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elderberrywhine · 5 years

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The Sweetest - Bernie Taupin

Here it is! My first Bernie fic! I hope you all enjoy! Leave me some comments, send in requests!!

When you were in grade four and doe-eyed, wrinkled faced old ladies asked you what you wanted to be when you got older, waitress was never your answer. At one point, you wanted to be a zookeeper, then an artist, then a writer. It wasn’t that nothing stuck or kept your interest very long; although the deeper details of a job at the zoo became wholly unappealing as you grew. In fact, between shifts at the diner, you could be found scribbling stanzas of poetry on napkins or doodling on your order pad. Life had simply thrown a wrench into your hopefully optimistic, fourth grade plans.

The diner wasn’t that bad either. While the uniform you had to wear felt unflattering, the soft blue paired well with the light yellow walls and rich-wood chairs. Al, the more heavy-set chef, was always kind and Rachel, a fellow waitress, always gave you the customers that tipped well. She would silence your protests with a wave of the hand.

“You need to get out of here, Y/N. You’re too big for this small town,” she would say. Normally, you would laugh it off, tell her she was ‘crazy’ and that you were happy right where you were. It was the truth, for the most part. Until one day, it wasn’t anymore.

That was the day Bernie Taupin walked into the diner. The bell dangling in the doorway sounded more like the singing of angels that day. He had walked up and asked for tea with two sugars in the softest voice you had ever heard. From that day on, Bernie had made an effort to stop by the diner each day. Often times he would write in his notebook and whenever you asked, Bernie would explain the song he was writing.

“What’s this one about?” You lean over the counter, eyes studying Bernie’s features with a natural curiosity. Bernie looks up, bright blue eyes meeting your gaze for a split second as you gesture towards his notebook. He shifts on the stool he is sitting on and quickly shut his notebook without missing a beat. “Jus’ some ideas, concepts. Nothing solid quite yet,” he rambles, offering you a smile for your troubles. It isn’t enough, as you quirk a brow at him worriedly.

“Well it’s something worth hiding, obviously,” you point out, “don’t want me to see?” Bernie lets out a breathy laugh, “it’s not done yet. Once it is, I promise, love, you’ll be the first to see it.”

“Hmm, alright,” you hum before sparing a glance at the clock on a nearby wall. Your shift was finally over. You quickly undid the knot of your waitress apron and hung it on a nearby peg. “You’ll have to share tomorrow, Bernie, my shift is done.”

“Really?” Bernie glanced at the clock and his eyes widened. “I guess it is late. I hope I wasn’t keeping you here.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“No, you weren’t,” you giggle, “and I wouldn’t mind sticking around for you.” Bernie’s cheeks go pink as you walk out from behind the counter. Striding over to the employees closet, you pluck your coat and bag off of your hook. Slipping the warm material over your shoulders, you walk back out to the main hub of the diner. Bernie is still there, standing beside the counter. “I could walk you home, if you like,” Bernie offers, his question so quiet you wonder if you had imagined it. When he lifts his eyes to yours, you knew that he had truly asked it.

“I would like that,” you reply, smiling, “I would like that very much.” Bernie smiles too as you walk towards the diner entrance. You push the doors open, holding them open for Bernie as he follows close behind you.

The pair of you walk a few paces in silence, the only sounds around you the slapping of your shoes against the pavement. You had imagined moments like this before; Bernie whisking you away from the diner, but in your mind it was always forever. From the songs he wrote, you knew that he was going to go places and you wanted to be there when he did. You could only hope he wanted you to be there too.

“So,” you drawl, breaking the quiet between you, “you gonna tell me what the song is about?” You lean to the side and bump your shoulder against Bernie’s lightly. He laughs softly, shaking his head so that his long, light brown hair falls off his shoulders.

“It’s not a song yet,” he corrects, “jus’ an idea. And I’d rather talk about you instead.” The blush that overtakes your cheeks is nothing short of burning.

“What about me? ‘M nothing special,” you chuckle lightly, although it stings.

“I think you’re one of the most special people I’ve ever met,” Bernie says, his voice so sincere you have to stop walking. In your pause, Bernie turns to you, blue eyes scanning over your face. “And the most beautiful person, with the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Bernie,” you whisper, brows furrowing as your gaze dances along his face. There is not a trace of falsehood in his eyes, which becomes more apparent as he steps closer to you. He stands before you, so close that you can feel the heat emanating off of his body. A slightly trembling hand reaches up and traces the line of your jaw.

“Is, is this alright?” The stuttering of his gentle voice makes you smile. Nodding quickly, you tilt your neck and lean into his touch.

“More than alright,” you reply, eyes meeting Bernie’s through your lashes. Bernie takes the hint and leans closer to you, his nose grazing your own.

“What about this?” You can tell, despite his steady voice and confident tone, that Bernie was nervous. He didn’t want to cross a line with you and you smiled at his kindness.

“Just kiss me, Bernie,” you whisper playfully. Bernie grins brightly and ends up smiling into the kiss. His lips are soft and taste slightly of sugared tea as his mouth melds with yours. Your arms wrap around behind Bernie’s back, pulling him even closer. At this new angle, Bernie hums in contentment with the softness of the kiss turning more passionate until he pulls away.

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your own as he speaks. You smile, leaning up to peak his lips once more.

“You should have, yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t mind sticking around.” Bernie laughs softly, pressing his forehead to yours with closed eyes. “It’s about you, ya know,” he whispers, eyes fluttering open after a beat. You lean back, pressing yourself against the brick wall of the building behind you. The stone is cold against your palms that still tingled with the warmth of Bernie’s skin.

“What’s about me?” You cock your head to the side and marvel at Bernie’s grin. He stays quiet, eyes never leaving your form. They blaze trails along your body, lingering on your lips until his gaze locks with yours.

“The song,” he admits finally, “I just need to put down the words.” You push yourself off against the wall and close to Bernie once more. Your hands reach up to his chest, fingers wrapping around the zipper of his brown leather jacket.

