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darklydeliciousdesires · 14 days

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Sky Full of Stars - An Adrien Brody/Jade Burton (OC) Story.

Lord help me, besties. We're starting this, and we're starting it now because I cannot wait to reveal it to you! I did say I wouldn't write RPF again as it feels too personal a line to cross, so please bear in mind that while I have tried to remain true to who Adrien appears to be, he is a little fictionalised, too. The same goes for his family and friends as well. I have created them as OC's because it feels much too intrusive to his life to write them otherwise.

Well, the first chapter is mammoth, so please do make sure you're sitting comfortably with a drink and some snacky snacks before you embark. I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!

A huge thank you again to my beautiful @jemmalynette for the lovely photo manip she created for me, and to Angelina Jolie for serving as Jade's face claim! If you want to know Jade's voice claim a little better, here. This is the scream she hit Adrien with upon first meeting him! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a98LI-arNS4

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 5,614

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Tell us something about your wife that people would find surprising.”

He mulls it over for a few seconds, looking to his side at her, laughing as he takes in her raised eyebrows. “She’s actually quite introverted, unless she knows the people she’s with well. Then her volume and mischief amp up considerably,” he begins, which I must say is perhaps the last thing I expected him to reply with. “No, no. It’s completely true, she is. She’s often quiet, an extreme juxtapose for how she appears up on stage with a microphone in her hand, but yeah. The Jade you see performing live is a completely different entity to the woman she is away from it, and I found that out pretty quickly after we first met.”

It is a stark contrast to the public persona of Jade Burton-Brody, a woman known for rarely shying away from being outspoken and controversial, whether it be her fiercely penned lyrics, or her opinions on the subject matters she holds dear. She was, after all, the woman who advised legions of young female rock fans to, and I quote, “Burn the patriarchy to the goddamned ground.”

Before me today, though, I do see a much softer side to the screaming hurricane of a woman I familiarised myself with through the scouring of YouTube videos, a woman more than happy to let her husband lead in the questions, always looking to him to reply first. She has spoken in the past of him being her unequivocal strength and support, and I take her back to that, the moment she first met the man she would marry just six months after their first meeting.

“Jade, you’ve spoken about your first meeting a couple of times in the past, but for the record, would you care to share it again?”

She laughs loudly at my question, leaning into her husband a little, combing her fingers through her hair as she remembers fifteen years into the past. “I screamed in his face, he liked it, and the rest is history.”

Indeed, such a meeting did seal itself into history, the moment the iconic pair met captured by a photographer pointing his camera in the right direction at exactly the right time, immortalising the moment where the formidable first lady of metal took to the barriers at the Rock and Iron festival, grabbed the hand of the Hollywood heavyweight, and proceeded to scream like a harpy about an inch from his face. “She blew my eardrums out,” Adrien speaks of the moment, “I had never heard anything that loud in the whole of my life!”

Indeed, like it he did, the first stages of their fledgling relationship captured on film while a documentary team were following her and the band, shooting the footage for the 2010 documentary, “The Devil you Don’t Know.” As the footage shows, the actor found himself with a rare two week break between projects, one of those weeks spent living on a tour bus with the band, unwilling to be parted from the woman he’d struck up such an immediate connection with.

“I called my manager and told her to shift all my interviews to telephone, rearranged everything for the following week before I flew out to Hawaii to begin shooting Predators, and yeah, lived on a bus with five insane, but adorable women for seven days.” He smiles a little shyly, his eyes warm as he views her. “Didn’t want to let her go.”

When asked if it was love at first sight, he elaborates a little further. “I’ve never believed in that. Too many components have to fall into place for love to bloom, so I don’t think it can be so spontaneous as to simply view somebody and feel such a powerful emotion right off the bat. After that week I spent with her, though. Yeah. I departed from the tour knowing I’d left behind the girl I was going to marry someday.”

And for Jade? “I knew. He was my person. Still is fifteen years on, too.”

Just viewing the natural ease the couple have around one another cements that, after battling with so much over their years together. They both freely admit they rarely saw one another for the first two years of their marriage, their relationship plagued by media scrutiny, storms of paparazzi, accusations of their romance serving purely as a manufactured PR pairing for publicity, others stating that it was to give Jade greater leverage as she further embarked upon her acting career away from the world of music. One only has to watch the woman on screen to see that she carries enough weight from her own talents to not need the bolstering of her husband’s surname to snare her hard-earned successes.

Indeed, the pair have weathered many storms and come through them stronger, standing as one of Hollywood’s most illimitable power couples, yet the term is somewhat lost on them both. “We’re complete dorks,” Jade laughs, “we really are. We set one another off all the time being absolutely ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” her husband confirms, beginning to chuckle right on cue. “Nobody makes me laugh like her. It’s so corny, but truly, she’s my best friend. Deciding to get on that bus fifteen years ago was one of the greatest decisions I ever made.”

It can be witnessed quite easily, too. It takes only a few glimpses into their respective social media accounts to see the humorous ease they tease one another with, but always with incredible affection. ‘Baby love! <3 Love you too, Morticia!’ Adrien commented on a heartfelt post his wife recently shared to Instagram, a throwback picture of the pair kissing at the 2016 Oscar’s ceremony, where his beloved won best supporting actress for her role across from Robert De Niro in the 2016 blockbuster, Five Marked Men.

“It took him about a month to get over me with black hair instead of blonde, so I was Morticia for four straight weeks instead of Jade!” she laughs, obviously taking his teasing with good humour.

“I was so damned proud of her, even though I couldn’t get used to the black hair,” he laughs taking her hand in his. “Always have been. She’s incredible.”

And truly? Adrien wasn’t wrong in what he stated about boarding that tour bus in the interview for a very well-known media outlet, who had come to their home for a rare glimpse into their private life together. Yet for Jade, it began much earlier than that, at a time when perhaps she was least willing to hear what her future had in store for her.

