#the same time she made the sorry i only fuck rockstars shirt

[finelinevogue]

could you do some angsty smut please??

oh hell yeah we can. this is going to be 70srockstar!harry with roadie!y/n eekkkk! okay have fun;

Being the girlfriend of the most famous, golden boy rockstar was the craziest rollercoaster you’d ever ride.

For the past 6 months you’ve been touring with the one and only Harry Styles, living your life between helping on tour, drinking endless amounts of wine and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. The job had come past you at the perfect moment. Your dad happened to be best friends with the tour manager, Jeff Azoff, who’d spoken of their being a job opening for a roadie. You were employed to help set up the musical equipment and test out the instruments before the act went on at night, falling in love for the man you roadied for was just an add on. A beautiful bonus.

It was a lot more pressure being Harry’s girlfriend than people thought though. There was so much pressure to act a certain way and present yourself another way. Harry was so idolised and craved by millions and it put pressure on you to be a certain person for him. You loved him so much and you were so scared that he might one day realise that there was so much better than you - at least in your eyes. Someone extroverted. Someone musically talented. Someone who wasn’t a virgin.

Harry had never pressured you into anything sexual unless you were ready. Of course he was notorious for being an above star rating, when it came fo sex - thanks to all the articles published by the many men and women, sometimes both together, he had slept with. The sex reputation went hand-in-hand with his rock-n-roll aesthetic, so that part of him would never change. You’d only been with Harry for 4 of those 6 months, managing to fall for him very quickly, so you wondered just how he was coping without having had sex for that long. He usually had a different person each night to take backstage after his concert to play with how he wanted, hence how he built his reputation, but since you there had been no one.

Sex was such a big thing for Harry though, so you couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Currently, you were sat on his bed on the tour bus reading an article that had been published about your boyfriend last week. Your heart strings tugged as you read one section of the interview.

Interviewer: The new album, tell me about it.

Harry: It’s coming on slowly yeah. Just want this one to be perfect so, taking my time.

Interviewer: What would you say your biggest inspiration is for writing?

Harry: Changed on every project, to be honest man. Sometimes it’s about past relationships. Sometimes it’s about issues i’m going through. A lot of the time it’s about sex!

Interviewer: Yeah, dude, I have noticed that like every other song is about sex. Is that something you’re quite open about?

Harry: I think sex can be either something so beautiful or so passionate. Don’t believe in sad sex! But, um, yeah i’m always really honest lyrically when it comes to the songs about sex and I hope others see it as that too.

Interviewer: No it definitely does! Thanks Harry for your time and, um, keep on having sex so that third album breaks even more records!

Harry: Will do man!

It was easy to understand why you were upset. Harry’s biggest inspiration wasn’t possible for this album, because you were too nervous to let him have you. All of you. You felt a burden, as if you were holding him back from living his life and creating something so amazing. His past two albums had been such hits for songs such as ‘She’ and ‘Only Angel’, which were inspired by the intimate times with past lovers. There would only be sad songs if he wrote an album without any spice.

That’s why as soon as Harry came back on the bus, dressed in shorts and a shirt that was unbuttoned to see his toned chest, you jumped him and kissed him like your life depended on him. He was taken back by surprise, but welcomed your lips nevertheless.

Pulling back he mumbled some words against your lips, “Well this is a nice welcome back gift.” He chuckled at the eagerness of your lips and let his hands roam over your body - from your neck to your waist and over your ass. This man knew what he was doing.

“Harry?” You whispered, stopping your kiss and looking at his beautiful swollen red lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yeah baby?” He kept himself close to you and you could feel the stiffie that he’d developed pressing against your front.

“Can we… I’m.. If you…”

“What baby? Can tell me anything, y’know that.”

“Wanna have sex with you.” You told him the most simple virgin way ever, your face heating up when you saw him smirking down at you. You’d screwed yourself over here and were getting all shy and embarrassed about it.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide from me,” He drew your face back to his and kept his eyes on yours to provide you some familiar comfort, “you sure?”

“Mhm, yes.” You nodded affirmatively.

“It might hurt a little, okay? First time means that your cute little pussy is going to be really tight. Don’t even know whether you’ll be able to take me.” He taunted you, cupping his hands to your cheeks and brushing his thumbs carefully over your skin to ease your tension.

“I w-will.” You moused out, wanting to be this person for him.

“‘Course you can. You’re my best girl and I know you’ll fit perfectly for me, yeah?” He rhetorically asked pushing you back to the bed and letting you flop there. You watched him as he discarded his clothes, following his lead, until you were both naked in front of each other. You’d been this far before, but this time it felt different. It felt more lustful and exposed and nerve-wracking.

Harry bent down and started to kiss you from your belly upwards, leaving kisses everywhere until he reached your jaw where he bit more than he kisses. He loved seeing his marks being left behind on your skin, proving to everyone that you were his and his alone. His hands found comfort ins kneading and squeezing your breasts like dough, loving the way they were so soft and yet so hard beneath his warm hands. As he found your lips and divulged in your sweet tastes, you slunk your hand down and grabbed ahold of his cock, pumping him a few times to get him primed. You felt the trickles of pre-cum drip from his tip and it only excited you even more.

Taking your lead, Harry pushed one of his hands in between your bodies and started playing with your wet cunt, paying extra attention to your needy clit. He knew you loved it when his fingers got rough, so that’s exactly how he played. His tongue was battling against yours, whilst you both stimulated pleasure to one another. The wet and beautiful sounds filled the room, heightening your arousal - Harry could feel it too, his fingers becoming wetter with every circle and pump of his fingers.

“You ready, baby?” He asked carefully, plucking his lips away from yours with a wet sounding smack. You already looked fucked out and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“Y-yes.” You stumbled, so excited yet so nervous. You were finally going to give Harry what he had been missing for so long and you were also going to let yourself go, and divulge in something new and potentially life-changing.

He leant back and rubbed his own cock for a few strokes, before lining the tip of it with your opening. He teased your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He smiled down at you and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ without any sounds leaving his lips, before you did the same. The head of his cock started to push in, but you didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Shit fuck, y’so tight baby. Need you to relax for me, okay?” He asked, pulling away so he could watch your body relax. You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, reminding yourself that the best way to relax is not to think about the problem itself but oh how you’d feel when the problem’s fixed. You smiled and once Harry could see your shoulders un-tense, he, once again, pushed his cock into your opening. He hissed at the contact, obviously finding it so pleasurable even if it was only minimal contact, but you, you felt so much pain and soreness from absolutely nothing.

You couldn’t do this.

“It should just…” Harry tried a different angle, but your smile had disappeared and your whole range of emotions had resumed to flat and disappointed in yourself. “Maybe if I just..” Harry tried to hold your legs a little wider and guide his cock more firmly into your opening, but each time he couldn’t push past a certain point without your body rejecting him or your facial expressions telling him he should stop.

“St-stop Harry please.” You cried, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you let the tears flow freely. “Please stop.”

“O-okay. Just gonna…” And he slid out as much as he’d managed to get in, which was probably less than an inch. It hurt when he pulled away and your cunt felt like it was on fire. It stung and it didn’t feel right. You felt like a failure and an embarrassment.

You cried into your arms, letting harsh sobs take over your body. You chest felt tight and your eyes stung worse than your cunt did. God, you couldn’t even do one thing for him. You were the reason why he was having a hard time writing at the moment. You were the reason people would be disappointed to hear no sex inspired songs on the album. He might even have to use past experiences as inspiration, which made your heart curl with jealousy. You didn’t feel like you were enough for him, like you would ever be enough for him.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” You sat up from the bed, not wanting to look at him and his disappointed expression as he stay knelt on the bed - cock looking painfully hard still. You scrambled for your t-shirt and your joggers and then walked out of the room, across the bus’ narrow corridor, and into the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in then mirror and were disappointed at what, or who, you saw. Looking back at you was the person who couldn’t even have sex. You couldn’t give Harry what he deserved. You were a failure and it was stamped all over your body. You cried as you looked at yourself, until you couldn’t and you just slid down the wall and onto the floor. You wished for the Earth to just swallow you whole. You couldn’t stand being here when you were clearly broken and useless.

Harry would surely leave you for this. Why would he want to stay with someone who couldn’t even get their boyfriends dick in their pussy? Couldn’t give each other that pleasure? Harry had so many people in the past and surely with you gone he’d have so many people in the future. It would be selfish of you to stay. Harry had needs you completely appreciated that, but it would be just so difficult to let him go when he means so much to you.

There was a quiet knock at the door, which broke you from your cries and self-deprecating. “Y/N? Baby honey? Can I come in, please?”

“S-sorry. Yes of c-course.” You stood up quickly, thinking that he was wanting to be let in to go to the toilet or to have a cold shower go get rid of the hard-on that you’d put there. Too bad you couldn’t have taken it away.

You unlocked the door and shuffled past him, only for him to stop you. He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you both infinitely pressed together in the pathway on the bus. He had you pressed you up against the side of the wall and kept his arms at either side of you.

“Sweets—”

“Harry, please don’t say anything. I-I know what you’re thinking and—”

“Yeah? And what am I thinking?” He asked, not moving away from you. You held your cries the best you could and took a deep breathe to continue.

“I’m a disappointment. I-I i’m not good enough. I’m broken.” You choked out, knocking your head back against the wall from frustration.

“Stop it.” Harry ordered firmly, gripping your cheeks in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The look in his eyes was so hard to read, but he looked desperate and worried and hurt. You hated to think that you were the cause of any of those emotions. “Just stop.” Harry’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears too and you brought your own hand up to catch a few of them before they could fall.

“Don’t cry, please.” You begged, keeping your hand pressed to his cheek which he absolutely adored. He loved the feeling of your skin against his. He never wanted to not have it.

“Then don’t say things that hurt me, okay? Hearing you say those things about yourself absolutely breaks m’heart flower. Just because you were a bit too tight to take me today does not mean that you’re a disappointment or you’re a failure or that you’re not good enough. It hurts to think that you’d ever think I would think that, because - fuck -,” Harry pressed his forehead tight against yours and fanned his lips lips over yours. His closeness was everything. “I love you so much it scares me. My feelings for you are so strong and so real. I want your forever and something as trivial as sex is never going to make me want otherwise. Do you get that?”

“B-but the album?” You asked.

“What about the album?”

“I-in the recent magazine interview you said that sex is your biggest i-inspiration. I can’t be that for you.”

“Is that what this is all about? Because you think that my album isn’t coming together because i’m not having sex? Did you miss the part where I said I wanted this one to be perfect and I was taking m’time with it?”

“No.”

“Well I did say that, because it’s for you baby. The whole thing is going to be for you. Every melody. Every lyric. Every song. Just and all for you.” Both of you were silently crying now, absorbed in each others love and adoration for one another.

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. This album isn’t really for the charts or the awards. It’s for you, m’heart. I love you for a lot more than your body and its’ pleasures.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking all his words in and realising how irrationally you’d acted out afterwards.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For even thinking that you’d be so shallow and cold-hearted.”

“You didn’t think that though, baby. I know you and so I know you didn’t. Your thoughts were based around your own insecurities, not to do with your small-thinking over me.” He explained to you, making you nod and kick your lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well then we don’t deserve each other.”

“But i’ll keep you forever if you’d let me.”

“Looks like we’re together forever then, baby honey.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #rockstar #harry styles rockstar #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #70s!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles first time #harry styles virgin reader

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Unresponsive

Damiano David

 “You know I’m never too busy for you, amore, just because I’m in the studio doesn’t mean I’m not missing you.”

“Jennie, I know...I know, it’s just that I thought that we were going to spend time together when I  landed in Rome, just the two of us. Not bar hopping until 3 am and sleeping in until noon.” Sighing as you looked through your luggage. “You’re dating a rockstar, Y/N, what do you expect? Roses and midnight stroll, they’re going to continue to drink until the morning. That’s what I faced when I was still dating him, just be open with him, what’s the worst that could happen?” “Jennie, Damiano is different from your shitty ex. He’s like the sun, people gravitate towards him and they can’t get enough of him. Why can't I get just a slice of that?” Glancing towards a mirror, seeing your exhausted eyes looking back at you. “Y/N, if you’re insecure about this, why stay with him? It wasn’t like this before you came to Rome.” “Jennie, you can do me a big favor and shut the fuck up, we’ve been dating for almost two years now. It’s different when it’s a long distance relationship. This is my first relationship, I'm going to have my fears and concerns.” Y/N ended the call, tossing your phone to the side, flopping onto the bed.