“You’re wonderful,” you whisper before capturing Bernie’s lips in yet another kiss. Now, without a doubt, you were certain that Bernie would stick around too.

#bernie taupin #bernie taupin x reader #bernie taupin imagine #bernie taupin imagines #bernie taupin x you #rocketman #rocketman imagine #rocketman imagines #bernie taupin fanfiction #rocketman movie #jamie bell

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taste-thewaste · 5 years

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Fic: Rooftop

Title: Rooftop Fandom: Rocketman (2019) Pairings: Elton/Bernie friendship Word count: ~825 Summary: Elton is still having a hard time breaking up with Arabella until Bernie reminds him of what he deserves.

The moonlight on the rooftop was bright, almost as if someone had turned on a spotlight. A warm breeze was blowing, a welcome reprieve from the scorching heat that had plagued the city for most of the day. Bernie closed his eyes and tipped his head back, let the warm summer wind run through his hair. Peaceful, he thought, but then snapped his eyes open as Elton let out a despondent, weary sigh.

“You have to tell her, Reg.” Bernie ran his hands through his hair and sat up so he was looking at his best friend. “You’re driving yourself-and me-crazy by obsessing over it. Just break up with her.”

Elton sighed dramatically again. “It’s not that easy, Bernie. She really cares about me and I’ve been leading her on.”

“Well, what do you think you’re doing by dragging your feet? You’re still leading her on, you’re just taking your time about it,” Bernie said, crossing his arms.

Elton looked down at his feet guiltily. “I don’t mean to.”

Bernie smiled. “Of course you don’t mean to. But the longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”

Elton nodded, and Bernie watched him with a careful eye. It had been two weeks since he’d found out that his friend fancied blokes over birds, and since then they’d spent almost every night on the rooftop of their flat while Elton waxed and waned about breaking up with Arabella. Bernie knew how hard breakups could be, he’d found himself in that situation more than once and most of the time it wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done.

If Bernie was being honest, he was far less concerned for Arabella’s feelings than he was for Elton’s. Bernie saw the way Elton grimaced when Arabella held his hand, or touched his shoulder, or ran her hands through his hair. She was a touchy-feely sort of woman, and it seemed that when they were together, her hands were constantly on him. Bernie could see how much Elton hated it, could see the discomfort written all over his face like a giant neon sign. It broke Bernie’s heart sometimes.

He didn’t want Elton to sell himself short.

Bernie allowed a few more moments to go by in silence, the only discernible sound being a cricket playing its own tune. He watched as Elton worried, gnawing on his lower lip, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves. Finally, Bernie stood up and made his way across the roof, sinking down next to his best friend so closely that their knees touched.

“Hey, Reg?” Bernie said softly, and Elton looked up at him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you still like blokes?”

Elton looked at him quickly. “I…fuck, Bernie, I told you, I’m not sure, I think...yeah, I think so.”

“Then you have to BREAK UP WITH HER,” Bernie said sternly, and playfully punched Elton on the shoulder. “Seriously, mate. My concern isn’t even about her at this point. I couldn’t care less about her, honestly.”

Elton narrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head at Bernie. “What do you mean, it’s not about her? I’m the one lying to her and making her think that I...that I…”

Bernie shook his head, cut him off. “Listen, that’s true and it’s kind of shitty, yeah. But I care about you and what it’s doing to you. You shouldn’t be forcing yourself into being with her.”

“I guess,” Elton muttered, and Bernie sighed exasperatedly.

“No, no guessing. You don’t deserve to be trapped in a relationship with a girl if that’s not what you want. What you deserve is to find a hot bloke with a perfect body and...and luscious hair and who’s fucking nice to you and wants to screw your brains out! You deserve to be loved, Reg, and to be honest about that. That’s what you deserve. That’s what I want for you,” Bernie finished quietly, and Elton had tears in his eyes and so did Bernie and they lapsed back into comfortable silence.

The next morning, Elton’s piano would be smashed to smithereens and their lyrics would be scattered all over the pavement outside of the flat they no longer lived in; they’d both be on their way to live at Elton’s mum’s. Neither of them knew it then, though. They didn’t know how big and complicated everything was going to get, with their music and with each other, and they didn’t know that it would take Elton many years before he’d be loved the way Bernie had told him he deserved to be, and even more years before he would truly believe that he deserved it.

But all that didn’t matter just then. All they knew was that it was a beautiful summer evening, and that there was some love in the world that was unselfish.

#rocketman #rocketman fanfiction #elton john #elton john fanfiction #bernie taupin #bernie taupin fanfiction #my fic

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angrylizardjacket · 2 years

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how to measure time

Summary: Ash Taupin flies Millie Taylor to LA as a surprise for Queen, but before the band arrives, they catch up over coffee.

A/N: this was meant to be a much longer fic but also i think it makes a nice moment from my drafts. @misscharlottelee 's Millie Deacon was the first queen OC i loved beside my own chaotic gal. just something short and sweet for an AU of these two, also ngl hope this doesn't awaken anything in me (read: make me want to write too much about queen again)

Ash finds herself yawning over coffee with Millie when Queen finally gets to the LA leg of their latest international tour. She's already been here a week, had flown over ahead of schedule, trusting her team to keep the costumes in order and in check, so she didn't have to fit all the meetings people had wanted with her into the three days they were in town before the next stop.

"You okay there?" Millie's smile is kind and fond across the table, and her eyes are alert, hands wrapped around her mug of tea.

"LA exhausts me," Ash says flatly, managing to practically inhale half of her black coffee in one go, which only has Millie wrinkling her nose, "how about you, Millie-Lou? The hotel nice?"

"Perfectly lovely, of course," though she hesitates, looks a little put upon, "but you know you didn't need to -"

"If it weren't me it would'a been Freds, or Rog himself; 's no skin off my nose, th' boys 'll tell ya he's been missing you like crazy," Ash's tired demeanour lightens for a moment, and she looks over to where Millie and Roger's daughter, Louisa, was sipping her own, much cooler, much weaker cup of tea, glancing at her mother every so often, "and that li'l bug of yours," she says fondly, and Louisa, who had been on her best behaviour, sitting calm and quietly, finally sensing she's being spoken about, looks to Ash with wide, blue eyes, but she doesn't say anything, just looks to her mother as if to ask what was going on.