San Luis Obispo, CA, 2007.

“Come on, Skippy. No dragging those feet.”

Jade did nothing to conceal the force of her huff, pulling back from the beachfront steps of the home she was being dragged to by the enthusiastic, blonde whirlwind that was her closest friend and drummer in their band. Jen had always put a lot of faith in psychics, Jade not so much at all, living in a world of regret at agreeing from sheer relentless nagging only to go and have her tealeaves read.

“You have to stop calling me Skippy. One day, this day, actually. Enough!”

Jen grinned, a flash of bright white teeth widening her mouth. “Maybe when you don’t make clicking noises like the little kangaroo in your sleep, I might.” Skippy or Skip, it had been her much-begrudged nickname since they’d struck up a friendship as teenagers upon Jade’s arrival from the UK to America.

Entering the home, they were greeted warmly by Cerise, the lady of the tealeaves, tarot cards and all things mystic, Jade politely giving her a little hug before they seated themselves at the large, round table. All around, large canvasses ode to the divine and spiritual covered the walls, candles flickering, incense burning, casting strong plumes of eastern fragrance into the air.

“Her first!” Jen spoke enthusiastically as the tea was poured, drumming her hands rapidly off the table.

Cerise jerked her head to the left, viewing Jade with a warm smile. “She’s always tapping, this one, isn’t she?”

“Typical drummer,” she confirmed, winking at her as Cerise went about her tea preparation, the women making pleasant chit chat as the brew was drank.

“Now, you don’t have to tell me anything, darling. I’m not one of those charlatans who cold reads situations to feed it back to you. What I see, I see it without being told anything from the person I’m reading from.” She truly doubted the validity of that, but nodded politely, passing her cup into Cerise’s outstretched hand. “I sometimes get extra information from my spirits as well, so if they have anything, they’ll pipe up. They usually do.” Staring into the cup, she began studying the pattern of the grainy tea, humming to herself. “The man you’re with right now? He isn’t the one. It’ll be the one after him.”

Immediately, Jade found herself feeling prickled on the inside, mildly incensed that anyone would say that the man she’d spent three years with happily would not end up as the one she would stay so blissfully in love with. How dare she even suggest!

She wouldn’t unleash that indignance, though. “How can you tell?”

“Trust me, darling. I can tell. Oh, my spirits are in good voice, hold on.” Closing her eyes, she appeared as if she was listening, shaking her head and waving her hands. “One at a time, for the love of...” Jade’s face of utter disbelief earned her a soft foot to the shin beneath the table, Jen tightening her lips and widening her eyes. Cerise nodded, humming in confirmation before casting her eyes back to the cup. “Okay, I have more information. The man you’ll end up with, well you’ll know for sure when you meet him, sweetheart. You’ll scream at him. He also has the same name as your dog.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jade coughed, her beloved Great Dane appearing in her mind’s eye. “I’m meeting someone called Brodie, who I’ll scream at? Right. Okay.”

“He’ll spell it differently, darling. Oh, and his eyes. You’ll love his eyes, because you will never have seen green like them before. Yes, most certainly, he is the man who will come into your life and never leave it.”

She had to bite her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. “Alright. Thank you.”

While a much more willing Jen had her tealeaves read, Jade went outside for a cigarette, calling her boyfriend to relay the ridiculous message she’d just been given.

“Um, she said what?” Ivan snorted, his laugh booming down the phone. “Uh-uh, no fucking way. Like I’d ever let you go.”

The Russian born, but American raised Ivan Kuznetsov had been her absolute everything since meeting him three years previously, watching him win his bout at a UFC fight in Las Vegas. Because of their schedules, Jade and her seemingly endless long hauls of touring, also parlaying her talents into the acting world, and Ivan locked in rigorous training, they didn’t see as much of one another as they’d have liked, but they made it work.

Until they didn’t. Until it broke, or rather, until he and his famously ferocious temper broke it completely, almost twelve months on from the tealeaves message she’d received, and quickly forgotten all about. She’d have been lying if she’d claimed she hadn’t seen the red flags, Ivan’s steroid use growing completely out of control, cheating urine tests in order to keep juicing, growing ever bigger through the use of the banned substance. It wasn’t just his muscles and performance that had dramatically grown. So had his temper.

Roid rage, they called it. It was never something she thought she would bear witness to, until she found herself on his kitchen floor, being throttled and punched, her only saviour her dog, the Great Dane bitch jumping on his back and sinking her teeth into the meat of his trapezius at seeing her human being so viciously beaten.

The combined effort of a valiant rescue dog and a woman determined not to die at her fiancé's hands got him off of her, Jade grabbing Brodie’s collar and her bag as she ran from the house, dived into her car and drove away as quickly as she could.

She never returned.

Ivan was arrested and subsequently charged for the sickening assault that disgraced his name in the sporting world, discharged from the UFC and sent away to serve a five-year prison sentence. It was a pitiful excuse for justice, especially when he’d probably be freed after three if he behaved himself. Jade knew the outcome likely wouldn’t see him put away for any longer, as she’d been advised by her legal team prior to giving evidence at the trial. Domestic violence victims rarely did receive the adequate recompense where the punishment of their abuser was concerned.

A victim. It was a role she’d sworn never to play, speaking on the event many months afterwards. “I am not his victim. I’m the one who had the sense to get away as soon as he raised a hand to me. There’s nothing that correlates to victimhood there.”

Some doubted her stance, thinking her to be in denial over it, claiming she needed to seek therapy to get herself through her ordeal. In Jade’s mind, her therapy was her music, one of the tracks from her band’s seventh album, entitled Nomad, serving as cathartic release over the attack. It also got her through the passing of her beloved Brodie, the dog dying at the grand old age of eleven six months after she’d parted ways with Ivan. It was almost unheard of for the breed to reach such an age, and if Jade was thankful for anything, it was having an extra three unexpected years with her faithful old girl.