 “Amore, good morning for once.” Speaking of the devil, He strutted through your hotel room, tackling you onto the bed as he peppered kisses across your soft skin. Y/N’s giggles filled the room as your previous mood melted away. “So we did filming early today, so we could spend some time together tonight.” Damiano said, pushing a cup of coffee in your hands. You gingerly took a sip of the overly sweet caffeine as you raised your eyebrow at him. “Seriously? No bar hopping tonight?” Damiano shook his head as he stripped out of his shirt and shoes, fully getting comfortable. “Why did you ask that? Did you want to go bar hopping instead?” You shook your head, frowning slightly as you glanced at your suitcase. “I really didn’t bring going out to dinner clothes at all, mostly shorts and tank tops. I thought you were too busy to spare some time for us.” You laid on his chest, tracing small circles onto his abdomen, enjoying this small time together. “You know I’m never too busy for you, amore, just because I’m in the studio doesn’t mean I’m not missing you.” Y/N stayed silent, holding back your tongue; you didn’t want to cause problems on your month-long vacation. You just wanted to spend any time together without fighting about petty small issues. Damiano gave you a knowing look as he sat up, facing you. “Something’s bothering you, lay it on me, tell me everything that’s been bothering you,

“Damiano, when you invited me here, I thought we were going to spend time together and show me hidden parts of Rome, but now I spent almost two weeks getting drunk and sleeping in, I could’ve done that at home. I could’ve been working on my art right now, but I'm here drinking lukewarm coffee to nurse my hangover and your version of spending time together getting wasted in my hotel room, am I wrong?” You crossed your arms and Damiano rolled his eyes, sitting up. “You could’ve been grateful that I’m inviting you out and bringing you along with my friends. I had to beg them to allow me to invite you along because according to them, you’re just an annoying little American who’s spoiled and cries about what you didn’t get.” Your eyes widened, bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry in front of him. “And you know what, leave then and I’ll go back home. I’ll send back all of your gifts and clothes, if that’s how you really feel about me then and I won’t bother you with my presence anymore.” You began tossing random articles of clothing into your suitcase, trying not to show any emotions. You wouldn’t give Damiano that satisfaction of your heart breaking into a million pieces right in front of his eyes. “Amore..Don’t be like that, you know that I didn’t mean it..c’mere…” You shrugged off his attempted hugs, while you walked around and gathered your belongings. Your biggest fears came true, that he didn’t love you the way you did and you were a placeholder, until he found something better than you. “No, I don’t, you’re so closed off from me that I’ve just come to terms with it. I’m going to go and take a walk, to get out of this...room and when I get back, you better be gone or I’ll call the authorities and it won’t be fun after that.” You threatened before you slammed the door. You rushed through the lobby, ignoring the stares, cursing as you looked back. “Damiano! Leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you!” He chased after you, ignoring the growing attention on you two. “Amore-” “I’m not your love anymore! I’m done with you, this trip only brought out the true nature of yourself, you don’t want to put any effort in a relationship and you let it become toxic, so you can thrive off of your partner’s misery.” You shouted, jabbing him the chest as you finally let go of the tears, openly sobbing in the lobby. You were hurting from putting effort into something so toxic for you, made you question yourself. “And I can't do this anymore, for the sake of myself.”  Damiano tried reaching for you, but you moved from his grasp, hurt flashes across his eyes. “...I stayed in this relationship because I love you, I’m sorry for saying those cruel words. I didn’t mean those and I shouldn't have said anything like that, you’re the light of my life-” You rolled your eyes absolutely done with his sugar coated lies. “Damiano, you told me that six months ago, we argued about this before, I told you that we were done if you spoke out of line with me and look, it happened again.”

Damiano sighed as he knew you were right, you really never voiced your frustrations until you knew you were at breaking point. “I know I fucked up, but what can I do to make this better? I would do anything for you and you know this.” “I just want some time alone, to focus on myself and figure out what I want. I don’t think that I could deal with this on top of your daily nonsense.” Paparazzi stepped into the lobby, making you flinch as they took hundreds of pictures. “Let’s go back up to your room and we can discuss this, basta con le foto(stop with the photos).” He faced the paparazzi, cursing underneath his breath as he tried pulling you into the elevator, but you kept resisting until you slipped from his grasp and made your way onto the busy street. You knew you were being dramatic, but catering for someone and their needs was mentally draining especially if you’ve been sacrificing yours in the process. “Y/N! Wait!” You stopped, doing a full 360 as you came face to face with Vic. You kept pushing yourself as you duck between alleyways, cursing yourself in the process. You’re in a strange country, hundreds and thousands of miles away from home and you feel like you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and decided to make a fool of yourself. You wheezed as you looked around the plaza, before you just accepted your fate as you walked past the couples and children. You sighed as you flopped down onto the fountain's edge, rubbing your face. You sniffed as you broke down, sobbing as you finally just had enough of everything. 

You knew what you getting into, but you thought that you could look past all of the bad because Damiano was so exciting and always gave you a rush of adrenaline as they did scandalous things, but you could tell that he had the experience that you didn't have and that worried you to the point where it affected your sleep. You decided to explore the city, not wanting to stay in one place. You always wanted to travel the world and focus on your art, you felt at peace when you were in your studio and that love slowly faded as your relationship with Damiano started to take a turn. He was the one who pushed you to pursue this outlandish dream of yours and that started to become a reality when commissions started coming in and those same commissions were able to pay for this trip. “Congratulations, Y/N, you’re going to go home early and cry into that Ben & Jerry’s that you left for yourself.” The sun slowly went down as time went on, you decided to walk back to your hotel as you booked yourself a ticket back home. 

“Damiano, what happened today? Y/N is all-” He interrupted her with the wave of his hand, not wanting to get into everything.“It’s my fault, Vic, I knew I wasn’t treating her right and I brought her all the way here to get drunk and sleep in until noon. They knew that as well and called me out on it and now, they’re off somewhere.” Vic frowned at his current state, knowing the next couple of weeks are going to be rough. “Damiano, it’s okay, they’re probably going to come around sooner than later, they’ve dealt with you for this long. Why would they give up now?” Vic had a point, Y/N had dealt with his bullshit for so long and he thought that he was safe to do anything and everything, but this was before this trip, before they facetimed and wrote letters, everything was...different. Damiano didn’t have them closeby and ready to do anything with him, he went through the motions of his lifestyle and from the band’s perspective, Y/N seemed dramatic, but they’ve only seen the scandals of him getting into trouble. They’ve been there for his lows and highs, yet, he couldn’t say the same for them. “They are….they were so fed up and tired of my bullshit and they’re going home, I don’t know when though.” Vic narrowed her eyes, shaking her head as she couldn’t comprehend why he was here and not with them. “So you’re giving up then? You’ve worked through this before, why is it different than before? Do you not want to put any effort into the relationship?” 

When Y/N wanted out, they would do anything to do so. They leaned against the wall of their boarding area as they tried staying up, being mentally drained can affect your entire body. They tapped away on their phone as they replied to messages and concerns, planning their next collection piece. To Y/N L/N…. Their eyes got wide as they read through the invitation multiple times, trying to make sure that this was legit. They didn’t care if this was a smaller, unknown art museum that wanted to showcase unseen artwork. They knew that it couldn’t be anything, it had to be personal and true to them. They pulled out a random napkin, doodling some ideas down as they waited. ‘Damiano would’ve been proud of me…’ They thought as they quickly stuffed the napkin in their pocket. Were they really going to do this? Running away after one bad fight, maybe he was right, that they were overdramatic and needy. They wiped their eyes before they mentally prepared  themselves before gathering their things and got ready to depart. Maybe this will be good for us, time away and focusing on ourselves… 

#damiano david x reader #maneskin x reader #maneskin

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 12

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Surprise, a new chapter already! This one and the Chapter 11 were actually supposed to be one single chapter but we decided to cut it due to my inability to keep things short length. Hence, the same title with an addition and the consecutive days - just so you don't wonder. Also, in case anyone was confused by the timeframe reading Chapter 11, this supposed to be a flashback to when the whole thing between them started - sorry for not making this clear in the first place 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, mention of alcohol and drug abuse, mention of NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

It's just the way that you walk

It's just the way that you talk

Like it ain't no thing

And every single day is just a fling

Then the morning comes

~ Smash Mouth - Then The Morning Comes ~

Lizzie woke the next morning to a painful pounding inside her head and a mouth as dry as dust. It took her a few moments to find her bearings; the light of the morning sun didn’t fall onto her bed like it did now, and neither did her sheets smell like Orion’s aftershave.

With that thought the memories of last night hit her like a freight train. Covering her eyes with her hand, she let her head slump back onto the pillow, a breathy chuckle leaving her parched throat. She certainly hadn’t expected that to happen when she had agreed to go to her first poetry slam with Orion. Saying she regretted sleeping with him would have been a blatant lie, though; it had been far too good for that.

Sitting up slowly, Lizzie stretched her back, rolling her neck from side to side; her head hurt like hell but it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Orion seemed to be up already, which didn’t surprise her; Lizzie knew he was an early riser from the many years they had spent touring together.

Her eyes fell onto the nightstand and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. A full bottle of water and a blister pack of painkillers were waiting for her there. Not sure what she was more grateful for, the meds or the water, Lizzie took a large gulp out of the bottle first before washing down one of the pills with a second, smaller sip; her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t even sure any of the water was reaching her stomach at all.

She sat between the sheets for a little longer, her back leaned against the rough brick wall. Taking small sips out of her bottle every now and again she contemplated last night’s events.

In a thousand years she wouldn’t have anticipated ending up in bed with Orion when all they’d had planned had been a night out together. And it wasn’t like she could blame it all on getting drunk and high out of her mind either; Lizzie was honest enough with herself to admit she’d always found him more than a little attractive, but so far, it had stopped for her at that.

The dreamcatcher hanging from the window frame directly above the bed was painting intricate shadows on the sheets. Lost in her thoughts, Lizzie watched them, trying to discern if she felt any different after spending the night with one of her best friends.

If she was completely honest with herself, the answer was no. Neither she nor her feelings towards Orion seemed to have changed in any way.

She shrugged the thought off and swung her legs out of the bed, standing up slowly in case her circulation was still funky. She grabbed her shorts from the ground where she had unceremoniously tossed them last night. Exchanging the shirt Orion had given her with her own top, she pulled a new hair tie from her pocket and pulled her tangled hair out of her face.

With the warm shirt and her hair gone from her bare shoulders, Lizzie noticed how cool the morning air felt against her skin. She grabbed the black hoodie she had borrowed yesterday from another place on the floor and put it on again. Following the soft sound of Orion’s guitar that was drifting down from the rooftop terrace, she climbed up the steps and through the open skylight.

Orion was sitting on the deckchair with his acoustic guitar in his hands, playing a melody Lizzie didn’t recognise. One of his countless notebooks was lying in front of him and she could spot a pencil being stuck behind his ear. Lizzie waited until he stopped playing to write something down before she walked over to him.

He looked up from his notes as she sat down on the end of the deckchair. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Lizzie smiled. She tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what Orion was composing. “What was that you were playing?”

“Something new,” he smirked. He closed the notebook and carefully put his guitar away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Lizzie chuckled, “No wonder though…” She indicated the water bottle she was still holding, “Thanks for that, I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was.”

“That’s what smoking does to you,” Orion shrugged. “I got us some fruit from the market down the road for breakfast, if you want some.”

Lizzie had already spotted the huge plate laden with an assortment of colourful fruit on the table behind him. It was only now that she realised just how hungry she was. “How do you know that’s what I like for breakfast?”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “We’ve been touring together for five years now, remember?”

Lizzie felt her cheeks go red. “Obviously. I can’t think before coffee.”

“I made you some, but no idea if it’s good,” Orion shrugged. “You know I don’t drink coffee myself.”

Lizzie made her way over to the table and poured herself a cup. “Then why do you have coffee in the first place?”

“Merula likes some when she’s here.”

She took her first sip after adding sugar and milk but even then the bitter taste was so overwhelmingly strong that Lizzie couldn’t help but grimace.

Orion watched her with a sympathetic expression. “Too strong?”

“A little,” Lizzie croaked, trying to wash the taste away with another sip of water.

“Sorry, that’s how Merula likes it.”

“No wonder she never laughs if her days start like this,” Lizzie replied sardonically.

Orion had to chuckle at her words. “Our tastes can mirror our personalities, that’s true; I wouldn’t tell her that, though.”

He raised his own mug that had been resting on the floor beside him. “If you don’t like the coffee, I can only offer you tea, I’m afraid.”