"We miss him too, don't we?" Millie smiles down at her daughter, who beams and nods, turning back to Ash.

"Dad's so cool, but he's so far away and now I'm really excited to see him!" She announced, every bit as chipper as her parents, bouncing a little in her seat.

"And...?" Millie prompted, stroking her daughter's hair softly. Louisa looks to her for a moment, confused, "th..."

"Thank you, Aunty Rocket!" Positively beaming, she looks back to Ash as she finally understands what her mother's prompting.

"You're very welcome, bug," Ash tells her sincerely, casting an adoring look to Millie, the same she gave every time Louisa called her Aunty. Like Freddie, she'd been given the familial title as an honour, which she wore with pride.

"How Elton's new album coming along?" Millie enquires, while Lousia, since the seal of quiet had been broken, was now using her little hands to search her mother's pockets and purse for drawing equipment.

"What I can gather from Bern's excited phone calls, it's going well," Ash says, everything about her relaxing, softening at the mere mention of her husband, smiling into her coffee, "I would have brought him out here too, but you know how album making goes; didn't want to disturb the workflow," she says, a little forlorn, and Millie reaches out to place a hand on one of Ash's that was still holding her cup, a moment of kind warmth and understanding, how hard it is to love someone when the two of you never seem to be in the same place for long.

"Miss Lou -" the moment breaks, however, as Louisa tries to discretely slide from her chair and beneath the table, and her mother's voice turns stern.

"I can't find a pen," Louisa said, like it was a proper explanation, sounding a little guilty, but Millie says her name again, and Louisa wriggles back into her seat.

"You can't wander off on your own," Millie admonished, though there was care in her voice and Louisa made a resigned grumble of understanding, put out. Ash, however, chuckles, her momentary sadness forgotten as she reaches into her own bag by her side, pulling out a travel-sized sketch book and a few pencils of varying colours.

"All you gotta do is ask, Bug."

"Exactly," Millie gives her daughter's hair a little ruffle, "you know until you're old enough to wander 'round on your own, you can always ask an adult you trust and we'll be able to help you."

"When am I old enough?" Louisa looks doubtfully at her mother, holding a bright green pencil above a new page of the sketchbook.

"When you're a thousand," Ash teased, to which the little girl scowled.

"We'll talk about it with dad," Millie corrected, trying to repress her own smile so her daughter knew she was taking this seriously.

The girls catch up over brunch, with Louisa excitedly making nonsense drawings and eating too many pancakes for her little tummy beside them, and as they're heading back to the hotel before lunch, Louisa's holding Millie's hand, and clutching her various drawings in the other, complaining of a stomach ache, all the while yawning, the hearty meal having made her sleepy.

"You know Doug Weston's asked me to come to the Troubadour for lunch," Ash mentions casually, "he loves you, I'm sure he'd love to have you come say hi." Beside her, Millie hesitates, looking down at her grumpy, sleepy daughter.

"I don't think the Troubadour's somewhere Lou should be just yet," Millie hesitates, "it would be different if the band were here already, but I don't have anyone to watch her," and Ash nods with understanding.

"I brought Audrey with me," she points out, and Millie's expression immediately turns considering; Ash's personal assistant Audrey had proven herself to a kind and reliable babysitter for Millie in the past, and if there was anyone outside of Millie's family or found-family, she'd trust Audrey.

"We can ask her," Ash offered, "if she says no, completely understandable, but if she'd happy to watch the Bug for a bit, I'd love to have you at lunch, and you can come back at any time," it was a solid and seriously tempting offer, and finally Millie conceded with a grin, quietly excited to get the afternoon to spend with Ash in one of the few placed they'd frequented in LA in their younger days.

Audrey lights up when they knock on her hotel door, apologising - for asking her a favour, for Louisa being in a mood, for not being able to bring her to the Troubadour -

"Don't worry about it, I'd just be hanging around you like an awkward little fly; I know you all say relax, but it's Doug Weston, you know? I can't relax!" She laughs, even as Louisa has stormed past her, as much as she can considering how adorable she is, and clambered onto the bed. Audrey was a stellar personal assistant, and when she was comfortable she was easy-going and adaptable, but she also happened to be the single most socially anxious person Ash had ever met, and appreciated that her job usually had very little non-professional socialising involved.

"I'm not sleepy," Louisa calls from the bed, laying as stiff as a board on top of the covers, on her side, with her arms crossed tightly.

"Alrighty, Miss Lou," Audrey responds over her shoulder, smiling bright, "well there's a channel here that's all cartoons that I think you're gonna like."

"She's gonna be asleep in fifteen minutes," Millie said fondly, gazing over at her still-stubborn daughter.

"If anything happens -" Ash turns to Audrey, who gives a bright smile.

"I've got the number for Doug's office, I'll call immediately; anything else? Do you know how long you're planning on being out?"

To this, both Ash and Millie hesitate, looking at each other.

"I, uh, I actually am not quite sure," Millie admits apologetically, but Audrey waves her off easily.

"If you plan on staying out past her dinner time, just give me a call, or pop in if you wanna recommend what she have, but if room service is okay and you aren't too worried, then Miss Lou and I should be all good. We won't head anywhere; I plan on doing some paperwork if she gets to sleep, but there's some good cartoons they're playing, I caught a rerun of The Jetsons not long ago -"

"Jetsons!" Louisa cheers from where she's already secured herself a prime position in the middle of the neatly-made bed closest to the TV.

"Don't know what I'm worried about," Millie says faintly, "she's taking a holiday from her holiday here," shaking her head with fond amusement, she thanks Audrey again.

"Love you mum, be good!" Louisa calls without looking away from the TV, to which all three women at the door collectively aw.

"Will do, Lou, and you be good for Audrey," Millie calls fondly, "love you."

