Famous Reader - Tumblr Posts

Was just at the AUS vs RSA game and thought about yan batfam x professional player reader

^ pic I took, shared cause it looked pretty cool

How they would react to the reader being a famous sport player of any kind.

It's unlikely that they would kidnap you due to your massive fan base, as it would attract excessive media scrutiny and unwanted attention internationally, not just within Gotham. Fans from around the globe tune in to watch your games, so your absence would raise suspicions far beyond the confines of Gotham alone.

Based on the extent of their obsession, the Batboys would exhibit varying responses. In cases where their fixation is relatively mild, they might opt for a more subtle approach. Instead of outright kidnapping, they'd each form a more intimate connection with you, feeding you disinformation and manipulating you to question the stability of your career as an athlete. They might even go so far as to create fake evidence of misconduct, aiming to weaken your trust in colleagues and coaches. Each bat independently spinning webs of falsehoods, persuading you about the perilous aspects of your career. The move aims to create doubt and make you feel vulnerable, all while fostering the image of a concerned support system. Where they’re the caring family who just wants the best for you.

The fam, in their relentless quest to isolate you from your world, would orchestrate a web of manipulation to sow doubt and skepticism in your mind. Their goal? To make you question everyone and everything, sowing the seeds of paranoia deep within your psyche. Each bat playing a part in this grand scheme, they'd meticulously feed you false information, twist events, and exploit your trust, all to ensure that you become reliant on them alone, to the point where you’d feel a profound sense of isolation from anything and everyone outside their carefully constructed circle of control.

With a more intense level of obsession for you, the boys become more extreme in their approach, aiming to sever all threads that bind you to the outside world. They'd fabricate scandals, leveraging their influence and connections to spread misinformation and discredit your reputation through the media. Ultimately getting you canceled or thrown out from the league, leaving you vulnerable and isolated. Once they've successfully sabotaged your career, they'd position themselves as your sole support, exploiting the dependency they've forced you into, ensuring they become your only lifeline. The only ones who believed that you wouldn’t actually do any of those horrible things.

If all else fails and their attempts to manipulate and control you have fallen flat, they wouldn’t be above resorting to drastic measures. They'd orchestrate an 'accident' contrived to leave you physically incapacitated, prematurely ending your career against your will. With you out of commission, they'd swoop into the role of a caring, supportive family, ensuring they remain your sole source of companionship and aid. An ultimate move to bind you to them indefinitely, all in the name of protection and care for their "fragile" darling.

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have a reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain sends a refreshing chill down my spine. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in search of both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.

David Bowie: The Actress

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

David Bowie's POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well! What did she do!"

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

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

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

"What's that now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"David said that?" They say in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

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

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

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

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

"What did he say to that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What can I say! If he likes me back then this has worked out great." I respond, grinning at their reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

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

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

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

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"David said that?" They say in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

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

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

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

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

"What did he say to that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

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

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

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

Dove Cameron Masterlist

Friends

Delayed 

Touch

New Faces New Places New York

Friends

warning: swearing - mentions of sex - cheating - fluff -

word count: 1.5k

Summary: After finding your boyfriend cheating you find comfort in your friend’s arms. 

"That's a wrap everyone good work." The director says. I start to walk back to my trailer where I see my assistant Jules sitting going through my schedule for the next couple of weeks. I try to be as quiet as I can so she doesn't hear me sneak off to work on my other projects.

"You do know I can see you," they say while still looking down at the papers in front of them.

"No, you can't unless you have eyes in the back of your head." Giving up on sneaking around the trailer I sat down next to Jules.

"Your right I don't but by answering me you just confirmed that I am psychic now." Jules looks up at me chuckling.

"Haha," I say with sarcasm realizing they are right.

"But, I'm serious go home you have time to work later." She says while she packs up.

"But I have-"

"No buts you work too hard go home enjoy your time off. I mean get laid you have a boyfriend unlike me so go have fun." She stands up after cutting me off grabbing my bag and jacket.

"Come on get up. I'm not leaving until you do." I sit there in shock but soon decide not to test her getting up and taking my things from them. Did I just get kicked out of my trailer? We walk to our respected cars say goodbye bye after I promise for the third time to relax.

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"Babe, I'm home," I say as I close the door with my foot.

"I thought since I'm in town I could cook dinner?" Where is he? Usually, he would be by the door trying to squeeze you to death.

"Chris?" You say as you start up the stairs. Thump

"Hello..." What is that noise?

Thump

"ahhh" My heart drops. It can't be.

"Mhmm, you like that baby" Chris no.

"yes yes keep going i-i " By the time I'm at the top step I am boiling with anger. I march straight into the room.

"What the FUCK is this!" I yell at the top of my lungs as I see them scattered apart and pull the sheets up.

"Y/N! I didn't know you were home uhh" I stand as the tears well up in my eyes watching as this sick son of a bitch tries to come up with a reason for why he cheated on me.