Gingerly pushing her coffee cup as far away from her as possible, Lizzie nodded gratefully. “I’d be fine with that.”

Lizzie was surprised at how relaxed and comfortable the atmosphere between them was; it was like having breakfast with her best friend, just like it always had.

None of them spoke about what had happened last night, nor did they feel the need to. Now, in the light of a new day, the fact that they had slept with each other seemed almost surreal. Lizzie was relieved to see that, just like her, Orion didn’t seem to have any issues with it whatsoever.

She had just picked out another cherry from the fruit platter when her phone started ringing, the familiar picture of Skye flashing across the screen. She motioned for Orion to be silent before accepting the call.

“What’s up, Skye?” she greeted her breezily.

Skye didn’t seem to share her good mood, however. “Where the fuck are you?”

“What?”

“We were meant to go running today? I’ve been waiting for a solid twenty minutes now.”

Lizzie mouthed a silent curse; she had completely forgotten about that. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I slept in, it got a little later yesterday than I expected.” She tried not to grin as her eyes flicked over to Orion.

“Oh yeah, how was the slam?”

Lizzie almost choked on her tea as she tried not to snort with laughter. “You want to know how the slam was?” she repeated Skye’s words, watching Orion cover his mouth with his hand as he, too, was trying very hard not to laugh.

“It was very good, thank you for asking. I got some whole new perspectives out of it.”

“Maybe I should come next time.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lizzie grinned, “it wouldn’t have been your thing at all.”

“Hm, if you say so. How about Orion? Haven’t seen him quite so excited about something in a long time.”

“Well, I think he had quite a good night,” she smirked, throwing her cherry at Orion as he was shaking with silent laughter.

“Anyway,” Skye sighed through the speaker, “what’s the deal now? Could be at your place in ten minutes.”

Lizzie racked her brain, trying to come up with a suitable excuse. “Uhm no, I’m actually not home right now.” Her gaze fell onto her cup of green tea. “I ran straight out of coffee this morning and I’m on the hunt for some.”

Luckily, Skye seemed to buy it. “Fine, want to meet for lunch later?”

“Make it dinner and I’m in,” Lizzie answered, “Say hi to Erika for me,” she couldn’t help but add with a wicked grin.

She could practically see Skye blushing, even through her phone. “What makes you think I’m with -”

But Lizzie had already hung up on her.

The laughter was still dancing in Orion’s eyes when he shook his head. “You’re truly evil, do you know that?”

Lizzie chuckled. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Fair enough,” Orion conceded. “But I’m curious, why did you lie to her?”

“First of all, I didn’t lie; I just didn’t tell her all the details. It’s none of her business anyway.” The smile vanished from her face and Lizzie averted her eyes. “And besides, I don’t want her to get into a conflict because she’s hiding something from her father.”

She took a deep breath, the mood suddenly not at all relaxed anymore. “And about that…”

But Orion had already guessed what she wanted to say. “You want to keep this a secret.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

“If that’s cool with you.”

To her relief, Orion nodded. “It suits me well. I agree with you, it’s no one’s business but our own. And a secret shared between friends can only serve to deepen the friendship.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement, glad to see they were on the same page about this. She finished her tea, popped another cherry into her mouth and got up to leave.

“Is it okay if I borrow that for today?” she asked, motioning at the sweater she was still wearing. It wasn’t cold by any means, but the sweater was cosy and soft, just what she needed on a hungover day like this. It smelled like something resembling ginger, a scent she found very pleasant.

Orion followed her inside and showed her to the door. Just as she was about to leave, he caught her wrist and held her back.

“Any chance for another kiss?”

Lizzie hesitated, looking at him apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t usually do that.” Her lips twisted into a sly smile as she added, “And you got way more than a kiss anyway.”

She turned to go, but changed her mind on a whim; standing on her tiptoes, Lizzie pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Maybe next time.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

[ryleigh-jae]

Aching Soul

Nikki Sixx x Reader

Hey friends! I hope everyone is doing well during this crazy time. I thought I’d pop in with a Nikki Sixx fic! I hope y’all love it. Stay safe and have a great day!

TW: Language, Mentions of drugs/drug use, Mention of death

Her fingers toyed with one another, hands settled in her lap. It had been months since she had seen Nikki, six to be exact. He was busy on the ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ tour with his friends, but she would receive a call each night from her raven haired lover. Same time on the dot each evening and it was the most relieving thing to her. (Y/N)’s nerves got the best of her, knowing that Nikki was due home any moment and she’d finally be able to see him again. What she didn’t know was that Nikki would come in, fiending for his new flavor of choice: heroin. 

Hearing the door unlock, the girl jumped up from her spot at the kitchen table, a grin sprawling from edge to edge on her lips. She rounded the corner, eyes narrowing on a completely drunk and partially high Nikki, heart dropping into her stomach. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, trying her hardest not to allow the grin to falter as she stood there, watching him place his bags down, digging something from the side pocket before starting up the stairs.

“Baby?” her voice asked softly as she watched him continue up the stairs, following behind him, “Nikki!”

Only when she raised her voice, he spun around, looking at her with a smile, “Give me like ten minutes okay? Then you have my full and undivided attention.” His words slurred, eyes heavily hooded and blown with a craving as he gripped the baggie in his hand.

“What the fuck is that Nikki? Zombie dust?” (Y/N) reached for the bag, only to have Nikki yank his hand back, “You know how I feel about that stuff. Especially when you’re home from tour.”

Something flickered in Nikki’s eyes, his whole attitude and demeanor changing, obviously annoyed that he wasn’t getting his fix right away like planned, “For fucks sake (Y/N). All you do is bitch and complain at me for doing what I want. Do you ever stop? Or is that the first thing you think about as soon as I walk through that front door?”

Fighting back tears, (Y/N) murmured a soft, “Nikki you don’t mean any of that..”

“Oh, but I do, (Y/N). It’s a constant fucking battle. Don’t you realize that this is the only shit that makes me happy and your constant bitching takes away from that?” He paused for a moment, continuing to the bedroom door, “So just fuck off and mind your business. I just got home and you’re already on my shit.”

“Nikki..please.” her voice cracked as she reached for him, her arm being smacked away by the fiending rockstar.

“Please what?!” Nikki shouted at the girl, throwing his arms up in frustration as he towered over her, “Just go away. I don’t have time for this right now.”

Flinching at his aggression, (Y/N) backed off, heading down the stairs, yanking her car keys from the hook. Slamming the door behind her, she didn’t care at that moment, all she wanted was to get away. Not only had Nikki upset her, but he’d genuinely scared her. Finding herself at Vince’s home, she got out and headed up to the door, knocking a few times, wiping the tears from her face. The sun had just fallen below the horizon at that point, the first stars starting to shine in the darkening sky.

(Y/N) looked up from her shoes upon hearing the door open, a soft sniffle falling from her as her watering eyes met Vince’s. She didn’t need to say anything for the blonde to realize what had happened, so they both opted out for a hug in exchange for words at that moment. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, body shaking from the sobs that silently ripped through her. Vince gently tugged her frame inside, closing the door behind the two.

“Hey...Hey it’s gonna be okay. Everything will be alright. He just needs time alone to realize what he’s done. He’ll be here any minute.” Vince spoke calmly, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, “C’mon. Let’s go sit down on the couch and take a breath.” 

(Y/N) nodded and followed after the singer, taking in a few shaky deep breaths as she took a seat on the couch, Vince occupying the spot next to her. She watched as he flipped the tv on, her body settling back into the couch. Shaking her head slightly, she wiped the tears from her eyes once again, glancing over at her closest friend.

“Skylar’s upstairs sleeping. I’m sure she’d be excited if she knew Auntie (Y/N) was here.” Vince smiled, trying to cheer (Y/N) up. 

“I missed my lil bug. Sharise brought her over a few times while you guys were gone.” a smile peaked on (Y/N)’s lips at the mention of the sweet child. 

The sound of an alert on the tv rang through the room as words fanned across the screen, (Y/N)’s heart falling to a stop.

“It’s a sad night for rock and roll. We’ve just received unconfirmed reports that Motley Crue bassist, Nikki Sixx, has died in Hollywood this evening of an apparent drug overdose.”

A cry of pain fell from the girl’s lips as she scrambled to the tv, hand resting on the screen as footage of Nikki played. Her pained sobs drowned out Vince’s panicked breaths and words, eyes falling shut as the news station went to commercial. (Y/N)’s hands fell from the screen, gripping her jean clad thighs as she simply sat there, unable to move.

“Daddy? Auntie (Y/N)? Are you okay?” the little blonde girl asked, gripping her stuffed rabbit to her chest.

“Yeah baby. We’re fine.” Vince bent down, gently hugging the girl, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

The small girl nodded, making her way over to (Y/N), placing the stuffed rabbit in her hands, “Tell Uncle Nikki that I said hi.”

Tears dribbled down (Y/N)’s cheeks as she nodded at the innocent little one, clinging to the stuffed toy in her hands, “Of course baby. I sure will.”

With that, Vince led Skylar to her bedroom, rejoining (Y/N) in the living room. He stood there, watching the girl weep on the floor at her loss. He hadn’t noticed, but tears had begun to pour down his cheeks, quickly moving to scoop (Y/N) up in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest. The blonde rocked the two back and forth, their sobs mixing in an aching synchronization. 

“Vin, I have to go home. I have to go now.” She cried, shakily pulling from him, heading towards the door.

Ignoring his pleads and begs for her not to leave, he knew she was going to distance herself and fall apart even more, she closed the door behind her. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she sped down the road. One hand came to wipe the tears from her face, sniffles and sobs drowning out the music coming from the radio. She pulled into the driveway, stumbling up to the door, pausing when she saw a light on through the window. 

Nikki never left lights on in the house, not even when he was strung out. Reaching for her house key, (Y/N) stopped, noting how the door was already unlocked. She crept inside, closing the door behind her as she made her way up the stairs, fingers tracing along the railing. The house was eerily quiet, something that it never was. She came to a stop on the last step, pushing the hair back off her shoulders that stuck to her neck and cheeks from tears.

Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, Nikki turned around, obviously worn out and in pain. Her hands shook as their eyes met, almost tripping over her own feet as she raced into his arms, burying her face in his chest as she clung to him. The feeling of his arms squeezing around her, pulling her closer was as she needed to trust that he was really there.

“Nikki…” (Y/N)’s voice cracked, “I thought you died.”

Resting his chin on the top of her head, the raven haired man closed his eyes, allowing a few tears to slide down his cheeks, “I couldn’t leave you here alone. Not after everything we’ve been through together. I couldn’t leave you. I’m sorry for what I said and how I treated you. I have to get clean, (Y/N), and I can’t do it without you. I need you. I love you.”

“And I love you too, Nikki Sixx. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here by your side for the long run. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” A small smile spread across her lips as her hands came to rest on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away a few of his tears, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through it. We always have.”

With that, Nikki leaned down and connected their lips, fingers tangling in his lover’s hair. A feeling that comforted him, the feeling of her. He had never met someone quite like (Y/N). Someone who healed and filled his aching soul. 

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue #motley crue x reader #x reader #sixx #reader insert #fanfic #vince neil #vince neil x reader #tommy lee #mick mars

[hoodharlow]

Realizations

AN: This is a prequel to El Cumpleañero  and it’s also based on a something I asked @kindahoping4forever . Quick thank you to @cherryxwildflower and @karajaynetoday for letting me run ideas by them, ilysm. And a fat shout out to @d-oaks for beta reading and editing

Requested?: No

Warnings: None, mayyyyybe angst

Word Count:

Calum slowly placed his arm around Claudia. He let out a quiet sigh when she didn’t move away from him. They were in line at the movie theater for a showing of ‘The Goonies’, which they both wanted to see. 

“Your leg is vibrating.” Claudia told him. She took a step aside.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled. He fished out his phone and saw that Ashton was calling him. “Hey.”

“Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” Ashton said through the phone. 

“Fucking hell.” He rubbed the top of his nose. He was supposed to hang out with Ashton since KayKay was going to be gone for the next couple of weeks, and he needed company. He glanced over to Claudia, who was typing away on her phone. “I completely forgot and made plans with Claudia. We’re at the movies if you want to join us.”

“You’re with Radio Girl? I thought you already fucked her?”

“I’m gonna take this real quick.” He told Claudia. She nodded and went back to texting. He got out of line and returned to the call. “We’re just friends.”

“Isn’t that what you said about—”

“Claudia’s different. I don’t know how to describe it, but you’d get it if you actually talked to her and not called her Radio Girl.” Calum said defensively. “I’m just looking out for you, you know. I don’t want to put you back together again.” Ashton sighed. 