And as they're shutting the door, Louisa is already beginning to yawn.

#bohemian rhapsody #rocketman imagine #rocketman #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #bernie taupin x oc #roger taylor x oc #the angry lizard writes

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bowieandqueen11 · 4 years

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Show Them / Elton John Imagine

Request: Hi there! I just read your most recent Elton John imagine. Could you maybe do an imagine where Elton is having his turmoil with his drug addiction and all that stuff in the movie and looks for some comfort in the reader. The reader can be gender neutral. If you don’t wanna do it then that’s ok

I hope this is okay @jolovesfandoms darling!

Comments are much appreciated <3

Warning, a little strong language and mentions of drugs/ drug abuse!

You were expecting a lot of things to happen tonight, after the doorbell rang. Reginald Dwight lying, crying at the base of your staircase, however, was not one of them.

The doorbell rings again, echoing down the hallways and into the living room where you sat like the stamping of an oncoming drum. It’s tinny, and grating, and so unlike the whirlwind world of Elton John that you were use to. Had been used to, before you left - before you came back home and left Elton to figure out what exactly it is he wanted. The doorbell only rings once more, demanding that you leave your dinner and go to the door. You sigh, standing up and marching down the hallway with a resigned grumble, whoever it is at the door puts their thumb on the button without releasing it at all and in your annoyance you lollop to the door and fling it wide ready to shout. For a second you see noone, nothing, that is, until your shoulder hits against the frame and the sparkly blue suited Elton John rushes past you and into your home.

‘Elton, bloody hell, I thought you were in America?’

‘I need your help, Y/n. I need your help, please.’

‘Elton, what are you on about? Aren’t you supposed to be on stage tomorrow?’

‘Bernie betrays me, everyone does. No one wants you when you lose. I’m an idiot... I’m such a prick, Y/n, a right idiot, but I’ll show them.’

The stairs ahead he marches towards are twisted in a perfect spiral, like a child's slinky toy pulled from each end. Each stair was likely a deep walnut, the banister squeaking under Elton’s hand as he grabs onto it, making to go up.

‘I’ll show them, huh, won’t I, Y/n. I’ll show them-’

He makes to move, but only manages to open his eyes wide in shock, and by then he was already falling. His perception of time distorted, everything slowed down until there was nothing, only him and the white ceiling above, that seemed to swallow her whole. His hand reached out towards it, kissing the roof and the sky about it, grasping the endless crevasse. Everything was a blur, a blur that swirled out of existence. Suspended in the air, he closed her eyes and surrendered himself into the infinite sky above, and whatever would come next.

Then impact. He feels his bones move in a way they shouldn't, jangled. He doesn’t move, can’t move. It took only seconds for him to fall back down the stairs and onto your feet, but it felt like an eternity for him.

Your brain stutters for a moment, every part of you going on pause while your thoughts catch up with the events of the last few minutes. Only for a moment though, before you’ve fallen onto your knees before him, one arm grabbing onto his elbow and helping to pull him up. He doesn’t take much convincing, falling straight away into the curve of your neck, his sequins scratching against your skin as you cup the back of his head and just hold him for a moment.

'It will be okay Reggie, it will. There are some really good programmes these days - I could go with you to the first meeting of one if you like. God - I’m so sorry for leaving, I didn’t realise it was this bad.’

‘They never warn you’, he says with a croak from your shoulder, ‘they never warn you. They always tell you about the crooks, the drug dealers hiding in the streets, but they never warn you about the villains that come with a smile.’

He was broken now, shattered really, robbed early of the tape and glue necessary to put a soul back together. His heart, poorly stapled shut, was beating hard but without purpose, his skin stretched across his aching muscles like a worn canvas. His mind, the only thing that still vaguely worked, had found out a way to reach you, desperate for a memory, good, warm, welcoming, one he could smile to, and you were the answer to that.

The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he broke down entirely, sitting there, cradled in your arms and pulled tight against your chest, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. When he at last turned his face up to look at you, he was a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if he could do it again.

‘I promise, Reggie, I’m not leaving you alone with them again.’

You rub the tears that lay at the crease of his eye away with your fingers and started rocking back and forth, thankful his breathing had started to slow.

‘I’m so sorry, Y/n, I’m so sorry.’

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grind-pantera · 5 years

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Imaginw Bernie walking reader home after they met up with Elton working on some music and he lends her his jacket because it's chilly!! That brown leather one of his

A/N- Hi HI. Thank you guys for reading !!!! I appreciate it lots. And I saw Rocketman and fell in love with this man automatically so catch me writing more for him now that I’ve got this oneshot done! reblogs and likes are appreciated!!! Thanks ! - Miss. Em.

Title: Sound Bite.

Fandom/Movie: Rocketman.

Pairing: Bernie Taupin x Fem! Reader.

Words: 2,738.

Rating: K. ( Super fluffy, no warnings other than some language adkfmsdlkm ).

Big noises didn’t seem to exist. The squealing of a front door of the flat that Bernie shared with Elton and a handful of other people, the small ‘goodbye’ he had given the group who initially shouted a ‘goodbye’ to the two of you, the wave you gave them as you stepped out of the flat onto the small landing in front of the building, the slamming of the screen door as it shut behind the two of you, the rumbling of a car passing by on the street, music playing from inside. It felt as if your ears were left ringing sensationally, drowning you and keeping you under the water until it clogged your ears and you were left with a vague sense of sound. You had just met Elton John, hearing his voice sing along effortlessly to Bernie’s flawless lyrics. You could have stayed the entire night listening, having a lovely chat with their roommates about anything, the existence of the universe, if love was a real thing, any strange conspiracies you could come up. You were welcomed, it felt, something you were initially worried about when Bernie suggested you come over tonight just to hang out.

