garage where you always practiced your music. Nobody else used it, and you had transformed the cold, concrete room into a place of your own. Colorful Christmas lights were strung up all around, an old oriental rug that used to be in your dining room covering most of the floor, a ratty leather couch you had bought at the thrift for twenty bucks shoved off to one side. You had a minifridge stocked with iced teas and Cokes, and a tiny bookshelf full of your favorite novels in the corner. Truthfully, you spent more time out here than in your own bedroom when you were home. 

You lifted the garage door, and Eddie stood in front of the scene, taking it all in. He whistled, one long, low note. “This place is sick.”

“Thanks,” you laughed. “I’ve been fixing it up for myself ever since I got my job down at the bookstore. Most of my spare cash goes into it.” 

“We should move band practice here,” he joked. 

“You guys are always welcome, if Billy allows it,” you shrugged. “So, how many songs do I need to familiarize myself with before Saturday?”

“Oh, well we’ve got three originals that we usually play at gigs. Other than that, it’s just popular songs that you probably already know,” Eddie explained. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a little leather notebook, handing it to you. “This is my notebook from the last few weeks. I’ve been playing bass since we lost Chuck, so I wrote out all the notations and stuff. But you can have it now.” 

You accepted the notebook from him, opening the cover and flipping through the pages. Only the first third were filled, plenty of room for you to add your own notations for these or further songs. Eddie’s handwriting was quick and spidery, cramping page after page. It looked like him, you thought. “Thanks, Ed. We’ll get started then?” 

Eddie got right to it. He had a productive process for teaching you, starting with playing a recording of the song, and then playing the isolated bass parts for you, before having you play it back to him. Any time there was a mistake, he’d stop you gently and point it out, showing you the exact positioning of his fingers on the frets or playing the same part over and over for you patiently until you nailed it. You liked that about him, the way he was so driven and focused, yet so patient with you as you learned. 

The hours flew by, but you hardly noticed. Before you knew it, it was nearing midnight, and you had gotten through two songs already. Eddie didn’t seem tired, and you weren’t either, so you started in on the last one. As usual, he played the recording for you, and then did the isolated bass part himself, before it was time for you to try. 

You started on your first attempt, and were mostly successful, until somewhere in the middle when you missed a note in a faster section. You tried again, and made the same mistake. Seeing that you were getting increasingly frustrated with yourself, Eddie stepped closer to you, placing a hand on the body of your bass to get you to stop playing. 

“Can I show you?” he asked, and you nodded. Eddie took your hand in his, manually positioning your fingers on the frets. “There’s the note before it, and then…” he started, moving your fingers slightly, “there’s the note you keep missing. The tempo’s a little tricky there, but you’ll get it.”

You nodded distractedly, staring down at the position of your fingers on the bass, trying to commit the position to memory so you could get it right the next time, but all you could think about was how warm Eddie’s hand was, closed around your own. You looked up and he was still right there, so close to you, breathing your air. His eyes bore down into your own, and all you could think was that they were the perfect shade of brown, beautiful, even, with the reflection of your colorful lights dancing in them. 

You cleared your throat, taking a small step backwards and trying to refocus yourself on the task at hand. You didn’t know when Eddie had gone from a classmate, an acquaintance at best, to someone whose pretty eyes and warm hands made your chest tight, but it was distracting, and distractions were not something you could afford at the moment. You were only in the band on a trial basis, as Billy had emphasized several times since you first played for them, and you needed to work your ass off to show them that you were worthy of becoming a permanent fixture. Developing a stupid crush on the rhythm guitarist was not going to help that, and honestly, it was a little pathetic. 

Eddie blinked as if coming out of a trance, and took a small step backwards himself, putting a little more room between the two of you. You missed the warm weight of his hand on yours. “Okay, let’s hear it again.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes for a moment and recentering yourself, before starting in on the song again. This time, you hit the troublesome note perfectly, and had to suppress yourself from celebrating until you made it all the way to the end of the song. Eddie was beaming at you when you finished, pride in his eyes. 

***

Saturday had come faster than the speed of light, and you hated to admit it, but you were dreading your first gig with the Dunne Brothers. You had spent every waking moment in the last few days practicing what you had learned with Eddie, and you were sure you had it down, but the pressure was on. You needed to be perfect, needed to show them that you were the right fit for the band. The thought of the possibility that Billy could reject you after this was stomach-turning. 

You did your best to cover up the anxiety. You dressed in your favorite pair of jeans and a crotchet top, your hair done up nicely and a minimum amount of makeup on, trying to find a good balance between looking your best but still being taken seriously by the guys. 

The guys came by in the van and you piled into the back, cradling your guitar case to your torso and doing your best to look nonchalant and relaxed. Eddie was looking over at you, an amused look on his face. 

“What?” you asked, tilting your head at him. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m fantastic, Roundtree, absolutely perfect. Why do you ask?” At this, Eddie raised an eyebrow, even more outwardly amused with you. 

“If you say so,” he said, hands raised in surrender. After a few moments of quiet, the only noises filling the air being the radio and Warren tapping his drumsticks on the back of the seat in front of him along to the song, he spoke up again. “You’re going to be great, man. You nailed all the songs we worked on in one night, and I know you’ve only gotten better since then.” 

You sighed, feeling some of the anxiety come loose in your chest. “I hope so.”

Eddie was right, of course. You played through the whole setlist flawlessly. After the first song, you finally began to loosen up and enjoy yourself, and by the time the gig was over, you never wanted to leave the stage. This was it; this was the reason you had wanted to join a band in the first place. The rush of energy up your spine at the sheer amount of attention on you, feeling the music physically move through your bones and muscles. Now you knew for sure that there was nothing better in the world. 

When you got backstage, you shoved your bass into its case and, without thinking, threw yourself into Eddie’s arms, your own winding around his neck. He was momentarily surprised, but his arms immediately wound tightly around your waist, squeezing you to him so tightly that your feet left the ground. When he put you down, you stared up at him, beaming. 

“I was fucking great! We were fucking great!” you shouted, and Eddie’s smile broadened at that. “I just– thank you, Eddie. For teaching me the songs the way you did. For getting me here.” 

You could’ve sworn there was a light dusting of red on his cheeks at your words. “It was nothing, (y/n). You belong here, you just proved that much on stage.” 

Billy walked over to you both, and to your surprise, there was a smile on his face. You turned your attention fully to him, trying to tamp down the anxiety that was seeping through your euphoria. This was it, the make or break moment. You could tell from one look at his face that Billy had already decided whether you’d permanently be joining the Dunne Brothers. 

“You were great out there, (y/n),” he said, and your smile broadened. “We’d all be very happy if you decided to really join us.”

“You’re offering me a permanent spot as your bassist?” you clarified. 

“If you want it? Hell yeah,” Billy said. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely I do,” you grinned, once again sticking your hand out for Billy to shake. He did, and you swore you could actually see your whole future shaping up, right there in front of you. 

tag list: @eonnyx

[salamandergoo]

This was written in snippets on a discord server, thought I’d clean it up and slap it here! Haven’t been able to stop thinking about roadie Steve 💕 There’s a lil bit of spice in here, just to keep things fun :)

Steve, after everything that happens, doesn’t really know what he wants to do. Working at Family Video is… fine, but Robin is finished with her gap year and now she’s getting acceptance letters and scholarship offers from colleges and trying to decide where to go.

She keeps asking him if he’ll be okay and Steve tells her to go because he’s excited for her! She’s excited too! And yeah, they’ve had nights where she stays over with him and they cry about how they won’t get to be attached at the hip, but they can’t stay in Hawkins, it’s not realistic. They’ll never be… okay, if they stay.

She goes off to college and absolutely loves it, she thrives there, and they’re in constant touch, but Steve feels like he’s lost a part of himself. His platonic soulmate, the woman he’s so used to just… being there, is gone. So when he’s invited to a Corroded Coffin gig, he jumps in, thinking that if nothing else, it’ll be a solid distraction from his wallowing.

They’ve played a few cities in Indiana, a frontman accused of satanic murders is pretty great for their image surprisingly enough, they’re just waiting for Gareth to finish school before they jump in fully. The show is pretty local, just barely outside of Hawkins city limits, but it’s refreshing for Steve to be… somewhere else, just for a night. And the gig is fun! Steve can’t hear the words to the songs too well, can’t keep up with the music so great, but he can feel it in his chest. And he loves the energy of it.

Partway through, something goes wrong with one of the amps and they’re trying to get it fixed. Steve offers to give them a hand, and in just a few minutes and some tinkering he has it working again. And the pats on the back from the guys and the bright smile from Eddie sparks something in Steve.

The next day, he finds himself in the library, checking out books on electrical equipment and instruments and anything he can think of, and starts reading up. By the time Gareth graduates and CC has a few shows set up, Steve comes along. He’s able to handle any technical difficulty they come across, he’s the guy making sure it all goes smoothly.

And suddenly they’re recording their first album and blowing up and Steve is their go to guy for live shows, he’s the first person on their payroll. For awhile, he’s the only one, he runs everything that isn’t playing music, but eventually, a few more hands are needed.

Eddie makes it clear that Steve is in charge, naturally trusting him to be the head of the road team.

The band is doing great and soon enough they’ve upgraded from Eddie’s van and Jeff��s station wagon to an actual tour bus. Eddie is so amped about it and it’s hard not to let his energy be infectious.

Of course, driving across hours of plains dims some of the excitement, but Eddie and Steve start to come up with… interesting ways to pass the time. Ever since they left Hawkins, Steve’s eyes have been wandering a bit. Turns out metal heads are his type, who could’ve guessed?

At first it was making out in an alley in Indy with a girl who had shaved hair and piercings shoving him against the wall and making him beg to eat her out. Then it was the boy in a leather jacket in the mosh pit in the middle of summer, sweat slick skin covered in ink and a gentle hand but commanding voice in a motel room. And then it was his own fantasies, covering his mouth as he touched himself in a shared hotel room bathroom thinking about Eddie, who else?

So there’s an ongoing game of gay chicken and Eddie hasn’t been quiet about his own conquests along the way. It’s little things, Steve shifting a little closer to Eddie on the bus, a hand on the thigh that creeps upwards, whispering in hushed tones just a little too close.

It finally snaps in California, a sold out show attended by Argyle and Jonathan (who moved back out west a few months after the world didn’t end). They’re slipped a few “party favors” before heading off to a motel for the night, a reprieve from the rumbling, uncomfortable mattresses on the bus. One of the rooms only has one bed because of a booking issue and before anyone can complain, Eddie snatches the key and declares that “Stevie’s with me”.

So the band splits up to go to the rooms, Eddie has to wait while Steve inspects the bed closely to make sure there’s nothing gross, and then they settle in, still sticky with sweat and buzzing with adrenaline. Eddie lights a joint and teases Steve a little with the way he groans and sighs as he takes a hit, but Steve gives as good as he gets

He straddles Eddie’s lap and asks to shotgun in this pretty, lilting voice, cocking his head in a way that makes his eyes, sparkling with mischief, catch the light just so. And Eddie isn’t going to deny a pretty boy on his lap, not when he’s seen Steve in those tight jeans. He takes another hit and tugs him in by the shirt collar, breathing out the thick smoke into Steve’s waiting, parted lips. And Eddie is treated to the sight of thick eyelashes fanned against freckles cheeks, the expanse of pale skin on Steve’s neck as he tilts his head back to avoid blowing the smoke back in Eddie’s face.

And Eddie can only restrain himself so much as he leans in and kisses the faded scar that cuts across Steve’s adams apple. Steve licks his lips and is looking at Eddie’s mouth when he opens his eyes and something between them snaps. He leans in and whispers, “kick me if I’m misreading this” before kissing Eddie on the lips. It’s firm, but not messy, charged and searching. Eddie has to take a second to remember how to move his limbs, holding Steve tight around the waist, careful not to bump the lit joint against his shirt.

He kisses back, but it’s not enough, he needs more, wants to ride out the low thrum of the coming high with Steve. He pulls back just long enough to take another hit and lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw. He breathes the smoke out, letting his tongue trace Steve’s lip as he takes it. Steve holds the smoke like a fucking expert, tangling his tongue with Eddie’s as he lets the smoke back out from the corner of his mouth. Eddie distantly wonders if he looks like a dragon like that, a thought that has him giggling. And then it’s really hitting him that he’s 1) a rockstar 2) making out with his high school crush Steve Harrington and 3) absolutely rock hard.

Judging by the pleased expression on Steve’s face when they part for air and the way he grinds his hips down slow and teasing, he definitely noticed that last part.

[uramilf]

hi love can I request some angst with a happy ending. singer y/n and matty being official but y/n is having some trouble with her reputation lately (inspired by the whole taylor & kanye beef) so she tries to breakup with matty in order to protect him and not drag him anymore (saying he deserves better or something like that) so she booked a flight and goes back to her hometown but then our sweet lover boy matty chases her then one day he knocks at her door and they talk it out ;* I really need some angsty happy ending rn thank you my love!

A/N: Okay I loved this is I decided to turn it into a proper oneshot, thank you anon!! Fair warning: I'm not fully sure what happened between Taylor and Kanye but I know he accused her of not deserving an award so that's what I went with in this fic! Sorry if that wasn't what you meant!!

Warnings: angst, swearing, very sad shenanigans ensue

Reputation

"Y/n Y/l/n is currently in some hot water with pop music fans as she is accused of robbing other artists of Artist of the Year award. Y/l/n may have won multiple awards this year, but did she really deserve them?"

"Music sensation Y/n Y/l/n is a talented artist, fans agree, but it looks like her time in the industry could be limited as other artists express their upset at her recent win - could her rockstar boyfriend Matty Healy be the real reason for her success?"

"Brit award and Grammy holder Y/m Y/l/n slammed for her recent success this award season as she is called 'undeserving and untalented'. Her boyfriend, frontman of the global phenomenon The 1975, is yet to speak on the issue after being accused of helping her to acquire her fanbase."

You shut your laptop with a slam before you could delve any deeper into the comments being made about you online. You had been ecstatic with your recent win, and as Matty had also won an award the same night, you two felt invincible. That was until you began to be talked about negatively following your win, and you started to doubt how deserving of it you were. You started to believe what was being said about you online. That out of the hugely talented list of nominees, you were the least exciting. You started asking yourself if the only reason your fanbase had expanded was because of Matty. You wondered if you would lose fans in the event of a breakup.

It only took a few hours for the tabloids to bring Matty into the situation. They accused him of writing all your songs for you. Of course you had collaborated with him in the past, but you had credited him as a co-writer. The rest of your discography was your own. Matty was accused of begging Jamie to sign you at Dirty Hit, but of course you had been signed due to your musical talent and songwriting ability. In fact, you hadn't even known Matty before you were publicly represented by the label. Nevertheless, you could see you boyfriend beginning to be dragged down by the accusations made against you. You knew you couldn't let it happen. He had built such a successful music career for himself, and you couldn't be the reason he lost respect in the industry. It was going to hurt, but you knew what you had to do.

-----------------------

You had booked yourself on the first flight back to your hometown and told your parents you were coming to stay. Your stuff was packed up in boxes, ready to be transported back home, while your essentials were in a suitcase by the door. You sat anxiously on the sofa waiting for Matty to arrive home from the studio. When he did, you could hear him ranting from the second he opened the door. "Babe! Have you seen what those fuckers at The Sun have said now? This is bullshit!" He didn't get much further before spotting your suitcase. "What's this? What are you -" "Matty, I'm sorry?" "What are you talking about? Tell me what's going on!" "I never wanted you to be dragged into this. My reputation is ruined. It's only a matter of time before the label drops me." "That's bullshit babe, and you know it! Jamie loves you like family, he's gonna get you through this." Matty took your hand. "Please don't listen to what the press is saying, babe. You deserved those awards. And you have never lied about writing your own music. Now will you please tell me what's happening?" "I'm leaving, Matty. I'm going home." "That's ok baby, you just need a break. How long will you be gone?" You just shook your head at him, a tear falling down you face. You couldn't say it. "Darling, please, what are you saying?" "We need to break up, Matty. I need to protect you from this. You deserve so much more than me. More than the person who's ruining your image over a stupid fucking award."

Matty's face fell immediately. His eyes filled with tears and you could barely look at him knowing the hurt you had caused him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, and turned to leave. "No. Absolutely not." Matty caught you hand and pulled you to him. "You can't leave, not after everything we've been through. I love you. I need you." "I love you too, Matty. More than anything in the world. That's why I have to go. You love your music, and I can't let you be dragged down by my reputation anymore. We can't be together. We just can't."

--------------------------

As you lay in bed in your rented apartment near your hometown, your mind wandered to the look on Matty's face when you walked out on him three months earlier. He cried when you left, you could hear him sobbing behind you as you walked out the door. You had seen him cry before, but never like that, and it scared you. Maybe that's why you were so quick to leave. You didn't want to see the damage you had caused.

The comments online and the seemingly never-ending news articles had died down, of course. Not even a week later, some actor you had never heard of said something problematic and you were left alone. As for the public, they began to see sense and you had received hundred of comments on your social media saying things along the lines of "We support you Y/n!" or "We all know you deserve every bit of success." It was encouraging, but you felt you weren't ready to return to the studio yet. More than that, you weren't ready to return to the label and potentially face Matty.

It must have been one in the morning when you were awakened by frantic knocking on your door. Startled, you jumped out of bed and ran to the door. You opened the door a crack, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw who it was. Matty Healy, with his curls tousled by the wind, tearstains on his cheeks and a tiredness in his eyes you had only seen when he returned from a tour. He must have gotten off a flight and come straight to you. You swung the door open and he tensed up when he saw the worried look on your face.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Is everyone ok?" "Everyone's fine, darling. Except me." "What? What happened?" "You. You happened. I can't be alone anymore love, I just can't. I need you back home with me." "Matty, you know I can't do that." "And why the hell not? All that stuff with the press cleared up after you left me." "And what if it starts back up again? I can't let you be dragged down by me again." Matty took your face in his hands. "Listen to me darling, please. I simply can't be away from you any longer. I have never loved someone like I love you. I don't care what those fuckers on the internet have to say about me. I would have my reputation ruined a thousand times for you. I would do anything for you, I would die for you. You know that. So why won't you come home and be with me?"