"It's not what it looks like," he says while pulling on his boxers.

"Yeah right." I scoff unconvinced.

"Umm Nancy how about I call you later." I watch as he guides the naked girl out of our room.

"Ok I um bye Chrisie love you." Wow, I love you(s). She continued walking out the door without a response and with the door closing my urge to punch this man comes back kicking.

"I can explain. It just th-" I cut him off.

"I don't what an explanation Chrisie." I taught. I'm not going to break down in front of this man.

"Get out." I point at the door.

"Y/N, baby come on it was one time." He is lying straight through his teeth.

"One Time! Tell that to Nancy because clearly, this is not a one-time thing to her!" I shout. Does he think I'm stupid?

"Babe she doesn't mean anything. I don't love her." He continues. Now running his hand through his hair.

"I don't care." Why are we arguing this is my house.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He starts walking towards me trying to calm me down. Like that will work.

"Y/N you know I-"

"Get out Christopher!" I'm losing my patients and I'm not going to jail for murdering this man.

"Babe," I'm done. I move around him opening the door.

"NOW!"

"FINE! But you will regret this I'm the best you can get with your stupid schedule and your pathetic looks." As he moves to the hallway turning around to carry on with yelling at me I shut the door in his face. I wait for the front door to slam before I snap. I throw every photo in the fireplace downstairs. I watch as the flames engulf them burning away two years of my life.

Buzz

Buzz

Buzz

Getting to what, I don't know? My third breaking point of the day I consider throwing my ringing phone in the fire. I push the thought out of my head and I decide to pick up the phone to see who's calling.

🕊️Dove love🕊️

"Shit."

"Wow, not even a hi? I guess you don't miss me as much as I miss you." She seems to be in a good mood. Dove and I have been good friends for a couple of years now we meet during the final round of casting for Agents of Shield though I didn't get the role we still hit it off.

"Sorry I just I've had a hard day," I say clearing my throat trying to hide any indication I was crying.

"Oh, babe what happened you don't sound too good." Of course, she can tell instantly.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Understand what's going on when you have no context at all."

"I just know you well enough. Like right now I know that you brought that up so you could avoid answering my question." There's a pause that tells me she's clearly is waiting for me to tell her the truth but instead of answering I let the silence grow.

"I guess all give in then. I wanted a surprise you theirs a gift at the door can you go open it for me?" I can hear the excitement in her voice.

"If it's more custom shirts your buying me a new dresser." She always sent me goofy shirts they were always a good distraction.

"It's not but what I sent you should be out there already. Are you moving yet?" She chuckles.

I finally stand up walking to the door excepting to see a big Amazon box but instead I find a suitcase.

"Please tell me there is not a killer clown in the suitcase."

"No, but I will need your help taking it up your stairs." I look up from the suitcase hearing my phone echo her voice seeing Dove walk around the corner of my door with a big smile on her face.

"SURPRISE! Happy New Year, Happy birthday, and most of all happy best friend anniversary." She comes up and engulfs me in her arms with all of the love I've been craving.

"You are not hugging me right now I definitely fell asleep or I'm hallucinating." Should I call my mom or take my temperature first?

"You're not going crazy I am really here," Dove says as she pulls her head back from the hug but as soon as she sees your mascara running her smile drops.

"Y/N what's really wrong." I sigh as she carefully rubs my back. I love when she just holds me it always made me feel safe I used to feel guilty for feeling that way with her instead of Chris but now I don't have to worry about what he thinks.

"Let's get you killer clown suitcase in before we talk about that." Trying to lighten the mood I smile and take her hand that's not grasping the suitcase.

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

"I'm going to kill him!" Dove says pacing in front of my coach.

"It's not worth it."

"I mean who does he think he is?!" Continuing her rant.

"Dove sit down please before you have a heart attack." Finally getting her to sit down again I pull her towards me. When she's finally stuck in my hug I rub her back hearing her sigh out her own frustration and snuggle deeper into me I decide to continue.

"We weren't happy and if Nancy has something I don't offer then he can be with her as long as I'm not wasting my time trying to fix something too far gone and I'd much rather spend my time with you." I watch as she moves out of the hug to turn around and sit between my legs.

"He made the biggest mistake in his life today and I hope he doesn't realize that until he's on his death bed cold and alone." She says it with a straight face meaning she's dead serious so try my best to hold in my laugh but I can only hold it in for a few seconds before I'm bursting out laughing. When I start to catch my breath I look back at her face to see her smiling at me with the biggest grin.

"I love you," I say while I look at her I can see everything I have ever wanted in her with one smile.

"I love you too." She answers biting her lip. I close my eyes to relish in all her love and that's when I feel her hands on my cheeks. I slowly open my eyes as she leans.