“And you won't, mate.” Calum reassured him.

“Fine, go enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date.” Calum said into the phone, but Ashton had hung up. He sighed and walked back to Claudia. She was putting her wallet away. 

“Everything good?” She asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I got the tickets.” Calum made a face at her. "What?" She giggled handing him his ticket. At the top of the ticket it said  'STUDENT'. Calum chuckled to himself, but his smile dropped when Claudia said,"It's not like this is a date— I mean not that we would go on one. We’re friends.”

"I'll get the snacks." Calum offered solemnly.

"Okay."

They wandered into the theater. Since the movie started in an hour, they decided to kill time in the arcade. Claudia dragged him into a photo booth where they spent a good half hour. Claudia had to sit on his lap because Calum took up most of the space in the booth. They squished their faces together to fit in the frame, testing out every filter that was offered to them. 

After a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution, they waited in line for concessions. Calum rested his chin on Claudia's shoulder while she read the menu. She wanted a cherry slushie and popcorn. 

"Next," one of the workers waved them over.

Claudia leaned back on his chest. She closed her eyes just as Calum wrapped an arm over her, keeping her close. She liked how she felt in his arms. It felt right being like this with him.

The past few weeks that they've been hanging out, she started getting feelings for him. He's one of the most ambitious, generous, kind, funny and humble people she's ever met. He treats everyone with the highest level of kindness and never makes anyone feel bad about themselves. But she's not going to risk her friendship over some stupid feelings that could go away.

"And for your girlfriend?" She managed to hear the worker ask.

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend."

"We're not dating." They both said at the same time. 

"Oh, sorry," They blushed and ran the order to another worker. 

Calum and Claudia stepped aside and waited for their order. This time they stood apart. They realised they felt something they didn't want the other to know… yet. 

***

“Are you wearing Ashton’s cologne?” she whispered as the lights dimmed. 

“Yeah.” He chuckled with her. He had stolen the cologne a few weeks ago at a party he took her to.  They’d been dancing the whole night and ended up crashing with the whole group because Ashton didn’t want them to drive home late. When they woke up so he could take her home, he found the cologne in one of the guest bathrooms. She bumped into him and said that he smelt good. Since then, it’s all he wears.

"I’m gonna move this." She told him a few minutes later. She pushed up the arm rest and put the popcorn tub between them. They were in one of the luxury theaters that had couches instead of the regular seats. "That way the popcorn is between us.

As the movie progressed, Calum stretched his leg over to Claudia's seat, so she was laying on him. They shared soft smiles and awkward giggles once the movie ended. Claudia pushed herself off him and got on her feet. Calum fixed his pants, making sure she didn't notice the number she did to him.

When they exited the theater and walked over to his car, it started to pour. Claudia was only in a long sleeve turtleneck. Calum pulled her under a building, keeping her out of the rain. 

They were chest to chest. Their awkward giggles sounded heavy in anticipation. Calum placed one of his hands on the wall, next to her head. The other rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin on her stomach. He noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra.

The rain and the cold weather had caused her nipples to erect. Calum felt them poke his chest, and he liked to think he had some effect on her. He leaned forward slightly. This was probably his only chance to show her how he felt about her.

Bright lights landed on their faces. "Alright kids, break it up. Go make out in a room and not in public." the security guard told them.

Calum dropped his shoulders in defeat. Wordlessly, he pushed off Claudia and reached for her hand. After a few feet, he slipped off his jacket and put it over Claudia's head to keep the rain off her.

The heavy leather fell on her shoulders halting her mind from spiralling at the fact that Calum was going to kiss her. 

"Wait, no." Claudia said. She reached to take off his jackets. "You're gonna get sick." "You seemed cold." He nodded at her nipples. Claudia crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed that he saw the effect he had on her. "Plus, I don't get sick."

***

Claudia grabbed her grocery bag from the backseat. Calum called off movie night because he got sick, so she took it upon herself to come over and make him some sopita. She would have brought Giuseppe's, but they didn't have his favorite soup.

She checked her bag, making sure she had everything for the soup. She went to the back and grabbed her blanket. It was a giant black and white San Marcos blanket with tigers. She also brought vaporub.

She walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Calum opened the door and looked a mess. His bright tan from spending over a month in Australia had faded. His eyes and nose were bright red with congestion and his overall sunshine self had become a broody dark cloud.

“I don’t get sick, my ass.” Claudia greeted him. She pushed passed him and went straight to the living room. She set down the giant blanket. Duke trotted over to her and gently headbutted her for some head scratches. 

“I told you I’m—” He couldn’t even finish a sentence before having a coughing fit. She rolled her eyes and pushed him on the couch. 

“Take off your shirt." She told him. Rummaging through her bag, she sat next to him. 

"At least buy me dinner first." He barely managed to say before having another fit of coughs. 

Claudia glared at him before he obliged. She uncapped the Vicks container and swiped a decent size on her hands. 

"Aver," she said, pulling his arm covering his chest. "This is good for you."

"No."

"I'm going to sit on you.”

"You won't."

Claudia sat on his stomach. She pinned his arms above his head and generously applied vapuru all over his chest. She moved a bit lower and reached for his shirt. She helped him put it on. 

Calum wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her chest. He let out a soft hum when he felt her scratch his head. He looked up at her when she pushed him back down. She was close enough that he could just pull her down a bit and ki—

"Hey, I went to Giuseppe's but they had— Am I interrupting?" Ashton quirked up.  

"No," they both said. Claudia climbed off Calum. 

"I'm gonna get started on the soup, 'scuse me." she said. She grabbed her bag and went to the kitchen. Duke trailed behind her.

Ashton waited a bit before speaking up. "What is she doing here? I thought you were sick."

"I am. She's making me soup." Calum said defensively. He knew Ashton had opinions about new people he hung out with.   

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" Ashton chuckled. He sat on the opposite side of the couch where Calum was resting. 

"Ash."

"Cal, I get it. She's cute and someone you normally wouldn't fuck. But I don't know, there's something… off about her."

Calum rolled his eyes and reached for the blanket. It was like hugging Claudia. It reminded him that he needed to ask her for her fabric softener. The one he used started irritating Duke.

He listened to Ashton rant about Claudia. He nitpicked everything that bothered him. Calum suppressed a laugh. He found it ironic that everything Ashton found annoying was something he would do as well. It was something Calum noticed right off the bat as he got to know Claudia.

"... I doubt you're the first rockstar she's trapped with her legs." Ashton concluded. 

"Um, the soup is ready." Claudia said, startling both. "I'm gonna go before someone else talks shit about me before they get to know me. And the cookies are going to be ready in a few minutes."

She reached down and grabbed her backpack. Her assigned reading book fell out of her backpack as she fled. Before Calum could get up from the couch and stop her, he heard her car roar to life. He sighed and picked up her book. "Thanks a fucking lot, mate."

***

Claudia sighed; she was nervous. She hadn't seen or talked Calum in over a week, and now she's at his doorstep with a birthday cake. She clicked the heels of her boots in anticipation. 

What if he saw her and kicked her out right then and there? She'd been ignoring his messages and sent every call to voicemail. 

Mostly out of embarrassment. She just left and let Ashton create this whole image of her to him. Part of her trusted that Calum wouldn't go off of what he said. The other told her to run for the hills. 

Michael opened the door. He let out an excited laugh when he saw the cake. "Fuck yeah! We're getting some fucking good cake." He took the cake and led Claudia to the kitchen. "Someone cancel the Costco cake order."

Claudia rummaged through her bag and grabbed the doggie treats she baked for Moose, Southy, Petunia and Duke. 

"Here," She told Michael, handing him two baggies. “These are for Miss Moose and for Southy."

"Thanks, they loved the ones you made last time." He beamed.

"Oh and congrats to you and Crystal on your engagement."

"Thank you. I still can't wrap my head around the fact she said yes."

"How could she not? You're like one of the coolest dudes I know."

"Pizza's here!" Ashton announced. Him and Luke walked in carrying stacks of pizza boxes. 

Claudia tensed up at hearing his voice. She was still pissed at him. He had no right to talk about her like that. Especially to Calum. He probably thinks the worst about her now. She knew how much Calum valued and respected Ashton's opinion. He's his big brother after all. 

Claudia and Ashton made eye contact. Their gaze held the most unsettling energy. Claudia was ready to run for the hills and hide under a rock. Michael and Luke glanced at each other. Calum told them about the mess Ashton made, so they booked it and busied themselves with setting up a makeshift bar and beer pong stations.

"Can we talk?" Ashton asked solemnly. She knew that tone. It was the same tone her brothers and her dad used with any guy that would take her out when she was in high school. Whether it was on a simple movie to prom. They were ready to scare the guy off.

"Sure." She shrugged. She sat down on the stool in front of her. Ashton did the same.

Nothing happened in the first few seconds. They both sat in silence. Claudia played with a stray string on the sleeve of her dress. She slowly clicked the heels of her boots waiting for something, anything.

Ashton took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I’m sorry about the other—”

“You don’t have to apologize. You already have your opinion on me.” She cut him off. "I couldn’t  give a rat's ass what you think of me, but you have no right to talk about me the way you did to Cal. I'm a fucking virgin for fucks sake! I'm not going around 'trapping rockstars with my legs.'"

"You're right," he sighed. He massaged the top of his nose. "I just don't want to piece him back together again. He doesn't deserve that."

"Of course he doesn't. I promise you that I would never do anything to hurt him. He's my friend." She held out her pinky finger out to him. "Pinky."

Ashton swallowed a snarky remark and wrapped his pinky around her. "I really am sorry for saying that about you."

"Long forgotten. The pinky promise was a fresh start." 

***

Post Malone bounced off the walls. Claudia had her back against Calum's chest as she moved her hips to the music. Calum gripped her hips, following her movements. Kehlani's verse made its way out of the speakers. Claudia turned around and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Calum leaned his forehead against hers. They both smiled at each other. Calum whispered silly shit in her ear making her toss back in laughter. He held onto her, keeping her from falling. It was like they were in their own little bubble. 

But bubbles eventually had to pop.

"Claudia, can you come to the bathroom with me?" Sierra asked her.

"Yeah." She leaned into Calum. "I'll meet you at the table where Ash and Luke are.”

"Here," He pocketed his keys and handed them to her. "Use my bathroom."

"Thanks."

Calum made sure that they made it up the stairs before going to their table. Michael had taken a break and sat with Luke and Ash earlier. Now they all sported the same grin on their faces, inching to make a comment. They all saw how the two were dancing.

He reached for a Modelo from their cooler and uncapped it. He took a long drink, waiting for their remarks and jokes. 

"Out with it." Calum told them.

"I'm gonna go." Michael and Luke said at the same time instead. 

"Beer pong when the girls come back." Luke challenged Calum. He nodded and Luke walked off to set up a table. Michael followed him, but he went back to his DJ booth.

Calum took another sip waiting for Ashton to say something. Michael had told him that he saw Ashton and Claudia talk while they were setting up for the party. 

"Claudia and I had a talk earlier today." Ashton said. 

"So I heard." Calum nodded.

"I apologized to her and we're good. But I want to apologize to you too." He took a quick sip of his drink. "I'm sorry for not trusting your judgment. You were right. Claudia's good person with even greater intentions."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." Calum awkwardly chuckled. "Uh, apology accepted I guess."

"One question though."

"What's up?”

"Why haven't you asked her out? It's fucking obvious to the world and their nana that both of you have feelings for each other."

"She broke up with her boyfriend a few months ago. I don't wanna ask her out and potentially fuck up a good friendship."

Ashton thought back to what Claudia accidentally spilled to him earlier. He just nodded and said. "You'll know when the right time is."

Calum nodded. He scanned the place looking for Claudia and Sierra. They were talking to Luke, laughing at something he said. She felt his gaze on her, so she walked over to him.

"Luke said you challenged him to beer pong. I thought you sucked?"

"I didn't fucking challenge him, he challenged me." He got up and stalked off to Luke. He mumbled something to Luke, making him laugh.

Claudia watched them argue. Calum held two fingers and pointed at himself, then at her. Luke pointed at Sierra. They both nodded.

"Now it looks like now he did challenge him." Ashton told Claudia.

Claudia shook her in disappointment. "Ya me jodi."