You couldn't stay away from him for a moment longer either. You threw yourself into his arms and started to cry into his chest, his fingers running through your hair to soothe you. He was whispering between pressing kisses to your head. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was comforting. Matty picked you up with ease and you threw your legs around his waist, still crying. He shut the door behind him and walked you over to the sofa, where he stayed with you, holding you tightly in his arms until you had calmed down. "There, angel. You're ok." "I'm sorry, Matty. I didn't know I had upset you so much." "Of course you did, babe. How could you ever think I would be better off without you?" You almost started crying again, overcome with guilt, but Matty took you in his arms again. "Don't cry, sweet girl. It's ok, I'm not upset anymore. But I don't give a shit about what's being said about me online, as long as I have my best girl with me." He wiped away your tears and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, the first in months. "I wanted to go back, I really did," you assured Matty. "But I thought you would have forgotten about me and moved on. And I definitely thought you stopped loving me." Matty's heart sank at your small voice and he mentally kicked himself for not calling you more times after you moved away. He kissed your cheek reassuringly and brushed your hair behind your ear, before pulling your closer and speaking in a low tone into your ear.

"I could never forget you, angel. And I have never stopped loving you."

[sgt-morgan]

Whiskey Sunrise 🥃

Summary: Joel and Sugar are the talk of the town. Their band The Family Affair a four member country unit consisting of Tommy, Joel, Sugar, and her brother Llewyn. They have toured the world, won Grammys, and raised children together. Joel and Sugar have always danced around being together, and now with the death of Llewyn, they’ll have to learn how to rely on each other while they work through the greif of loosing one of their own. Their daughters have decided that enough is enough, and with the help of their loving family, they plan to get the family back together.

Warnings: None for this chapter except for a minor character death and talks of grief. No songs mentioned in this fic are written or owned by me. All mentioned songs can be found in the series playlist.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a chaptered series. I’ll do my best to update every two weeks. Fridays it is. Thanks to my friend @justsomerandomfanfic for the help and the eyes. Enjoy the series.

Chapter 2

Playlist for the series

“Wake your ass up!” Came the shout and a thump of a pillow. The sudden rude awakening in all it’s abrupt callousness meant Tess was here.

The abrupt awakening would be more startling for Joel Miller if he wasn’t so used to it. This must be attempt five or six of waking him if Tess is here, normally at around attempt three Tess came to the house, and if there was nothing by the time she got here, it was like a sudden hurricane when she woke him, loud and destructive.

“I’m up!” He startled, pulling himself to a sitting position.

“Sure Joel, whatever. You gotta turn on your phone.” Tess grumbles, scrambling to turn on his television while he blearily began to unlock his phone. Three missed calls from Tess and one from the label, that’s no good. He can make out the TV talking about his ex band mate Llewyn and his escapades, tuning it out. Llewyn was always a wild child, it was not a shock to hear his name in the media. He had a soft spot for him though, he was a damn good frontman, and the wildness of his spirit is what made him that way. The behavior is part of the intrigue, and that’s what a front man needs,a draw in. So whatever it was, he was willing to defend his friend but with the band being broken up, it shouldn’t be his problem. Then his heart practically stops. He must have done something nuts, because The thousands of emails and social notifications that kept rolling in seemed to say it was a problem.

“Is this about Llewyn? What did he do now?” Joel grumbles, slapping around his nightstand for his reading glasses. He can’t stand them, but Sarah was right he needed them, even if they made him feel like he was 107.

“Llewyn is dead.” Tess sighs rubbing a hand down her face and letting it rest over her mouth. This… does not compute. His friend, so lively and… invincible is dead? No. This does not make any sense. It’s one of those moments when the world goes quiet, you rationally know that nothing has changed really, but the silence that follows speaks it’s own volumes. It speaks of emptiness, of loss. It speaks of an empty place in him that had just opened that he was sure could never be filled.

In an instant, his mind goes to long, hot, Texas summers, playing the guitar with the band, dreaming of touring the globe as a unit. Laughing at the idea of a four piece band with two sets of siblings, arguing over a name for the group. Him trying to raise Sarah with his misfit family of musicians. You turning up pregnant with Ellie, sobbing to them about the boy who left you. Remembered the first number one to hit the charts, the joy you all felt, remembered the Grammy awards you’d all won. The joys the sorrows. You were thick as thieves, until the end, and he could only blame himself. Llewyn wasn’t just his front man, Llewyn was his brother just as much as Tommy. Now the man he spent the better part of twenty years with is suddenly gone. He’d already lost you, and the band, now he had to suffer this blow too. It was torture.

His thoughts race, instantly going to the future, who he needed to call, what a funeral and a tribute would look like. Thinking again about the band. Thinking of you. God you, what were you feeling right now, and your daughter. How sad and terrified you must be. Then his thoughts began to catch up and he remembers why he was up so late, why he was so tired, Ellie and Sarah, his daughter and yours were having a sleepover, they stayed up till three watching Ten Things I Hate About You and whatever other cheesy films they could find. Llewyn’s Niece, your daughter, is here, and you’re over seas.

“Oh god, Tess, has she-“ he starts scrubbing his face and standing, pulling himself together and preparing to be the strong one, even though he now felt like that little kid in Texas who was beating on a six string with his next door neighbor again, worried about everything and nothing.

“No, she’s- god- she’s on stage right now. She’s performing.” Tess shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. “They’re gonna have to stop the show, news is breaking so it’s gonna be a-“ then out of the corner of her eye, Joel saw you on the screen at your show in Paris. He shushes Tess and turns up the muted television. He saw you gasp in horror and drop your guitar. His eyes are glued to the television as he watches your world collapse in real time, then his phone rings.

You’re in Paris. The band breaking up lead you to a solo career and with its success, you were touring the world. While you did your two week stint in Europe, Llewyn recorded in Texas, and he offered to keep your daughter at home to do school until you got back. It was a good arrangement, she’d spend some time with her beloved uncle, see her best friend, her uncle Joel, and you could avoid all of the feelings of guilt and sadness from seeing your guitarist in the flesh.

The shows were a hit, you’d been abroad for a week, and they had all been sold out. But to your sorrow, without the boys it felt hollow. You missed being apart of a unit, but you managed.

Tonight was another great crowd. They seemed to know your new music pretty well, unlike some of the others who had come to see a member of their once great favorite band. All was well until there was a sudden restless murmur that settled over the crowd. You couldn’t tell what was happening, but there were gasps of shock and sudden shouts of anguish. Not knowing what was happening, you tried to calm the crowd but nothing worked.

Then someone came on stage during one of your songs and told you. Your heart stopped, a horrible gasp rings out in the auditorium and with a numbness you didn’t know was possible you realize it’s your own, you hear the crash of your instrument hitting the floor. Then you’re ushered off stage, faintly you understand you’re hyperventilating, and you barely register one of your backup singers attempting to get you to breathe, numbly grabbing a water as it’s offered to you, correcting your breaths back to normal as you sob, god you hadn’t even realized you were crying. Then, reality starts to bleed back through the panic and your mind starts racing. Ellie, oh god, Ellie. Someone hands you a phone and it’s like your fingers have a mind if their own.

“Sugar,” Joel answers automatically.

“J-Joel!” Oh god, you’re sobbing and it breaks his heart “Joel! Ellie! And Llewyn! I’m not even- I wanna go home!” You cry and he sniffs back his own tears, running a hand down his face.

“Ok Sugar, you can come home, I’ll book you the first flight. Ellie is fine, she and Sara are still sleeping. She had a sleep over.” He can hear a gasp of relief in the next sobs and he tries to keep it together. You need him, he won’t fuck that up again.

“Ok! Ok! I-I-I’ll come home! Can I come- can I come to you?” He can hear the panic rising again and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, you can come to me baby, you can always come to me.” He sighs, “of course you can come to me. I’ll be here, I swear I will.”

“Keep Ellie safe Joel, they’re gonna be e-everywhere!” You cry again, and he knows exactly what you mean.

“We’re gonna go to Bill and Frank’s place sugar, I’ll call Tommy and we can all meet at the farm.” He soothes, pacing and rubbing a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna be ok.” He hears your crying settle on the other end of the phone.

“Will you- will you get all our paperwork please? It’s all in the safe. The combination is written in the bottom of his desk drawer- I.” You’re crying again and he wishes that he could crawl through the phone to get to you, but once you stop freaking out you probably wouldn’t want him There anyway. You were only calling him because Ellie was here, but at least you were calling him.

“Yeah sugar, I got it just… just come home.” The silence that followed was thick with the words being left unsaid, practically crackling in the air as a burst of white hot sadness. Filled with the kind of bone deep shame and anguish that could only come from having known each other the way you did, and giving it all up.

“Ok.” That’s all he got before you hung up, all things considered? He’s lucky he even got that.

Minutes later his door creaks open to reveal the two girls. Ellie and Sarah are bleary and tired, looking like they had a long night, which they did. He noted an absence of sadness, there’s just confusion, and he’s relieved to hear that Tess shut off the TV, and they both didn’t have their phones.

“Dad, did you see our phones?” Joel’s eyes fell shut at Sarah’s question, and he had never been more grateful for the chargers in the couch that both the girls had put their phones in last night before he had to carry them to bed.

“Yeah, they’re still in the couch, listen. Come in here for a bit, say bye to Tess.” He ushers the girls in and Sarah hugs Tess and says goodbye while Ellie flops face first into his pillows, a muttered ‘bye Tess’ the only sign she was still awake. Tess nods at him and gives Sarah a little squeeze before mumbling about taking care of the flight and leaving him to what was bound to be a devastating conversation.

He looks at the two sleepy teens in his bed with fondness. You had been co-raising these girls as a band since they were born- or in Sarah’s case, dropped on his doorstep- and they had become a little unit. They weren’t related by blood, but they were sisters. It helps in moments like this to remember that what they lack in blood relatives, they make up for in the family you had built as a team.

“Wasn’t uncle Llewyn supposed to pick us up for breakfast?” Sarah mumbles as Joel positions himself in the middle of the bed, letting the two teens curl up at his sides like they have since they were babies.

“Yeah, that fucker decide to ditch us?” Ellie grumbles, crass and prickly just like her mom and uncle, it’s a Davis family specialty. While prickly and crass as you all were, physical touch had always been your love language, so as Ellie curls into him, he can feel the echo of your arms resting around his neck, cheek pressed to the top of his head as you lean all of your weight against his back. He can feel Llewyn, leaning back to back in the studio, picking at their guitars and making up nonsense lyrics to riffs they liked. It made the ache in his chest feel like a black hole, sucking all the life and vibrancy out of his body and replacing him with a shell. Joel sighs and sniffs and that’s when Sarah clues in. He sees her suck in a breath and look at him with big glassy eyes before her gaze falls on Ellie.

“Ellie? I don’t know how to say this but-“ Ellie’s head whips in his direction.

“No.” She says immediately scrambling away from him. “Fuck you. There’s no way.” She starts to tear up and Joel starts to tear up too. He knew this would be hard on Ellie, it would be hard on all of them, but Llewyn was her person.

“Ellie-“ Joel tries, but the girl scrambled off the bed before he can even blink.

“Fuck you, this isn’t funny. I’m calling mom.” She lets out a shuddering breath and rushes out of the room. He’s left with his own daughter who stares at him still in disbelief, grief barely contained in tiny little sobs.

“Come here baby.” Joel sighs, hugging her tight, and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“Dad, what happened?” Sarah cries, hugging him tight. In an instant she’s so grateful that her dad is here, glad she’s not alone.

“Car crash, drunk driver.” Joel sighs, brushing Sarah’s hair from her eyes and kissing her forehead with a sigh.

“What about Sugar?” She asks,

Looking to the living room where she can hear her best friend crying to her mother.

“Your Auntie is fine, she’s just shook up. She’s headed home, we’re gonna head to Mimi’s place, less likely to get bothered out there.” He gives a humorless chuckle. “Tess booked a flight, and she’s on her way back.”

“He’s…” Ellie comes back into the room, slumped and hollowed out, it hurts his heart to see this normally brash and lively little girl so out of her sorts. “He’s really gone.” She sniffs and sits back down on the bed, accepting as Sarah curls around her in a hug. “M-my uncle he’s really dead Joel?” She looks to him as if maybe the answer would change, and it nearly breaks him when he has to say yes. Because he is gone, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

“I’m so sorry kid.” He sighs wrapping both girls up in his arms as they continue to cry for their uncle. The next few days would be rough, but he would handle it. He would have to, for his little bit of family that’s left.

18 hours of turbulence and pitying

glances from stewardesses and passengers later, you were touching down in Austin and heading for the SUV someone booked to get you home. You barely remember the flight home, all of it padding in some fugue state of grief. You numbly rub your eyes and debark the plane, hoping nobody recognizes you as you’re headed out but no such luck could be your lot.

“Sugar! What happens to Llewyn!?”

“Sugar! Are you and Joel gonna relight the flame?”

“Sugar! Was it drugs?”

“Sugar! Will there be a tribute?”

“Sugar! Is this the end of The Family Affair?”

You shuddered at their questions, not wanting to answer but feeling like if there was ever a time to say your peace… it was now.

“We make it out of this fight

I’m gonna need you to wrap my hands

Stitching up my eyes

You know that blood can blind

And them was big old boys

Had fists like cinder and stone

I dodge a blade on a dime

And they was out to chat my throat… hmmm.” Joel’s hands on the feta felt clumsy and heavy, not used to the way the music flowed from his fingertips anymore. It used to be so fluid, but now the music was coming back like a swarm, clouding his mid with thoughts of you and Llewyn. The stingers of each barn threatening to put him in shock.

“Dad! They’re harassing Sugar at the Airport.” Sarah called from the living room couch where she and Ellie had been curled up since arriving at Bill and Frank’s farm. Ellie had been sullen the entire time, nothing about the usually lively and sassy girl had been present lately and Joel was really worried. He was hoping that your arrival would curb the girls grief, even if it would be like a knife to his very soul. He forgets Sarah called. He keeps playing.

“And I admit was tanked

And you could say I was pissing gin

It’s hard to see

Even if I close my eyes

It’s fifteen degrees

I’m gonna sleep outside

Cos I got no way to feel

Even if I close my eyes

I’m busted, laid up, and dry.”

He was still absentmindedly strumming the guitar on the porch, until Sarah called again for him. He meanders into the living room to see what she was talking about, and found Ellie angrily standing and glaring at the TV with tears in her eyes. “Fucking buzzards.

Can’t leave anyone alone for two minutes.” She mumbled, tucking herself into Joel’s side as he entered the room.

“I know kid, but look, your mom can handle it.” Joel nudges her to look at the screen and there you are, fuming and staring into a camera with a fiery look he knows all too well, the heat of your stare makes him shiver even in this imperfect imitation. You’re one scary lady, and it’s no wonder where Ellie gets her fire from. He knows your heat all too well, and now he wishes more than anything to bask in it once more, even if it meant the burn would kill him, he would willingly go up in flames.

“Llewyn was my brother. A good man, a good artist, and a good uncle. He is everything I ever needed him to be, and more. I just lost what’s left of my family, and all I want to do is make it back to my daughter, and instead I’m stuck here being harassed by you assholes. Listen carefully, I willingly share my personal life with you on a daily basis, but something’s aren’t meant to be shared, and some memories are meant to be respected. I found out about his death in front of the whole world, I don’t even know how he died. The Family Affair has been our whole lives, but right now? Right now I would take back every song, note, and show to have my brother back. So, when I have answers I’ll give them to you. Llewyn meant a whole lot to so many people, but he meant the most to me and my little girl, and right now? Well, right now you’re keeping me from her. So I’ll answer you one question and that will be this, My brother will be honored in whatever way we can, but I can’t do that until I’m with the people who will mourn him. So get the fuck out of my way.” And as if she was parting the Red Sea, men and women parted from her path like they couldn’t bear to be in her war path. Joel couldn’t blame them.

“That was Sugar Davis of The Family Affair at Fort Worth just twenty minutes ago. Her fiery telling off of the paparazzi coming just mere hours after learning of the death of her brother, lead singer of the worlds top selling country unit, Llewyn Davis. She was at a show in Paris when she learned of her brother’s death. We have not yet heard from the rest of the band, but our thoughts and prayers are with them in these trying times.” The reporter on the screen moves on to show clips of their concerts and Joel reached to shut off the TV when Ellie mutters for him to ‘shut that shit off.’

“See? Sugar always handles business.” Joel shrugs, holding both the girls who were still wrapped in a shroud of melancholia that he couldn’t stand. His sadness added to the mix made what would normally be an enjoyable place resemble a funeral parlor. “Ok, why don’t we watch a movie till Sugar gets here ok?” Sarah shrugs and Ellie mumbled her assent, so he turns the tv on and hits the button to bring up his Bill’s ancient VCR.

Instead of it playing the princess bride like it was previously, a home video plays, and suddenly he’s faced with his younger self. He must have been twenty something in this little tableaux, and you were a fresh faced 19. His hair was mussed where you had removed his hat, and your cheeks were red from the heat of the sun beating down on your grin. Your bare feet were perched on his boots, and the skirt of the blue dress you wore swished around your ankles where he spun you around. He was dancing with you to some tune by Willie Nelson, swaying back and forth while you lazily draped an arm around his shoulder and grasped a hand firmly in his. You smiled up at him like he hung the moon on a string, and he smiled at you like you put the stars in the sky. He remembered this day, how the world felt so small when he was with you. Llewyn and Tommy were waltzing together flamboyantly making fun of your little bubble you were in. Watching it back now his brother and best friend were a sight, but all he could remember of that day was how your eyes shone in the setting sun. Eventually they broke it up and must have settled in behind his Frank who was clearly filming.

“You all looked so happy, what was that about?” Sarah asks as the camera comes in close to where you were dancing as the song changes to Mommas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys, and your being swung around by Tommy while Joel and Llewyn link arms and diary do in a funny little jig.

“This was the day we found out we got a record deal.” Joel chuckles, watching his younger self celebrate with his best friends.

“You and Sugar were still together then?” Sarah asks cautiously. You had broken up before she and Ellie were born, and you dated again for a while until Sarah was about seven, then you split, and so did The Family Affair. That had been about seven years ago now.