She felt lonely if she let herself sit still for long enough, so kept busy through the machine that was her life, driving her from movie set to stage to recording studio, long hours and hard work elevating her status in both worlds, her band, Seventh Gate releasing Nomad to a huge success and taking to the road in early two thousand and nine, complete with a stint moving from one summer festival to the next.

One such date upon that stint was the Rock and Iron show, something all the girls in the band had been looking forward to playing. It had been a longstanding one-day festival held in California for the past eleven years, the band playing it a couple of times before on the smaller stage.

This time, though, playing the prime afternoon spot of 3pm-4pm, they walked out on the main stage at the open-air show to eighty thousand screaming rock fans, Jade feeling sick with nerves, as usual. It didn’t matter an ounce that the rock press hailed her as the first lady of metal, who praised her huge vocal range and coined her as one of the first to combine both powerful, clean vocals and blistering, guttural roars. She still felt like her legs were about to give way every time she climbed the steps and walked across the stage, ready to view her kingdom.

Or queendom, as it was. Because to the thousands of people who cheered at the sight of her, she was their monarch. Some viewed her a little differently.

“Oh man, there she is!” Lewis piped up, clapping his hands above his head. “There’s god!”

Adrien turned to view him with mild incredulity, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else with this fanboy thing you have going on.” Whatever he might have followed that with was obliterated by the noise that came from the speakers, the roar of guitars, drums like canons, and a scream that sounded like something he could only liken to a creature being spat up from hell for being too aggressive. “Damn. She’s got some pipes.”

Lewis didn’t reply, too busy getting into the first song of their set, Adrien feeling himself furtherly crushed right up against the barrier. He was trying to have a good time, he truly was, but metal wasn’t really where it was at for him. A die-hard hip-hop connoisseur, being dragged to an open-air rock and metal festival hadn’t been his idea, but Lewis’s girlfriend had bailed on him, quite literally, ending their relationship just one month prior. Conveniently, he had a rare two weeks off work, so had allowed his friend to talk him into it.

As his chest was shunted hard against the barrier for what felt like the four hundredth time that afternoon, he once again sorely regretted it. However, looking up at the stage, he couldn’t help but view the women performing upon it with genuine curiosity. They were perhaps the tightest in sound of anyone he’d seen that day, their energy enigmatic, especially the swagger exuded from their front woman.

She was like a supernova personified, commanding a crowd of thousands, her presence much larger than the tall, yet slight frame it inhabited. Although the music wasn’t to his taste, he had to admit she impressed him, having the vocal range that allowed her to sing powerfully delivered harmonies one minute, and roars that sounded not of his earth the next. Her talent completely blew him away.

Also, her adoration for her fans was clear, sending the security into a frenzy when she jumped down off the stage between songs, embracing a few people reaching for her on the front row as the next song began to filter through the wall of speakers. The crowd screamed along with the opening lyrics, Adrien watching as suddenly, the blonde whirlwind strode in his direction at speed, jumping onto the barrier, grabbing his hand, and bellowing out a scream a mere inch from his face. He laughed, Lewis nearly fainted, and Jade winked at him before she was gone again in a blink, returning to the stage.

“Do you know how goddamned lucky you are? Dude!” Lewis yelled, mouth hanging open. “Dude! God just screamed right in your face!”

Adrien continued to chuckle, looking up at the stage. “Yeah,” he spoke, his heart fluttering, “guess she did.” While her music mightn't have been to his taste, seeing her so close up, he had to admit the way she looked definitely was. God, she was sexy. Very, very sexy “I think she blew my fucking eardrums out!”

Lewis was in fits at his assertion, clapping him on the back before continuing to enjoy the show. At the next break between songs, Jade found herself beckoned for by Katie, their lead guitarist, her eyes wide as she jumped up and down with her usual zany energy. “Bro! You just screamed in Adrien Brody’s face!”

“Who?”

“Adrien fucking Brody! The actor!”

Jade was still none the wiser. “The hot guy with the dark hair?”

“Yes!”

“What’s he been in?”

Katie could have slapped her. “Um, only your mom’s favourite movie.”

Finally, the penny dropped. “Oh shit, the guy from The Pianist?”

“Yes!”

“That’s him?”

“Yes, you massively blind douche! God damnit, you never know who anybody is!”

Her eyes almost came out on stalks for not actually recognising him.

“Oh my god!” Having a very large crowd to entertain, she couldn’t say anything further on the subject, but she kept her eye on him for the rest of their set, calling over one of their roadies a couple of songs later as she ran to the side of the stage to grab her flask of herbal tea. “I take it you know who Adrien Brody is, right?” she asked, letting the herbal brew sink down her throat and coat it in an effort to not feel like she’d swallowed a chainsaw.

Sunni smirked, stroking his beard. “Yeah, boss. The guy whose face you screamed in.”

“Give him and whoever he’s with backstage passes. I wanna meet him.” She watched as Sunni scuttled off to go and locate a few of the prized lanyards that gave people access to the coveted backstage area, before launching into the next song. Out of the corner of her eye, she was able to see Adrien and the guy with the blonde hair he was with jump the barrier, being escorted stage right to watch the remainder of their set from the wings, along with the rest of the Seventh Gate road crew.

While there, they were approached by a woman who introduced herself as Hazel Bernstein, the tour manager for the band, asking since they were currently being filmed for a documentary about Jade’s life and career if they minded being on camera. They confirmed that no, they didn’t mind at all, Hazel having them sign a couple of release forms before another member of the crew ushered them backstage.

The area was made up of large tents dotted around for each band to reside in before and after their performances, the guys shown in and furnished with beers as they sat down on one of the couches provided.

Adrien looked to his side, watching Lewis as his eyes darted around. “You look edgy, man.”

“I’m about to meet one of my favourite bands, and I don’t even have a fucking clue what the hell to say to them!” he exclaimed, gulping back his beer.

He couldn’t help himself. “Hello might be a good place to start.”