But, hang out was such a broad term. Hanging out for the two of you was popping into the small cafe down the street on your way to classes in the afternoon and bumping into each other, saying hello, chattering to one another as your eyes peeped at his lips and his own trailed down your body and then snapped back to captivate your attention. Flirtatious, but Bernie was naturally shy and tried to cover up the fact that he had been looking at you like that by bringing a hand through his soft hair, de-tangling some, but messing up other strands. The sun seeping into the cafe window hit the two of you, giving off the impression that his hair was almost honey colored with dark highlights. You felt mesmerized for a second, realizing that you hadn’t managed to murmur any response to his offer of hanging out outside of your normal routine in the cafe, midday, every Wednesday and Friday. He was there often, using the cafe as a muse of some sort as he often wrote lyrics there. You wondered for the first few times what he was doing, slanted handwriting scattering along sheets of paper, scratched out words, words written over others, notes in the columns. Bernie explained your second week of talking.

“I write lyrics for a friend.”

“Anyone I would know or have heard?”

The smile he gave you was confident in nature, contradicting the shy and cute grin he’d often have for you when he first spotted your face walking into the cafe. There was a fazed out expression on his face. He knew something you didn’t and it no doubt intrigued you to the ends of the Earth. “Not yet, but you’ll know him soon enough. Everyone will.”

You weren’t sure what to say when he asked you to come over, so, you stumbled out a tiny ‘yes’ in reply, earning yourself that small charming smile from Bernie that he always seemed to have tucked away for you and that always made you feel breathless as if you were going to be knocked out from how pretty it was. How handsome he was. He’d jotted his address down on a napkin, handed it to you with slightly shaky hands and told you, “I’ll be home around 7 if you just want to pop by. I’ll be waiting out front for you so you don’t have to knock. My roommates… They’re well…” He shrugged softly, the bag on his shoulder shifting with that movement as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “They like to pry and I’d rather not put you in danger by knocking on the front door and having one of them answer before I do. Believe me, I won’t see you tonight if that happens.”

Sound began registering again as your feet tapped down the steps before the two of you hooked a right so you could venture home. A fifteen minute walk or so from where you were and Bernie offered to walk you rather than have you go on the train by yourself. With sound returning, the knowledge that Bernie’s fingers, his hand, was sliding against yours by your side, almost teasing in nature. Arms rubbed and pried one another, giving you shock waves of his warmth from under his brown leather jacket. God, Bernie wanted to grab you, wanted to hold your hand and tug you towards him but there was an invisible force that was stopping him. This was putting Bernie to the test to see if he could be as smooth as he once imagined he was, and God knew you were making it hard for him. For a split moment as the two of you cross the street and he peered down at you in the lamp light, he wondered if you were aware that you were like the wind to him. Come up, swirling around him, taking him up, up, and up and wrapping yourself into him. He could act on it, but, Bernie refrained and drew his bottom lip in as you finally brought yourself to speak.

“That was fun.” You were disappointed in yourself that the only adjective you could fathom at the moment was ‘fun’ when in reality, you hadn’t had a good time like that in a long time. It was great, lively, boisterous. But, it was fun. The sound of piano notes, the gentle nature that Elton would press against them one moment and then the vicious way he’d bang the next, playing with such crystal clear emotion that it tore you apart to look into Bernie’s eyes as Elton sang, wanting to muster enough courage to kiss Bernie for the sake of feeling the pressure of his lips against yours, to grab his arm and lean forward, closer and closer. Closer and closer, you thought to yourself and wrapped your arms around yourself as a breeze shot between the two of you. “Your lyrics— they’re amazing, Bernie.”

“Are they?” The smile on his face was soft, the creases around his mouth evident as the expression grew into sincere fondness. “It’s the strangest thing, I’ve never thought they were amazing until I met Elton. He’s ability to turn my lyrics into… Into works of art is uncanny. It’s like the world bursts into color when I hear him sing my songs, when I feel the vibrations of the piano notes in my ears. There’s nothing quite like it.”

“Give yourself more credit,” You said clearly, your fingers tangling into his by your side momentarily before you flattened your hand, “I love Elton and the music, but your lyrics are so… You.” Bernie gave you a strange look at that with a faux scoff. He knew what you meant. “I could sit and listen to you read your lyrics to me all night, you know.”

“You don’t want to hear my voice all night, believe me. You’d get quite tired of it by morning.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” It was your turn to smile and it mimicked the one that Bernie had previously given you. It was full of fondness, something that was so soft that Bernie himself felt his feet slow down and he lingered a few paces behind you now, wondering if it was normal to feel this breathless at such a simple statement. Such a simple compliment. Clearing his throat, he caught up to you, each step feeling lighter and lighter as he chewed his bottom lip tentatively. Looking up at Bernie, there was something swirling in your eyes. Something that told him you knew something he didn’t know. Or maybe, he did know and he was worried that it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Are you cold?” Bernie asked, panic evident in his voice as he watched you shudder as the breeze hit your skin. You were wearing a jumper, but it wasn’t enough fabric to keep yourself toasty but it was giving you means to lean into him every other step to feel his warm body against yours, even if it was for a second.

“I-I’m okay, Bernie. We’re almost to my—”

Blinking, it took the brunette next to you only a moment to slip his brown leather jacket off his small shoulders before the clothing was placed onto you gentle, your walking pace slowing down so he could properly adjust it onto your shoulders. It smelled like him– musky, his after-shave that reminded you of a sandalwood candle. Soothing, and the heat of his body rolled against your body from the fabric of the jacket and caused you to smile to yourself as Bernie hummed in a reassuring tone, “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Well, no-now you’re going to get cold.” You whispered softly to him, tucking back a piece of your hair before grasping the front of his jacket to keep it on your shoulders so it didn’t fall to the ground. “Bernie–”

“I’ll be fine, (Name).” He laughed, letting you slip your arms through the arm holes of his jacket. It was long for you, but it was comfortable and you found yourself nuzzling the side of your face into the collar to linger in the smell of Bernie that clung to the fabric. “I wouldn’t object to you… Wrapping your arm around me, if you want. For the sake of keeping me warm, of course.” Smooth, Bernie thought to himself and let his eyes pour into yours as you felt heat on the tip of your ears at the suggestion.