“Yeah.” He nods as the film cuts out and switches to another shot of you in the studio with Llewyn and Tommy. He clearly hadn’t arrived yet, and you were sprawled out on the floor singing that same old Willie Nelson tune while Tommy napped and Llewyn wrote something down in his little red songbook. Bill was seated at the soundboard, fiddling with dials and switches, and Frank was obviously filming again. You had a barely there baby bump, and Sarah was almost a year old, this was right after you got back together. When Joel wanders into frame your eyes light up, and he can see Llewyn fondly roll his eyes as you cast the guitar aside, smacking Tommy in the shin and startling him awake. Then he sees himself get on the ground and hover above you, legs tangled together as he leans in for a kiss. Your giggle could melt the iciest of hearts, and Llewyn seemed to fondly smile as he watched you light up with joy. He was always your biggest cheerleader, and he didn’t know who was more devastated by your break up, him or TMZ.

“That was the day we recorded your favorite song Ellie Bellie.” Joel grinned and nudged the girl who was sniffling at the sight of her unbroken family. What she wouldn’t give to see them all together again. A rare sight since the band called it quits.

“Yeah? Looks like you’re about to sleep with my mom in a recording studio.” She jokes, as the young Joel on the screen passionately kisses every inch of your skin that is available to him.

“I can be party to this no longer!” Llewyn suddenly announces in the falsified drawl of a knight. “Unhand my sister you barbarian!” He bellows, tackling Joel away from you and beginning to wrestle him while yelling Shakespearean insults at him. Their silly old uncle Llewyn, as they remember him best.

Then the picture shifts again and there you are holding a tiny baby Ellie, while Sarah crouched over her, staring at the squishy baby Ellie with wonder.

“Tiny baby sister!” The baby Sarah squealed, gently rubbing her fingers up and down the baby’s belly.

“Yeah!” He could hear himself say from behind the camera. Llewyn is there too, sitting next to you and monitoring Sarah carefully, holding her tiny little hips so he can snatch her up if she gets too rough, but mostly just to be apart of this amazing moment between his two favorite girls in the entire world. He loved those kids, that much was for sure.

“Gentle, gentle hands with the baby. You’re doing so good with the baby Sarah. This is Ellie, your new best friend.” You smiled, hugging the toddler close while grinning at Joel who must have been behind the camera.

“God Joel, we got old!” Llewyn laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and grinning brightly at the camera. He can hear himself chuckle along with Llewyn. “But we’re lucky bas-“ Llewyn cuts himself off when Frank clears his throat to remind him the girls are present. “Boys though.”

“Yeah man, so lucky. Got the three prettiest girls in the world right here.” Young Joel says, the grin in his voice undeniable. The grin it brought to your face outshone the sun, and he remembers falling in love with you all over again.

“You weren’t together then. This was before you guys got back together.” Sarah muttered. Joel didn’t answer continuing to watch you hold both baby girls with all the joy in the world.

“Sugar said you broke up the first time you broke up was because you went to college?” Sarah questions and Joel nods, the first breakup was well before that video of you dancing on the porch with Joel. That was the day he dropped out of college.

“Yeah, we dated all through Highschool, and when I moved off for college we both got into relationships with your respective parents, and when they didn’t work out we got back together.” Joel mumbled.

“Then you broke up again.” Ellie mumbled bitterly. “I’m done with this, I’m going to bed.” Ellie mumbled, going to what looks to be the room she shares with Sarah, his daughter following after her.

Joel knows the girls harbor some resentment in their break up, Ellie more than most, and he hates himself all over again. He wishes he had done better, been better, but time does not heal all wounds, and this one might be worse than most.

Joel continues to sit and watch parts of his life play out in real time, and in his heart he knows, that the best days are already behind him. In the background, like some strange backing track to his misery, there it was, that same old Willie Nelson tune.

“I knew someday that you would fly away

For love is the greatest healer to be found

So leave me if you need to

I will still remember

Angel flying too close to the ground.”

In the other room, Sarah and Ellie lay head to head, limbs dangling off the edge of the bed in opposite directions while they talk about everything and nothing.

“Sarah? Do you ever think our parents would get back together? Like when we were little?” Ellie mumbled to her older sister.

Sarah ponders this, wanting to say yes, but knowing how much it would crush her if it didn’t work out again.

“I want to think so, yeah.” Sarah shrugs,

Turning her head to look at Ellie’s troubled face in profile. “Why?”

“I just… I can’t help but think we might have been given an opportunity here.” Ellie sighs, covering her face with her hands.

“Ellie… that’s…” Sarah sighed and Ellie jumped to her next thought.

“I know that’s fucked up, but think about it, nothing short of a tragedy could get them to come back home and spend time together, so why not use this really sad moment for good. It’s what Uncle Llew would have wanted! He always wanted mom and da- Uncle Joel to be together!” Sarah makes note of her sister’s slip but won’t acknowledge it, she would call Sugar mom if she knew it wouldn’t break her heart.

“Maybe you’re right, but let’s not push too hard. They’re both pretty upset right now, but I think you have a point.” Sarah sighs, sitting up and scrubbing her face as if to clear away the fog from her brain like a windshield.

“Well, those two fuckin brainiacs won’t be able to figure it out without a big push, but I’ll try to be subtle.” Ellie laughs, bumping foreheads with Sarah and grinning at the snort her sister lets out at her profanities.

“What are my girls giggling about in here?” The voice of the girls adoptive grandfather Frank drifts through the room they’re sharing and it’s like a balm to their souls.

“Frank!” They cry in unison, launching themselves at the older man with a grin.

“My babies! Oh I’ve missed you!” Frank chuckles, kissing both his adoptive grandchildren on the head with a fond little smile. “Was that a scheme I heard in here? Something about getting your parents back together?” He grins at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and they grin back, noting that they might have one more dog in the race.

“Yeah, you want in?” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows and Frank chuckles at the spirited little heathen.

“Well, Bill and I have been trying to do it for years, maybe they need just one more push.” He laughs, smoothing Ellie’s curls and squeezing Sarah’s hand. Those two girls really are a blessing to the old man, the glue that kept his little pack of adopted mutts in his care.

“Bill cares about wether or not out parents get together?” Sarah chuckles,the look on her face disbelieving.

“Don’t let that old hard ass fool you, he’s a softie for Sugar, always has been.” Frank rolls his eyes. Bill was technically your godfather, best friend and military

comrade of your deceased father, tasked with his children’s safety until you graduated high school when your dad died the summer before your senior year. Frank was his life long partner, and they had been together for as far back as you could remember.

Nobody fully stated the nature of their relationship, but everyone knew they were a pair, and nobody in your little pack of misfits could find it in themselves to care. If memory serves, Frank and Bill were rumored to have met while they both worked on a David Bowie tour in 70’s after Bill toured Vietnam with your dad. Bill was a sound engineer, and Frank was a costumer, they fell in love at a road crew Jam session. When Gay Marriage was legalized, you remember them disappearing for a weekend and showing back up with wedding rings. Your ecstatic little misfit family threw them a party, and Frank’s favorite photo of you all together is from that night. Everyone is in that photo, including both babies and Tess. Frank was like everyone’s favorite parent, the one you go to for advice and comfort, and Bill was the protector. When you moved in that summer after your dad died, Frank never questioned that your brother and his little pack of friends would be staples in his home. When Llewyn asked his Godfather it was an immediate no. Eventually though, Bill, whose only soft spot was for the little girl his friend charged him with when her mother died in child birth, cracked. When she begged, he let them stay, no matter how much he despised the troublesome Miller brothers who followed his god children like a plague.

Bill kept that bout of ill will for Joel and Tommy Miller until they beat up the boy who broke your heart and left you with Ellie until he was black and blue, then he found it in him to like the Miller boys a little, and that Joel sure could play the six string.

“He is Especially where his three favorite girls are concerned.” Frank winked at his granddaughters and they giggled. “We’re with your girls, and when your Uncle Tommy gets here, he’ll want in on the action too. Maria and I love playing matchmaker.”

“Thanks Grandpa Frank.” Ellie sighed, nearly squeezing the life out of the older man.

“No problem spitfire, it’s always a pleasure for to scheme with my babies.” He winks and gets up to leave the room, picking up a set of abandoned sheets that must have been for the guest room.

“Wait, if Tommy and Maria are coming to stay… we wouldn’t have enough beds.” Sarah mutters, looking curiously at where her Grandfather had just vanished.

“That scheming old fart!” Ellie laughed flopping into the pillows. While a grin bemused grin dawns on Sarah’s face “He’s making them bunk together!”

The older girl, newly clued in on the scheme, giggled with a sigh. “I love our family.”

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[cataztrophi]

TAZ November Celebration 7: Design/Celebrity AU

I'm a little behind my self-imposed schedule with @taznovembercelebration bc I got carried away with this prompt and wound up with 5k words that would have to be part of a larger fic. I haven't decided if I want to finish it yet, but for now here's the scene I had the most fun writing

“Okay, Krav, what’s wrong?” Kravitz jumped. He hadn’t noticed Taako coming out of the back room with the materials he would need for today’s fitting. 

“What? Nothing. I’m fine.” If he was lucky, he could fake fine-ness until Taako got distracted by whatever minute adjustments he wanted to make. As far as Kravitz could tell, the outfit Taako was making him looked done, but Taako insisted there were things that he could still improve. Kravitz couldn’t blame him for being a perfectionist; this was the first red carpet event for either of them, and an opportunity for Taako to get his name out there in the couture world.

Taako rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, my man. And you’re fidgeting all over the place, which is gonna make my job harder. You might as well talk, cause I’m gonna have all these in my mouth.” He held up a row of straight pins between his thumb and forefinger. “So I’m not going to be able to carry the conversation with my usual sparkling wit.”

Kravitz let out a short laugh. “It’s not even that interesting.” He paused, and Taako motioned for him to continue before making a tiny alteration to the hem of his shirt.

Finally Kravitz sighed. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I had a meeting with the rest of the band today. They think that, as the frontman, I should be doing more to promote Reaper Run.”

Taako shrugged one shoulder, as if to say, It wouldn’t kill you…. He adjusted the angle of a pleat and pinned it in place.

“I know, they’re probably right. I tend to get cameras shoved at me more often, so it’s only fair to them if I take on more of the promotional stuff. I’m just… I’ve never been good at the publicity side of things. I don’t even know how all of…this… happened.” He made a vague gesture. “I mean, yes, our venues got a little bigger in the past year or so, but nothing that you’d expect to lead to…well, fame.”

Taako took the last pin out of his mouth and used it to take in the ankle of one of the pant legs slightly. “I mean, that viral thirst trap of yours probably had something to do with it.”

“What?” He had heard and understood all the words Taako just said, but hearing them in that order caused a critical failure in his listening comprehension skills.

Taako frowned. “The… you know, that photo of you performing that was, like, all over the Internet a few months ago?”

Kravitz still found himself unable to process whatever Taako was saying. “I’m… not online much,” he said weakly. “Johann handles most of our social media.”

Taako stood up slowly in front of him, his eyes wide. “Kravitz… are you telling me you didn’t know?”

“Okay, now I’m getting worried. What didn’t I know?”

“Hang on.” He pulled out his phone and tapped at it a few times before holding it up to Kravitz. The screen showed a picture of him that he hadn’t seen before.

“Oh yeah,” he said after a moment. “I remember that show. It was at this festival in Georgia in the middle of July, which was probably asking for disaster if I’m honest. It was like a hundred degrees, even after the sun went down. Humid, too.”

“But you don’t recognize the picture?”

Kravitz shook his head. “I only know when it was taken because, well, that's not our usual costume. But they're pretty hot, especially under stage lighting, and one of the guys who went on before us actually collapsed from heat exhaustion, so we decided to make some… adjustments. That shirt wasn’t even mine, I think I borrowed it from Avi.”

Taako looked at the picture again. “I think calling it a shirt is a little generous, my fella.”

Kravitz had to agree with him there. It was more of a mesh shrug, really, that covered his arms and shoulders and left the rest of his torso exposed. His skin was slick with sweat, and the photographer had managed to capture him in a rare moment where he wasn’t making the weirdest facial expression imaginable. Instead he had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, a serene expression on his face that Kravitz could pinpoint to the exact song–the exact chord, even–that he was playing.

“And you think this is why we got famous? I mean, I have to admit, it’s a good picture, but I don’t think it’s ‘rapid increase in popularity’ good.”

“Well I definitely think it helped. I know I’d go looking for more info on you if I saw this.”

Kravitz took another look at the picture and frowned. “Wait a minute…. Do you have this saved on your phone?”

Taako snatched his phone back. “It’s the top image when you search your name, my dude! Which, apparently, you never did!”

“It was in your photo gallery!” Was it his imagination, or was Taako blushing? He felt his own face heating up at the thought that Taako found his picture worth saving.

“You can’t prove anything!” Taako scowled at him, and Kravitz had to bite back a grin. “You can take these off now, I'm done with you. Not the clothes, to be clear: just you and your baseless slander.”

“Honestly, Taako, if you wanted to ogle me you could have just said,” Kravitz teased.

“I will put this through an industrial dryer cycle, I swear to God!”

Kravitz found himself grinning as he changed back into his street clothes. There was a big difference between Taako finding him attractive and Taako wanting the sort of candlelit-dinners-and-morning-kisses thing that he had started daydreaming about, but hey, a guy could hope, and it was nice to be appreciated.

[velvetineblue]

@wellfell

the show ends on a discordant note of guitar, lingering in the air with a pleasant but sharp ringing. the crowd cheers, their warm bodies gathered close and carefree; like unwitting cattle in a slaughterhouse, beating with pulp and blood. his teeth ache in his gums, and eyes roam the flock with a hungry gaze that must have seemed a theatrical byproduct of the show, with it's gloomy, moody noise . . . small towns like this, they think every stranger ( from the big city ) was danger incarnate. but in this instance: they're right. to him, this was another dark night in a dimly lit bar, where easy opportunity presents itself. the band's performance was a hunting ground as much as it was a stage : o how simple it would be to pick a target out of one of these unsuspecting-- sometimes overly compliant-- bodies, and draw them out of the glow and smoke and into the dark, where no living eyes could see or understand what had befell them. in the pitch black, none were adapted to perceive, except for nocturnal creatures born to stalk prey in the NIGHT. ) . . . but even an animal has it's standards. the garden was ripe in Hawkins, Indiana: and there was no need to drain from a poisoned fruit. he picked from the vine wisely, not taking a bite from just anyone, and not every night. he looks for those whose sly smiles and glancing gaze invited him their way. and just as expected: a woman with shortly cropped, copper-toned hair sips from a straw coyly, examining the frontman and the band's grungy-haired bassist with un-subtle interest. ( out-of-towner, black-clad musicians that stand out from the usual residents of Hawkins are bound to inspire a dark intrigue from the local riffraff and rebels . . . ) so focused on this potential CATCH of the day, it takes him by surprise— when from aside, he hears a ominous whisper: ' run away from this town while you still can. ' he brushs shoulders with someone in the crowd, and his dark eyes meet Akina's with sparked surprise — ?

. . . she doesn't look like prey. he decided it at once. call it a hunters instinct, but there was something about her that told him she would be no easy bite. for that, he could have walked away . . . but his head tilts at her in an intellectually-curious acknowledgement. what a strange girl, to openly say those words. she must fancy herself a wolf among lambs, in this town of victimized souls . . . " . . . shouldn't I be saying that to you ? " his voice intones, amusement slowly spreading on his features. " . . . I've heard the rumors that this town is cursed, and monsters prowl at night... " he smirks. but those had all just been the superstitions of small-minded, small-town folk... ( he blindly assumes. ) all fake until he showed up to town, that is. " but that can't be true, right? " he plays dumb. " I'm not from around here, so I don't really buy the stories... " the silly stories sure did provide a nice cover for any vampires who clung to the shadows, though. " . . . it all sounds kind of far-fetched to me. "

[db-reviews]

#186 - Script For A Jester’s Tear - Marillion (1983)

I intended to review this album on its 40th anniversary, March 14th, however I was sick and thus didn’t quite have the energy to review it, but better late than never right?

Unlike most, I think the 80s weren’t all too bad on prog. I mean, King Crimson reunited with a cool new yet still proggy sound, Kate Bush released a plethora of great prog pop albums, Rush was still going mighty strong, and avant-prog bands like Cardiacs and Univers Zero got quite popular in the threshold. It was also the decade when we got introduced to neo-prog, which then was a synth driven progressive rock movement that combined elements of new wave, punk, and prog pop into prog rock, creating this fun and inventive ideal for bands to take. Obviously, it goes without saying the genre’s start can be pointed to Marillion’s Script For A Jester’s Tear.

Released in the same year as Metallica’s debut album, Iron Maiden’s Piece of Mind, and Talking Heads’ Remain In Light, I feel like Script For A Jester’s Tear is quite the album for the 80s, and one that with time, I fell in love with.

This was created in the wake of many life changing melodies the then frontman, Dereck Dick, or Fish, held within his life. Break up, drug abuse, and his encounters with the rich and war, all can be found within the album’s longevity of music and what he had experienced within his life. Whilst these more personal, and more outwardly touchy subjects aren’t new for prog rock, hell bands like Pink Floyd and King Crimson had talked about them for quite some time, I feel like what Fish crafts here is truly his own, and in retrospect, paints a beautiful, yet very depressing picture. I think it really makes Script For A Jester’s Tear a very special album in my eyes, as I feel like it takes the best elements of more punk ideals and merges them with the fun exploration of progressive rock. To me, this feels like if Genesis or any symphonic prog band decided to make their own interpretation of Animals by Pink Floyd.

Musically speaking, this album is quite some of the best prog rock you can get. Many passages on here have this overwhelming charm to it. While on first listens the Genesis inspiration is quite apparent, I feel like that inspiration goes away pretty quickly and merges within this more unique quality the band takes on. Tracks like the title track, The Web, Garden Party, and Forgotten Sons does such a charming job in my opinion within the entire beauty it all holds, and while you can definitely hear some form of inspiration within the sounds and qualities to bands from the 70s, I do not think it makes the sound any less than so, and in fact I feel like it is truly progressive, using the sounds and stylizations of bands from the past and coating them in a new coat of paint and adding a new edge to the whole is a great showcasing of progressive rock and why I really love it. I mean, it is pretty telling of this fact with the album cover. The back depicts albums from the past, on the floor, relatively hidden away in the darkness; the past is still there, but the future, the jester, is now. I think this musicality represents the entire scope of prog rock, as it looks and reflects on the past, like how Fish does within the lyrics, but it is shrouded and foggy in the wake of new things. The more I think about it, the more ingenious this whole album becomes as a metaphor for not only Fish’s life, but for prog rock as a whole.