“Noted, Captain Sarcastic.” Looking at him, he burst into a snorting fit of laughter, wishing he had a fraction of his very famous friend’s effortless cool. Alas, he did not. The first of the women through the tent made his mouth drop open, Katie going to the cooler and pulling herself out a bottle of bourbon, emptying an eye watering amount into an ice-filled red solo cup before she came right on over.

“Hi guys! How you doing, you having a good time? Damn, it’s fucking hot, right?” She talked rapidly, like a machine gun going off, shaking their hands with the exact same enthusiasm she spoke with, Lewis looking like he was about to burst.

“Katie Gilmore, just coming over, shaking my hand, asking how I am, like I’m fucking anyone at all,” he spoke in a daze of disbelief, Adrien shaking his head.

“Ignore him, he’s a little... yeah.”

She chuckled, lifting her cup to him. “And you’re one helluva actor, my guy. I could be obvious and praise you to hell for The Pianist, because damn, that movie was outstanding, but I fucking adored you in Summer of Sam! You make a cute punk, bro!”

“Thank you,” he smiled graciously, “and in turn, you’re a hell of a guitarist. I don’t know much about rock or metal, but you make what I guess is real difficult look incredibly easy.”

They were then joined by the force of nature that was Jen, the band’s drummer, the tall, rail thin blonde approaching, pointing at Adrien. “Can I sit on your lap and get a picture with you, dude?”

He smiled, patting his black denim covered thighs. “Sure, hop on.”

“Billy!” she roared, moving to throw herself down, “get over here and do the clicky, clicky!” A man holding a professional camera ambled over, Jen smiling as she wrapped her arms around him, and then promptly licked his cheek. “Man, you taste delicious!” she shouted, Adrien laughing, a little taken aback at her brash behaviour, but somehow quite charmed all the same. “What is that?”

“Sweat and beer,” he confirmed, Jen throwing her head back and roaring before she got up.

“My favourite things! See you guys later, I gotta go see some other people!” Sweat and beer, also cocaine, if her eyes were anything to go by. He knew high as hell when he saw it.

“Hey, you boys like tequila? I got a load in the cooler, let’s get some shots in, huh?” Katie spoke, grabbing a hand a piece and hauling them up. There, they were introduced to rhythm guitarist Charlotte, who was much, much quieter than the other members of the band they’d met so far, very reserved and polite. Still, Lewis was firmly stuck in starstruck mode, trying hard to find some semblance of cool, but losing it completely.

And then she walked on over.

“Hi,” she chirped in a voice that sounded much too sweet ever be able to conjure the ferocious roars she was famous for, Lewis looking like he was about to pass out. Jade wasn’t looking at him for long, though. “How are you?”

“A little deaf,” Adrien admitted.

“Sorry about that,” she cringed, laughing softly. “One hearing test owed to Adrien Brody. Noted.” Oh, she was witty. He liked witty.

“Yeah, that’s one hell of a set of lungs you have,” he complimented, Jade moving past where her girls stood, pulling herself a bottle of water from the cooler, sinking a shot Katie thrust in her direction.

“Mm, yeah,” she hummed quietly, unscrewing the bottle cap, cocking her head as a confident smile shined through. “I like to think so.” God, the man had the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen in her life, Jade feeling herself pulled in by them, trying not to feel awkward at the fact that she was standing there talking to a man whose fame eclipsed her own in shades. She could feel her internal monologue beginning to flounder at what to say to him next, relieved when Adrien pointed to her t shirt.

“Rough Trade, that’s about my favourite record store in all of New York. Spent entirely too much time and money in there during my youth,” he noted, Jade gesturing to the couch.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she spoke as they sat down, sipping her water. “I used to work there on a weekend before the band blew up and took off.”

“Yeah? What part of New York did you live in? I take it from the accent that you moved over, right?” Of course, she did. Duh. He could have kicked himself, but she didn’t react in any way other than to politely answer.

“I did. I’m from Tottenham, London, but moved over with my parents when I was thirteen. I lived in Harlem. What about you? You sound New York born and bred, and apologies if you think I might be one of those people who knows everything about you already, but I really don’t!”

He watched the embarrassment crease her face as she cringed, reaching to gently squeeze her wrist. “No, you’re fine! God, it’s refreshing, actually, to talk to somebody who doesn’t know anything about me already!” he began, very much enjoying that she truly was a little clueless over him. It made weeding out those with a genuine interest in who he was away from his famous persona much easier. “And yeah, Queens born and bred.”

“Do you still live there?”

“In New York, yeah, but further north. I’ve a house in Oswego County, right out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a mess still, long term restoration project, but I like it. I like not being bothered while I’m not working. I have a place here, too, but only a rental. How about you?”

“Couple of places,” she began, noticing the documentary guys hovering, pointing at them discreetly. “Don’t mind, do you?”

“I don’t. Your tour manager already came and asked us.”

She nodded, continuing. “So yeah, I have a house out in California and an apartment in the West Village. I just bought a property over in England as well, gorgeous estate in Buckinghamshire that the Laurel Canyon house is shortly being rented out to afford.”

Rock music was lucrative, it seemed, for her to own three homes. “That’s smart, renting. You’ll get more for it long term, too. Especially with the association of living in a rock star’s house.”

“Certain would-be renters’ll probably think I have cocaine stashed all over or something,” she snorted, “which is hilarious as I don’t do hard drugs. Used to, but it messed with my ability to perform, so I knocked it on the head.”

He loved how candid she was, not hiding anything for appearances sake. She was also entirely too beautiful for her own good, with the prettiest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen in his life, eyes he couldn’t look away from for a second. A parade of naked women could have walked into the tent right at that moment, and he wouldn’t even have turned his head.

They continued their talk, seemingly oblivious to the merriment going on around them, finding out tentative bits of information about one another, their families, their interests and passions. They had one in particular that surprised the hell out of him.

“Get the fuck out of here! You’re into hip-hop?”