“Of course,” If you were nervous, you weren’t showing it to him but inside it felt as if you were rioting. You did what he suggested and let your arm snake around his waist and hook around. The pace of walking was slower, turning the fifteen minute walk into twenty-five minutes at the very least. “Just to keep you warm, though. No funny business, Taupin.”

“No funny business.” He reassured as you tucked your free hand into the pocket of his jacket, feeling a piece of paper slip between your fingers.

“What’s this?” You inquired, slipping the paper out of his pocket and holding it up in the passing light of the streetlamps.

“Ah,” He snatched it comically out of your hand and chuckled deeply inside of his chest and from the closeness of your two bodies, you could feel it against you. It rattled you and brought you some comfort as you tilted your head upwards and waited for an answer. “Just some shitty lyric that made no sense. Must have shoved it in my jacket for a reason.”

“What does it say?”

“Oh, come on, (Name). They’re shitty, you don’t want to—”

“I do, Bernie.”

There was silence between the two of you for a split second, the only sound coming from Bernie as he unfolded the piece of paper hesitantly, re-reading what he had once written and shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know why you’re so adamant—”

“Please, I– I want you to read them to me. Let me be the judge.”

“But I remain silent,” Bernie whispered, half under his breath giving off the impression that the words were being sung to you in some silent song. “Oh, I won’t say a word…” That was breathless to the point where it left a shudder stringing down your spine, “I leave you to realize… I’m the light of your world.” Laughing slightly, he re-folded the piece of paper and slipped it into his back pocket with shrugging shoulders as you heard his voice echoing deep inside of your mind. His voice was soothing, you realized. More so than you thought before and there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to hear it speak in your ear, against your skin, against your lips… Anywhere. “See? It’s really nothing— Sort of just scrambled words put together—” His words came to a shocked stop as you turned to face him and placed your hands flat onto his chest, successfully getting Bernie to stop walking as well with a slightly straggled laugh. “What are you—”

For a second, he thought you were going to kiss him. You were going to take that one step and finally close the gap between the two of you and you thought you’d do the same thing. You imagined it, of course. Feeling your hands flatten completely against his chest, his heart beating heavily against your hands. The feeling of his hot mouth conforming against yours out of desperation for it was pent up want that the two of you wanted to release. Bernie nearly puckered his mouth in anticipation but found it forming into a tiny grin at your voice, “How do you think those lyrics are shitty? They’re so—… So…” You swallowed and realized what word you needed to use. “Romantic, Bernie. So, shut your mouth about them being shitty and put them in a song.”

His mouth popped open at your last statement and he found himself throwing his head back in a cackle. “I can’t just put them in a song! That’s not how it works! They’re detached! I need to write a song around them in order to get them to work.”

“Then do that.”

“You know, for my muse, you’re pretty pushy.”

Your lips parted as you took a step back to look up at him properly. What he had just implied was something unknown to both of you, or at least that’s what you got from the surprised look on his face as the words came tumbling out, freeform into the air around the two of you. “I’m your muse?”

He smacked his lips and tilted his head to the side in a silly fashion. “I suppose. Is that what I just said?”

Hitting his chest playfully, you gasped as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, instinctively your hands came up to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady against the slightly wet pavement under your feet. “Of course, that’s what you—”

“Then, I meant it. You’re my muse.”

“Is that a pickup line, Taupin?” You smiled and cautiously wrapped your arms around his neck to hike yourself against him. The fabric of the leather jacket bunched around your wrists, Bernie’s hands resting on your waist, close enough to your hips to know that this was something he wanted and has indeed thought about. He kept his distance though, not letting his fingers wander downwards or upwards. It was a comfortable spot for both of you and you found yourself happily moving against him and rolling onto your toes as he whispered to you, your right hand reaching up and tucking your fingers through his silky, light brown hair.

“This is my first time using it, did it work?” You nodded and he laughed. “If it worked, may I… May I kiss you?” You nodded once again only this time, your tongue peeped out of your mouth to wet your lips as Bernie laughed breathlessly, lifting one of his hands and cupping the side of your face tenderly. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?” You licked your lips once again and giggled breathlessly, almost going cross-eyed as Bernie dipped his head and hovered his face in front of yours, only two centimeters away from yours and with a surge of what you’d consider to be confidence, he closed that lingering gap and you found yourself gasping into the kiss, eyes immediately falling shut as Bernie’s lips pushed a bit harder. He tasted like beer, something you didn’t like but Bernie somehow made it feel tasteful.

You pulled away with a hushed huff and swallowed. “Do— You should come inside. You should come inside and have some tea and warm yourself up and-and…”

“If you want me to come inside and read you more lyrics, you just need to ask.” He chuckled, kissing your lips slowly this time and letting the feeling sink into the both of you as if it was bubbling from your feet all the way to your head, your fingertips… You felt bubbly. Like a champagne bottle that had just been cracked open. “You don’t need to tempt me anymore than you already have…”

#bernie taupin #elton john #rocketman #bernie taupin x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes

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beaaatle-blog · 5 years

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Your Song - Bernie x Reader

Hey guys!

I haven’t finished a fic in a while so forgive me if this is weirdly written or anything- it’s exam season and over the week this has kind of been my escape 😂

Okay but there aren’t enough Rocketman fics out there so I decided to bless you all with a fluffy Bernie one, because he is ADORABLE

I haven’t proofread this one so i’m praying my grammar is okay 😎

Warnings: Swearing (as always), an OOC Bernie? I haven’t written for him before so this is an attempt,,

Ahhh okay, enjoy!

It was 11am and you’d had 4 hours sleep. You lounged on the sofa of your best friend’s family home and fought to keep your eyes open, stopping to rub them every now and then. You and Bernie had crashed at Elton’s for the night after going to a gig the night before, and it wasn’t that you were ungrateful, but there were no free beds and that sofa certainly wasn’t doing your back any favours.

Hearing the familiar plodding sound of the two boys coming downstairs, you sat up as feigned your best smile, but despite your efforts they could immediately tell you felt like shit- mostly because you looked it, too.