It is without saying, or denying that this album is a masterpiece. Every track on here is a masterclass of prog rock standards, and while it isn’t my favorite Marillion album, nor my favorite Fish era album (that title goes to Misplaced Childhood), Script For A Jester’s Tear is still a boundless and quite an amazing record, taking what was and turning it into something new. It is no better time than now to see and hear this album as it is one of those prog rock classics that I feel needs more recognition. This is an ingenious, beautiful, edgy, and quite charming record if I do say so myself.

5/5

[riley-macnally]

Riley could only grit his teeth, fighting his own instincts to snip back, though he could certainly think of plenty to say. The first one being something like who the fuck are you? Emiri had quickly become his main focus, knowing that every action or word he spoke now could ricochet back onto her. "Just not really sure what the problem is. You wanted us to leave, and now you're stopping that?" Feeling like he was pointing out the obvious, he was only met with angered faces and stony eyes. "We'd rather make sure you know never to come back. You guys think you're so tough, like you're not a damn disease to this whole town." One spat, taking a step forward. The action had Riley raising a hand in a signal for him to stop, "Alright then, you wanna beat the shit outta me? Got it. But this is between us," he tried to reason for them to pause for a minute whilst he turned to Emiri. "I need you to go, Em," taking the keys to his car out of his pocket and placing them in her hand. "It's not a request, just run and drive." He couldn't have looked more serious, although all his eyes did was silently plead. Knowing her as well as he did, he could already sense she wasn't going to leave him, but he wasn't sure he could stomach the thought of something happening to her whilst he was crowded by five guys throwing swings.

"Nah, the girl stays. Sweetheart, why don't you step aside, take a front-row seat." Another frontman laughs, and the three behind them make their move. Two come up behind Riley, grabbing his arms and pulling him away from Emiri and the other approaches her. "I swear to god you lay one hand on her I'll bury you all." Calm as he could be in tone, it was clear in his eyes now that he was pissed. The anger of a righteous-minded man wasn't one to be trifled with, not that these guys would understand that. It wasn't about the club, or him being in the club they so clearly hated, it was about who he was as a man. If any of them laid a single hand on her he would mark them all dead men. But the guy next to Emiri hadn't touched her, he had only tried to ask her to step away, before he looked between the men with a head shake. "Come on, this is crazy, you wanna make an enemy out of a fuckin' Son?" He says, and though it didn't show on Riley's face, he was surprised to find that one of them would dare protest. Not that it did any good, he was met with denial between a string of profanity and a comment about how his job was to keep the girl to the side. "I'm sorry," the man says, so quiet only Emiri could hear him, "please, this is happening, just step aside with me." He's trying to be kind, in a clearly unkind situation.

"Alright then, tough guy," the two men release Riley with a push so he's now standing between them, circling him like vultures. His blue eyes never leave Emiri, watching her and the man with laser focus. He notes how the man actually doesn't touch her, and whilst he wouldn't say it made him feel any better, he would say he was glad she was guided by the only one of them who seemed to have a fucking brain. "Take the jacket off, it ain't gonna do you any good out here." One cocky ass voice sounded from just behind his ear, and Riley decided he had no choice now but to immerse himself in the situation. He had to take his focus off Emiri if he was going to leave here not in a coma. "You'd have to kill me to get this jacket off." Sternly spoken, his expression turns cold, his muscles tense, wondering which of them would throw the first swing. "We gonna do this then, or what? 'Cos I've got a date in Vegas and you're really gettin' in the fuckin' way." Riley rolls his shoulders, stepping his footing into the most strategic position available, the one that allowed him to have all four men in partial view. Did he imagine he could keep it that way? No. But it would be helpful until it proved a failure.

Without another word, the first guy steps up, throwing one hell of a swing and miss, with a fast duck from Riley, he throws back a punch that cracks off the guy's jaw and sends him backwards. So it began, punches and kicks being thrown in all directions and even for a mind as quick as Riley's, there were simply too many limbs to anticipate. He hit a few, even knocked one clean out, but he also got hit a few, before he knocked down the second, all whilst trying his best to take glances in Emiri's direction, wanting to make sure she was safe. The other two guys were relentless, one of them choosing to tackle him full steam until they both collided with the concrete. It knocked the wind out of Riley as he coughed, spitting out the blood in his mouth with a laugh that could only be described as that of an ill mind. "You done yet or is your ego not greased enough?" Hell, he knew from this position, that he was in trouble, but he also knew he could take it. It wasn't the first time he'd been jumped and all he cared about was the fact that if they were focused on him, they weren't looking at Emiri. His mockery wasn't taken in jest, however, if he was going to judge it by the solid kick to his ribs and boot that tried to stomp on his face before he blocked it with his arms. Still, he continued to laugh, and would until they either stopped or he lost consciousness, whichever came first, just knowing it infuriated them made him want to keep doing it.

"...Oh," she chuckled softly, "Makes sense then." she figured for herself that the guys over by the bar - or the stooges, as Riley liked to call them, weren't that much of a problem. Or more, that's how she was settling her own concerns, anyway. It was easy enough to bypass when she had something to look forward to, especially when that something was Riley. "Sounds good," she starts as she puts her bag on her shoulder, walking with him to the exit, "You know I think we sh--" she paused as she eyed the two guys walking towards them, ones that were clearly looking to stop in front of them, rather than walk by and into the bar. She found herself naturally leaning closer to Riley, holding onto his hand, as well as his arm as she stole a glance behind her to see - or feel, people towering over them. Emiri could feel her heart begin to beat faster; feeling unsure about what the hell was even going on.

Riley's comment only pulled a, "Someone thinks they're funny." from the stranger stood closest to them. "Think we should teach him a lesson, what'd ya think, fellas?"

Without saying anything Emiri tried to move herself and Riley - by giving him a slight pull to his arm - into the free space, her mind thinking that if they stepped around it'd be fine. Though it was an action that was soon blocked by the circle forming around them. The comments were easy to pick up on - the digs being thrown towards the MC, the quite clear notion that they were not welcome here, and the threats all aimed in Riley's direction.

[asherlockstudy]

How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and  does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally,  because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.  

[its-me-im-coraline]

Little Puppet // Ethan Torchio, Damiano David

words // 4261, i have never written this much in one go my whole life, holy shit

warnings // smut, degradation, sub!reader, name calling (ya know, slut and stuff like that), threesome, oral, no explicit mention of protection, but obvi that's not how it should go in real life, anyways.... thats all i can think right now. has not been proofread

pairing // Ethan Torchio x F!Reader x Damiano David (leaning more to Ethan)

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. im going with female reader cause that's how it was requested. here's the smut playlist, def listen to it when you get to the smut part, or the whole time, whatever you want. thanks to anyone who adds songs to the playlist 💘

i feel like i cpupve made it kinkier but at 1 am and with over 4000 words i was a little tired to do that.

request // yes, here

summary // Ethan can not stop thinking of sharing his fwb with his bandmate, Damiano. A thought sparked from a random drunk conversation he had with his best friend will end up with them both pleasing Reader to tears

Experimenting in the bedroom was nothing unusual for Ethan and Y/N. The two had known each other for quite a while, overtaken by attraction but neither was ready for a relationship. Instead the pair opted for a slightly different compromise, one that had no name, no label, for now. While neither had the intention of an actual romantic partnership, it never stopped them from being loving and affectionate towards each other. Neither would ever have to leave before the morning comes.

Thus, as the light shone through his bedroom window, Ethan opened up his eyes, looking at the person laying by his side. Such a beauty, the shy rays of sun laying over the features Ethan so many times observed. It was common to do this in the morning, it would calm him down, especially on the very busy days.

“Anything particular you are thinking of while staring at me, Ethan?” There was no hesitation, no grogginess coming from Y/N’s voice, Ethan realised how he was not the only one awake previously.

“Well, I am, but I am not sure you could handle it,” he responded, smirking down at the laying figure, leaving a few kisses before finishing his reply, “plus, it is too early in the morning for such sinful thoughts.”

“Mhm, as if our endeavours last night were holy,” Y/N laughed, kissing Ethan back, as his lips crushed into hers.

“Well, you were certainly calling god if I recall correctly, cucciola, no?”

Maybe what made this situation not be awkward was exactly the fact that the two were friends. They thrived from the friendly banter, never missed an opportunity to mess with each other. It was just how they were and it worked perfectly to their benefit.

“I can tell it is troubling you, Edgar. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

"It's nothing amore let's just get ready. I'm quite hungry if you must know," he mumbled on her neck, trailing kisses all the way to her lips before abandoning the bed.

“Come on,” he called, ushering the girl to follow him.

Their feet were bare, no clothing no nothing -at least until Y/N pulled a few pieces of clothing for them both to wear- as they walked into the bathroom to start their day. They stood right next to each other as they washed their teeth, washed their faces, fixed their hair and so on and so forth.

“Isn’t that shirt too small for you, dolcezza,” commented Ethan, laughing at his own joke and poking Y/N’s side.

“Eh, well, I can take it off,” she suggested, pulling at the hem of his shirt that she was wearing. That only resulted in a laugh from the tall man, him shuffling her hair and walking out of the bathroom, putting distance between him and Y/N’s complaining about messing up her hair.

After that everything moved quite quickly. Y/N left the cosy home and went to her own house, leaving Ethan with his bandmates to work on their upcoming stuff. She knew how much it meant to him, but she also knew how stressful this career was to him. She always had something small to do to make his days even a little bit more relaxing, of course one of them being their nocturnal activities.

By the time night got around the drummer was sitting at the side of the pool, next to a small table, a beer in his hand as music played in the background. Everyone was doing their own thing: Victoria was swimming, Thomas was preoccupied with a cigarette and his phone and Damiano was sitting on the other side of the previously mentioned table having a conversation with Ethan. It started with speaking about small things before the subject turned more serious.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Damiano had, very early on, caught on his friend’s emotion, he was not very sure that Ethan was aware of his own feelings. It had become a little stupid in the frontman’s mind.

“I am not sure, Dami. She’s great, she is, and we are really close friends but… I don’t know…” Clueless as ever, thought the older man.

“Well, if anything at least you guys have a fucking amazing sex life, everyone can hear,” he laughed out, semi teasing his friend but kind of revaling a piece of information no one had had the heart to tell the tall man.

It caught him by surprise. He was never shy about his sex life, and truth be told he and Y/N never hid their predicament… He simply never thought they were being that loud; maybe that’s exactly the reason he had not understood the others could hear, the reason as to why they were so loud. “Mhm, didn't think you could,” he responded and took a drag of his cigarette.

Damiano copied his action, inhaling his own smoke and releasing it before he decided to say exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t worry about it. I personally don’t mind it, it’s kind of… entertaining.”

If Ethan was surprised before then now he was shocked and blushing. Of course, it was not in his nature to show it, and make this feeling obvious, but he surely had thoughts running through his head now. “So, what? You jack off to us having sex, though about a threesome? What is it?”

“Maybe a bit of both,” said Damiano, looking down at his beer. He was a bit ashamed but at the same time he could not keep his mouth shut, the alcohol overtaking his proper ability to keep some thoughts to himself. “I have to be honest, the noises she makes, they kill me, man.”

Everyone could see the gears in Ethan’s mind turn. On the one hand contemplating his friend’s confession and on the other thinking of all the ways he could punish Y/N for being as loud as she was.“So, if I asked you to join, you’d be in?”

Now it was the frontman’s turn to get shocked and blush, but he certainly could not lie. He would be more than into it, considering the many times he has thought of that, each and every one of them leading to him either taking a cold shower or taking care of himself hoping that it’d be Y/N instead. “Yes, I suppose I would…”

The conversation stayed at that, neither of the two men knowing exactly what to say or do at the time being. Instead they opted to wait it out, see when the proper time comes to bring it up again before deciding on what to do. And that day came soon, sooner than either anticipated.

Y/N had been especially bratty -just maybe two days after the conversation occurred- pushing Ethan to his limit with the teasing, the innuendos and the clothes she was wearing. It was the perfect occasion. A little punishment was in store and the tall man knew exactly how to execute it.

“What the fuck was that?” Ethan’s voice was stern, not nearly close to a yell but authoritative nonetheless, the stoic expression on his face never failing to let Y/N know exactly what he was thinking of: she was going to be fucked, both literally and figuratively, but she was surely into that.

“Such a little slut,” he voiced, pulling the girl to his body, their faces almost touching and their breaths mixing together. A whine left her lips but Ethan was quick to shut it with his words, “you were not complaining when you acted like one, cucciola. In front of everybody as well. Did you see how Dami was looking at you? I’m sure you flashed him at least once all night.”

The girl shivered at what her friend was suggesting, a tingling feeling was taking over her pussy, legs already ready to fail her.

“Maybe he could help me punish you.” These words almost send Y/N in a frenzy. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, an obvious gasp escaping her lips, causing a deep laugh from Ethan.

“You like that idea, don’t you?” She simply nodded her head, mind racing to all the possible outcomes of tonight.

“I need your words, dolcezza. I need your explicit consent to this,” he whispered, holding Y/N’s face in his hands, leaving a kiss just next to her lips.

She softly responded with a yes, voice trembling and low, unable to come out properly. She had gotten probably a little too excited.

“Be a doll and just sit there, yeah. I’m going to go call Damiano. I’m sure he is dying to see how desperate you are to have both of us.” With that the man left the room, presumably going to call his friend over.

When Damiano walked into the room Y/N was violently taken out of her thoughts, the man’s energy overtaking the whole room, his temperament easing any possible worry the girl could have for this situation.

“I’m here dolcezza,” called Damiano, sitting next to her on the bed with the biggest shit eating grin he could possibly have.

“Don’t be so eager, Dami. She’ll be cocky within minutes, we don’t want that.” Always the stern dom he is, Ethan asserted himself over both people in the people. He did not need many words or strong actions to show them who is in charge, a look and his tone were enough to let that be known.

Damiano looked down, in a similar fashion from a few days prior, only this time he was not really shy, more like a puppy that just got yelled at.

“Why don’t you get undressed Damiano, our little puppet over here can not wait to see what you have to offer.” The man mentioned smirked, his confidence reappearing in a second before obliging to his friend’s request.

He decided to play it dirty, going slow, surely attempting to give the little puppet a show. His hands moved slowly, pulling his shirt up and over his head before traveling from his chest to his waist in a seductive way, stopping for just a moment, making sure Y/N’s eyes were right on his own before removing his belt and opening up his pants. In the meanwhile, Ethan had moved Y/N to be sitting on her knees on the floor, in front of the undressing man, eye level with his pants’ zipper.

“Help Damiano, amore. It seems he’s struggling with his pants and you are right where you need to.” She shivered at his words but followed the orders, slowly unbuttoning his pants, her face having moved a little too close -not that it was not welcome- pulling them down and simply gawking at the view in front of her.

She went to move, to please, but her dominating best friend seemed to have other plans.”Not yet, puppet. Come on. This is supposed to be a punishment for you, but we all know how much a cock shucking slut you are. You’ll get his dick but you have more work to do.”

Damiano opposed his friend, already feeling desperate to get whatever he could from the girl below him, dying to feel her lips around his cock, oh and her tongue, oh that tongue he had seen plenty of times devouring ice cream cones in the most pornographic way possible. Sometimes he wished she was in one.

“I think it’s a good start to a punishment, Ethan. She can suck my cocka and then just simply not get it fucking her, yet.” His plan had some practicality to it, knowing very well how much she’d be dying to have a dick buried deep inside her after getting a feel in her mouth.

“I’ll allow it,” said Ethan, starting the process of undressing himself, and looking around the room for anything that could bring more pleasure to everyone involved.

“Well, what are you waiting for, cucciola. Go on, show him how well you blow whistles.” With that the girl wasted no time, pulling Damiano’s boxers down, taking them off him with his help and getting to work. It started off simple, a few pumps at first to get him even harder than he already was (he’d really bet that any man could get hard in seconds seeing her on her knees in front of him, it was a divine view). Her hand was going slowly, her focus on the man’s face, looking up at him all innocently, making sure that his own eyes were on her.

“I am looking at you, dolcezza, don’t worry,” confirmed the man, as if reading her mind.

So, she continued, entirely encouraged to show her best self, to be a good girl for the two men in front of her. Moving on, her hand stayed pumping the man’s cock for a second before her tongue came onto the mix, licking all the way up the curve, a very thick vein getting special attention and then the head. It was already leaking pre-cum, the girl’s antiques driving Damiano insane by the second -and she had not even started blowing him yet. With a push to her head by the singer Y/N really took his cock into her mouth, starting with the head, sucking and bobbing her head a bit, still moving her skilled fingers up and down, with every bob taking more and more of the length reaching a point where she had taken it all. She paused in that place for a second, relaxing her throat, Damiano’s cock resting deep inside her mouth, before she moved in need of breath. The same pattern repeated itself a few more times before the pace got quicker, following the music that was now playing from Ethan’s speaker.

It did not take long for the older man to cum, unexpectedly, in Y/N’s mouth, some delicious sounds leaving her lips and sending vibrations all through his cock, intensifying his orgasm.

“I could have never thought she’s that good, Ethan. Why have you been hoarding her this whole time?” He laughed, all in one breath and blown completely out of his mind.

“Exactly because I know how good she is. But tonight she has been plenty bad, although she’s trying to act all innocent now.”

“I’m a good girl daddy, see?” She questioned, tongue out, showing evidence of her swallowing predicaments, “I took all of it.”

Ethan smiled, looking down to his friend, his big hand holding her jaw and spitting in her mouth as it stayed open. Swallowing that down as well Y/N showed it to the two men, waiting impatiently for the next orders.

No orders came for the time being, Ethan sitting himself on the bed, back resting on the bed frame, opening his legs and motioning for her to sit between them. She clearly obliged, knowing very well that her punishment was already going to be overwhelming but oh so pleasurable and she wanted nothing more.

In all honesty the drummer was played to her needs every time, the punishments being always the outcome she hoped for (except few occasions when she had gotten Ethan so much she ended up edged on for over a week as a punishment, and although the orgasm was spectacular, the wait was torture). Ethan knew it and he was not opposed to it, instead working with the girl’s deviousness.

As she sat between his thighs, back on his chest and palms resting right on his thighs, Ethan used his calves and feet to keep Y/N’s legs spread open, thankful she was wearing a dress and panties that he could easily replace any time he wanted. He prompted Damiano to move between both their legs, face aligned with her pussy, the frontman practically salivating at the sight in front of him.