“No, you get the fuck out,” she teased, gently pinching his arm as she laughed. “Yeah, I am! I’m into so much music, but growing up in the areas that I did, it was such an ingrained staple. I was the only white girl amongst all my friends and just absorbed the hip-hop culture like a sponge. I got to listen to so much in the store too. It had its perks, working at Rough Trade.

“I still nearly died on the spot when Method Man came strolling in one day. Wu Tang had released thirty-six chambers the year before, and I couldn’t stop playing it, so yeah, I was completely dumbstruck. He walks up to the counter and I’m just like, “no way, you’re Method Man,” to which he smiled, looked at my name tag and said, “no way, you’re Jade. Whassup, girl?" We became friends, he’s such a cool guy. Comes by my place whenever he can when we’re both back in New York. I cook him pasta and he plays me new stuff he’s been working on. I got a lot of time for Clifford, he’s real straight up.”

“Yeah, I know him a little, too. I’m more friends with RZA, though. I got into making beats in my teens and he’s acted as a mentor to me. Cool guy,” he replied casually, Jade grasping his arms and giving them a little shake.

“You make beats?” she cried, her eyes widening, “play me something! Do you have anything on your phone?”

He shook his head. “Nope, it’s all at home on my laptop. But I will one day, though.” She made a sad face, Adrien pulling his arms from her soft grip, linking his fingers through hers. Oh... too forward, he suddenly panicked. When her fingers squeezed his hands, he realised it wasn’t. Her lit-up face told him it wasn’t, too. God, it was like a thunderbolt had just cut through the tent and hit him square atop his head. “You’re too cute, you know that? I definitely will let you listen to some of it. I plan for us to meet up at the same time in the same place again, for sure.”

“Not many people call me cute,” she admitted, stroking her thumbs in circles over his palms. “Lots of other things. Loud mouthed bitch, profane whore, evil cock tease, but rarely cute.”

The way she looked at him, licking her lip, oh fuck. Yep. He sensed something quite predatory lurking beneath the surface of the quiet, charming woman he was enjoying the hell out of getting to know. What was more? He liked it. “I think the latter is probably fairly apt, isn’t it?”

She leaned forward, her lips tickling the lobe of his ear. “Might show you one day.” His face must have said it all, betrayed the barrier he tried to rapidly build to conceal the fire she’d stoked, licking his insides in a blaze.

Holding eye contact with her, he lifted his chin slightly, his smile growing. “Might let you.” They held each other’s gaze, almost defying the other to look away first, Jade playing with his hands, running her nails up and down his long fingers, licking her lips. Oh, she was so, so sexy. “Might just tease you back twice as bad.”

He winked, and her stomach exploded with butterflies, dropping her gaze for a moment, her internal monologue stuck on excited screaming mode. “It’s so loud in here. Do you want to go someplace quieter?”

“That’d be good. Is my boy gonna be alright, or are your girls gonna eat him alive?” he spoke, nodding over her shoulder, seeing Lewis looking very well settled, drinking and laughing with Katie and Charlotte.

“Yeah, the lesbians will look after him well. They’re together, if you didn’t know. Most don’t unless you’re a fan of the band,” she spoke, Adrien only noticing it then, the understated way they had their pinky fingers linked together. Cute.

“Ahh, he’ll know, then. Save himself the embarrassment of trying to give his usual awkward advances toward two girls who don’t bat for his team.” They got up, exiting the tent without being noticed, although Jade was called out to by a few peers and industry folks as they walked down towards where all the busses were parked a short way from the entrance to the backstage compound.

As he walked, Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so excited to spend time with someone who wasn’t a friend or family member, the people much missed as his hectic life whirled around him. He had no idea how much time he’d have with this utterly charming woman who turned to smile at him, but god, he hoped the minutes began to tick backwards with every step he took.

#adrien brody fanfiction #adrien brody x ofc #adrien brody fanfic #adrien brody fic #adrien brody smut #adrien brody #sky full of stars #adrien and jade

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darklydeliciousdesires · 12 days

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Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Two.

Ahhh, fuck it. Why not another chapter to get the ball rolling? You guys are so good to me with your lovely comments, so in turn, you get more story!

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,312

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Hey Jade, I’ll give you some privacy,” Marv, their driver spoke with his usual wide smile upon seeing her climb onto the bus with a guy he recognised but couldn’t immediately place why. “Need to go find me some food anyway.”

“Alright, Marv. The food truck has just about everything tonight. No more bad burgers!” she chuckled, moving through the narrow gangway. The bus wasn’t what he’d expected it would look like, a small lounge area at the front, two rows of sleeping bunks towards the centre, a tiny kitchen area and even smaller bathroom (complete with an amusing handwritten sign that advised if anyone took a crap, their head got flushed along with it) and finally, another lounge area right at the back.

The seating section surrounded a small table, the space perhaps the least claustrophobic on the bus. It certainly looked a lot larger on the outside than it did within. How she coped being cooped up in it while travelling, he didn’t know.

“Do you want a drink? I’ve got wine somewhere, do you like Merlot?” she asked, beginning to root around in the overhead cupboards. “No, it’s in the kitchenette. Hang on.”

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” Sitting down, he had mere moments to take stock of what an interesting day it had been so far. It had started out not so great, jammed against a barrier with a crush of a permanently apoplectic mosh pit behind him, the early evening bringing with it something much more comfortable and sedate. He was joined again quickly by the woman who only continued to captivate him further with every passing moment, passing him a solo cup half filled with red wine.

“Sorry for the uncouth receptacle. We don’t keep breakables on the bus beyond coffee mugs, save things getting smashed to hell,” she explained, taking a seat. “So, tell me more about you. You’ve fascinated me so far. I want to know what lurks beneath the extremely attractive exterior.”