“(Y/n), bless you, you can sleep in my bed next time if you’d like,” Elton sighed out, coming over and sitting next to you to pull you into a quick cuddle, “I know this sofa’s a bit.. well, very shit.”

You laughed softly and batted him away, standing up and stretching in an attempt to click your back. “Anything is better than this sodding couch, it’s hell.”

Bernie let out a low chuckle at this and you shot a shy smile his way, unfortunately blocked by Elton who was giving you both a knowing look and a shit-eating grin. You chose to ignore both.

••

Breakfast was always a challenge on mornings like these. You’d froze half way through buttering your toast to have a break, sighing and slowly pacing up and down. A pile of paper on the table caught your eye and you walked over to it, leaning over to read whatever was on them.

Your eyes were greeted by lines of what first appeared poetry, but with a closer look you realised they were lyrics- really good lyrics. You must have stood with your mouth open for no less than 2 minutes before snapping back into reality and stepping away, a small, amazed smile growing on your face.

Your eyes followed Bernie as he traipsed around the kitchen obliviously, turning on the kettle and leaning back against the counter. Although the mornings were often rough, you loved the early moments you spent together- the atmosphere in Elton’s empty family kitchen was one of your favourite things. His gaze met yours and you held it for a second before shaking your head and smiling, walking up to him and gesturing to the pile of lyric sheets on the table. “Did you write those?”

His eyes skimmed the table until he saw the pile of sheets and he broke out into a shy smile, a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he brought a hand to his face, rubbing his mouth nervously. “I didn’t realise I left those there.”

His contagious smile had you shyly grinning too and you softly placed a hand on his upper arm so that he’d meet your gaze again. There was something humble and honest in his eyes but also a sparkle of excitement, and you cursed the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach at that moment.

“They’re brilliant,” you said quietly, relaxing your hand so that it rested snugly on his arm. His smile grew at this and so did yours, the two of you grinning like teenage sweethearts and fighting back the nervous giggles that teased at your throats. “They’re really good, Bernie. Like, really good.”

He looked away for a few moments, still smiling like an idiot, and when he met your gaze again his expression was much softer and more composed. The look he was giving you was burning holes into your skin and an unadulterated jolt of longing fizzed somewhere in your chest as you let out a sigh you didn’t realise you were holding in.

“Your Song,” you said softly to break the silence, not breaking the intense eye contact between the two of you. “Not that I’m shocked, but...” a teasing smirk pulled at your lips, “they have to be some of the best lyrics I’ve ever read.”

A shy smirk spread across his features and he let out a ghost of a laugh, rubbing his hands together and glancing down at them. “Lyrics are always better when there’s meaning behind them, (Y/n).”

When he met your gaze again with a caring smile, you couldn’t stop the massive blush rising in your cheeks. You stared almost helplessly at him, mouth slightly open, until you shook your head and elicited a nervous laugh, putting your head in your hands. “Sorry, I don’t know why I-“

He also let out a nervous laugh, taking your wrists in his hands and gently moving your hands away from your eyes. “It’s fine,” he said, eyebrows raised with a cheeky yet nervous smile, shaking his head fondly. “I...” he glanced away and did some kind of gesture with his hands, trying to get his words out, “I, yeah.” He grinned sheepishly before the two of you fell into nervous laughter, faces aching from the constant smiling.

“Who’s it about?” you said, barely above a whisper, and he suddenly stopped laughing as his eyes met yours. His fingers still lingering on your wrists and the close proximity didn’t help the butterflies still fluttering about in your stomach as you tried to hide the deep breaths you were taking. ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ you thought over and over on repeat, the two of you staring at eachother like deer in headlights.

No words were needed as everything clicked in your head. Tentatively, you grinned up at Bernie and your suspicion was confirmed as he grinned sheepishly back, failing to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. Everything about his movements were tentative as he slowly brought a hand up to your cheek, locking eyes with you as he glanced between your eyes and your lips. A subtle lick of your lips as a glance to his was all the confirmation he needed as he leaned forward and captured you in a gentle yet painfully meaningful kiss, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your arms found their place over his shoulders and his around your waist.

When you finally broke away from the kiss, Bernie pulled you into his arms and you stood there- against the kitchen counter, just the two of you, holding eachother and basking in eachother’s presence- for what felt like hours. Your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, his head in the crook of your neck, arms tangled around eachother.

The sound of Elton playing random keys on the piano in the hall dragged the two of you back into reality and Bernie leaned back, using his forefinger to tilt your chin up towards him to steal one last quick kiss, before grinning and quickly walking around the table, picking up the lyric sheets. You turned around and raised your eyebrows at him, smiling curiously. He laughed softly at your expression and gestured towards the papers in his hand. “I need to add more to these.”

#rocketman #rocketman movie #rocketman film #rocketman fanfiction #rocketman fanfic #rocketman fic #elton john x reader #taron egerton x reader #richard madden x reader #jamie bell #jamie bell x reader #bernie taupin #elton john #bernie taupin x reader #bernie x reader

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dontholdmecloser · 5 years

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wrote my first fic!

#rocketman #jelton #belton #elton x john #elton x bernie #elton john #bernie taupin #john reid #taron egerton #jamie bell #richard madden #rocketman fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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khaleesi-ren · 4 years

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Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: Rocketman (2019), Elton John (Musician) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Elton John/John Reid, Elton John/Bernie Taupin Characters: Elton John, John Reid (Artist Manager), Bernie Taupin, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Alcohol, Drug Use, Prostitution, Group Sex Summary:

Elton John is longing for his best friend, and is trying to distract himself from his feeling... but, can he find love in the process?

#elton john #john reid #hugh williams #david furnish #bernie taupin #I want love #ao3 #archives of our own #fic #fanfiction

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rinn-e · 5 years

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Contact Lenses

Elton tries these things called ‘contact lenses’. Bernie is confused.

The bathroom door was locked.

Bernie Taupin frowned.