She had anticipated this night, having bought a cheap but utterly sexy lingerie set online, wearing said lingerie in an attempt to drive Ethan crazy. It was black, with little orange flowers here and there, some lace with mesh material surrounding her pussy, back piece doing little to cover her ass cheeks. Damiano was currently dying at the, almost, disappearance of the fabric due to the wetness leaving absolutely nothing hidden -not that the material could hide much anyway. He moved up, face just a hair’s distance from the wetness, just about to leave a kiss but the other man had different plans.

“Don’t be so eager, Dami, you’ll get what you want in a bit,” he said, palms massaging the girl’s boobs, kisses being left on her neck. “I think she’s overdressed.”

Damiano agreed to the statement, sharing just one simple look with Ethan, reaping the panties apart, her pussy now fully exposed. The singer looked up to his friend once again, a nod of approval being more than enough to shoot the man into action.

His lips swiftly found her clit, not much effort for the skilled man, sucking and kissing the sensitive bud, tongue lapping the juices of her pussy taking advantage of the wetness to stimulate her clit. Y/N’s head fell back, on the drummer’s shoulder, the man taking advantage of the angle and leaving kisses and marks on her neck, one hand always on her chest, the other currently choking her. She moaned so beautifully in his ear, making him harder than he thought he could get, surprised at how well he held himself together.

Damiano kept eating the girl out, fingers starting to dive into her pussy one at a time. He got up to four, said pussy taking them in wonderfully, practically swallowing them within the velvety confines. “I’ve experienced nothing hotter in my life, dolcezza. This pussy is scrumptious, could eat it for days,” he, himself thrusting on the bed, already having gotten hard again, craving some friction. His mouth was leaving wet kisses to her thigh and his fingers were deep inside her, going in and out, Ethan adding his own fingers, playing with her clit edging her closer and closer to the edge.

All the telltales were there: the shaking, the loudness, the closed eyes… She was ready to cum, but it was not something Ethan could allow yet. He stopped his actions, placing a hand on his band mate’s head, said man getting the memo and pausing as well. “You really thought you’d come this easy, amore? Oh no! You have been acting like a desperate slut all day, flashing Damiano and now letting him taste you, knowing it drives me crazy. You have been very naughty,” he explained before shuffling her off his body, moving to stand up.

Y/N could not help but whine, the sound only enabling the two men. “I think she’s been naughty again. Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl, puppet?” She simply nodded head looking down, but not before seeing the look on Damiano’s face. “I think some spanking would put our puppet in place.”

Ethan nodded in agreement, already moving Y/N to bend over the bed, her legs wobbly from her previously denied orgasm. “Count for Damiano, dolcezza,” said the man, leaving a kiss on her back and then starting his actions.

“One.”

Although her words were what was asked of her Damiano was not satisfied, giving her one of his own and speaking up. “Say thank you, puppy, don’t be rude.”

Another spank, “three, thank you,” she followed the orders, jumping forward with every slap on her skin.

As she reached ten it got harder to count. Damiano had started fingering her again, opting to pause his actions after every few thrusts, slamming his palms on her ass cheeks or pussy. It’d be a lie if Y/N said this wasn’t enjoyable-after all she could not stop moaning loudly, but the redness of her ass would disagree.

“Why don’t you keep quiet, puppy? These noises of yours are what got you here. You can’t hide how much you like this, can you, slut?”

For the second time that night, Y/N was on the verge of cumming all over Damiano’s fingers, unable to speak yet again.

“Use,” spank, “your,” spank, “words,” spank.

“I can’t hide, daddy,” she responded, this time leaving an almost screaming moan, eyes rolling all the way to the back of her head, once again almost falling apart.

Before she had the chance Damiano stopped, hands retracting from the girl and into his mouth, tasting her on his lips.

“I think you can take at least one more, puppet. Can you?” Ethan, had been quite distanced this whole time, deciding to let his friend get a taste of his sex partner, but deciding this was the best moment to do his thing.

Y/N nodded in confirmation, letting out a simple “green,” to let Ethan know she was not stopping just yet.

“Beautiful, puppy! You have been doing so good for us, taking your punishment so well, but we are not done yet.” A buzz sound is what concerned the girl, eyes widening at the toy.

It was a small remote virator, imitating sucking on the clit. The drummer placed the girl over his knees, stuffing the toy between his leg and her clit, shocking the sensitive bud. “I think you can take a few more spanks,” said the man, landing one at the expanse of her thigh, the skin giggling at the contact.

“Damiano, count,” ordered the assertive man, seeing his friend kneel in front of Y/N, kissing her and then doing as he was told.

“I think we were left on twenty-three. Twenty four,” he began, counting all the way to forty before the ordeal was over.

The whole time Y/N was shaking, just about to fall off the edge, asking for permission to cum but her wishes were not granted just yet. She was exhausted, overstimulated, frustrated, and now unable to move on her own. But, oh man did she need more. The two men were more than willing to assist her.

“You are doing so well, dolcezza,” praised Damiano, thinking of what to do next.

“Why don’t you get up, puppet. I think it’s time you get what you want.”

At that, her head perked up, already jumping from Ethan’s lap (almost falling while doing so) eager to be fucked and to finally orgasm. “I want you on all fours. You suck me off, Dami can fuck your pussy. I’m sure you’d love that.” She nodded, moving to be in all fours as Ethan stood on his knees on top of the bed, Damiano following suit and placing himself behind Y/N.

“Agh,” he groaned, “sei così bagnata, bambina,” he commented, collecting all the wetness on his cock before pushing inside her.

The action and the moans it emitted caused vibrations to Ethan, making him groan in pleasure, Y/N’s talent to shuck not wavering now. “You like this a lot, puppet, don’t you? Being fucked by my best friend while sucking my cock, huh? You like that?”

She could only hum in response, holes being filled to the brim so pleasurably. It was all better than she expected, more overwhelming, so she could not keep it anymore. She released Ethan’s cock, screaming loudly as her release finally overtook her, Damiano groaning in contentment. He pulled out of her afterwards, jacking himself off a bit before coating her back in his own cum.

Now the only one left unsatisfied was Ethan. His pleasure was cut short for the girl’s release, and although he was not mad, he certainly wanted to feel her.

“Can you handle one more for me, cucciola? You did such a good job so far but I need to feel you.” Y/N nodded and changed her position, this time her legs were in the air, soon to be wrapped around the drummer, eyes half closed in bliss.

“Such a good girl for me,” Ethan praised one more time before he started his rhythm slamming into her. This time it did not take long for both of them to reach their highs, the man riding out both of them and after taking a second to breathe he pulled out, falling right next to her.

“Are you ok?” This time the concerned man was Damiano, a bottle of water already in his hands and ready to give it to the girl.

“Mhm… Thank you,” she mumbled, voice almost a whisper but the smile was hard to miss.

“I think I should leave,” said the front man and he went to get dressed, abandoning the room, leaving only Ethan and Y/N in it.

Ethan got up quickly, looking around for a cloth as he got to the bathroom and wet it with some warm water. Coming back, he used it to clean Y/N up; her back from Damiano’s cum, her face from the cum and her dried up juices and her pussy from the left over wetness, a pair of underwear and a t-shirt in his other hand.

“Come one, dolcezza, you did so good. You’ll go to sleep in just a second. Come one, help me get you dressed,” he voiced and started leaving kisses on her face.

“You took both of us wonderfully, thank you.” Another hum as a response.

Ethan realized how at this point she had fallen asleep, fucked out and exhausted, he did not expect her to stay awake.

“I only wish I could tell you this when you’re awake… I think I’m in love with you."

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

[yelenasdog]

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈  𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

-

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of  excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do. 

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous. 

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

-

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

-

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

[damnlance]

21 please

Klance prompt #21

21. “Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Summary: Keith shows Lance his bruises and tells him where and when he got them.

-

It’s been eight days since the mission with The Blade.

The failed mission.

Keith can’t stop thinking about it. It's deep in his head. Flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them. It’s all over his body. Literally.

Dark purple and black bruises decorate his arms and legs and torso. Cuts and scrapes on his face. He deserves it, though. It’s his fault the mission went so badly. He swore he had everything under control. He said all the right things that he rehearsed over and over before landing on that freezing cold, yet weirdly humid, planet. He was calm and straightforward, but not demanding in any way. Or.. at least he thinks he wasn’t..

He still doesn’t know when everything went wrong. They were there to make peace with this planet, called Nagara, and offer them all the food, water, and supplies they needed to rebuild their planet after all the destruction and damage from the war 3 years ago. It was Keith’s job as the frontman and spokesperson to provide the aliens of the planet with a state of peace and safety since the war was over now.

But.. somewhere along the lines, Keith said the wrong thing. Or he did the wrong thing? Or he.. said and did the wrong thing at the same time and it made the Nagarians angry? He doesn’t know and he won’t know. His ears are blank to his own voice and words when he tries to replay the moments, seconds, before everything went wrong.

It doesn’t matter. He will never forget the way his mother looked at him after everything.

Her face was filled with pure rage. A look Keith has only ever seen if she was fighting the enemy. Never looking at him. And Kolivan? Oh, don’t even get him started on Kolivan.

Because what happened was so bad, Kolivan put Keith on a temporary suspension. Meaning he would sit out of all things ‘providing humanitarian relief to other planets’ and so on. That meant no meetings, debriefings, or socialization of any kind involving their mission to restore peace, and he would have to watch a four hour long video on what and what not to do during peace negotiations on otherworldly planets.

He was on complete lockdown and it was fucking pathetic.

Not only did he not bother to watch that stupid, long video. Instead, he kept himself locked in his room on the giant galra ship, not interacting with a single galran soul. Including his mother and Kolivan. He couldn't handle the scalding glares or the whispering in the hallways whenever he left to try to get some type of food in him. It was too much. And it’s what everyone was expecting of him. But not as Keith himself. As a mixed breed; a half galra, half human.

After six days of being temporarily suspended, Keith couldn’t handle anything anymore. It was too much and he was tired of literally everything, so he packed up all the shit he could gather, grabbed his trusty space wolf, and left in his galra cruiser without notifying anyone.

Now, here he is, a day out. The ride down to earth is.. pretty uncomfortable to say the least. His cruiser isn’t as big as it looks and with Kosmo tagging along and his giant duffle bag, it’s a little cramped. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s almost to his destination, and he can’t wait to land. Because yeah okay, he’s suspended temporarily, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get away for some quality Keith time. A little vacation never hurt anyone. And he knows just who he wants to spend his free time with.

knock knock knock!

Lance jerks awake. The first thing his tired eyes land on is the ceiling. It’s dimly lit and as his pupils unblur from the sleep still in them, he can hear the static of the tv that’s still on from some boring action movie he decided to watch. The once fresh bowl of popcorn on the coffee table has run cold long ago and the pitter patter of water droplets hitting the roof from the outside can be heard as well.

Lance sits up slowly and stretches his arms above his head, a yawn slipping its way out of his mouth as he tries to register reality around him. It takes him a few seconds to wake up and when he does, he remembers that it was a knock that woke him in the first place. He carefully stands, slipping his bare feet into the slippers on the floor just next to the navy blue colored couch, and walks over to the front door, hugging himself.

As soon as he opens the door, the pouring rain is louder. And Keith is standing there. Soaking wet with a big duffel bag in one hand and a leash that’s connected to the collar on Kosmo’s neck in the other hand.

“Keith!?” Lance is ten times more awake now as he quickly moves aside to let Keith and Kosmo in. “Oh, shit man, you’re soaking wet! Let me go grab some towels!”

“Thanks,” is the first word out of Keith’s mouth. It’s shy and embarrassed but Lance doesn’t pay any mind to it as he rummages through the towel closet next to the hallway bathroom. He comes back and wraps a big towel around Keith’s shoulders, taking the duffle bag from his hand and setting it next to the smaller couch by the bay window in the living room. Lance takes the other towel, kneeling down to begin drying off Kosmo. Kosmo licks his face as he does it and it makes Lance smile, tossing and turning his head away from the alien wolf’s freakishly long tongue. Once he’s finished, Lance stands and finds Keith on the couch, discarding his wet clothes. He walks over and sits on the coffee table directly in front of him.

“Keith?” He asks, the tone in his voice full of wonder and confusion, but also worry.

“I’m fine,” Keith answers, a sigh leaving his lips. He looks at Lance through his long, wet bangs and sends him a weak but reassuring smirk. “I decided it was time for a.. a small break.”

Lance doesn’t look convinced, sitting there twiddling his thumbs. “How small?”

Keith shrugs, losing their eye contact. “Couple weeks, tops.”

“Weeks sound like a long time to be away..” Lance bites his lower lip, his bed head, or couch head in this situation, making Keith want to reach over and pat his hair down. “I feel like there’s something else I’m missing here.”

A sigh. “Later, Lance, okay? I’m tired and wet and cold, and I just want to shower and lay down, if that’s alright?” He finally looks back over to those dark blue eyes in the dark living room and then, a small nod and a smile.

“Sure,” Lance says, this time with more confidence, but his eyes scan over the scrapes and scratches on Keith’s face. “Let me help you out with your suit.”

They both stand and Keith turns around for Lance to unzip it from the back. He moves his long wet hair over his right shoulder and puts his head down. The literal second that Lance grabs that zipper, Keith remembers how his body looks. And if Lance thinks his face is bad, just wait til he sees his body. Keith jerks away and it startles Lance as he almost trips over the coffee table.

“Keith!? What the he-!?”

“I-I just remembered!” Keith looks everywhere but Lance’s eyes now. “I smell horrible underneath this suit a-and I really don’t want you to smell me, so I’ll just head to the bathroom now!”

“What??” Lance scoffs. “A-are you sure?? I don’t mind a little stink, Keith, I’ve smelled you right after a fight with the-!”

“I’m sure.” Keith nods. He sends a nervous smile towards Lance and quickly leans forward to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. He grabs his duffel bag and b lines it for the guest room, closing the door behind him. Lance watches his every move, then turns back to look at Kosmo who is looking right at him.

“What was that about??” He asks the wolf. Kosmo tilts his head, ears popping up. Lance sighs and begins his walk towards his kitchen. “Come on, boy. You must be hungry.”

Keith wipes the foggy mirror with his hand, exhaling a breath of relief from the heavenly shower he just took. He takes the smaller towel from around his neck and dries his hair, ruffling it up in the process. His eyes scan his tired face and exhausted body. The bruises that decorate his pale skin are of dark purples and blues and blacks. They’re eight days old, but they still hurt like crazy. Keith eyes the one right below his left pec. It’s purple with yellow blotches and he presses down on it just to see and the pain that zips down his spine is more than enough warning to tell him to stop. A deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes his hair back and ties it up in a messy bun.

knock knock! “Keith? You okay?”

Keith nearly jumps at Lance’s voice. “U-uh, yeah! I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.” The concern in Lance’s voice eases. “No rush, though.”

Keith sighs again. He has to tell Lance. Has to show him. Sure, he’ll freak out and never want him to leave again but.. if he gets it over with, there won’t be any more surprises if Lance wants to touch him again.

A soft smile graces Keith’s lips as he thinks about the man just on the other side of the door. They’ve been through a lot. Individually. Together. And even though it’s only been three years, they still suffer through the after effects of the war. They all do.

Lance gets nightmares. About a lot of things. He says his nightmares feel so real, and sometimes it’s hard to decipher if his nightmares really happened or not. It scares him and has left him very vulnerable in more situations than he likes to admit. There’s a lot more than just the nightmares; flashbacks in the middle of the day, jumping at loud noises, never leaving his home because he feels like everywhere he turns, some species-less threat is gonna come out and attack him, Allura’s sacrifice. Yeah. It’s a pretty long list. But with therapy, his family and friends’ support, and Keith, he’s come a very long way to recovery.

Keith on the other hand got most of the paranoia. Even though he still works in space with his galran colleagues, he still can’t help but get that itch underneath his skin that someday, someone will turn on him and try to attack him. It could happen at any time. Any day or night. Anywhere. Because of this fear, he doesn’t get much sleep, and is very overprotective of his friends. Of his mother. Even his space wolf. His knife has become like a permanent extension to his hand, he never goes anywhere without it. Keeps it underneath his pillow, in his back pocket, in his boot, anywhere that’s easy enough to reach so he can defend himself if need be. He’s even accidentally pulled it on all of his friends at least once. Even on Lance, who barely even flinched at the time. It’s safe to say that no one can ever sneak up on him.

And somehow, through all their damage, Keith and Lance still found each other. It wasn’t right away. And it wasn’t planned, either. It’s just.. happened. They barely talked after the war ended, and unpurposely drifted apart. Keith busied himself in his work with The Blade, and Lance distanced himself away from everyone.

But one year ago, around Christmas, Keith came back to spend the holiday with Shiro and Curtis. Little did he know, they were gone for the holidays, so Keith, and Krolia, decided to stay with Lance and his huge family. Lance was so happy to see him, he couldn’t dare to say no. ‘The more the merrier,’ his mother Rosa said. So, while Keith and Lance spent the time shopping together and baking cookies and wrapping gifts and getting drunk on eggnog, Krolia learned a lot of the Christmas Earth traditions and Cuban recipes from Rosa and even got a few surprise presents from Lance’s niece and nephew. She cried because she didn’t know what else to do. Happiness always makes Krolia cry. Keith bought Lance a red Paladin mug with his face on it that he saw at some flea market on one of their stops on some random planet, and Lance bought Keith a giant blanket to keep him warm while he was away in space. The emotions were flying, the eggnog was settling and long story short, they ended up sleeping together, with every ounce of consent they could muster. It’s still one of the greatest nights of Keith’s life.

They’ve been together since then, five months, and even though they don’t have a label on what they are, Keith is happy this way. He likes being label-less with Lance. He likes having a home to come back to, with a warm kitchen, a warm bed, and a warm body. He likes the open space and how much Kosmo and Kaltenecker get along. He likes how much Kosmo adores Lance and his homemade space wolf food, just for him. He likes that Lance buys stuff for him to have when he’s away so he has new things to come back to. New slippers. A new comfy robe. New matching pajamas. A new toothbrush. Keith likes Lance. And everything that they are in the moments they’re together. And although he knows Lance is still grieving over Allura and that it could take a couple more years until he’s ready for a real relationship, Keith would take this over anything. Any day.

