Quick A/N: every imagine from now on will be in set in the 2020s, just with the celebs and music trends of the 80s. This is because I have no knowledge on what was and wasn't a thing back then, and I don't wanna get anything wrong or inaccurate. Ty guys ily

—

Never in your life had you coexisted with someone so insufferable. Sebastian Bach was the very definition of insufferable, and was the textbook example of fame going to someone's head.

Presently, you were pissed off at him. As Skid Row's manager, you felt entitled to a certain level of respect. You understood that Sebastian and his band had established a strict "no authority" attitude, but Rob, Rachel, Snake, and Scotti did not talk to you with the audacity that Sebastian did. They still had some semblance of a respectful human being deep within them, but that part of Sebastian was just hollow. Anything he wanted to say, he said it, and that something was, more often than not, annoying in some way.

You flopped onto the couch, groaning as Rachel stared down at you with sympathy. "I'm sorry about him," he apologized for him for what seemed like the millionth time. Rachel loved Sebastian, he did, but sometimes, he hated his guts and just wanted him sacked. Thankfully, the blond-haired lead singer had retreated to his room for the time being, so both you and Rachel could catch a break.

"I just don't get it," you sighed out, running a hand through your (h/l) hair. "What the fuck is with him?"

The incident that spurred this whole exasperation on was confusing, and it continued to be even after you replayed it in your mind over and over again. Sebastian had wanted to go for a run, that way he would be feeling good and feeling ready for his photoshoot afterward. You understood that, and that was valid, but he had woken up way too late, and would be leaving too late. By the time he'd get back, the photoshoot would have already been set to start. And you can't keep a photographer waiting; that's very disrespectful and discourages future work.

So, you gently told him that he would have to go running after. He would still experience the benefits of it, and he wouldn't miss a day. He'd get in shape for his upcoming shows, he'd get his run, and the photoshoot would be done. Everyone would be happy.

Except, of course Sebastian wasn't.

"No, I'm going running," he kept dismissing you, tying his hair up as he side-eyed you with annoyance. "I need to fucking run. I need to be awake and refreshed and at my best. You don't know shit about what works for me."

"I don't know what works for you, but I know what works for the business," you had replied, exasperated. "I'm your manager, after all. So suck it up, drama queen, you're not running now."

Sebastian had shook his head and grabbed his water bottle, pushing past you. "Yeah, fuck off, (Y/N). I have a routine. I stick to it. If you don't like it, you can kiss my ass."

Rachel, who had been watching this whole exchange, grabbed Sebastian and turned him back around so that his back was facing the door. "Fucking listen to her, man. She could sack you."

"Over a run? Now that's a drama queen," he spat, chuckling in a mean-spirited way.

This verbal sparring match went on for a few more minutes: you insisting that he could do his run later, him insisting he had to do it right at that moment. And, it eventually ended with Sebastian groaning like an overgrown teenager, stomping to his room, and slamming the door.

Presently, Rachel sat on the couch beside you, awkwardly patting your back in a friendly way. "Nothing's with him, (Y/N). He's just being Baz."

"That's such a shitty excuse to be a dick."

"I know. At least he's got good vocals. Otherwise, I don't know how I would even handle him." He chuckled, elbowing you playfully. "I don't know how you would, either."

"I barely do. Even with his good vocals."

There was a period of silence, and the more you thought about the exchange, the angrier you got. Who the fuck gave him the authority to disrespect you like that? You were his manager, therefore you had the final say in anything related to business. His run was related to business, so it was fully within your right to shut it down.

Besides, even though his reasoning made sense, it was a bit of a stretch. You didn't think that missing one run would really influence him that much, or at all.

So, your anger fueling you, you shot up from the couch. "I'm going in there."

Rachel raised an eyebrow at you. "Really? That's a recipe for disaster if I've ever heard one. You'll probably kill him, and he'll kill you. Let yourselves calm down a little first."

"No, I need to be angry to do this. Otherwise, I'm gonna downplay everything and not say what I want to."