To be precise, the locked door wasn’t the reason for this reaction. That alone wasn’t a thing out of the ordinary and it wouldn’t have made Bernie hesitate by itself. He was used to waiting after all. And especially used to waiting for Elton.

How could he forget that one time Elton himself suggested to go see a film when the local cinema had the nice idea of offering its customers the possibility to buy one ticket, get one free? (particularly nice for two struggling musicians, or rather one musician and a guy who wrote some words on a piece of paper)

In the end, they hadn’t seen a film that night. Bernie had seen a lot of Elton sitting in front of a piano, had listened to a lot of singing instead of dramatical shouting and fake crying. (to be honest, he didn’t remember which film had been on that night but he didn’t tire of complaining to Elton just how much of a masterpiece it would have been, this film they hadn’t watched because one certain Music-Man had forgotten the time)

(What he hadn’t said was that he’d listened to the true masterpieces right here in the living room)

Bernie also liked to remind himself of the time they’d encountered a cat on their way back to the house of Elton’s mother. He had been dying of hunger and absolutely not willing to stop for an ugly animal. And it hadn’t even been only ugly!

That thing had been a creature out of a nightmare, all dirty and sticky hair which might have been white once but ended up resembling more of an ash grey. Small and tiny, it had looked like a newspaper that had been dunked into a drain channel, dried, and dunked in again. (it had been smelling like that too)

Elton’s glasses must have been broken. There simply was no other explanation for that squeal of glee (quickly fought back but memorable all the same). When he had gone to his knees to reach out a hand (to pet that monster?), Bernie had wondered for a second if there were a record for the most violent shiver of disgust ever endured by a human in the Guinness Book of Records. He might have broken it at that moment.

Luckily (or unluckily?) the cat had let out a high-pitched roar as if suffering from an identity disorder backing off as if someone had threatened to set its tail on fire. It had vanished within seconds behind a near hedge putting Batman to shame.

(the look of disappointment on Elton’s face had been almost adorable)

And that wasn’t even taking the hours used for dressing and redressing and reredressing into account!

All in all, Bernie wasn’t lying when he said he waited a lot.

Nevertheless, he shouldn’t have waited that long today.

When he had encountered the unmoving white paint of the door three hours ago, he’d decided to eat breakfast first. After that he’d decided to read a chapter or two out of the book he’d got from the library. Then he’d decided to drink a cup of tea (and he hadn’t circled the small path between the bathroom door and his room while sipping heated, flavoured water, no).

In the last quarter of an hour he’d worked on his latest song texts.

When he found himself standing in front of that damned door the next time, he needed to go in there. For real. (after rereading the written lines he’d realised that he’d forgotten page two in the bathroom, it should be lying comfortably next to the glass with the toothbrushes, white one (his own) and a blue one imprinted with feathers of a peacock (Elton’s))

(Elton’s was prettier)

An unfortunate coincidence.

His decision to knock against the door was further supported by the shout vibrating through the walls as if someone were dying in there.

“You’re… alright, mate?” The bizarre urge to laugh danced through his mind but he didn’t want to be mean.

“I’m alright! Never been more alright, Bernie!” Elton didn’t sound alright. He sounded like an angry person would sound unsuccessfully trying to suppress its anger while speaking.

He sounded like someone that would rip your head right off your shoulders if you even dared to breathe in their direction.

Bernie waited a few seconds with his hand hovering in the air listening to Elton murmur something like what a dumb invention and don’t even know why I’m doing this. A growl, a sigh, another growl. (who knew that he could make such frightening noises?)

Bernie hadn’t frowned this long since the time he’d learned that 29th May is officially Put a Pillow on Your Fridge Day.

He decided that it would be safer to let page two stay in the bathroom a while longer.

When the bathroom door wasn’t locked anymore, he was sitting on top of the stairs with a new piece of paper trying to come up with a good title (and failing).

“You can go in there now,” a muffled voice said behind his back. “I’m done.”

When Bernie flinched out of surprise he felt the pencil wavering between his fingers, felt it falling through the gaps and felt a pang of relief as he managed to catch it at the tiny piece of eraser at the end.

He turned to look at Elton and froze.

The pencil won its treacherous game and clacked to the ground, then clacked to the next step of the stairs, then to the next, then to the next, then to the next, then to the next, then to the next, then to the next, then to the next. And then to the floor next to the kitchen.

Bernie blinked.

“You… look different.”

Elton lifted his brows (had they always been that big, or, well, had they been there at all?), brows that weren’t hidden by red, pink, golden, blue or silver rims of glasses, his lips slightly pursed. His arms moved upwards as if he wanted to cross them only to change his mind as he let them fall back against his sides.

“Good different or bad different?”

“Hm. I don’t know.” Bernie shrugged, then smiled. “Do you want it to be good or bad?”

“Hm.” Elton tilted his head. “I don’t know.” He snorted, quietly, before chuckling, then almost laughing as if liking the sound of it and wanting to cling to its warmth a bit longer. (Bernie wanted it at least)

His face twisted to an expression between a grimace and a smile. “It had been a pain in the arse to put them in but it might get better over time, don’t you think?”

“It might.” Bernie grinned making a vague gesture towards his own face. “I wouldn’t be the one to know.” He paused before folding the empty piece of paper neatly in two, stuffing it in the back pocket of his jeans and standing up. “Wait a second.”

When he rushed to his room he didn’t need to look back at Elton to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“Here you go.” Bernie gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, almost giving in the urge to ruffle through the honey blond hair. “As good as new.”

This time, he did see Elton rolling his eyes beneath the neon-green rimmed glasses (who said that Bernie couldn’t engage in some atrocious shopping himself?).

“Isn’t the whole point of contact lenses that you don’t need to wear glasses?”

“You like them, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

#fanfiction #rocketman #rocketman 2019 #funny #or i hope so #elton john #Bernie taupin #Bernie taupin is a good friend #elton & bernie #my writing #might post it on ao3 later #writing #taron egerton #Jaime bell #english isn't my first language

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