As he emerges from the bathroom, he doesn’t bother putting on all of his clothes, just his red paladin boxer briefs. He and Lance have seen each other naked plenty of times, and he’s very comfortable in his skin around Lance. Lance has that effect on him. So when he walks out in just his boxer briefs and a white cotton towel around his neck, he’s got absolutely nothing to hide. Except, maybe not giving Lance a heart attack tonight. Keith hides behind the wall just before the entryway to the living room and curses himself for what he’s about to do.

“H-hey.. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance says, something like food in his mouth. “Where are you, man?”

“I’m…” Keith sighs. “Can you just.. cl-close your eyes for a sec.. please?”

“Uh,” Lance shrugs, Keith can hear from his clothes rumpling up. “Sure.”

Keith peeks around the corner and sees that Lance’s eyes are sealed shut. Kosmo is on the floor next to him, sound asleep. His tongue is hanging out just the slightest bit as snores leave his mouth. Keith smiles at the sight and looks back to Lance. He’s so beautiful. This guy has done some much for him and more. Before the war, during, and now after. He’s the greatest guy that Keith could’ve asked for.. greater than that. With that in mind, Keith steps out from behind the wall and walks over to Lance before his brain tells him that this is all a bad idea. The living room is still dim, only illuminated by the television and the lamp next to the couch Lance is sitting on, but it’ll be more than enough light to see Keith’s battered body.

Once Keith is in front of Lance, he closes his own eyes, fists clenched down by his sides.

“Okay.. now on the count of three, you can open your eyes.. but don’t freak out. Got it?”

Lance lets out a small snort. “Yes, Keef, I got it.”

Keith rolls closed eyes and sticks his nails into the palms of his sweaty hands. “Alright.. one.. two.. three..”

Lance’s eyes open. The breath that gets caught in his throat is enough to send Keith’s gut dropping out of his ass and into the floor.

“Holy shit!” Lance is up, eyes roaming Keith’s entire body. “W-what the fu-!?”

Keith opens his eyes and is face to face with Lance. They’re almost the same height, Keith’s got him by a few inches easily, and the look on Lance’s face is enough to send Keith into cardiac arrest.

“I-I’m fine, Lance, really-”

“No, you’re not!” Lance cuts him off, wanting to reach out but too afraid to do so. Keith’s tone, muscular body is a canvas of dark colors and spots of different shapes. No wonder he jumped earlier, Lance could have hurt him even more than he already looks. A shaky breath leaves Lance’s mouth as he meets Keith’s dark eyes. “What happened to you, love?”

Love. The pet name actually sends Keith’s into cardiac arrest, he’s sure of it. But as soon as Lance cups his face with both of his big, warm hands, it’s over for Keith. His eyes begin to water and his throat closes up on him so that he can’t talk. Tears fall down his cheeks as he looks down to the floor between him and Lance. His bottom lip quivers and when Lance tilts his head back up to look at him again, a sob slips its way out of Keith’s mouth.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance coos, bringing Keith into a big, gentle hug. Keith hugs him back, sobbing into his shoulder. “Baby..” Lance whispers.

Keith just continues to sob. He didn’t even know he had been holding back for so long. But here, in Lance’s arms, he can feel everything that’s been bottled up coming out of his throat and from his teary eyes. Lance only continues to hold him, rubbing his soft hands up and down Keith’s pale bruised back.

Keith doesn’t know how long this goes on. How long he cries. How long Lance holds him. But somewhere in the middle of it all, they’ve moved to Lance’s room. Keith sits on Lance’s bed, wiping his red, teary eyes and snotty nose with a tissue. Lance rummages through his bathroom drawer for some numbing ointment that he recently bought for his back and feet from working out on the farm five days a week. When he returns, Keith is done crying. He sits up straight and removes the white towel from around his neck. Lance stands in front of him and kneels between his open legs. He stares at them. At the bruises and scratches and scabbed gashes.

“I..” he starts, clearing his throat from what has to be a lump forming. “I got this.. numbing cream. It’ll help a lot.”

Keith stares down at him as he talks, his voice is so quiet and gentle.

“Can I..?” Lance asks, looking up to meet Keith’s red eyes.

“Yeah.” Keith nods.

Lance uncaps the ointment, squirting a good amount into the palm of his hand. He sets the tube down and rubs his hands together. Then, he gently, gently, places them on Keith’s bruised thighs and begins rubbing the ointment around.

Keith clenches his jaw, hands fisting in the comforter on Lance’s bed. He lets out the air from his nostrils and feels the pain slowly turning into relief. He looks down and watches as Lance works his hands in circular motions, gently rubbing the ointment onto Keith’s injuries.

“..keith…?“ Lance whispers, eyes focused on his hands covered with ointment that’s slowly making his hands numb.

“Yeah..?” Keith answers back, looking at the ceiling of Lance’s room. Those glow in the dark stars are still there.

“How…” Lance clears his throat. “W.. Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Keith sighs. “..blade mission.. gone wrong..”

Something in Lance’s eyes darken. “What? W-when?? How?? W-Where!?”

“Um..” Keith can’t even look at Lance anymore. The worry in his eyes is too much. “A.. Week ago.. on some planet called Nagara. It was.. all my f.. my faul..” The tears are back. Keith blinks them away and sniffs quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. He can feel himself sinking back to that day, to that mission. He remembers it all so clearly.

They landed on Nagara. The planet was really cold. He and The Blade were greeted by a tall figure who looked similar to an earth bear. They were big, round, had dark eyes all around, sharp teeth and a snout. Three rows of antenna grew out of their foreheads as well as horns of all shapes and sizes going down their backs and spines. And giant sharp claws for fingers. They looked vicious. And they made it very clear that they didn’t like the Galra.

Keith made the first move. He spoke in a calm voice and made his intentions clear; he and The Blade were only there to help and provide the planet with anything they needed. They had food, water, clothes, and building supplies ready on their ships and were 100% committed to fixing up this planet and its species from the after effects of the war. But their King, King Arxuan, wouldn’t let them go any further until they explained what they were doing there. So Keith did.

He explained it all. Voltron won. Zarkon dead. Princess Allura saved the universe. Keith is the red and black Paladin. The Blade of Marmora is good. The Blade of Marmora is here to help. But Keith being Keith.. he’s not too good with his words. Everything sounded fine in his head. And when it came out of his mouth? Completely different.

“We are The Blade of Marmora,” Keith started. “We’re here to provide supplies to your helpless planet that has clearly been affected by the war and-”

Record scratch. Yeah, poor choice of words on Keith’s end. But they left his mouth so fast that his brain couldn't keep up. The King and his subjects didn’t like it one bit and before Keith could keep up with his offensive word vomit, the Nagarians drew their weapons and like a firework, everything went up in flames.

Keith didn’t mean to offend anyone.. and he didn’t mean it like that. But the Nagarians didn’t know or care how he meant it. They attacked within seconds of Keith’s poor choice of words and thank god for his team’s fast reflexes, otherwise his head would not be on his shoulders and he wouldn’t be sitting here on Lance’s bed.

Legs criss crossed on Lance’s bed, the strong minty scent of numbing cream filling the room.

His fingers locked with Lance’s as Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s fingers.

Gently.

Domestically.

Lovingly.

Keith feels warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at Lance who’s sitting on the floor in front of him. Those deep blue eyes staring back so affectionately. Altean markings just barely glowing in Lance's dim room.

Lance swallows and squeezes Keith’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am now..” Keith shrugs, looking at the floor. “But these last few days have been hell.. and the guilt I have for almost killing my team has.. been..”

Lance nods, understanding. He comes up off of the floor and sits next to Keith. The second his arm goes up, Keith is there leaning into his side, nuzzling into his neck. His cheeks are wet with tears again and quiet sobs leave his throat.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance nods, planting a gentle kiss atop Keith’s head. “We all make mistakes. Some worse than others. but.. what matters now is that you’re here. You’re alive. And safe.”

Keith nods, sniffling as tears and snot run down his face. He’s had everything balled up until this very moment. The guilt. The shame. The way Kolivan and his mother looked at him. The way the other Blade members blamed him. None of that mattered anymore. Because here, in Lance’s heavenly embrace, he was fine. He was gonna be alright.

“You’re safe, love..” Lance reassures him. “I’ve got you.”

And he does. Lance holds Keith tight, holds him close. Lance lets him cry and doesn’t judge him. He’s just.. there for him. And it’s everything Keith needed.

Keith wakes up in Lance’s bed.

Blanket crowding his entire body. His long hair is literally everywhere around his face and neck and shoulders. The golden sun is shining through the blinds of the window, making him squint a tiny bit, and the pain from the bruises on his body are somewhat bearable..

There’s a smell hitting his nostrils that makes his mouth water and stomach grumble in a hunger he didn’t know he had. When he sits up, Kosmo is right there beside him, curled up in a ball, staring at him. Keith smiles at the space wolf and reaches to pet his head.

“Hey there, boy.” He rubs behind Kosmo’s ears, chuckling a little when Kosmo nuzzles into his hand. Suddenly, flashes of last night come flooding back to Keith’s mind and he groans out, covering his face. Sure, crying his eyes out all night long and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are was nice, BUT crying your eyes out all night long and and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are took a lot out of Keith. He’s tired. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. He just wants to spend the rest of his time away from work relaxing with the only person he wants to be with in the entire universe. And Kosmo.

And as if on cue..

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is soft. “You awake, yet?”

Keith looks over to the door and sees Lance popping his head into his own room. When their eyes meet, Keith can feel the undeniable spark between them and it causes his heart to do something funny beneath his rib cage. He smiles a bit shyly and brings his legs up to a criss-cross position, Lance’s puffy space themed blankets bunching up around Keith’s waist.

“Morning..” Keith answers, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

Lance’s eyes never leave his as the Cuban boy finally enters the room, two plates full of food in each of his hands. Keith eyes the food and his stomach grumbles once again. The noise overthrows the silence in the room and Keith has to put his hands over his stomach to silence the sound. It didn’t work.

“Good morning to you, too,” Lance chuckles, setting Keith’s plate into his lap. “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry, huh?”

“Shut up..” Keith flushes and looks down at his full plate of food. Organic eggs, two fluffy pancakes, sweet turkey bacon and a buttery biscuit with strawberry jam decorate his plate beautifully. All of his favorite breakfast foods right there in front of him. Made by the man right beside him with a matching plate of food for himself.

“Dig in!” Lance says, his mouth already full of food. Keith doesn’t waste a second and obeys the words from Lance's mouth. They eat in a comfortable silence, Kosmo moving to the ground to collect any scraps they throw his way. After a while, Keith clears his throat and musters up the courage to look at Lance’s beautiful face.

“H-hey, uh.. Lance?” He whispers.

“Yeah?” Lance is staring at him now, blue eyes boring into him again.

Keith can’t breathe and he finds himself having to take a really deep breath before he continues.

“Thank you,” he pushes out of his throat, “for everything. For letting me cry in front of you, and.. for not judging me for it.”

Lance stops chewing and swallows. Keith quickly takes him all in before he gets caught; Lance’s messy brown curls, his gorgeous tan skin all over his bare torso, those cute little freckles all over his body, his Altean marks. Everything about him is so breathtaking and Keith can barely keep his heart at bay.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Lance says, breaking Keith’s thoughts. Their eyes meet again. “I’m here for you no matter what, Keith. You have to know that by now.”

“I-I do,” Keith nods, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. He sets his plate onto the bedside table next to him and scoots closer to Lance. As if completely on autopilot, he grabs Lance’s face and forces their eyes to meet once more. He stares deeply into those ocean blue eyes and fights the awkward urge to look away.

“Lance,” he starts, exhaling a breath that smells like eggs, bacon, and syrup, “I love you, so much. Thank you for always comforting me and being my right hand man.. you.. you are the light in my life, and I..”

Tears fill Keith’s eyes and to his surprise, Lance also sports some in his own eyes.

“I know,” Lance whispers, gaze moving from Keith’s eyes, to his lips, and back. “Like I said, you don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you. Because.. I love you, too.”

The second Lance’s plate is out of the way, the two boys are kissing so fast, the air in their lungs can’t keep up. Lance pulls Keith close by the oversized t-shirt around his torso and clings to him for dear life. Keith does the same and cups Lance’s cheeks. Their kisses are full of passion, desperation, and love. And when they part, Lance is trailing those same kisses down Keith’s jaw, to his neck and his collarbones, kissing every visible bruise he can reach.

“I’m so happy you’re safe, my love,” He says between kisses on Keith’s neck. As he pulls back, Keith is smiling like Lance is his whole world.

“Me, too, Lance,” Keith answers, kissing the corner of Lance’s syrupy mouth, his cheeks and neck flushing red. “Me, too.”

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[kieranfm]

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓   ;   𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦   ››   𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍  +  𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍  

usually  ,  when  evan  was  found  within  arms  reach  ,  SLEEP  came  easily  .  it  was  just  about  the  only  time  he  managed  to  sleep  soundly  .  but  as  his  birthday  wound   down  &  a  night  of  celebration  turned  into  a  goodbye  .  .  .   sleep  had  been  elusive  at  worst  &  fleeting  at  best  .  &  not  even  evan  wrapped  up  in  his  arms  ,  from  the  moment  they’d  found  their  way  back  from  a  haze  of  goodbyes  ,  could  help  .  because  in  a  few  hours  ,  when  the  sun  had  begun  its  descent  ,  they’d  utter  their  LAST  goodbye  .   because  tomorrow  ,  when  they  both  woke  up  ,  they’d  be  waking  up  a  WORLD  away  from  each  other  .  time  felt  as  if  it  was  slipping  through  his  finger  & , no  matter  how  EXCITING  knowing  he  was  only  a  few  days  away  from  kicking  off  their  first  show  on  their  american  tour  ,  he’d  wanted  it  to  STOP  .  freezing  them  in  the  warm  ,  comforting  quiet  that  enveloped  them  in  the  safety  of  his  apartment  .  but  there  would  never  be  enough  time  in  the  world  .  there  would  NEVER  be  an  easy  time  to  slip  from  evan’s  warmth  &  say  GOODBYE  —  a  i’ll  be  back  with  you  in  a  month  &  a  half  .  &  as  his  alarm  pierced  the  air   ,  pulling  him  from  a  brief  moments  sleep  &  breaking  the  illusion  that  maybe  ,  just  maybe  ,  the  morning  would  NEVER  come  ,  the  ache  festering  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  seeped  up  into  his  chest  .  he  lingered  for  as  long  as  he  could  ,  fingers  lingering  in  soothing  lines  against  her  skin  as  whispered  words  were  muffled  against  wild  curls  ;  good  morning  .  .  .  go  back  to  sleep  .  .  .  only  one  of  us  has  t’  get  up  now  .  .  .  i’ll  get  more  done  wit’out  you  .  .  . you  stay  ,  get  some  more  sleep  .  .  .  i’ll  still  be  here  when  you  wake  up  .  but  eventually  ,  he  had  to  move  .  because  today  was  one  day  he  COULDN’T  be  late  .  &  with  a  bag  still  to  pack .  .  .  giving  into  evan’s  attempts  at  coaxing  him  back  ,  he  couldn’t  .  so  ,  finally  ,  he  slipped  from  the  warmth  of  their  bed  with  one  final  kiss  pressed  against  her  forehead  .  but  even  as  he  somehow  managed  to  figure  out  just  how  to  fit  his  life  for  the  next  month  &  a  half  into  a  suitcase  ,  his  gaze  — his  attention  still  lingered  upon  the  girl  with  wild  curls  he  couldn’t  figure  out  how  to  bring  with  him  without  risking  putting  her  dream  on  the  line  .  because  just  like  last  night  ,  he  wanted  to  savour  every  last  moment  he  could  with  her  .  time  ,  however  ,  stops  for  no  one  .  &  as  the  sun  reached  its  peak  kieran  stepped  over  the  threshold  of  his  apartment ,  his  front  door  clicking  locked  behind  him  ,  for  the  last  time  .  it  was  a  WEIRD  feeling  .  knowing  he  wouldn’t  be  back  until  a  month  &  a  half  had  passed  .   knowing  what  lay  ahead  of  him  .  knowing  the  ANTICIPATION  he’d  felt  for  it  since  it  had  first  been  given  as  something  that  was  an  option  .  knowing  the  ACHE  that  weighed  down  his  chest  for  what  he  was  leaving  behind  for  it  .  .  . how  could  he  be  so  EXCITED  for  something  but  be  DREADING  it  at  the  same  time ?  it  was  contradicting  .  he  KNEW  they'd  be  okay  .  they’d  survived  the  distance  between  them  from  galway  to  manchester  .  they'd  survived  the  distance  between  them  from  manchester  to  london  .  surely  after  everything  they’d  been  through  ,  &  their  future  already  a  promise  kieran  had  EVERY  intention  of  fulfilling  ,  a  month  & a  half  was  NOTHING  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things  .  but  that  didn't  make  it  any  easier  to  even  untangle  his  fingers  from  evan’s  as  they  joined  the  three  other  boys  ,  mikey  ,  nora  ,  & liv  at  the  departures  gate .  

