I know what you're thinking,Brendan Brady a Rock Star,I know! :O
This story idea just came to me though and I had to write it. I have no idea if it's been done before,I'm thinking not.
It is rated M,it's Stendan, so yeah. No idea how many chapters,depends if anyone likes it.
Please give it a read and let me know if I should continue this or not? And now stop laughing ;D xx
It's written slightly different to my usual style,just at the beginning.
Rock Star
Brendan
The sound of the crowd screaming spurs you on more as you take the microphone into your sweaty hand. You feel your forehead dripping over your face thanks to the spot lights that beam down on your face and sometimes you forget and look directly into them blinding yourself.
It doesn't mater though,the ear piece that's vibrating with your song that you are about to sing reminds you why you are there. Your body gyrates to the booming music as it throbs up from the stage and into the leather trousers that cling so tightly to your pert arse it beggars belief how you manage to even breathe in them.
It's part of your style though, the leather,half buttoned shirt, the cross that hangs down on your chest bouncing as you are moving around the stage. And they love it, the crowd roars for you, you sing your song and they know every single word.
It makes you feel proud, the many singles and albums you have, and how the last single release charted straight at number one on the itunes chart. The radio stations like you too; they play your songs and promote your albums. It's a perfect life you have, dancing around on that stage, and singing your heart out.
Behind you are the greatest band members you could ever ask for, Simon on guitar, you met him through college, He's one of your only real true friends left. In the music Industry everyone's your friend, when it suits them, so you have to know who's taking the piss and who's being real. Warren on Drums, he was hired after you'd formed the band, a nice guy, ladies man.
Always manages to get all the groupies to follow him around, it puzzles you; you guess it's the drums, they love. Dennis is on the base guitar, he's the joker of the pack and you have one of those love hate relationships that bugs the hell out of the rest of the band, but you all gel together. You write all your songs as a group and compose all the music, you've got the talent why shouldn't you.
You remember singing when you were growing up and looking at yourself in the mirror, you still do that now. Wearing tight fit suits, you don't always wear the leather, that's just for the look for the band, it's rock, leather is part of it. Makes you sweat like hell, they creak and groan around your legs when you dance, you recall that time when you slipped on stage and done the splits, you'd managed an excellent Pavarotti soprano ending to the gig that night. Makes you wince thinking about it. They'd all laughed at you, Dennis in particular took the mick, and you knew then where you'd love to shove his base guitar.
'Brendan,Brendan' The crowd is getting excited as you sing your heart out to them, they all think that, they all think it's them you're singing too, so you catch an eye or two, and lean down low holding onto your microphone stand for leverage and you sing to them and make them cry with love for you. The fans have a special place in your heart, you love them all,wouldn't be where you are right now without their loyalty. At the end of every gig you meet a lucky few that have been chosen out of the audience. It's a little gesture from you, a thank you for their growing devotion. Signing a few photos,Cds, body parts, you can do that then leave, get driven off in the ridiculously large roadie bus, made especially for you and the band and the crew.
There have been times the others have taken fans back to their hotel rooms, and you have been tempted, but you gave yourself this rule, never to do that. To keep the fans totally separate from your rock star lifestyle. You shy'd away from the press as much as you could being at the height of your popularity, but there were rumours, always had been. You couldn't go anywhere without getting papped and it annoyed you sometimes. The others had girls on their arms when you went out to award ceremonies, you were always alone.
Looking for the one, perhaps, or maybe you just didn't want the hassle of having to admit you were gay. The press always announced that kind of news like it was earth shattering, drove you mad, like it's anyone's business anyway. Your band mates all knew the truth and respected your privacy which you appreciated, but the gay rumours were still whispered around as you attended the famous gatherings. You decided not to care in the end.
You end the gig on the bands biggest hit and the crowd loves it waving their arms about dancing from their seats, all the phone cameras flashing at you like a million diamonds sparkling at once, it always made you smile in awe at it. You finish the song and gesture to the band to join you, Dennis and Simon still holding their guitars around their necks and Warren holding his drumsticks, the crowd screams louder then, because they all have a favourite band member, and they love you all.