Yes, she certainly was very naturally charming, Adrien feeling his stomach flutter pleasantly. She hadn’t asked him about his acting, or which industry people he knew, what he’d be working on next, oh no. Him. She wanted to know about him. It made for a refreshing change, although eventually she did inquire into his profession, one she was slowly making waves in herself. Lamentably, although she’d been in quite a high number of projects over the past eight years, he hadn’t actually seen her in anything. Or so he thought.

“I mean, it was only a small, independent movie, but I’m really proud of it, playing an icon like Janis. She was such a huge influence,” she spoke, watching his eyes widen.

“Shit, I have seen you in something. I saw you in that! Sorry, it’s just, you look very different to how you did playing her, obviously.”

“What did you think?” she asked, sipping her wine. “No need to flatter me either. Be honest.”

“Honestly?” He paused a moment, scratching his chin and pulling his cigarettes out, lighting up and knocking the pack across the table to her, Jade sliding the ashtray closer. “I think you did the best with what you had to work with. You played a very convincing Janis Joplin from what I know of her, but the direction of it wasn’t great. They could have done a lot more. From what I remember, you really put your heart into it, green to playing a lead role as you were - and that did show – but your performance what made it.”

His words surprised her. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the direction of the biopic, but the fact he’d been completely honest with her. “Thank you. See, so many people have been phony about it, blown smoke right up my ass, but what you said was exactly how I felt. I put my all into it, although I ultimately felt like I was only as good as what I was given. They skipped over so much of her life that would have made it even more interesting, only to go for the sensationalist element. Bloody pissed me right off.”

He loved the way her speech was a mishmash of Britishisms and Americanisms, a slight New York lilt coming through on every sixth or so word.

“You’ll learn the further you get into it, be more selective over what you give your time to.” She asked him if he minded giving her a little more advice there, Adrien only happy to, liking very much how completely unpretentious she was.

In her world, she was a big deal, huge, in fact, but in acting she was still a relatively small fish in an extremely large pond. As for Jade, she considered herself extremely lucky, getting to listen to the wisdom a man who since winning an Oscar seven years before had only gone from strength to strength.

“I know it comes with the job, speaking to press, but I always feel somewhat antsy about it,” he began a time later, as they spoke of the pitfalls of their respective careers, chewing the corner of his lip. “It isn’t even an editing thing; your words just tend to get filtered through the gaze of so many other people and it ends up as a rendition of you rather than the definitive portrait. And preconceived notions can be tough to shake.”

Oh, the affinity. His words definitely struck a chord. “This is why I’m very interview shy. I’m too much of a juxtapose, and people don’t know how to take me. Yes, I’m quite quiet and introverted to a degree, but also, when it comes to my work, I don’t take any shit, and I will call people out on it. This leads to me being labelled as difficult, all because I tire of the same bullshit questions that my male counterparts don’t get asked, for example.

“So, I set certain terms, dictate which are allowed and unallowed questions, and that apparently makes me an obstreperous bitch. Journalists go in there and instead of focusing on what I actually say when they meet me, they’ve already made up their minds. Then the filtering you speak of happens, and it gets even fucking worse.” She paused then, tightening her mouth a little. “Just say if I talk too much. I tend to jabber on when I feel comfortable with somebody.”

He reached for her, sweeping the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “You’re fine. I like hearing your thoughts.” In turn, she liked sharing them, too. There was something about him she felt inexplicably drawn to, like she could trust him with anything, and not receive a drop of judgement; just a very good ear.

“So, why Seventh Gate?” he asked a while later, watching as she played with the flame on a candle she’d brought in to illuminate the space the darker it got. She detested false light as much as he did. “Is it from the urban legend?”

“Yes!” she enthused, utterly delighted at his accuracy. Surprisingly, not many people guessed right away. So the aforementioned legend stated, if anybody passed through all seven specific gates dotted around in a woodland area within Hellam Township in Pennsylvania, they descended directly to hell.

“A few buddies and I went and did the trail one time, drove down there with the location details of all the gates, but completely chickened out of crossing all of them. It was dumb, because it’s a complete myth, but nope, we were way too pussy to do it,” he laughed, watching as she giggled with mirth.

“We shot a music video there, got wasted drunk and ended up running through all of them. We did the last one bare assed naked, me with Jen on my back while chugging a bottle of vodka and screaming ‘take me Satan!’ at two in the morning, with the entire production crew crying laughing.”

“You’re fucking insane,” he laughed, that laughter loudening considerably as he pictured it.

“Yeah, we’re a little mental when the mood takes us.”

He could well believe it. “I sense there’s a lot more you could reveal that’d probably make my hair stand on end.”

Hmmm. To divulge her years as an absolute hellion to the nice guy sitting adjacent to her, or keep quiet? “C’mon, spill.”

Well, he asked for it.

“We got arrested for inciting a riot outside Tower Records in downtown Oklahoma, about five years ago. Huge police presence, fans jumping on cars, us thriving in the middle of it with our security team going crazy. It was fun. We got let out shortly after thanks to the negotiation skills of our manager, played the show that night, and then caused about ten grand’s worth of damage at the club the afterparty was held in.

“Still though, through all of that madness, I think I was just playing a part, getting the hedonism out of the way. I found fame so early, signed at seventeen, an album recorded in the same year and thrown out onto one tour after another for sixteen months without a real break. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still like to party, but not to those kinds of extremes.”

“Not so wild any longer, huh?”

Oh, the grin that spread across her perfect, pillowy pout. It made him twitch quite sharply in a place he wasn’t sure he should quite so soon after meeting her. “Only in two places. On stage and in bed.”

He arched an eyebrow, eyes sweeping her a few times. “Being a tease again, hmm?”

“Depends.” The look she fixed him with amped his pulse instantly, Adrien not able to remember the last time he’d had such efficiently potent sexual magic cast upon him.

“On?”

Taking a big gulp of her wine, she licked a drop from her lip, staring into the blazing green of his eyes. “Whether if I came over there and straddled your lap, you’d let me kiss you or not.”