NO  goodbye  was  easy  .  &  at  the  sight  of  tears  upon  nora & liv’s  cheeks  ,  he  could  feel  the  beginning  of  a  lump  forming  in  his  throat  .  he  imagined  it  was  going  to  be ten  times  worse  saying  goodbye  to  EVAN  .  he  loved  his  mam’  &  sister  —  more  than  anything  —  but  since  the  move  to  manchester  ,  calls  ,  facetimes  &  texts  had  be  the  main  form  of  communication  for  YEARS  .  he’d  miss  them  ,  he  always  missed  them  ,  but  being  away  from  them  had  gotten  easier  .  especially  now  he  knew  they  were  both  SAFE  .  &  the  tears  in  nora’s  eyes  were  more  from  PRIDE  than  anything  else  .  made  clear  by  the  gesture  of   gentle  hands  pressing  against  his  cheeks  as  she  finally  receded  from  a  tight  hug  as  she  uttered  ,  “  you  look  after  yourself   you  hear  me  .  i  know  you're  a  big  rockstar  now  but  it  doesn't  mean  you  have  t’  act  like  one  — -  ”  kieran  let  out  a  quiet  laugh  as  his  head  nodded  gently  in  her  hold  ,  “  i’ll  try  not  t’  let  t’e  fame  get  t'  my  head  ,  promise  .  ”   a  teary  smile  spread  across  nora's  lips  ,  “ i  believe  you  .  you’ve  always  been  a  good  boy  &  you’ve  grown  into  a  good  man  .  .  . i’m  so  proud  of  you  ,  a leanbh  .  i  can’t  wait  t’  hear  all  about  it  ,  i  love  you  .  ”  a  soft  smile  spread  across  his  lips  as  he  pulled  her  in  for  one  last  hug  ,  “  i  love  you  .  ”  &  as  nora  drifted  from  him  towards  mikey  ,  liv  lingered  at  the  side  .  fingers  interlocked  in  front  of  her  in  a  turn  of  twisting  fingers  .  teeth  worrying  at   her  bottom  lip  .  but  as  kieran's  gaze  flittered  over  to  her  ,  his  shoulder  tilting  in  a  small  shrug  ,  it  was  all  it  took  for  her  to  cross  the  small  space  between  them  &  wrap  her  arms  around  his  waist  .  a  gesture  he  quickly  followed  as  he  enveloped  her  into  a  tight  hug  .  “  i’ll  call  you  every  night  alright  ?  ”  hands  moved  in  a  soothing  manner  against  her  back  as  he  pressed  a  kiss  against  the  top  of  liv's  head  .  a  rumble  of  laughter  slipped  from  his  lips  as  liv  murmured  a  barely  audible  response  into  his  chest  .  “  hey  now  ,   i’ll  'ave  time  .  i  always  ‘ave  time  for  you  — never  forget  t’at  .  ”  liv  pulled  away  from  him  just  enough  to  lift  the  heel  of  her  palm  up  to  brush  tears  from  her  cheeks  ,  “  text  when  you  land  ?  ”  kieran  nodded  as  a  smile  pulled  at  his  lips  ,  his  pointer  finger  curling  to  tap  lightly  beneath  her  chin  before  tapping  the  tip  of  her  nose  ,  “  ‘course  .  don't  need  you  t’inking  my  plane’s  gone  down  .  ”  liv’s  features  scrunched  as  she  hugged  him  again  ,  “  don't  even  joke  about  t'at .  ”  the  smile  upon  kieran's  lips  grew  further  as  he  pressed  another  kiss  to  the  top  of  her  head  ,  “  i'll  be  fine  ,  promise  .   ”  &  as  he  spoke  ,  his  eyes  flittered  over  to  where  evan  stood  with  three  boys   he’d  be  spending  the  next  month  &  a  half  with  in  a  too  small  tour  bus  &  endless  hotel  rooms  .  “  t’ere  is  one  t'ing  i  need  you  t’  do  for  me  t’ough  .  ”  liv  shifted  back  just  enough  to  look  up  at  kieran  .  &  as  her  eyes  followed  his  gaze  to  settle  on  evan  ,  her  head  begun  to  nod  softly  .  a  knowing  look  crossing  over  her  features  as  she  glanced  back  up  at  him  .  he  didn’t  need  to  ask  the  question  .  “  i  can  do  t'at  .  she’ll  be  okay  . ”  &  as  liv’s  lips  curved  into  a  gentle  reassuring  smile  ,  she  pulled  away  slowly  before  nudging  him  in  evan's  direction  .  “  go  on  —  you  can’t  put  it  off  forever  .  ”  she  was  right  .  there  were  no  more  distractions  .   no  more  avoiding  .   time  had  finally  caught  up  to  them  .  taking  in  a  deep  steadying  breath  kieran  lifted  a  hand  to  ruffle  the  top  of  liv's  head  before  he  parted  ways  .  

his  fist  pressed  into  his  opposite  palm  as  he  walked  towards  the  four  people  that  had  ALWAYS  been  there  .  three  were  coming  with  him  but  ONE  was  staying  behind  .  the  one  that  just  so  happened  to  be  the  one  he  wanted  to  share  something  as  AMAZING  as  an  american  tour  with  the  most  .  she’d  been  right  last  night  .  just  because  it  wouldn’t  be  the  same  without  her  didn’t  mean  it  was  going  to  be  BAD  .  he  knew  it  was  going  to  be  incredible  .  it  was  part  of  the  reason  why  he  did  all  this  .  to  feel  the  rush  as  he  stepped  out  on  stage  with  a  guitar  in  his  hand  &  a  crowd  that  knew  every  single  word  of  the  songs  he’d  written  .  it  was  what  he  was  MEANT  to  do  .  but  that  knowledge  didn’t  make  leaving  her  easier  .  that  knowledge  wouldn’t  make  saying  goodbye  easier  .  &  as  he  approached  & conan  caught  his  eye  ,  that  goodbye  was  only  moments  away  .  the  lump  in  his  throat  was  hard  to  swallow  .  a  gentle  nod  was  all  it  took  from  kieran  for  conan  to  tug  at  ruairi’s  shirt  ,  “  alright  —  t’at’s  enough  ya  bloody  softie  .  you’ll  see  her  again  in  a  mont’  &  a  half  .  we’re  not  leaving  her  forever  —  sadly  .  ”  but  even  the  teasing  nature  lingering  upon  conan’s  features  as  he  glanced  at  evan  was  tainted   by  a  goodbye  they  were  all  struggling  with  in  their  own  ways  .  because  even  if  evan  believed  that  they’d  be  here  without  her  .  .  .  she  was  an  integral  part  .  an  integral  part  of  not  only  the  found  ,  but  THEM  .  the  five  of  them  .  they’d  been  friends  long  before  they’d  ever  been  a  band  &  no  matter  WHAT  happened  ,  they  always  would  be  .  kieran  lingered  at  the  side  as  adam  had  to  aid  in  towing  a  clueless  ruairi  away  .  but  as  kieran  watched  conan  gesture  between  them  before  pointing  back  to  kieran  &  evan  ,  ruairi  seemed  to  finally  click  .  leaving  JUST  the  two  of  them  to  find  their  way  back  together  just  like  always  .  kieran  swallowed  as  his  gaze  drifted  from  the  three  boys & towards  evan  .  he  really  didn’t  know  HOW  he  was  going  to  say  goodbye  to  her  .  but  somehow  ,  a soft  smile  managed  to  find  its  way  upon  his  features  as  he  spoke  ,  “  hey  ,  you  .  ”  carefully  he  reached  out  for  her  ,  fingers  catching  at  hers  as  he  began  to  draw  her  in  .  “  t’ink  you  can  manage  one  more  for  your  favourite  frontman  ?  ”  he  tried  to  keep  his  voice  light  as  his  gaze  flittered  over  her  ,  “  or  ‘ave  you  decided  t’  make  it  offical  &  become  a  groupie  once  &  for  all  —  t’ere's  still  time  &  i  don’t  mind  sharing  a  seat  .  ”  

[rpf-bat]

I Choose Defeat

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 5. Prompt: “Killing Romance.”

When Gerard makes the decision to ‘kill’ My Chemical Romance, your hidden feelings for him, turn to despair. You’re crushed by the reality that he’s no longer your bandmate, but you try your best to move on. Four years later, you have a quiet life in New Jersey - and a child that isn’t is. But, when you get a call in the middle of the night, asking you to get the band back together, you find yourself jumping at the chance. 

You and the other members of My Chemical Romance, sat around a coffee table, at Reprise Records headquarters. You sipped from your mug anxiously, unsure why Gerard had called this meeting. 

Is this about the new studio space?, you wondered. He did say he wanted to build a new recording spot, on his property, so that we’ll have an easier time, putting together the rest of the new album. 

But, something in his melancholy expression, told you that he wasn’t here, to show off blueprints. His hazel eyes seemed to stare right through you.

You glanced at Frank on your right, and Ray and Mikey on your left. They seemed nervous, too, as they waited for Gerard to speak. The silence in the room was deafening. 

“So,” Gerard said finally, “I’ve decided I quit.” 

“What?” you blinked. 

“I no longer want to be the vocalist of My Chemical Romance,” Gerard spelled out. “I’m out.” 

Four jaws dropped in unison. The mug nearly fell right out of your hand. 

“That means that My Chemical Romance is….over with,” Mikey realized. “I mean, there’s no way in hell that we could continue the band without you.” 

This much was obvious - Gerard was the group’s leader. It’s visionary. A drummer, such as yourself? Potentially replaceable. But the vocalist, lyricist, and frontman? No way. If he was done, his departure would be a bullet between My Chemical Romance’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard sighed. “I’ve been trying, to act like everything’s fine, and keep working on new songs with you guys. But….my heart’s just not in it anymore.” 

“What about the new album?!” Frank interjected. “The demos we’ve been working on so far….I thought those songs really had potential!” 

“The guitar parts you wrote were good, Frankie,” Gerard admitted. “If you want to take those melodies, and recycle them into a new project, at some point? You definitely have my blessing to do that.” 

“Frank might be fine forming some new band, with new people,” you said, tears forming in your eyes, “but, what about me? What am I supposed to do?” 

You had dropped out of school, years ago, when Gerard asked you to drum for his band. And the truth was, that you had nothing to fall back on. You’d spent the last decade of your life, focused on nothing, but being in My Chem. Now, that career was just….gone. 

“I was talking to Andy Hurley the other day,” Gerard said calmly. “He said, that when Fall Out Boy broke up, he became a touring drummer, for some other bands. Like, I think he went on the road with Earth Crisis for a while.” 

“Oh, so you just have all the answers, is that it?” you snapped. You didn’t think, he’d really given that much thought, to how this would affect you, at all. 

“Y/N, come on,” Ray intervened, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You have to admit….the last tour, was really hard on all of us.”

“He’s right,” Mikey sighed. “We were constantly jet lagged. I was eating No-Doz like candy, just to stay awake, during some of our shows.” 

“I...I never said being in this band was easy,” you stammered, “but that doesn’t mean you just give up!”

“I can’t force it, if the passion’s just not there anymore!” Gerard insisted. “Do you remember the last show we played?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you demanded. 

“I wasn’t even looking at the fucking crowd,” Gerard confessed. “Or at my mic. My head was somewhere completely else. I was looking at the sea, in the distance. I didn’t want to be on that stage. And I know that our performance suffered, because of that. It wasn’t my best work. If I can’t give the fans the show they deserve, I’d rather not do any more shows, at all.” 

“You didn’t feel happy at all, when you were playing with us?” you realized. 

“No,” Gerard said bluntly. “I felt nothing.” 

Your chest hurt, and your eyes welled up with tears. Nothing?

Being onstage with Gerard, watching him sing, from behind your drum kit, was euphoria to you. A high that no drug could match. Listening to the crowd sing along with him, as you played your heart out....those were always the best nights of your life. But, clearly, he didn’t feel the same way, that you did. 

You always thought you’d have more time with him. Whether it was in the studio, or on tour….you’d taken for granted, that you would have another opportunity, to tell him how you really felt. 

You’d had feelings for him, for a long time. To put it frankly, you were in love with him. 

I told myself, that as soon as we finished the record, I would confess my feelings to him, you recalled, your hands shaking. I didn’t want it to affect the work we were doing in the studio, so I was going to wait. But now the fifth MCR album, is never going to exist! 

Even if your fantasies of dating him never materialized, you thought you would always have him, as a bandmate. Even if we never became boyfriend and girlfriend….we would still travel the world together, as singer and drummer. That was something I thought I could always rely on! 

Now, everything you thought you’d have, was up in smoke. It was like the rug had been pulled out from under you. 

“Gerard, how could you?!” you cried, unable to stop the tears, from falling from your eyes. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be in any band, if it’s not with you!” 

“Y/N, I’m sorry…,” Gerard began, seeming taken aback, by how deeply, his words had wounded you. 

“Save it!” you barked. “I don’t want to hear it!” 

You grabbed your keys, and stormed out of the room. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard cried. 

His voice didn’t stop you. If nothing was what he felt, sharing the stage with you….then, nothing was exactly what you would be to each other, from this day on. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

FOUR YEARS LATER

You’d moved back to New Jersey, after the band broke up. Los Angeles held nothing for you anymore, but memories. All you wanted was to forget. 

You’d tried to fill the void in your heart, by blowing money on vinyls. You thought maybe, if you turned the volume all the way up, and made the whole house shake with sound, you wouldn’t be able to hear Gerard’s voice, in the back of your head. I felt nothing. 

Your time together had been special to you….but, clearly, you thought, it hadn’t been special to him. So, when the guy at the record store, had asked for your number, you’d given it to him. 

You thought you could get over Gerard, by jumping into bed with someone else. Patrick certainly wasn’t unattractive. And, he was never unkind to you. When he told you that he loved you, you said it back. 

But…..you didn’t mean it. Deep down in your heart, you knew you were still in love with Gerard. And the worst part was, Patrick knew it, too. So, the relationship failed. Of course it did.

But, it had left you with one good thing: a child. You loved your daughter, even though you didn’t love her father. Motherhood had given you a reason to get out of bed every day. Even if you felt like your life was in shambles, you still had a responsibility, to be there for her. 

She looked up at you, with innocent blue eyes, as you tucked her into bed. 

“Mommy need hug?” she asked, holding her teddy bear tightly. 

“No, sweetheart,” you sighed, ashamed that your mental state was so obvious, even to a toddler. “Mommy’s okay.”

You thought to yourself, as you kissed her goodnight, that she might be the only person in this world, to ever truly love you unconditionally. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were sitting at the kitchen table, alone with your thoughts, and a glass of Pinot, when the phone rang. You wondered who it could be, at this hour. 

“Hey, Y/N,” said a familiar voice, when you picked up. 

“Frank?” you blinked. “What’s up?” 

“How are you doing?” your former bandmate asked gently. 

“Pretty good,” you lied. “It’s been a while.” 

“It has,” Frank admitted. “I just got done with a tour, not too long ago.” 

Right, you remembered. He’s got his own little solo project now. 

“What are you calling yourselves these days?” you asked. “The Cellabration?”

“No, it’s The Patience now,” Frank corrected. “Man, I really wish I could have convinced you to join us. You know you were my first pick, for a drummer.” 

“You found a better one,” you shrugged. “I bought a copy of your CD. It sounds like Matt Olsson is doing a hell of a job.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Frank chuckled. “You been up to much, music wise?” 

“Nah,” you confessed. “I mean, I did a little production stuff, for an indie label, here in town. But mostly, I’ve just been living off royalties, and child support.” 

“Fair enough,” Frank replied. “How’s the little one doing?” 

“Lena‘s doing great,” you smiled. “She’s full of energy, like most three year olds are.” 

You heard Frank laughing. 

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I still can’t believe,” Frank snickered, “that you named your daughter Helena.” 

“Of course I did,” you said wistfully. “Of all the songs we ever composed together, I think that was my favorite.” 

“Honestly, it’s one of my favorites, too,” Frank confessed.

“How are Lily and Cherry?” you asked. “And Miles?” 

“The twins just had their seventh birthday,” Frank said proudly. “God, they’re getting so big. And Miles just started kindergarten, he loves it.” 

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Lena and I, should come over and visit you guys soon.” 

“I’d really like that,” Frank agreed. “I mean, you’re right down the road, after all.”

It was true - Frank, was the only other former band member, who had returned to New Jersey, after things went south. 

“....That’s actually part of, what I wanted to talk to you about,” Frank said, after a moment. 

“What do you mean?” you wondered. 

“So….you and I, still hang out all the time,” Frank began. 

“...Yeah?” you nodded. Where was he going with this? 

“But, you also visited Ray not too long ago, right?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah, last fall,” you recalled. “He invited me down to his house in California. He wanted me to play drums, for a track on Remember The Laughter.” 

It had been nice to see him again - and even nicer, to get out of the East Coast snow. 

“But, while you were in LA, you also hung out with Mikey, right?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He asked me to go to a Dodgers game with him, while I was in town. It was pretty fun. He was asking me for parenting advice the whole time, because Kristin was pregnant with Rowan.” 

All of the former members of My Chemical Romance were parents now….except one. But, you didn’t want to talk about him. To your chagrin, this was the exact person, whom Frank asked about next. 

“What about Gerard?” he demanded. 

“What about him?” you scoffed. Even after all this time, thinking about him, still hurt. 

“I was texting Gee last night,” Frank explained. “Y/N….he told me that you haven’t gone and seen him, even once, since the day the band broke up.” 

“It’s true,” you admitted. 

“Shit, man,” Frank swore. “It’s been four years. Do you really hate him, that much?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you said softly. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Frank tutted. “Was it really necessary, to block his number?” 

“It was,” you insisted. “I have nothing to say to him.” 

“Well,” Frank revealed, “he had something, that he wanted me to say to you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“What is it?!” you demanded. 

“Damn,” Frank teased. “You sound pretty eager, for someone who refuses to speak to him directly. For the record, it’s kinda childish, if you ask me! You and I are both in our thirties now - and he just turned fuckin’ forty. And I still have to be a go-between, for you two?” 

“Just tell me what he said, already,” you said impatiently. 

“Fine, fine,” Frank sighed. “I’ll get to the point.” 

“Well, what is it?” What could he possibly have to say, after all this time?

“He asked me,” Frank whispered, “if you would be interested, in getting the band back together.”

You dropped the phone in shock. It hit the tile floor, with a crash. You were lucky, that the noise didn’t wake Lena. You bit your lip. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. 

Was this real?! you thought, your hands shaking. Oh, god, please let it be real. 

You’d wanted to hear those words for so long. Despite all your anger and resentment towards Gerard….you wanted him, to miss you. You wanted him, to want to get onstage with you again. Because deep down….you still wanted, that, too. 

You picked the phone up off the floor, and pressed it to your ear again. 

“Damn, Y/N, what was that?” Frank gaped. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I can hear you now. So….tell me again? Exactly what he said?”

“He said he wants to get all five of us in a room together,” Frank explained. “Just...try and jam for a little bit, and see where it goes from there.” 

“Where?” you asked. “LA, I’m guessing?” 

“Yeah….”

“Ok, when?” you interrupted. “I can try and find a sitter, to watch Lena for a weekend, so….” 

“Slow down!” Frank urged. “What the fuck, Y/N?” 

“What do you mean, what the fuck?” you asked, eyes narrowing. 

“You just told me, you haven’t said two words to Gerard, since 2013!” Frank reminded. “Now, all of a sudden, you’re chomping at the bit, to get on a plane, and go see him?” 

He had a point. You hated yourself for this. You’d spent the last four years, trying desperately to forget about Gerard. Now, as soon as he dangled the possibility of a reunion in front of you, you were wagging your tail like a dog for him. 