Taglist: @calumscalm​ @karajaynetoday​ @cherryxwildflower​ @myloverboyash​  @idontneedanyone​ @findingliam-o​ @5-secondsofcolor​ @spicycal​ @sexgodashton​ @sunshinebabycal​ @another-lonely-heart

#calum hood imagine #calum hood one shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood angst #calum hood fluff #calum hood oneshot #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fan fic #calum hood fan fiction #El Novio series

[kerwritesthings]

Road Warrior

Summary: time apart makes time together, in any way that you can, that much more special

Word Count: a little over 12.2K (oops?)

Warning: this is a full rollercoaster ride of feelings across the spectrum – there’s love and fluff and soft, there’s some pangs, there’s a beat of angst, there’s smut.

Author Notes: So, it’s been 6ish weeks since I’ve posted something that wasn’t a babble. I’ve felt clogged and stuck in a way I haven’t in ages. I did not like it. I tried pushing the muse, she wasn’t having it. I backed away from the two stories I was oscillating between and just stopped for a beat. I read some, I tried some prompting, then this gif and a photoset hit back to back. The idea for this just hit me like a ton of bricks. Then the words just came and came and came again. This is the longest piece of fic I’ve ever written.

This falls early in the story of these two, I think this is a cornerstone in the foundation of them. What pieces them together, what makes them THEM. It feels to me that this comes after All’s Fair In Love & Basketball and before Spill The Beans, Break The Ice. Another one that can easily be read as a stand alone but would all add up a little better if you’ve read some of the verse.

“You’re staying tonight right?” he asks, popping out of his closet with a bunch of random shirts in his hands to be folded. “Car’s coming just before you need to leave for the office, so I want as much time with you as possible.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you smile. “Get my fill of you before you’re gone and on the road for 72 days.”

He tosses the clothes haphazardly into the open suitcase next to his dresser and slides next to you on the bed.

“I can make room in my bag and pack you instead,” he teases, nuzzling your temple while taking your hands between his. “You’d be more exciting than more shirts, socks and extra guitar strings.”

You can’t help but giggle a little before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to be okay right Shawn?” you say softly, looking at the way your hands lock together. “I know I’m probably being silly, but this is still sort of new, and you know I’m still kinda dealing with the nerves at times, Rockstar. I know we haven’t talked talked. I like where this is going, I’m pretty fond of you, you know. I trust you, it’s not that, but. God, I keep saying but. I’m sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t let this all ruin our night together.”

“Hey, hey it’s ok’s you’re fine,” he replies, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re not crazy and you’re not ruining anything; there’s no need to be sorry. It’s a lot, hell it’s a lot for me too. This is my first time hitting the road having someone like you in my life. It’s not going to be the easiest, only saving grace for us is that it’s not Europe or Asia with crazy time difference. It’s just bopping around North America. I know it’s soon; it feels like we just found our footing in all this, in the us of it and it’s been so great. Now, I’m heading out for two and a half months. We’ll talk, text, FaceTime, all of it. Timing will suck at certain passes, but I want this, I want to make it work. Always know it’s not you, never ever you. Plus, you’re coming out for the last weekend of shows, which gives us both something to count on. You’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me, pretty girl.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, bringing your tangled hands up to dust a kiss on the back of his. “I want to be stuck with you, by the way. I kinda like you.”

Shawn frees a hand, shifting your face and cupping a cheek in his palm with his thumb trailing across your cheekbone. He leans in to kiss you ever so gently, “Feeling is so very mutual.”

“Can I help you finish packing?” you question as he still has your face in his palm. “I promise I’ll only steal one, maybe two things”

“Only if we call it after. Shower and cozy down cuddles?” he murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose. “And I’m leaving you a key. You come here whenever you feel you need ok? Promise?”

You nod, biting your lip.

Day One

The morning brings a bit of a heavier goodbye, sniffing on your end, glassy eyes on his. You steal his beige knit sweater with the random patches of open weave to wear over a black cami and leggings. Not exactly the most pulled together office attire, but if you throw on some jewelry, it’ll work. You need a piece of him to have with you through the day. You walk out of the bedroom into the living room and right into his hold.

“This is another see you later,” he sighs into your ear, his arms tight around you. “Except this time, I get to leave with your kiss on my lips. It will work out, there may be bumps, but it will be us on the other side of it. Together. I won’t let it drift, or let you get away.”

You nod into his chest, nose rubbing against the soft cotton of his hoodie.

“I won’t either, Shawn. You’re too special to me,” you respond, chin leaning on his sternum to look up at him. “We both know what it’s like to work hard, we’re just adding something else we want to make a priority is all.”

“And you are, a priority. Even when things get fucking bonkers. Please remember you are,” he replies.

You pop up on your toes to kiss him soundly and his hands come to grip your hips. He’s holding on tightly, there may be bruises later but you’re okay with it. You’ve got a few other little gifts littered across the skin under the sweater from him. There may be one or two you left him with as well.

He leans his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you tightly while your hand comes up to trail through his curls. You’re lost like that for a good couple minutes until you hear his phone go off.

“Walk down with me?” he questions softly, kissing you between each word.

You nod, taking one of his hands from your side to lace with yours.

“You have everything? Passport, AirPods, all the iProducts?” you ask, as he slings his backpack over one shoulder before grabbing his suitcase handle. You grab your bag, knowing you can’t come back in just yet without him there. Maybe in a few days, but not today.

“Triple checked,” he confirms, squeezing your hand as he leads you out towards the elevators.

The dark SUV is waiting at the curb for him when you get to the lobby. He lets go your hand and the suitcase handle at the same time, shifting his backpack on fully. You bite your lip to keep it from wobbling. You thought your resolve would hold, but he’s wiggled his way under your skin in a pretty special way.

“C’mere pretty girl,” he pulls you into his grasp, his head leaning in the space between your neck and your shoulder. “I’m coming back to you, ok? Don’t doubt that.”

“I won’t Shawn, I promise,” you reply. “I’m going to be here when you do. You remember that.”

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before sliding you closer and kissing you thoroughly. He dusts a few light ones after as you both catch your breath, nose to nose.

“You need to go, you’ll be late,” you mutter against his lips, sipping from them once more. “I don’t need Andrew and Cez mad at me already before you even are officially on the road.”

“I’ll text you when we get into San Francisco, we’ll figure out a time to talk if not tonight, for sure tomorrow,” he says with conviction.

“Go be awesome, Rockstar,” you kiss him one last time before nudging him towards the door. He squeezes your hand, nuzzling your temple with a whispered ‘see you soon sweetheart’ before heading out to the SUV waiting for him.

Sweetheart was a new one. It rolls and wraps around you like a lingering hug from him as you make your way to the office. You like it. You’ll tell him so when you talk next. Rosalie stops you just before you get set to making a tea in the pantry, a smile on her face and a box in hand.

“There’s a delivery for you in your office that came in just before you did,” she explains. “This just got here as you walked in. I’ll drop it on your desk. Also, take your time, going to be a quiet one today with the one team out in Banff for that meeting.”

Tea in hand, you walk into your office. Waiting for you is nondescript box wrapped in butcher paper and a blue sparkly ribbon along with an envelope slid between the bow and the box.             You snag the card first.

Know it’s not me per se but close perhaps? Maybe this little guy can be a bit of a substitute and keep my place warm with you while I’m gone. I at least trust his intentions ;) – S

You can’t help but giggle incessantly when you peek inside the box. Tucked amongst a bunch of confetti laced tissue paper is a dark, curly furred teddy bear with honey brown eyes. What made you laugh out loud though, is that he was very much dressed in what you lovingly call cuddlebug Shawn mode. This little guy has a heathered grey hoodie and blue plaid flannel pajama pants. He even has a tiny acoustic guitar strung across his back. You pick him up out of the box, he’s soft all over, squishy in the right places. As you run your fingers over its fur and across the strings of the tiny hoodie, you swear you catch a whiff of your boy coming from him.

“He would,” you murmur, burying your fingers deeper through the curls of the bear.

Around his neck though, a flash of silver caught your eye. It’s long, on the bear at least. It’s a silver locket, the same size and shape as the silver medallion he always wears. The filigree detail on the front is super fine and delicate. You pop it open and inside is a tiny dried, pressed forget me not. Your breath catches. You carefully unlatch the chain from around the bear’s neck and fasten it around yours, fingers carefully tracing over it as it sits just so on your breastbone. You tuck the teddy back into his box for now and shift focus to the other gift of the day. The box Rosalie had is on your chair, and the inside box is blatantly from Laduree. You don’t even need to open it to know what’s inside. The card on top though, you read before sneaking a cookie from one of the sleeves.

I know you and you’re going to want (and need) something like this today. There’s going to be a few bottles of wine waiting for you at home when you get there too. Also, next weekend – you’re being invaded. I’m in Friday mid-afternoon so, be prepared! Thank your boy for the gift of me, is all his doing. He’s a special one. Love ya girly <3 Didi

“This boy,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair wiping at your eyes and grateful you didn’t do mascara today.

Setting the bar high, aren’t you? Mini me bear Shawn with his little extra gift and Didi for a weekend? You spoil me entirely too much. Thank you, really. He’ll keep me warm, but I definitely prefer the real deal. Fly safe, Shawn <3

Thankfully, Rosalie was right. The office was quiet for a Tuesday, but you’re grateful for it. No video calls, a few of conference calls and a ton of emails aside from regular work. Your phone pinged off in rapid succession at around 5:45 as you were trying to wrap up for the day.

I feel like I spoil you the appropriate amount or sometimes not enough, but we’ll agree to disagree ok? :)

That little guy and I had a long talk, he’s up to the challenge of being my stand in so you’re in good paws with him. And I just helped Didi bump up some plans she had going herself is all.

Finally on the ground, we looped SFO for like an hour because of runway traffic but I did get this sick shot!

(Photo of Golden Gate Bridge with one big fluffy cloud in the background)

May have a dinner now I need to deal with after we settle in and go through a pre pro meeting according to Cez, but I want time with you tonight even if it’s just 5 min.

Dinner is a thing – FaceTime me when you get back to your place? I’ll have time for you before I need to be presentable, time change on our side ftw!

Can I say I miss you already? Is that allowed to be a thing? Cause I do, miss you <3

The flurry of texts makes you giggle and tug at your heart a bit, and it’s only been a couple of hours. It’s an easy decision to head home right then and there.

You have impeccable timing; I was just wrapping up for the day. Should only be a quick hop back to my place.

“So, sweetheart huh?” you smile, cozying into the corner of the couch watching him flop down onto the bed stomach first.

He tinges pink.

“I need to step up the game from Rockstar then,” you tease as the color spreads further across his cheeks and nose.

“Are you done teasing me?” he quips, shifting about again to prop the phone against a pillow. “Is this how this is going to be while I’m on the road?”

“I kid because I care, my dear,” you reply. “Eh, that one needs some work. Ok, but not the go to. Doesn’t feel you enough.”

He laughs brightly. You fall into sync and talk for a good 20 minutes about everything and nothing, your days, what the rest of the week is shaping up like. Then an alert goes off on his phone.

“Time to get a move on. Need to get pulled together enough for this meeting that I can go right from there to dinner,” he sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “One day down. I’m glad this worked out. Like seeing your face, pretty girl.”

“Go, go. I’ll text you tomorrow,” you bite through fighting back a yawn, suddenly super sleepy. “We’ll figure next FaceTime date then.”

“Get some rest. Goodnight sweetheart,” he says softly, blowing you a kiss before disconnecting.

Day 12

I’m sorry, Shawn. Still stuck on a call with the clients from Stockholm. I thought we’d be done before you needed to head to the station :(   UGH. Are you jammed with them until you have to get to the building for soundcheck?

You unmute the line to chime in about the latest opportunities the company could have supporting some of the local conservation efforts, specifically with teaching schoolchildren about environmental impacts. By the time you were done and were able to end the call off your desk line, your cell phone unfortunately forgotten for those few moments, you missed a few messages.

You’re being a bad ass; I can’t fault you for that. Work goes on aside from my wacky schedule. This is the one with the student programming, right?

Interview, performance, meet and greet, liners, some web thing then straight to the arena. Full pack with this group. Sound check shouldn’t be long though. After that but before power nap and pre-show hoopla? We’re 2 hours behind because Arizona is so weird with time change so like 4ish your time?

You were supposed to have another call, but it was something internal. Something you could push, even just to get a few minutes with him.

I’ll push my call, Josue won’t mind. It’s just an internal catch up on something for an Ottawa client. Putting you on my calendar for 30! <3 Call? FT?

Josue is more than happy to shift, even saying he can download you on email if you bring the good coffee and treats when it’s your turn for Friday morning staff pick me up next week.

Call unfortunately for now unless something changes, idk if I’ll have my room alone or if I’m hiding in the bus. But need time with you however I can take it. We’ll figure out FT when we talk later. Go run the world.