He had to admire her nerve. She had way more game than he did. His eyes fell to his thighs, then back at her with a smirk. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

She moved the three feet separating them slowly, her glide all feline, much more cheetah than tame house cat, her eyes glinting like blue shards through the dim light. Moving carefully astride him, it burned slow like napalm, her hands resting to his chest, stroking down as he clasped her narrow waist, their foreheads touching.

“Mmm, wow, Mr. B,” she purred, her heart thundering through an inferno within her chest. “Aren’t you absolutely divine close up?” Her lips had caught his before he could even think of replying, their kiss deepening to a slow dance of tongues within a second. It was lazy, yet scorching, their hands roaming one another as the burn gained heat.

A soft moan echoed her throat, her hands moving to rake her nails down the dark stubbly beard flecking his cheeks and neck, the sound darting right to his cock. His entire being hummed with it, the desire to slowly peel off her clothes, but he wouldn’t be that guy. He never had been, and oh, how his body hated him for it, feeling her pressed right up against him, aching in his gut to take it further.

“Oh wow,” she murmured, her mouth moving to his neck to lay delicate little kisses, swirls of her tongue tasting his flesh, the salt of sweat mixed with whatever cologne he wore faintly lingering there against his gorgeous skin. “The way you kiss gives me serious cunt flutters.”

He snorted, laughing softly at her so alluringly delivered crudeness. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” That little hum preceded her mouth landing upon his again, and god, how she could have ripped all of his clothes off and ridden him to the edges of heaven right there and then, she was so torridly aroused by the man beneath her. She wouldn’t, though. Gone were the days of quick sex with a hot guy simply to sate her desire. With him, she knew she wanted more. “Okay, if I don’t control myself now I never will, but please know you make that very difficult.”

He shook his head, arms tightening around her. “Sorry. I’m not about to let you go.” More kisses followed, a little calmer, gentler passions exchanged, the contented murmurs he made causing her heart to skip happily. At thirty-one years old, it had been a long, long time since a man had made her feel like she was a young woman in first flushes of becoming utterly besotted with somebody, and even though she was more than used to it, it pained her that she’d have to let him go in a few hours.

That feeling? It was entirely mutual.

Eventually, they settled to resting beside one another, two sets of long legs propped up on the table, Jade lying with her head against his chest as they talked, and talked, and talked.

“So, why’s it complicated?”

“Well, I suppose it isn’t really, but some would see it that way. We’re just a mixed bunch of nomads,” she began, before launching into the story of how she came to be. “So, my mum is the daughter of Italian immigrants. My grandmother was originally from Staten Island, brought there as a baby in arms after her parents moved from Sicily, but then relocated to the UK when my great-grandfather got work over in London for way more pay. They used their entire savings to take the ship voyage over and lived penniless in the Walthamstow slums until his wages came in.

“She grew up poor, but eventually prospered, met another son of Italians and married him, had my mum, but their marriage ended when she was eleven, so my grandmother moved her back to Staten Island for a fresh start. She wanted to be with a man who actually had time for her away from his career. My grandfather worked his way up from washing dishes to head chef, eventually restauranteur, and he always put work before his family, so my gran bailed and went back home.

“Then after four years, very sadly and quickly, she learned she had breast cancer and passed away, so my mum and uncles crossed the ocean again to return to London and live with my grandfather and his new wife. Are you keeping up so far?”

“I am,” he confirmed, making a side-to-side motion with his hand. “There’s a lot of back and forth between Staten Island and London, but I’m with you. Carry on.”

“See what I mean, though? Nomads! So then, mum starts dating this guy at eighteen and unexpectedly falls pregnant. She had no idea what to do, of course coming from a very devout Catholic background she felt guilty as hell over the idea of abortion, but knowing she’d only be nineteen when she gave birth was scary, too. To make it scarier, the guy she was with told her he wasn’t ready to become a father and vanished into thin air, leaving my poor mum alone with an impossible decision to make.

“Well, that was until she met my dad. They fell in love very quickly, and he told her it didn’t matter that she was carrying another man’s baby, he wanted to stand by her and raise me as his own. He always says, “We are not bonded by biology, but god sent you to me as my baby. You are my first born, always.” His name is on my birth certificate, and he adopted me right away. I mean, it’s obvious I’m not his biologically because he’s black, but he’s the only dad I know. You might have seen him earlier, actually. He was the guy who looks a little like Morgan Freeman who was probably looking at me with a mixture of mild despair and a lot of pride. He’s out here for work currently, so swung by to watch us.”

“Why despair?” he laughed, trying to remember if he’d seen such a man in the chaos of that afternoon.

“He says I’m entirely too noisy with a microphone in my hand.”

His mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, kissing the top of her head. “He’s got that right.”

“How are your eardrums now?” she asked, looking up at him with a grin that had him in soft fits.

“Better,” he confirmed, tightening his arm around her. “Continue.”

“Right, so yeah, dad is originally from Harlem, but he got a scholarship place at a university in London based on his academic excellence. And believe me, my dad is so, so smart. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. So, years later, after he’d fully qualified as a doctor and done five years of residency, he was offered a job at New York Presbyterian, we moved back to Harlem, lived in an apartment for a while and then they bought a beautiful brownstone that they still live in to this day.”

“Why did he choose London?” he asked, curious when there were so many amazing colleges in the US.

“He said he wanted to see a little more of the world before he locked himself into being a surgeon, so applied further afield. When he was still studying, him and my mum used to save all their cash and take little backpacking holidays in Europe when I was a baby. There’s a great picture he keeps in his wallet, holding me at the top of the Eifel Tower when I was one, screaming my lungs out!”

Something she had made a very good career out of, he thought. “Do they just have you, or have you any siblings?”

“A brother and a sister four years younger than me, twins, too. Rachel and Marco, named after my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. I got named after my mum’s favourite gemstone. She’s really into Oriental artefacts, it’s what she studied at uni around looking after me, Asian art. She works as a curator now at the Guggenheim, specialising in antiquities from Asia.” She then paused, looking up at him sheepishly. “I’m talking too much. Again.”