You all take a bow and take it in turns to thank the crowd. Simon always does this thing where he rips open his shirt and shows off his tanned torso, the crowd go nuts, he loves it,getting the fans into a frenzy then he points to you and the crowd scream for you to do the same. You have ripped open that many shirts on stage now, you wonder if there's any point to buttons. You oblige and slide down on your knees on stage throwing your head back and ripping the buttons into the crowd. You thrust your groin at them all and it makes you laugh the noise is deafening.
Steven
It's 8 am and you have jumped out of bed, so excited your heart is pumping at the wall of your rib cage. You check the concert tickets that lie on the table for the millionth time, and then check your phone to make sure it's the right day, the day you get to see them live, the day you get to see him.
Him is Brendan Brady, hunk of a rock star you have been a major fan of since they first recorded a song. Already a fan of rock, the new band had drawn you in, you remember when you first saw him on the TV and god he was gorgeous. You couldn't keep your eyes off him and your flatmate Sinead had come over to you and wafted her arms in front of the screen trying to get your attention.
You had looked back at her mouth open wide as she'd looked at you puzzled, then you showed her the band on the TV and she'd sat down with you noticing Simon and the amazing way he strummed the strings on the guitar in his arms. Sinead had told you how she had never wanted to be a guitar so much in her life and you'd both sniggered over it for ages afterwards.
You went to work at your restaurant and tried to concentrate on the cooking, but you couldn't. Brendan was there in your mind, his hair, that moustashe and stubble, the leather that enhanced every bulge. You thought about the package in his pants when he's been dancing and god it made you hot, despite the fact you were in a kitchen surrounded by lit hobs on the stoves, that flush that rose in your neck was nothing to do with the stoves, it was him, and he made you hotter than hell.
You made it your mission to meet him, however stupid that was, I mean famous rock star, and how would you go about meeting one of those. Then you find out he likes to meet and greet with his fans after every show, and you attend them, you take Sinead along with you. The concerts are always amazing,you once got to the front, pushing in through the crowd, and you felt bad about it, until he's caught your gaze while he sang, it was less than a second but it still meant everything to you.
You and Sinead screamed your lungs out, desperate to have him look at you once again. It didn't happen, and as you were about to get chosen to meet him someone complained you'd pushed in and then security were dragging you back to your seat as someone got picked where you had been stood. That night you cried and felt so fucking stupid for it, but you had fallen for him, you knew it wasn't a stupid fan thing because it felt real to you; the feelings were too strong for it not to be.
You had thrown yourself into work after that night, and tried to put it all behind you, move on and live in the real world for once. You met someone, and he is nice he helped ease the pain a while, helped you to block out the daft feelings you had for a famous rock star you'd never met. You stayed together months nothing serious and each time you heard one of the bands songs it still ached at your heart, gave you a stupid pain you wish would just disappear. Then one day you are cooking and the radio is on and you hear his voice, it makes you gasp and rush over to the radio and turn it up. Brendan is on a live radio chat with the group, and they say they're doing a special concert, and it's in Chester and...
You fling your chef whites off and rush to The Loft where Sinead is working taking two steps at a time you find her behind the bar. Your breathing is erratic and you can't talk properly, mumbling stupid jumbled up words to her making Sinead walk you over to the sofas. And you calm down with a glass of water she's offered you and you manage to speak finally.
Ste takes a final deep breath before speaking in a high voice "He's coming to Chester!" Sinead moves around to the side and sits down next to Ste.
"Who's coming babe?" Sinead asks resting a hand on Ste's knee trying to comfort him.
"Brendan, Brendan Brady and the band, they are playing a concert here in Chester! You gotta come with me, please?" Ste begs Sinead who rubs at her forehead.
"Oh I guess we could go, it's been a while since we let our hair down,how about that fella you've been seeing,he coming along?"
"Nope,just me and thee! Besides we are just having fun,nothing serious anyway"
"Oh Ste, please tell me you ain't still hung up over Brendan, babe, he's a rock star, you know famous?" Sinead warns "Like you'll ever bloody meet him"
"Look they are doing the meet and greet, we just have to get front row tickets!"