   Rachel sighed through his nose, the fear that an even bigger fight would ensue getting to him a little. He didn't need Sebastian to be in a more pissy mood than he already was; that would make everyone's lives hell. But, the look on your face proved you were set in your ways, so he waved you off dismissively. "Whatever. Have at it."

   You nodded with resolve, stomping over to Sebastian's room.

   You threw open the door, which, for some reason, wasn't locked. Normally, when Sebastian had one of his hissy fits, he locked the door and wallowed in self-pity for around an hour.

   But, you had to cut that wallowing short.

Sebastian was sitting on his bed, headphones on, hair down, and looking depressed. He saw you come in, but only glanced at you before scoffing and returning to his music.

You stormed up to him and ripped off his headphones, anger burning deep within you.

His hair flipped around wildly for a brief second at the loss of contact. He looked at you, bewildered, but also pissed. "Hey!"

"Don't you 'hey' me, you dick! We need to talk right now."

Sebastian grabbed his headphones and put them back on again. "Unfortunate."

You ripped them off again, throwing them (and, by association his phone), across the room. "Yeah, for you it is."

He hopped onto his feet, blood boiling. "What the fuck, (Y/N)?!"

"Yeah, Sebastian! What the fuck, indeed! Why were you being such a dick to me out there?"

He scoffed once more, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I wasn't being a fucking dick, (Y/N)."

"Oh, really? You told me to kiss your ass! I may not be the most socially competent person in the world, but that sounds like being a dick! All I was trying to do was gently tell you how you couldn't go running now. I wasn't being a bitch about it. You know how photographers are, Baz. If you're not there on time, they talk. They tell other photographers about your lack of a work ethic. I was just trying to look out for you!"

Sebastian watched you ramble, stunned into silence. Suddenly, all the anger left his body. Something about the way you were passionately ranting at him, looking adorable. . .  It tugged on his heartstrings. He fought to keep a straight face, watching you with adoration.

   "Also, you keep saying how important running is. Newsflash, missing one run isn't that important! You're not gonna look any different in the shoot whether you run or not!" you continued, only getting angrier at the way he wasn't responding; only staring at you, an expression you couldn't place on his face.

   "You're such an ass sometimes," you went on, tugging at your hair in frustration. "It's always all about Sebastian Bach, twenty-four/seven, three-sixty-five. Don't you realize that other people exist in the world besides you?"

   That's when Sebastian couldn't hold in his endearment any longer; he smiled a little, eyes twinkling in amusement.

   That made you want to lose your shit even more. "What the fuck, Sebastian?! Why are you fucking smiling?! Am I a fucking joke to you?"

   "No, no, it's just. . ." He trailed off, suddenly unsure of if he wanted to say the words that had flashed into his mind.

   Well, he thought, she's already pissed at me. This can't possibly make it any worse.

   So, he continued, making his voice extra confident. "You're just really cute when you're mad."

   You stared at him for a short while, him staring back. You couldn't decide which emotion to feel: anger that he wasn't taking you serious, or flattered and flustered. Because, even with all the shit he pulled, Sebastian Bach was still your love interest.

   You decided to go with the former. Even though Sebastian was a breathtaking blond whose humor never failed to make you smile, he was still a dick. And dicks needed to be called out.

   "Really, Baz? Really? I'm trying to have a serious talk with you and all you can think about is how fucking cute I am?" you shrieked, waving your arms in the air wildly. "I'm not cute! Take me seriously, damn it!"

   Sebastian chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, you're not cute. I'm taking you serious now. Continue." But, the smile on his face betrayed him; he still thought you were adorable, and all of your yelling would only make that fact more true than it already was.

   You huffed, crossing your arms in return. "You're still smiling."

   "Sorry." He tried his best to wipe the smile off his face, but just ended up puckering his lips in a way that resembled the action of sucking on a lemon. This only made him more amused, causing him to abandon his efforts entirely and laugh at himself.

   That's when your anger began to dissolve. Damn it, every time he laughs, I'm fucking locked in. Bastard probably knows it, too, you thought.