He finds a box waiting for him in his dressing room when he walks in with Brian and Cez, having a few moments to be just after soundcheck.

“Oh good, they brought it over. That showed up for you at the hotel, arrived there after we already left for the station. I thought you may want to open it now and not wait,” Cez explains as he scrolls through some emails on his phone. “Come on Brian, let’s give him some space.”

“So, it’s that kind of present then?” Brian snickers before Cez pushes him towards the door.

“Let’s go smart ass. I’ll be back for you Shawn a little before 4 for the meet and greet,” Cez calls as they walk away.

He flips open the box to find another box, this one brightly wrapped with an envelope stuck to the top with a bow. He snags the card first.

When I was away at college, one of the best things was getting care packages especially when I least expected them! Here’s a little taste of that for you, Shawn. Some fun, some practical, some sweet, some absolutely nonsensical. Most of it’s for you but share with the boys as you will. Miss you Rockstar <3

The box was exactly that: two extra phone chargers and another two extra wires because you know how he loses them, a new AirPods charging slide with a deep grey marble case cover, another one of his favorite writing journals, a box of the pens he likes to steal from you when he thinks you’re not looking, a couple tins of his favorite tea, a box of homemade baked goodies, a massive bag of Blow Pops, a bouquet of Tootsie Roll pops, a handful of packages of both Haribo gummy bears and fruit snacks, 2 silly stress ball men whose eyes pop out when you squeeze it, a bunch of random rubber band shooters with a bag of bands, four tubes of glow bands and a rainbow selection of Halloween eye masks.

You’re beyond, you know that? This is amazing, thank you. Cannot wait to talk to you later, pretty girl.

Day 20

The day starts out innocent enough. It was a normal day at the office and with him somewhere still out west, you’ve lost track. Maybe Denver at this point? It’s at least a 2-hour time difference now, that you do know. You get out of a meeting, settling into your office when a text pops through from him.

I miss you, pretty girl. I miss waking up next to you.

You echo the sentiment, skimming back into the brief you just got for a project that you’ll be fully leading out on.  You go head down into work, not paying much mind to your phone for a good block. When you flip back to it, you’re welcomed to two more messages.

I miss your heart beating with mine, how you fit just so in my arms. I miss you in bed with me.

The next is a photo that makes you lose breath. The light streaks over him from what’s probably a recently opened curtain, his hair is a riot of curls and a bit of a wicked smile over his lips. He’s got one arm bent behind his head. The crisp white bedsheets still a mess from the night before and they’re slung just oh so low enough on his hips to know there’s nothing underneath them. Well at least not clothing.

“Shit,” you blurt out loud, but thankfully not loud enough to carry even through your closed office door.

He then progresses to texts you did not expect.

I miss your hands on me, I miss your mouth on mine, how you taste on my tongue, the way you sound when you come.

You flush, even when he’s trying to be dirty, he still sounds beautifully lyrical.

I miss how your breath always catches when I slip into you for the first time, how you get so tight around me, how wet and turned on you get when I’m fucking you.

You quickly get up to DND all the settings for your door card and your work line.

I AM STILL AT WORK SHAWN PETER. What is this? Where is this coming from?

You try to finish the last few emails you must get through in your inbox, you’re not sure what’s going on with this boy of yours.

Can we talk later, FaceTime? Pretty please pretty girl?

You know where he’s going with this. You’ve passed the teasing, alluding texts here and there, a few slightly risqué photos but not this. Not yet at least. And it’s obvious by his build up he’s getting to now, what it will lead to.

As long as you behave while I’m still at the office. Some of us just can’t fuck all in their bed at whatever time of day it is where you are.

You try to shake out the haze settling over your brain when your phone goes off again.

Fuck all is right; I wish it were you though. You’ll always be the better option.

He sends a photo, but you refuse to even open it while at your desk. You have a fairly good idea of what he’s up to.

“Damnit Shawn,” you sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. There’s no way you’re going to be able to finish what you need to if he keeps this up. You flip off a few random gifs, so you don’t have the photo immediately in your chatline.

This is not behaving because I think I know what you’re sending me there, Rockstar. What are you up to here?

It’s early in your day, but you toy with the idea of ducking out.

Can you head home early? You’re all flushed. You’re coming down with something, I think.

“This boy I swear,” you exhale, already shutting down your computer.

I’ll be home in 20, think you can control yourself for a little bit longer?

As you key into your apartment finally, your phone buzzes again. You’ve missed two other messages.

Yes, yes and yes.

I still wish that it’s your hands around me right now.

That makes you warm all over as you walk back into your bedroom, losing almost everything you wore to the office that day. For now, leaving on the thin cami, bra and panties. Before you duck into the bathroom, you scroll back to that photo. It’s what you assumed, though seeing it makes you even warmer; his right hand wrapped around his dick, hard and flushed a deep pinkish purple. You have to take a quick wash of your face because you have a notion that once you’re in bed you won’t get out of it for a bit and really, to help you cool down a little. Once you grab the little drawstring bag from your bedside table and start to settle down onto your bed, another text rings through.

So, what are you wearing?

“Whaaaat?” he whines, scrubbing a hand over his face as soon as you connect on FaceTime.

“That’s what you start out with? And on text? That’s like the epic cliché for a dude who wants to get some, Shawn,” you laugh. “Especially considering I know how dirty you can get on text after the show you put on a few minutes ago.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” he groans, burying his face into the pillow. There’s enough light from the open curtains you can see how pink he is, even through the phone’s camera.

“You’re hiding from me now, Rockstar? After ‘what are you wearing’?” you tease. “Or your little diatribe about how you like when I come on your tongue or when I have my lips around your cock?”

“Sweetheart,” he moans, his free hand shifting down from behind his head. “You. God, you sound so good.”

“Isn’t that the point?” you question, shifting around in your bed to get more comfortable. “Get you turned on like that. You did that to me before at the office, then again when I looked at that photo you sent with you fisting yourself.”

“You liked that? Me all hard and wanting you?” he gets breathy as he speaks. “See what thinking about you does, what you do to me.”

“Get mouthy. I know you want to, I know you can,” you egg him on, trying to push his buttons to get him riled up to the point where he was before with you. This time though with you right there to see and be seen.

“Fuck,” he licks his lips. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“I miss you like this too Shawn,” you admit, fingers tracing over your collarbone. “I’ve missed your hands on me, your lips, your tongue, your dick.”

“You have to too, pretty girl,” he counters, fighting back another deep rumbling from his chest. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear you, see you. Want to make you feel good, make you come.”

“Please Shawn,” you whimper, your fingers tracing the swell of your breast against the cotton of your cami. “Want to get you riled up, watch you come for me. I want to come for you too.”

“I think you’re wearing far too much,” he purrs. “I think we need to get you caught up but not before you let me see what you had on today.”

“If I knew this was happening, I’d have picked something far prettier,” you remark, flipping the tank top over your head.

“You know I have no complaints with your choices in lingerie. Ever. Fact you let me see it on you at all is a privilege,” he chuckles. “Let’s see come on, show me please.”

You were happy you at least slipped on a matching set today. Deep forest green lace with boyshorts. You angle and tilt the phone down so he can see not only the cups of your bra but the line of lace at your hips.

“Oh honey, that is pretty. You’re so damn pretty,” he coos. “Touch yourself, like you’d want me to if we were together.”

His breath stutters as he watches you flick and twist one of your nipples through the lace before peeling the cup back to do the same against bare skin. You both groan.  

“Show me,” you murmur, head bending back into the pillow as you pinch it again. “Want to see you too.”

He grunts deep before flipping the camera shot. He’s harder than before, the head of his cock a deeper red, tinged with purple. His hand moving in slow, easy strokes, squeezing the tip slightly on the up.

“You’re so hard, Shawn, look at you,” you play coy, your free hand slipping to tease the lace trim on your boyshorts. “That all for me?”

“Only you,” he whines, flipping the camera back so you see his face. “Time for you to take off all that lace sweetheart.”

You prop the phone on the pillow next to you, slipping your bra away first then shimming your panties off. You twirl them around on your finger in front of your phone and laugh before snagging it back up.

“All gone,” you giggle, smiling wide as you cup your breasts together to show him your bare skin.

“God, how I miss you,” he whimpers. “You are just so stunning. I’m damn lucky I get to call you mine.”

“I miss you too, Shawn. Wanna show me how much?” you poke, your hand making a trail down your stomach. “You’ve got me all naked in my bed. Tell me how you want me, what you want me to do.”

“I wish that was my mouth making its way down your skin like that,” he sighs. “Bury my head between your thighs and lick you until you’re writhing. Flick your clit against my tongue to the point when I get your legs to shake around me. You always get so fucking wet when I’m eating you out. I can’t ever get enough of how you taste.”

You can’t help but run your hand down further, start circling your clit and whine. Your fingers may be enough tonight you’re wound so tight. It’s been a few days since you’ve gotten off too, that plays in yours, and his, favor this evening.

“Yeah, you like that huh?” he mutters, his own breath growing short. “Fuck, don’t hold back. Don’t bite that lip of yours. You look so good like this. Let me hear you. Just like I was there.”

“Shawn please,” you sob, speeding and tightening the circles, pressing down a little more.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he pushes, his own hand tightening around him. “You wanna come? You want it like it was my mouth milking it out of you or you want it like my cock buried deep inside you?”

“Shit,” you draw out.

“Come on sweetheart, gotta tell me so I can get you there,” he pants, trying to stave off the build he’s starting to feel watching you. “Need you to come for me, see you fall apart. I want to know how you want it.”

“Fuck me, please. I want your dick in me and your thumb on my clit to get me there. Please, please Shawn,” you practically beg.

He hisses not expecting you to go there, shifting down to roll and pull at his balls. He knows if he keeps up the assault on his cock the way he has, he’d come far, far too soon. He wants to enjoy this, enjoy you before he comes himself.

“You know how much I like sinking into you, watching your eyes go wide and start to roll back when my head just starts to stretch you and slip inside,” he utters, that thought even making him throw his head back. “The way you just clench around me, you’re always so warm and wet and tight. I never will be sick of that feeling.”

“Oh, oh, I’m so close,” you stutter out, hand flicking even faster. “Shawn, Shawn please.”

“That’s it honey, you look so damn good like this. I’ll never be tired of seeing you this way,” he urges, hand back to skimming over himself just slightly. “Just like that. How I want that to be my hips slipping against yours, grinding my dick deep in you. When you get this close, you flutter around me and I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything better. Come on, come for me. Please sweetheart, show me how pretty you are when you come.”

It hits you hard and fast, hearing his voice that raspy asking for you to come for him. You lock eyes with him and cry out, arching your back. You work yourself through it until you’re far too sensitive to keep even a light circle going against your clit.

“You feeling good over there?” he teases.

“You’re how damn far away and you just made me come like a freight train,” you mutter, reaching for a tissue.

“Lemme see first,” he bites out quickly, his hand speeding up a little against his cock.

“You wanna see how wet you got me, Shawn?” you ask. “That going to wind you up more? Knowing how you still get me going, even this way? How even just your voice and how dirty your mouth gets can still make me come this hard?”

“Yeah,” he groans as you lift your hand towards the phone. “Shit, look at that.”

“It’s all your turn now,” you reply, quickly wiping your hand. “How do you want me? On my knees sucking your deep?”

“I’d never say no to your mouth,” he huffs out. “But it’s not gonna take much. Watching you come like that, god I already know I’m not going to last. I want to fuck you. Ride me? I love having you in my lap. Want my lips sucking at your nipples while you’re sliding down my dick, settling down on me.”

“My hands in your hair, tangled up in those damn curls of yours. My mouth on that spot on your neck, the one on the left side that just makes you squirm when I latch onto it every single time,” you start. “I hit that spot and you always rock your hips up into me. Doesn’t matter if we’re just making out or you’re inside me. When I’m on top of you like that though, you always slide further, deeper.”

“Yes, yeah just like that honey,” he moans loudly, free hand pawing at his own chest while the one around him starts to speed up even more. “Need you, need more of you.”

“Want me bouncing on your cock? Or do you want me grinding down and circling? I know you; you want both. Grinding first, then when I feel you getting even harder, that’s when you’re close. That’s when you want me to pull off you slowly, then slam back down on you. Isn’t that right, Shawn?” you draw out.

“You feel so good. So, so fucking good. God yes,” he sobs, his strokes now shorter, fingers hitting closer to that spot just under the head that makes his hips tipping up even more. “Shit. Wanna come inside you. Please, sweetheart. Please let me come inside you. I love how it feels when I come in you, you’re all warm and wet.”