"I could be a better boyfriend than him." She whispers and before I know it she kisses me.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ok, this was my first fic please tell me how I did. I will be taking requests but I cannot guarantee a schedule yet. I do allow reblogs. I hope you enjoyed it. 💜

Touch

for @karazorxel

...

can you do one with dove x fem reader where she writes a song about her girlfriend and she sings it for her in their bedroom please 🙏🏻 

warning: pure fluff 

word count: 1k

Summary: Dove writes a song for Y/N to show how much she appreciates her.

Out of Touch - Dove Cameron

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

Clink

"Shit! No no no'' There goes another mini mason jar that I’ve shattered. Grabbing the broom and dustpan I try to sweep without stepping on any of the shards. Hearing the door to our room close I know she’s heard before she even calls out.

"Is everything okay?" I hear Dove call out from the hallway.

"Yeah... everything's fine." I sigh, as I throw the glass away. Looking around for any lost pieces. “Oww,” But clearly I didn’t do a very good job because I felt it before I saw it. 

“Oh love, sit down let me see.” As Dove helps me walk over to the stool pulled out next to the island.“Well, it’s not very deep, I'll just grab the disinfectant” She says, turning around and heading towards the bathroom. “Fuck!” Looking down I wince as I see another of the asshole shards embedded in Dove’s foot. Reaching out I pull out the other stool. “Ok how about we clean up and get out of this awful kitchen.” I breathe out a sigh at the wonderful idea.

“Yeah, how about we just settle for takeout,” I utter thinking about the misfortune of the last few minutes.

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

“You know I actually had a surprise for you before we became impaled” Dove announces breaking the comfortable silence in our bedroom.

“Aw, what was it?” I ask scooting forward.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” She giggles as I begin to pout. “But how can I say no when you look like that.” Smiling because she’s caved she hands me Peanut Butter. Taking the adorable black cat out of her arms. She grabs her phone from the charger. “ I um wrote this a couple of months ago when we were...” She goes quiet. Taking her hand in mine I squeeze it for reinsurance knowing the time she’s speaking of. “ When where um I don’t want to say fighting...more like we weren’t communicating and you went to go visit Flo for a few days. At the time I really thought it was over but you said you’d come back.” She takes a deep breath. “ I didn’t believe you but then here you were two days later and we just talked, figured our shit out.” Looking into her eye’s I saw them glaze over with unshed tears. Watching as one of them gets from her I reach up and wipe it away. Knowing she needs to finish I don’t respond. “ I felt like saying I love you and making up wasn’t enough for me so I wrote this for you.” Clicking the play button the audio enters the room and my lovely girlfriend begins to sing.

Woke up on the wrong side of you this morning

Said some things last night in the heat of the moment

You always forgive, how could I forget?

You've been in my bed when I need somebody

Yeah, I put you through some things

But at least it ain't boring

Who's gonna tell me I'm out of touch

When the lights come on and I'm still fucked up?

It's true

I hope it's you, yeah

Who's gonna call me on all my shit

When I go too far and you're sick of it?

It's true

I hope it's you

Baby, I hope that it's

You, ooh, ooh

Baby, I hope that it's

You, ooh, ooh

Baby, I hope that it's you

You love me when I'm low, when I'm down in the basement

And don't give me up when I test your patience

You always forgive, how could I forget?

You don't run away when I'm acting ugly

No, you never sugarcoat and that's why you're the greatest, yeah

Who's gonna tell me I'm out of touch

When the lights come on and I'm still fucked up?

It's true

I hope it's you, yeah

Who's gonna call me on all my shit

When I go too far and you're sick of it?

It's true

I hope it's you

She pauses the audio and stops singing. “ That’s most of it I kind of just repeat myself for the rest though.” Turning around in the bed I set Peanut Butter down on the floor. Looking back at Dove the first thing I do feels like the most natural thing in my existence. I lean forward grasping her cheeks and pulling her into a kiss that I hope conveys every emotion she gives me just by breathing. “I love you.” I say as we break apart “ Of course, I’d come back to you. You mean the world to me. But the real question is what can I do for you to release that? I say laughing from the joy of this moment. “ Because I want the whole world to know I’m coming back to you no matter what.” Dove takes a sharp breath in.

“Well, I could think of some idea’s.” Watched her green eyes darkened with lust.

“ um-hum I bet you could,” I say and start to lean into...

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

“Meroooww” Both of us releasing a painful sigh turn our heads to Peanut Butter.

“What you want some attention to,” Dove says, teasing the cat. Looking back at me she starts to lean in again but I put my hand in front of her lips.

“Sorry baby, but our children come first,” I say taking the cat into my arms and scratching it between the ears. 

“ Are you kidding me!” she says shocked. Looking at me. Shaking my head I respond.

“I'm dead serious.” she groans and lays back on the bed. 

“Can we at least watch a movie?” she declares I’m about to say yes when we both hear.

Clink

“Cheesecake!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I absolutely apologize for the wait. I hope you guys enjoyed Touch. I’m so sorry for leaving you hanging in pain with Dove. Let's hope Cheesecake is okay and hope it's not another mason jar. Please reblog to show your support or comment.🤍