   You took a deep breath and tried to gather some anger again. "Do you understand why I'm mad at you? Are you getting it now?"

   "Yeah, I get it," he replied, still grinning down at you.

   His smile felt infantilizing, but it was also such a nice sight to see; you hated seeing him pissed. He was so much more pleasant with that gorgeous smile on his gorgeous face.

   However, you still wanted to drive your point home and really get across that you wanted to be taken seriously. He needed to listen, and listen good. So far, all he had done was smile at you in what felt like a condescending way, and you knew for a fact that he wasn't absorbing any of this. You knew you'd be having this same exact conversation a week from now.

   So, you began to formulate a plan on how to get him to take you seriously.

   Then, your plan formed, you started to talk. "Sebastian—"

   "(Y/N), will you go out with me?"

   That stopped you in your tracks real quick. "What?" you spluttered, any rage that you had left fizzling out.

   He laughed at the surprise on your face, cocking his head to the side adorably. "I said, will you go out with me? Be my girlfriend?"

   Even though Sebastian looked completely cool on the outside, he was a little stunned at the words that had fallen out of his mouth on what felt like their own accord. Was that impromptu proposal smooth of him? Yes. Would it go over well? He didn't know.

   He had imagined the time he asked you out to be a romantic, planned-out thing. Maybe while watching the sunset or some cliche shit like that. Definitely not during a fight. But, he couldn't help but feel like a big shot; this was sure to make a statement. What kind, he wasn't sure.

   Trying to find out which kind, he assessed your expression, only to be disappointed when he couldn't find a definitive answer in there. You didn't look angry, but you didn't look happy either. You just looked. . .flabbergasted. He almost giggled as that word flashed into his mind. That was a good word.

   Meanwhile, you didn't know what to say. You obviously wanted Sebastian to be yours, but you still wanted to be mad, damn it! But, with the way he was looking at you hopefully, brown eyes shining, that was becoming more and more of an impossible task.

   "Sebastian, you dumb blond," you whispered, half joking, half not. "Did you really just ask me out during a fight?"

   Sebastian's hopes fell. "Yeah, I did."

   "That's a really shitty thing to do, considering I wasn't feeling heard. That was definitely not a way to remedy that problem."

   He visibly slumped, looking at the ground. "Oh. So, that's a no, then?" Being a rockstar, he hadn't faced rejection very often. In fact, he often had women fawning over him, willing to do anything to get him alone. So, this was definitely new territory, and he didn't like it one bit.

   And, of course, it just so happened to be the woman he wanted most rejecting him.

   "No, you bastard, it's a yes," you said, putting your hands on your hips. You stared at him, finally letting a smile slip. You couldn't stay angry anymore. You just couldn't.

   The way Sebastian perked up made your smile widen; he leaped into the air, eyes brightening and his neck snapping back up to look at you. "Really?"

   "Yes, really, dumbass."

   He beamed, grabbing you and pulling you in for a hug.

   You escaped his grip. "Wait, I'll do you one better." You looked up at him and pressed your lips to his.

   With all the women he'd kissed, Sebastian had never felt a more intense feeling of butterflies in his stomach than when kissing you. He kissed you back, hands traveling down your sides before grabbing your hips.

   He was a good kisser, that was for sure. You hummed and played with his hair as your tongues danced their tango.

   But then, too soon, you pulled apart, planting a kiss on his neck. "Well, you sure know how to deescalate a fight."

   He shivered a little, beaming. "Yeah." He paused before adding, "And, hey, I know I was an asshole back there, and I'm sorry. I guess I was just on edge with the shoot and everything. And I'm sorry I kept dwelling on how cute you were instead of actually listening."

   "That's all right. Not taking me seriously was definitely a dumb move, though. I could've kicked your ass if I wanted. I was actually preparing to before you cut me off."

   "Hey, we've established that you like dumb blonds, though," he said cheekily, biting his lip.

   "Yeah. Dumb blonds have always been my type." You smiled at him before pulling him in for another kiss.