“Shut up,” he scolded softly, “I could listen to you tell me about your life for days.”

That made her smile, always thinking she went on entirely too much when she spoke of her life and loves. “Tell me more about yours. About your parents and siblings,” she requested, idly stroking his abs through the dark fabric of his t shirt.

“No siblings, mom said I was too much trouble to think about having more,” he joked, smiling at he thought about her. “She’s a painter and photographer, and my dad is a professor, he lectures in social science at NYU. He likes to paint, too, it’s what bonded them. He met her at an art class they were both taking while they were at university, and he said he has never, ever seen paint used in the haphazard way my mother creates her art. That’s what first attracted him to her, seeing this woman with her hair all pinned up with paint brushes, paint smudges all over her face, staring at her canvas with the kind of focus that made her look constipated, apparently.

“When I was a baby, she used to put my hands and feet in these huge tubs of paint and let me crawl around on giant canvases, and I’d thrive, covering myself in as many colours as I could, rolling around and making a huge mess. My grandmother used to shake her head, baffled at it all, but my mom was just like, “He’s expressing himself, I’m starting him early!” I love to paint for hours, days even when I’m not working. My overall creative drive definitely comes from them. Well, her mostly. The Lois Brody method.”

Her head shot up, eyes rounding. “Your mum is Lois Brody? Oh my god, she’s a legend! I love her photographs!” she cried, Adrien smiling with pride.

“Yeah, she’s amazingly talented. Has this way of capturing something completely minute that others wouldn’t notice and making it the focal point of the entire photograph. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s incredible at seeing what others miss,” he revealed, still smiling widely. He was very proud of his mother, and it showed.

“I had no idea you were her son, but then I don’t know who anybody is. It’s actually embarrassing, how it sails over my head, or how I get people confused. I met Katy Perry and thought she was Zooey Deschanel recently. I told her I recognised her from the TV show Weeds, and she’s just like, ‘eh?’ at me. I’m such a twat,” she confessed, hiding her face behind her hand as he laughed.

“Don’t feel bad, I’m not clued up on pop culture either,” he reassured her, Jade suddenly snorting.

“That isn’t even my worst one. Jen and I went on holiday to Nepal a few years back, and I saw a guy dressed in orange riding a bike and thought he was the Dalai Lama! The tour guide was in hysterics.”

As was Adrien, laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes. “His holiness on a bicycle. That’s amazing!”

“He might like to cycle! You don’t know that he doesn’t!” she cried in a cutely comic voice, her laughter escalating as she sat up, the gorgeous man who embraced her unable to stop himself from completely falling apart.

“Stop it,” he hissed, one arm still around her, the other hugging his stomach, which was starting to hurt. “You’re so damned funny, oh my god.” He composed himself for all of three seconds before falling to pieces again, Jade softly slapping his chest. “I can’t breathe!”

“It isn’t that funny,” she protested, laughing now purely at him continuing to crack up.

“Yes, it is!”

He wouldn't forget that in a hurry, or the night he was sharing with her either, looking at his watch and becoming painfully aware he likely didn’t have long left with her as ten o’clock loomed, asking the question he’d been putting off for the last few hours. “How long do I have you for, then?”

“Until midnight. Then I turn back into a pumpkin.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You know, like Cinderella.”

Oh, god. He couldn’t handle so much laughter. “Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, her coach does!”

Cringing, she hid her face, shaking with laughter. “Oh, yeah that’s right.”

“You’re incredible,” he laughed, holding her close again. “I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna let you go in two hours, you know. This idea doesn’t sit well.”

“No,” she sighed wistfully, stroking his chest, placing a kiss against his collar bone. “Not with me either. God knows when I’ll get to see you again, because I really want to. I’m locked into touring until December, though.”

“Yeah, I have two weeks off as of today and then I’m going to Hawaii to shoot Predators. I’ll be there for a month for all the outdoor filming, then back for a month and a half in LA to finish the rest, then I have three weeks of press stuff booked more or less solidly until mid-December.”

“Boo hiss,” she pouted, hand moving to stroke his face, hating that it would likely be around three months until she got to spend time with the lovely man whose arms she lay in again. “It’s what we signed up for with our careers, but it doesn’t stop it from being disappointing when things like this happen. When you meet someone you really find a connection to, and then can’t spend any further time with them.”

He looked sad, kissing her head, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn as he entered a few moments of contemplation. “What if I didn’t have to leave you just yet?” Met by a face of curiosity, he continued. “How do you feel about tour bus stowaways coming along on tour with you for a week, should said prospective stowaway be able to make that happen?”

Her eyes lit up, pushing herself to sit straighter. “Really? You could do that?”

“Maybe. Gimme ten minutes to go and check.” Kissing her, he stood up, lighting a cigarette and pulling his phone out, heading back down to the front of the bus to make a phone call, the night air cooler than the heat of the day he’d felt himself baking under. While he made a call to his manager, Jade sat and fiddled with her jewellery, nervously awaiting his return. What if he couldn’t? But, oh. The joy if he could.

She could scarcely believe it, that the man actually wanted to blow off his commitments in order to spend a week on a bus with her while she and her band travelled around California to continue to west coast dates of their tour. Seven days with him, although of course it wouldn’t be all of the time, having her own interviews to be present for along the way, visits to radio stations as well, a webcast she was also taking part in too around their live performances. Some of the time would be better than nothing at all, though.

When he walked back in, her heart catapulted into her mouth, his face expressionless before slowly, he began to beam. “Looks like you have me for another week.”

He was deafened for the second time that day, this time by the pitch of the excited shriek she let out, scrambling from her seat and bouncing up into his arms, raining kisses all over his face as he laughed softly, holding her tight.

Seven days. Seven days that would change everything for them both.

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