He still has me in the palm of your hand, you realized, cheeks burning. I hate it. 

“We weren’t sure,” Frank confessed, “if you would want to be part of the reunion at all. You guys didn’t leave things on the best of terms. Like...when you see him again, what the hell are you gonna say to him?” 

“I….I don’t know,” you realized. You thought about it for a moment. 

“One thing’s for sure,” you decided. “If My Chemical Romance is having a reunion, you’re sure as hell, not gonna have it without me.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You hesitated in the studio doorway, your hand shaking on the door handle. 

Come on, you told yourself. You’ve come all this way. The flight from La Guardia to LAX was seven hours long. You had all that time, to talk yourself out of doing this. But, you’re here now. You’ve decided this is what you want. 

Steeling yourself, you turned the knob, and entered the room. 

He was there, as soon as you walked in. His hair was a natural brown now - not the short blonde it had been, the last time you’d seen him. It had become streaked with grey - but, then again, so had yours. Despite the lines of middle age, that had now begun to crease his face, he was still so, breathtakingly handsome. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Gerard said, his voice melting you like butter. “You look great.”

You didn’t say so do you - even though it was true. 

“H-how you have been?” you asked, trying to hide your shakes. 

“I’ve been well,” Gerard smiled. “How’s Patrick?” 

“We’re divorced,” you said dryly. 

“....Oh,” Gerard gasped. “Oh, fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You would, if you shot me an email, once in a while,” you snapped, remembering that you were supposed to ‘hate’ him. 

“Oh, so my number’s blocked, but an email’s fine with you?” Gerard huffed. “How am I supposed to know that? The telephone works both ways, you know.” 

“Guys!” interrupted the voice of the reason. “Can you not? Please?” 

“Ray!” you gasped, turning to face your frizzy-haired friend. “How are you? It’s so good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you, too, Y/N,” Ray smiled. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you guys, too,” said another familiar voice, as Mikey entered the room. 

“Hey!” you smiled, walking over to greet him. “How’s the baby doing?”

“She’s beautiful,” Mikey said proudly. “How’s Helena?”

“Little Lena is getting bigger every day,” you smiled. “She’s adorable.” 

“You can compare baby pictures later,” joked another voice. “I’d win that contest, anyway. I have three cuties at home.” 

“Hi, Frank!” Mikey grinned. “How have you been, dude?” 

“Pretty good,” Frank smiled, setting down his guitar case. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”  

You looked around the room, scarcely believing it was true. But, you didn’t have to pinch yourself. It was real- all five members of My Chemical Romance, were together again.

“Are you ready to jam?” Ray grinned. 

“Absolutely,” you said, surprising yourself. 

“What should we play first?” Frank asked, taking his guitar out of its case, and hooking the strap over his shoulder. 

“Good question,” Gerard shrugged, walking over to the microphone stand, and adjusting it to his height. 

“What about ��Helena’?” Mikey suggested, tuning his bass. 

“Sounds good to me,” you replied. You sat down, behind the drum kit, that the studio space owned. You still had your original kit - with the Danger Days “Exterminate” drum cover - in your basement, back home. 

You picked up your sticks. It had been so long, but holding them in your hands, felt so right, in a way that you couldn’t describe. 

“Ray, you wanna start us off?” Gerard asked. 

“Alright,” Ray nodded. “One, two, three, four…”

He began to play the opening notes, that you knew so well. 

“Long ago,” Gerard crooned, “just like the hearse you, died to get in again…”

Your cymbals joined him - and at just the right time, too. Like muscle memory coming back. 

“We are,” Gerard sang, “so far from you!”

Mikey and Frank’s parts kicked in, and you felt a wave of adrenaline, that hit you so fast, it almost made you miss the beat. 

“Burning on…,” Gerard continued, surprisingly in-key. 

“Just like a match you strike to incineraaaaate!” Ray harmonized, “the lives of everyone you knoooow!”

The two men sounded incredible together, given that the last time they’d performed this song, was 2012. It was like riding a bike, you realized. You guys had played this one together, so many times, that it only took being next to each other, to unlock it all again. 

You felt a wave of nostalgia, as the song continued:

And what's the worst you take (worst you take)

From every heart you break (heart you break)

And like the blade you stain (blade you stain)

Well, I've been holding on tonight

What's the worst that I can say?

Things are better if I stay

So long and goodnight

So long not goodnight

“....Fuck, that sounded so good!” Gerard grinned, stopping after the chorus. “I thought we’d be really rusty!” 

“I know, right?” Ray laughed. 

Suddenly, Gerard’s smile faded, as he turned back, and looked at you. “....Y/N?”

“What?” you asked. “I agree, that was decent.” 

“Y/N….you’re crying,” Gerard said softly. 

“Huh?” you blinked. You set your drumstick down, and touched your finger to your eye. It came away wet. 

Fuck, you realized, he’s right. You hadn’t even noticed. Despite the sharp words you’d exchanged, when you walked in the door, playing together, had made your true feelings plain. You had missed this. You had missed this so much. 

“I….I think I need a smoke break,” you stammered, and headed for the door. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard called. It sounded just like deja vu. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

He found you outside, holding a cigarette in your shaking palm. You could barely see the lighter through your tears. The stupid flame wouldn’t catch. 

“You want me to get that?” Gerard offered. 

“No!” you sniffed. “Just, go away!” 

Ignoring you, Gerard took the lighter from your hand. 

“Here,” he said, and lit the cigarette for you. You took a drag. 

“....You want one?” you offered, awkwardly handing him the pack, as you wiped your eyes. 

“Nah,” Gerard shook his head. “I quit.”

“...Did you really?” you blinked, surprised. 

“Yeah, just this year,” Gerard nodded. “I figured, if we were gonna do this, I wanted to make sure, that my lungs were in good shape.” 

“....How long have you known, that you wanted to come back?” you wondered. 

“Not long,” Gerard confessed. “Honestly, I thought you would say no.”

“To you?” you laughed, bitterly. “Never.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “I thought you can’t stand me, these days.” 

“Gee,” you sighed. “Listen….I never hated you.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“It wasn’t hate, that kept me away,” you confessed. “It was love.” 

“Love?” Gerard repeated, confused. 

“You broke my heart,” you explained, “when you killed the band.”

“Yeah, all the guys were heartbroken, when I told them it was over,” Gerard acknowledged. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You don’t understand.” 

“Then, explain it to me!” Gerard demanded. “Nobody was happy with me with that day, but you’re the only one who cut off all contact afterwards! And I have spent every day, of the last four years, wondering why!” 

“Because I was in love with you, you idiot!” you cried. 

Gerard gasped, staring at you in shock. 

Fuck, you trembled. I can’t believe I said that out loud. 

“You….wanted to be with me?” Gerard asked, eyes wide. 

“Of course I did,” you said, beginning to cry again. “But, you didn’t even want me as a bandmate anymore - let alone a lover. You didn’t feel a thing - you gave up our life’s work, like it was nothing to you.” 

“Y/N, I was relapsing,” Gerard said softly, staring at his shoes. 

“You….you what?” 

“During the World Contamination Tour,” Gerard admitted, shame-faced. “The stress of being on the road, it was just too much for me. I was seven years sober, and I fell off the wagon. I hated myself for it. But I knew, if we started another album cycle, and went on another tour, after that….I was going to do it again.” 

“That’s why you wanted to quit the band?” you realized. “I never knew….” 

“You never let me explain myself!” Gerard reminded. “You just took off!” 

“B-but, I never noticed you drinking, when we were on tour….” you stammered. 

“I hid it well,” Gerard sighed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You thought I was such a great guy….I didn’t want you to see the truth about me.” 

“You are a great guy, Gee,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t gotten so angry at you, for making the choice you made, if I had known how badly you were struggling, on the inside….” 

“It was kill the band,” Gerard revealed, “or fall back into the bad habits, that were going to kill me.”

“I….I don’t want you to get killed, Gerard,” you sobbed. “I would never, ever want that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for how I’ve treated you, this whole time….”

“I’m sorry, too,” Gerard said, reaching a gentle hand up, to wipe the tear from your eye. “I’m sorry, that I was so self-absorbed, that I never realized, how you felt about me.”

“I hid that well, too,” you confessed. 

“I would never have wasted the last four years of my life like this,” Gerard sighed, “if I had known, that my feelings were reciprocated.”

“Re…Reciprocated?” you repeated. No….could he mean….?

“After you went back to Jersey,” Gerard bared his soul, “I felt like there was a hole in my heart. And I didn’t know why. By the time I figured it out - by the time I was sober, and mentally stable again, and the type of man you actually deserved - goddamnit, Y/N, you were married to someone else!” 

“I only accepted Patrick’s proposal, because I was pregnant,” you admitted, embarrassed. “And I only slept with him, in the first place, to try and convince myself, that I was capable of wanting, somebody who wasn’t you.” 

“But….you and Patrick split up,” Gerard realized. “Fuck. Y/N. If I had known, that you two weren’t still together….I would have been on a plane to New Jersey, months ago, begging you for another chance.” 

“I don’t want him,” you cried. “I want you, Gerard. I always did. I wished Lena was yours, because the wanting never stopped. I want you still!” 

“Then, be mine, damnit!” Gerard cried, and took you in his arms. He kissed your tear stained face, and your sobbing finally stopped, as his lips crashed into yours. 

He tasted so sweet….everything you’d wanted, and more. It was like a dream come true. 

“The guys are waiting inside,” you reminded, “for us to go back in there, and play some more songs with them.”

“Let then wait,” Gerard shushed you, pulling you in again. “I’ve waited four years for this.” 

He kissed you, and you felt as if you could fly. All was, finally, right with the world again. 

[youcantfiremebecauseiquit]

idk if u care but crispin gray recently had an interview about his entire career and it kind of changed my perspective of queenadreena…idk if for better or for worse lol. it was weird to see him so dismissive of a lot of his catalogue w katie except for ‘love your money’ just because that was the only remotely chart successful song. i get you want to be able to sustain yourself but jeez him and katie really had a weird back and forth relationship

Sorry i'm replying late, i've seen the interview pop up on Youtube but honestly i was too invested in university shit recently & generally not in the good mood for that but i'm planning to watch. How did it change your view on Queen Adreena, did he say something mean specifically on QA or Katie? I mean i gotta watch it but honestly? Not surprised in the slightest. A few years ago he was asked to describe fave songs he recorded throughout the years and he listed more of Daisy Chainsaw ones than anything else, with Love Your Money as number 1. The differences in their points of view are real something, Katie Jane absolutely HATED Love Your Money, same as Daisy Chainsaw. Kinda apparent he wanted bigger fame but DC dropped fast and QA failed to live up to their predictions.

i had a time when i liked to dig up old Queen Adreena interviews that are lost in the old internet & generally not available for years (which i planned to post on is-she-suffering but my investment in that site is... varied in its intensity). Also that was back in the days when i wrote Queen Adreena book during manic phase and tried to sell it but lost motivation Well since i don't do anything with that knowledge anyway i'll put what i know here as i love fan discussions

So they sure had/have odd back and forth love-hate relationship & that's the reason why their career went how it went. There's been a huge tension between them at some point. I'm sure you know she had a major mental breakdown (probably schizophrenic episode) after Daisy Chainsaw, or even beginning before her leaving, and then she went into isolation and lived with an old woman in Lake District for awhile. She left Daisy Chainsaw cause Crispin didn't want her to come up with her own songs (all of DC was by Crispin except for Lovely ugly brutal world by KJ).

They almost split up as Queen Adreena after Drink Me. The material for The Butcher and The Butterfly was written at different times, originally it was meant to be called Atom Bomb at Bikini but it was constantly delaying and they eventually recorded everything they've got live. So that's obvious right? But i was surprised to find out they were writing songs separately. Some of them (i forgot which though) were written by Katie Jane and Pete Howard's sons band (they're even credited) + some with Melanie Garside, Richard Adams + some other musician. Katie Jane didn't like it. They intended it to be their last album at the time. She also hated live at ICA show but they released it cause they were broke

But that's a digression. I just wanna say that at this point they were done with each other but kept pushing it. Katie had her own art projects and stuff, Crispin started Dogbones with Nomi and i just remember how vaguely pissed at Katie he waas in the interviews. Like he stressed that Dogbones is his number one priority and if Katie wants to do something with Queenadreena, she must wait til Dogbones have a break first or something, and it sounded oddly bitter.

RaCH and Djinn era are just so weird, they had opportunities but let them go in a way. I don't think many people know but they were huge demand in Japan. They entered album charts and were interviewed by 11 magazines and 6 (!)TV stations there (wtf happened to that material i want to know???). But they only played 5 times or less.

Katie said she considers the band dead but they decided they can try to play for a couple more months. But aside from that she 100% lost the interest in the band around Djinn. There's an interview where she says "the overall image is Crispin but the shape will change again at rehearsals". And you can hear it, it’s more blues rock than anything. IMO it's their worst production wise. Instruments are fine but Katie's voice is so badly produced that sometimes i find some songs fucking irritating, cause they didn’t cut out her breaths and the vocals are TOO LOUD, to the point of distorting. As if she stands too close to the mic. The album is fine but it feels unfinished.

And here we come back to Crispin... here's what he said after the QA split:

Why the Dogbones started? “I needed to work more than the previous band I was in was working, the previous band who shall remain nameless, haha… um… Queenadreena. I wanted to work more than the singer of Queenadreena wanted to work… so that’s why it started. Fine by me… but I really like to be in a band, I’m not a solo project kind of guy. The last album (‘Djin’) did come out in the UK, but it was so low key because Katie kind of disappeared so there was little point in promoting it. Personally it’s my favourite by far so it was a shame but there you go… So here are Dogbones, it’s not been an easy ride but we are trying very hard.

Ok so the bitterness is kinda apparent isn't it. I think there were two reasons why they argued so much, first musical differences. Katie at some point lost interest in loud rock music for some years and went the folk way in Ruby Throat. I have a theory that Taxidermy and Drink Me are more influenced by Katie Jane and Butcher and Djinn are more Crispin. During first albums i think Katie more actively took part in music composition and choosing arrangements. She wrote lyrics, melodies but also composed a lot of songs on some little electronic keyboard thing and 4 track (Heavenly Surrender, Pray for me, My Silent Undoing, all Lalleshwari +more). Plus she wanted more peaceful/dreamy sound on Taxidermy than full on rock, Crispin complained about it in some 00's interview, that he'd like it to be more rock. Then there are 2 versions of Drink Me, the original has rough and alt versions of songs (it was sold by Katie and it's leaked on FB and probably YT). Crispin Gray apparently really hated the final Drink Me. Now next album is The Butcher & The Butterfly and it's more standard blues rock, no more crazy dreamy things of previous albums etc., Djinn is even more blues rock but darker. Djinn was his favourite at some point while KJ hated Butcher, not sure about Djinn. So i think they had different views on where they should go, Katie made her weird simplistic creepy tunes (like Lalleshwari) and folk melodies adding that strange things to noise rock. Crispin probably wanted blues & rock.

Other than that, i’m convinced they are bitter exes, lol. There’s been rumours about them dating during Daisy Chainsaw for years, plus Katie had a history of dating band members. Crispin wrote X-ing off the days about her. I don’t know if they dated again in Queen Adreena. Then there’s this interview, timeline is unclear, either The butcher & the butterfly or later:

„Katie writes all the songs herself and often looks for melodies and structure with the drummer. With Crispin - her husband or ex-husband, which is not entirely clear to me - for almost three years she has no longer been in a room. "Sometimes we send him a letter with a new song and that's all we can do. All we have are our lungs and our musical talent and we have to do with it. It is repugnant difficult life, I know most of the time how I should deal with it." But Queenadreena will still remain even exist? "I think so, we are now pretty busy and I see where the ship aground.”

I always wondered what exactly happened after Djinn, i’ve seen Katie Jane say „i think they gave up on me” while others said she disappeared. Other times CG said there’s no bad blood between them but at the same time there’s been some weird tension.  As of recent i thought they reconnected somehow through the internet and had a good relation but who really knows.s

I get why Crispin gets irritated when people compare everything he does to „stealing from KJ” but honestly, he gave them good reasons, at least in the 90’s. I can believe Starsha Lee singer isn’t copying Katie cause she’s from Brazil or something and she didn’t know Queen Adreena before. But everything else… Crispin’s problem is that he doesn’t know what he wants. He spent 90’s chasing something, tried singing himself, had girl singer replacements and even one KJ copy. Dogbones was ironically his most original non-Katie band, even with all their grunge influences. In a way he wants to be a frontman and at the same time doesn’t. Idk if he’s very controlling, but Daisy Chainsaw shows he valued his songs/lyrics first & in Queen Adreena he had to step back a lot, cause Katie’s condition was she would be in charge of the lyrics. I don’t think he realizes how strongly Daisy Chainsaw issues affected Katie, i mean from her own words you can read that aside from media attention/hate, her being unable to write lyrics had a role in her breakdown. I think she now let go but for years she hated remembering Daisy Chainsaw and she felt kind of worthless cause she was only somebody else’s mouthpiece. I’m not trying to say he’s cruel or anything, but i firmly believe rock lyrics writers should sing their own songs or else there are problems.

They both were writers-composers with different vision and i have impression they struggled a lot while shaping their songs, cause they both stuck to their ideas. Hence 2 versions of Princess Carwash maybe. Katie once said that he „gets terribly upset with her” cause she writes her songs on a simple wind organ and uses a few chord buttons only. Clash of writer ways/personalities/egos and at some point they had to let go.

Maybe he prefers music/bands where he was 100% in control including lyrics (note he wrote/sang some lyrics in Dogbones too). Daisy Chainsaw achieved bigger success US and UK wise as they were offered to play Top of The Pops, and they’re more well liked/remembered by „general alt public”. Queen Adreena however is way more valued as a cult band, with cult following and admiration in UK & France. Most people think Pretty Like Drugs and other QA songs are his best work and he probably finds it irritating cause truth is, he never managed to be more successful than Daisy Chainsaw/Queenadreena. Love Your Money is ironically the least Crispin Gray/DC/QA sounding song in my opinion. I kinda find it irritating that he downplays Queen Adreena cause it was probably his best work in this band but whatever

So yeah sorry for the word spill, that’s what i can think of it right now but as i said, i haven’t watched the interview yet, it’s just this kind of treatment is in a way consistent for him