“Let me see you come, Shawn. Let go for me. Lemme see those pretty eyes of yours when I make you fall apart into pieces and come. Please come for me,” you plead.

His eyes flash open, only a tiny ring of brown visible. His jaw drops and he lets go the most delectable sounds. His hand slows as the last strangling noise leaves his lips.

“Oh, oh shit. Oh. Wow,” he huffs. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard and that much since the first night we slept together.”

He flips the camera again, he’s definitely a mess of come with puddles and streaks all up his stomach, pooling in certain dips of his abs. His cock, twitching slightly, when you bite your lip to fight back a moan.

“Are you trying to make me want to come again?” you huff out.

“I’d need a few to catch my breath because damn,” he exhales, reaching for what you think is a hand towel to mop himself up.

“Honey?” you prod after he’s clean and breathing at a normal pace again, his eyes are back open to focus on you.

“Yeaaaaah,” he chirps back. “Our thing now. Add it to the list.”

“Mmkay. I miss you,” you sigh. “I want to cuddle up on you right now.”

“Me too. Kiss all over your face,” he replies. “Miss you too pretty girl. Miss you so damn much. This will help keep me for a bit, I’ve got something new to use for some fuel without you. I think though that we need to do this again soon. Cause hot damn.”

“You’re such a boy,” you giggle.

“Your boy though,” Shawn smiles, making kissy faces at you.

Between Day 34 and Day 41

It has been a few days of just missing each other, timings were all off, his schedule is changing on the fly to the point that neither you nor he could both keep up anymore aside from the definite moments of shows. The label was adding things left and right, days off were slipping away. Missed calls and FaceTimes, texts going unanswered for hours, not the normal lag times you’ve both become accustomed to. It took this long to finally hit the skid you both knew would eventually come, what you didn’t realize was how hard it would shake you and how deep it would run.

You end up taking a work from home day and you work from your home, not his place despite wanting to post up there to just have a better sense of feeling close to him. You need to be able to have those mood swing moments from mad to upset to indifferent without folks in your office poking in to see what’s got you in a tizzy. It’s been three days now of just clipped responses via text, short and unlike the Shawn you’ve grown to know and care for, a “k” here or a yes/no there and zero tries or asks about getting calls or anything set up, let alone trying to talk with you over text about anything. You were trying, but it stopped last night. The ball is now in his court. You also have a major proposal that needs to be approved internally and out the door to a client by the end of the day tomorrow. You live and breathe work those two days, barely functioning outside of it. Partly because of your deadline, partly to not face the feelings swirling around inside you.

You send a silly meme on Saturday morning to him feeling a little lighter after your work is complete. You’re met with nothing but the same silence you’ve faced for days. You crack on that night.

Instagram is a flood of photos and boomerangs and videos. It wasn’t one post; it was the whole crew. All of them posting throughout the night. You knew they were all busting your ass, so of course it made sense to have a night out to blow off steam with a supposed two days off following. It looks to be their typical wild night out. Which you don’t begrudge. However, you hadn’t heard a peep from him in three, going on four days. Not an emoji, not a missed call, a gif. Nothing. It wasn’t the night out that had you set off; it was the buildup of feeling like you don’t matter anymore, especially when things seem to get a little tricky.

You bite your lip to not only stop the wobbling, but to prevent you from the start of the tears. You press down so hard you draw blood. You don’t want to overreact, but everything you talked about, all that you promised each other feels like it was just empty words. This all isn’t it. This isn’t making you guys a priority despite all the outside forces that come down with a tour. Your mind is racing, wanting to let him know his actions have consequences. Your thoughts deserve more than a text, this was so much more than that. Knowing there’s no way he’d hear a ring wherever they were, between the noise and being too wrapped in their night, you hit call instead.

“I’m not sure what to say or how to say it, but it all boils down to that I’m really tired of feeling like shit because of you Shawn,” you start, sniffling. “Couple days of missing each other like passing ships shouldn’t result in you being short and moody to me for the time you have been, let alone followed up by total silence from you for days. Days, Shawn. Not hours, fucking days. That’s not okay. We knew it would be hard, we knew we’d have to put in the effort and the work, but we both seemed to agree to want it and each other. We were going to be a priority. We wanted this us of ours. We both have been putting in that work for like the last 30 something days. This last couple days, it’s not that. This is the opposite of it. A simple text saying you’re crazed or overwhelmed, something anything really would be better than this.”

You take a deep breath and, on the exhale, sob.

“If this is what happens when the going gets tough or tricky with you, I don’t want it. Ever. I’m not even sure me calling and telling you this will even matter, I don’t know a hell of a lot of anything right now,” you bite out between some tears. “I guess, I’d just like to know either way what the hell is going on if this is your not so subtle way of ghosting me to end it or what have you. More so, so I can settle my emotions and my heart around it all. I’m not mad, I’m just fucking sad and disappointed. Maybe more at myself for believing all you said to me.”

You end the call, throwing the phone across the room before tucking your knees up and fully breaking down. At some point you curl up in a ball on the couch and fall fitfully asleep there. Waking up around 11:45 am, beyond late for you, you still feel awful. This wasn’t some nightmare. It was very much real.

“Hell,” you sigh loudly, trying to pop your neck, back and shoulders as you decide what you need to do before facing the day and your phone.

When you manage to pick up your phone, by some miracle it did not break, the alerts and notifications are taking up your lock screen. 7 Missed FaceTimes, 18 missed calls, almost a dozen voicemails and about 30 texts from Shawn alone. Let alone the handful of texts and missed calls from Tristian, Hirashan, Miguel, Didi, Tomas and then surprisingly, his sister, Brian and Cez. You must shower, put on some fresh clothes and drink a copious amount of water to rehydrate after all the crying before you can even think about catching up on everything that’s on your phone.

You fire off a quick reply in the group text to Hirashan, Miguel, Didi and Tomas first.

Not sure how much you heard, or what you know or got told but it’s not pretty right now. I’m at my place and have been, I crashed after a draining phone call and a good sob. I need to get myself together. Let me wrap my head around what I’m waking up to. Thank you for all just being here and caring.

The shower and clean, comfy clothes help, as does the gigantic sparkling water you gulp down, taking the refill with you to the couch to finally address the elephant in the room, your cellphone. You scroll through the others first before getting to the plethora waiting for you from him.

My brother is a moron on a good day and I’m sorry he’s being an even bigger one now. I haven’t talked to him, so I don’t exactly know what all happened, but I heard him on with Mum and Dad before. He sounded like shit and I just heard him say how lost and broken you sounded. Which means he was an asshole somehow. I told him you’re too good for him when he brought you home for the first time. I’m on your side no matter what nonsense he pulls, cause again, he’s an idiot. Text me if you’re up for it. I won’t tell anyone, promise.

So, you know because I think you’d want to know, I’ve got him and I’m staying with him tonight. He refused at first, but I won out in the end. Got him into his room and he spilled out only about the voicemail you left, nothing more, then cried and crashed. I’m not taking sides, think of me as Switzerland. From someone who has done this road thing before many a time, it’s fucking hard, but it doesn’t excuse what I think went down. Going to try to talk to him more in the morning. I’m here for you too, my dear. What you guys have, it’s something special. Will help however I can.  

He won’t tell me what went down, but he’s pretty broken up. Wtf happened? Like I know, not my place, but I care bout you too. You’ve become a part of our little fam. If you don’t want talk to him, or even me really, just at least please text me to let me know you’re safe and ok as you can possibly be. C has him, which is a good thing as he’s good in those capable, responsible adult hands.

Even though I was friends first with him, doesn’t mean I don’t think of you as a good friend either. Talk or not, whatever you need. I’m a phone call, text or Uber ride away.

You tilt your head back on the couch, not expecting any of that from his people. You’re blown away, grateful. You only answer Cez.

Thank you. I’m glad you took him. Part of me wants you to beat the nonsense out of him, but that’s me running on emotions and shit sleep. I’m not going to say anything, at least not yet, let him get his piece out to you first. Thank you for being there, for both of us. Can you let Brian know I’m alright? He checked in as well and I just can’t do more than this, to you, yet. Talk soon, ok?

You take a deep breath, roll your neck and prepare yourself to dig into everything left. The first few from Shawn you couldn’t completely make out or decipher, but as you started scrolling through, they got a little clearer especially the last few.

I know sorry isn’t enough, it’s never going to be enough. Me missing you, schedules getting tossed about and not being able to sync, I shouldn’t have let it get to that point. Of like utter dissonance. Which turned into anxiety and anger and all these other emotions. But I am sorry, I’m so sorry.

I let it take over and fester and I was an ass to everyone, not just you, that’s not an excuse or a reason or justification or aaanything like that.

Fuck. I wish I could rewind the last few days.

I can say a lot, that I should have known better, because I do, that I shouldn’t have gotten that far in my head, that I should have talked to you straightaway, that I’m a jackass for hurting you and making you feel that way. I never should be the one to cause you that much pain and heartache and brokenness.

Your voice there, I never want to hear it that way, let alone be the one to make you sound like that.

I should never have let it get to the point where you think I don’t care; that you’re not someone I truly care for and want in my life or that you’re not a priority or that you feel my words are baseless and empty.

Because you are, you’re becoming the most important person in my heart.

My actions are inexcusable, full fucking stop, and I hate I’m texting this all to you, you’ll hear some of it in bits and pieces on the voicemails I left.

I want to say fuck it and sneak out to hop a plane back to you, to talk to you in person, to apologize in person, to see you pretty girl, so I can start to fix this.

Because I do. Want to fix this. I’m really hoping this isn’t broken, that you’re not broken to the point of beyond fixing. That I haven’t broken you or this to the point of disrepair.

There’s so much more I want to say to you sweetheart, but I don’t want to do it this way. Please call me, text me, something, when you’re ready.

You take to listening to all the voicemails, some were just dead air, him trying you again, some had broken versions of what he texted you. The last one got you because you heard him as despondent as you felt last night, his voice crackling with emotions, even crying at the end of the last one.

You began crying again in earnest at his crying.

“Damnit Shawn,” you sigh, crashing back on to the couch trying to figure out what to say, at least for now.

It shouldn’t take me calling like that, let alone getting that upset, to get you to stand up and pay attention Shawn. Please give me a beat to wrap my head around all this. I’ve listened to and read everything you sent; I need to sit with it - you owe me at least that.

I’m still fond of you, but I’m not liking you too much right now.

He rereads her texts before slumping over, hands pulling at his hair.

“Did you get in touch with her?” Cez asks, sitting down next to him.

“Kind of? She texted me back finally. The last one. It hurt. I deserve it though. All that matters is I royally fucked up and I don’t know if I can fix it, as much as I want to,” Shawn mumbles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this invested,” Cez replies. “You both seemed to have a handle on trying to balance the road thing. At least minus this last week on your end. What happened?”

“It started out as just bad timing, missing each other and timing not meshing but then it was more of that. I got in my head, anxious and upset, sort of angry. Not at her but at what we were trudging through,” he begins. “It boiled up and over, honestly for no good reason other than I was tired and frustrated at the situation. I made it out to be like I was that way at her and towards her. I shut down. I was an asshole and did exactly the opposite of everything I promised her, that we really promised to each other before I flew out. I started to get that way around here too.”

Shawn sighs, sitting up and rubbing at his neck.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. Funny way I have of showing it,” he sighs, flopping back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Love huh?” he prompts, trying to let Shawn lead the conversation.

“I almost said something before I left, but I didn’t want it to be questioned that I was saying it just because I was leaving. That’s not it. It’s, being with her, getting to know her, falling deeper with her, it’s all drilling down to really just loving her,” Shawn laments. “This feeling, her really, it’s found a space in me that takes up a place in my heart just like music and my family. She makes me a better version of me now that she’s in my life. I knew from the first moment we met, she was going to be special to me. Wasn’t sure what or how. But now? She’s so smart, cares more than anyone I know, she sees me for me and not all this other stuff I’m immersed in. She’s what I want. I don’t want this without her, man.”

“I think you figured out the start of what you need to tell her?” Cez questions.

“I started to, in the texts and the rambling voicemails, but I need to talk it out with her, whenever she’s willing to talk to me. If she’s willing to talk to me,” Shawn utters.

“Talking though, communication, that’s what got you through the first chunk of this tour. Remember that. Be honest, be open with her, you owe her that. Take it from someone who has gone through it before. Make the time. Hell, tell me you need the time and I’ll do what I can on my end to help you with that. Please do yourself a favor though, don’t tell her you love her now over the phone after a fight. That’s meant for a good memory, and for you to be there with her, not amidst all this,” Cez notes.