"How will we manage...Oh No! We are not camping out side the ticket office!" Sinead looks at Ste's widened grin as he nods his head "Oh lord, we are camping outside the ticket offices aren't we?"
Ste stands up and grabs Sinead up quickly. "I will sort us a tent! It's gonna be mint, and then they will pick us and you can have Simon and me well Brendan Brady is all mine!" Ste licks his lips and beams
Brendan is sat in the small radio studio surrounded by stupidly large microphones, as the DJ plays their new single he and the others are cramped huddled together in the room. Brendan and Simon are sat at the table, and Dennis has brought his guitar, so when he clonks Brendan on the back of the head again he's not impressed.
"Dennis! What kind of moron brings a bloody guitar into a radio studio?" Brendan rubs at the back of his head shaking it.
"Erm excuse me for thinking they'd want a solo, you ain't the only one who can sing, let me entertain you!"Dennis begins to warble and plays the guitar much to the annoyance of his band mates.
"Christ who let in the strangled cat?!" Warren smirks tapping his drumsticks together, he always insists on bringing them out, like he thinks there will be a drum kit wherever they may roam.
"Oh shut up, you are just jealous of my voice" Dennis pouts like a child who's had his candy taken away.
The DJ turns to them at last introducing them on 'ChesterRadioGaGa with DJ Alan fisher' to the listening nation he mentions their upcoming concert they are going to do.
"What brings you to Chester guys?" The DJ asks randomly pressing blinking buttons in front of him.
"Well! We are planning a concert here, Its for charity actually! So everyone dig deep and come along!" Simon shouts into the microphones making everyone wince.
"Simon, there's a great big microphone in front of you for a reason!" Dennis bats him on the head with the base of his guitar as a dull twang from the strings fades
"OW!" Simon looks wide eyed gesturing up to Dennis in disbelief, then looks to Brendan who rolls his eyes.
"Jesus, yeah so anyway, there will be a usual meet and greet for the fans that are picked out at random too, from the first front rows, so get your tickets early" Brendan fingers over his moustashe and over the stubble on his chin, he's been growing it out a little as a change, sick of the YMCA and Freddie Mercury digs. Although he loves Queen, especially Bohemian Rhapsody.
The DJ decides to push the boundaries like they always do whenever they do interviews.
"So Brendan, the others always seem to have a way with the ladies, you got anyone in your sights at the moment?"
"Yeah I do actually, your head and Dennis' guitar" Brendan drawls as the DJ raises his eyebrows
"My private life is just that, so it's no ones business who sleeps in my bed OK?" Brendan points angrily at the DJ who holds his hands up in defence.
"Ha Ha" Warren moves Brendan up by the arm and moves back out of the room "Excuse us will you? Dennis, why don't you give the fans a solo yeah?" Warren throws Brendan out of the studio as Brendan removes his arm forcefully from his grip.
"Why Brendan, every time someone asks you, just chill out. In fact meet someone, because you are driving us crazy!" Warren throws up his arms and sinks his back down against the wall to the floor.
"How? How can I meet someone, I can't because they'll go straight to the bloody papers with it, I don't have the time to go and find a fit bloke, you know any? Cos I can't see no damn one!" Brendan gestures his arms out in frustration.
"Date a fan, Brendan; break that stupid rule for once in your miserable life, they practically throw themselves at you anyway!" Warren replied then starts drumming on the carpet next to him making Brendan huff loudly.
"Carpet Warren, not Drums". And never, I will never date a fan; don't care if he's the fittest bloke on earth" Brendan folds his arms and looks into the studio, he sees Dennis and Simon stood up Dennis playing the guitar and them both singing Firestarter by The Prodigy.
"What the actual fu...have ye seen these two?" Brendan gestures his hand to the studio window "Christ who sings that song to a base guitar solo?! I am surrounded by plebs" Brendan rubs at his nose and finds a low sunken chair to sit down on, his leather pants ride up too close and he winces jumping up again.
"Right, I am off to the car, ye deal with those two, I need some air" Brendan exits quickly leaving Warren to finish the radio interview without him.
What do you think? Please review and let me know :) xx