“How’d you get so wise?” Shawn remarks. “I’m hoping she’ll be willing to talk to me. I need to fight for her, for us, for this. It’s too special. She’s my lightning in a bottle, Cez.”

“Give her the time, whatever she needs. Start slowly when she does. Prove to her, and to yourself, that everything you both said to each other does really mean something,” he responds. “Now come on, let’s go get you some air.”

“I know they’re finishing load in now, but do you think I can get in there today? Even for like half an hour?” he asks.  

The next morning, your phone pings off quickly in succession.

I promise you won’t hear from me after this until you’re ready, I want you to take whatever time and whatever you need.

But I’m sending this to you first because I don’t want you to be blindsided. I’m toying with dropping this tonight. I don’t know but I also think I need to have this moment of feelings out there. To be raw and vulnerable. Honest. Fully visible.

This isn’t the grandmaster fix, I know that, but this one has been bubbling up for a bit in me and it’s fitting, apropos even but you needed to get it and hear it first. Because it is for you, it is you.

It’s two files, a video and an audio. You click the video first. You’re a glutton for punishment, even when you’re upset with him.

Shawn has his phone propped up on the music rack of the piano he’s been touring with. He’s on stage, you can’t remember where he’s supposed to be playing tonight. It’s dim and he’s alone. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing slowly as he places his hands on the keys and he lays in. The chords are melancholy.  

“A tornado flew around my room before you came. Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain in Southern California, much like Arizona. My eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they bawl,” he sings. “When I'm thinkin' 'bout you, I've been thinkin' 'bout you, I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still? Do ya, do ya? Or do you not think so far ahead? 'Cause I been thinkin' 'bout forever.”

His voice isn’t like you’ve heard before, it’s got tinges of things you don’t want to even think about. That sound winds deeper into his voice as the song goes on.

“Damnit Shawn,” you stammer, a tear rolling down your cheek at the end of the video.

What do you do when the stupid manboy you’re upset with goes and pulls something epic to try to start making things up to you while he’s hundreds of miles away?

You shouldn’t, but you transfer the mp3 to your phone to sync to your Apple Music.

You got the song?

“Of course, he knew about it,” you mutter.

Does he mean it? I need you to shoot straight with me, Cez. I don’t need to know everything or anything he talked to you about, I’m not going to break that trust. But I need to at least know this. Please.

You’re not sure how to take this all. This isn’t the magic pill to swallow and everything will be fixed or okay, but this is something you can’t take lightly. He is completely right. It’s open and honest, emotional and raw. It hits you square in the gut, let alone the heart.

Without a doubt. Truly.

Won’t say much more, but I want you to know this. I’ve been with him for a while, through a lot with him. He’s like a son. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this in his feelings about anyone before.

You can’t let this rot away, as much as you’re hurting, and you want him to hurt like you do. It’s not good for anyone. You need to talk, to see if you can fix it. He seems to want to, you feel like you do. You won’t know for sure unless you talk and see him while you’re talking.

When does he have a free pocket today? Can you get him somewhere, safe and alone? With a laptop?

Your brain starts to spin, but your phone pulls you out of it.

I’ll make it happen. I’ll get him into my room, my laptop. Want to say 4:30? We’re still dark tonight and dinner isn’t set plans tonight. Even if it is, this will give you time without rushing. I’ll make sure of it.

Still enough time to wrap your head around what’s coming but not so much that you’re going to get caught up in it. Part of you wants to shower, but the other part wants him to see how much of a mess he’s made.

Perfect, thank you kind sir.

“Thanks for all this,” you fight out, still nervous.

“Of course, I only want the best for both of you. Remember that, not just him,” Cez half smiles. “Let me go get Shawn. Hold tight, he’s just next door.”

The next thing you know, Cez is pushing Shawn down by the shoulders to sit in the desk chair.

“Holy shit,” Shawn exclaims, eyes wide and slack jawed when he sees your face on the screen in front of him.

“No one knows you’re in here, but the door is fully locked up tight, I’ll be in the bedroom with door shut and earbuds in,” he replies, patting his right shoulder. “You two take your time.”

Once the door clicks shut behind Cez, you two just look at each other and you stay that way for a few moments. He looks tired, like he’s been pulling at his curls for hours. You know you can’t look much better.

“I’m afraid to start,” his voice trembling. “Because I don’t know…”

“Me either,” you whisper, swiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“Sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he pleads, holding back tears of his own. “I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry.”

“I know you are,” you hiccup. “That doesn’t take away how you made me feel this week, Shawn.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get that far. My anxiety, my issues, I should have never taken it out on you, never made you feel like it was you when it was all on me and how I was coping. I shut down and shut off and that’s not right nor is it an excuse,” he explains. “I know better than this on how to manage my anxiety and it wasn’t right or fair to you whatsoever. It’s one thing when it’s just me. This is different, with us.”

“That wasn’t what I signed up for. That was the polar opposite of how we said we’d take things while you’re gone,” you sigh, swiping again at your tear stained cheeks. “We were doing as well as can be, then it was like a switch flipped.”

“I think the schedule getting fucked on my end threw me more for a loop than I thought it would,” he says, threading a hand through his hair. “Again, not an excuse but losing those pockets of time off, those days. It’s always been difficult and would make the anxiety spike, but I also only had me to worry about last time through. But I want to have to worry about you, think about you as a priority in all of this. I should have leaned on folks, leaned on you, pretty girl.”

“You know, this is what I was worried about. Before you left,” you tread carefully. “We knew it was going to be hard, but we were making it work. Almost halfway and we were getting through it. Damn Shawn last week was brutal. I don’t think I’ve felt that…discarded before.”

That’s what cracks him, a loud sniffle and the tears fall from there.

“It breaks me, that I was the one who made you feel like that,” he stammers. “I can’t get that tone you had from your voicemail out of my head. And that I drove you to it? It eats away at me. I want to fix this, this, us, it’s worth all the work, however hard it gets.”

“Are you sure about that?” you respond quickly. “Cause I just saw the opposite of that firsthand and my heart can’t take that again, Shawn. You’ll break me.”

“I’m committing myself more to this, to you. I’ll talk to Cez and Andrew, make sure I have actual breaks and not just run for 72 hours straight not knowing up from down,” he ticks off. “I will do whatever it takes to start earning the trust and respect back.”

“The song. Was that a first step?” you wonder about out loud.  

“The song,” he exhales. “I started toying with that first day in San Fran. Did you listen? Do you like it? It fit, trying to be present but looking forward. For me, to that day I got you from the airport before those last shows, to when I was back home with you, after that even.”

“It’s beautiful, you sound stunning on it,” you remark. “That song is why we’re on FaceTime right now. I think you should release it if you want. It’s your feelings, Shawn. Up to you if you want to share it with the world. Damnit, I miss you. And I don’t want to lose you, but last week…”

“Last week isn’t indicative of me.  I think, well at least I hope, you know that,” he jumps in. “The song was for you, is for you. I wouldn’t let it out there if you weren’t okay with it. It’s a statement, folks don’t know who or why, but you would. Honestly, that’s all that matters to me right now is you. Say the word and I’m on a plane back, I can get to you and be back in time for the show tomorrow night.”

“Cez and Andrew would kill me, then kill you, then come back to get me again,” you half chuckle, half sniffle. “I would love for you to be here, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that as much as I want you here. It means a lot that you’re offering and that you would though. I need this Shawn who is willing to do that with me for the last 30 some odd days of tour.”

“You mean that?” he asks, eyes glassy but brighter than you’ve seen.

“It’s going to take that work, from both of us, and I’m going to still be a little cautious, a little guarded. You must understand that though coming back into this. It’s going to take me a bit to be as easy as it was earlier on,” you lay out.

“Whatever you need, baby,” he replies.

“Baby?” you squeak out.

“Shit shit I’m sorry, it just slipped,” Shawn rambles. “I didn’t even…”

“No, no I just. That’s ok. It’s, I mean,” you stumble. “You’ve never called me that before. It’s, it feels intimate. I think I like it, coming from you. I never did before from anyone. I always shut that down right quick. But, you. It sounds right, the way you’re saying it, in your voice.”

“Yeah?” he prods, getting bashful.

You nod, turning an even brighter shade of pink. This wasn’t what you expected, but you’ll be cautiously optimistic about it.

“I miss you, pretty girl, so much,” Shawn props his chin on his hand looking at you softly. “Why don’t you go rest, it’s been a whirlwind the last bit to say the least.”

“I don’t want the bubble to burst,” you confess, pulling at your sleeves.

“Can I call you later? Please?” he requests. “I can text you when I know what the dinner plan is, then figure from there?”

“I’d like that,” you confirm, a slight smile sliding across your lips.

Day 48

You decide to take the weekend at the condo, needing to get away but not away away. Plus, you want to either despite of or because of, which honestly probably was a combination of both, the last blip, you have this need and sense to feel close to him in some way to try to keep putting the pieces back together.

You’re both still stepping cautiously, watching every step to get back to where you were before, so you text on Wednesday to ask if it’s ok if you head over after work on Friday and spend the weekend there.

I gave you the key for a reason, this one specifically. I still want you to feel like you have somewhere you can escape to while I’m not there if you need it. Please go. I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be there taking a breather.

You don’t get to leave the office on time Friday by any means, stumbling into Shawn’s place a little after 8. There’s a small vase of dusty lavender peonies studded with fresh lavender sprigs on the side table by the door, with a card propped against it clearly in his handwriting.

A few little things are here for your weekend to make you feel more at home, yet on a little retreat. Keep your eyes open, you may find things when and where you least expect it. Rest, relax and just be while you’re here, pretty girl. Miss you.

Those little things so far include more flowers on the kitchen island, your favorite wine and seltzer in the fridge along with a plethora of other things you’re fond of food wise. You send off a quick text before moving on.

How?

You wander down to the bedroom to drop your overnight bag and change. Fresh sheets on the bed, lavender scented candles on either bedside table, along with a familiar black tub and spray bottle from Lush on the table you’ve been calling your side when you’ve stayed over before, as well as a shirt you distinctly remember helping him pack folded neatly at the end of the bed on top of the extra blanket. You can see some other lavender goodies in a basket on the bathroom counter. You’re about to slide out of your work clothes and into the shower when a text alert chimes through.

I have my ways :)

His ways, you’re fairly sure, are either Tristian, but this is far too neat, thoughtful and pulled together. Or his Mom.

I’m calling your Mom tomorrow to thank her.

You shower quickly, sliding his shirt on after and grateful he sent it. It’s soft and has a strong, lingering scent of him woven into the worn cotton. You forgo anything else for the night and slip beneath the sheets before checking your phone again.

Can a man have no secrets?

My idea, you realize, all of it. Mum just helped make sure it fell into place exactly how I wanted it all to be for you.

Try to have a disconnected weekend. Mute shit on your phone, just not me. Delete shit if you must and reinstall it when you’re back at the office on Monday. You take care of you the next couple days. If there’s anything else you need, you tell or text me and I’ll make sure it, and you, are good. Call you after the show tonight, baby.

Day 54

Your mom just invited me to brunch and shopping with her and your sister on Saturday.

You really like his family; they’ve been nothing but warm and welcoming since Shawn introduced you all. They make you feel like you belong in this little unit with them even though you and Shawn are still navigating the newness and even more so now that you’re feeling a bit more on steady ground with him after a few weeks ago.

They miss you! And want to see you. But it’s not like I miss you. Also, closest thing to getting a real live dose of me is a dose of them. Mum’s idea. I’m all for it. Told her and Liyah you’d be game. I like you all talking and hanging out, even if it is without me. All my girls together and happy.

All my girls reverberates in your head, pinballing around your heart. It pulls at you. Your phone shakes you from your thoughts.

Don’t be worried, or nervous even. No bad motives here whatsoever. It’s a parental thing to want to do all this or so she tells me ;)

Just no crazy escapades, my sister is still a baby. Remember that.

You can’t help but giggle. This boy. How you miss him.

Ok so take off check out piercing places from the list. Good to know.

Your phone rings immediately.

Day 61

“Homestretch,” you sigh, falling deeper into the pillows. “Everything I borrowed from you doesn’t smell like you anymore. Makes me sad.”

“You know you can go into my closet or the drawers to snatch something else. Thank god it is the backstretch,” he agrees. “Soon enough, sweetheart. Me and you in that bed together.”

“S’not the same, Shawn. And you promise?” you whisper, eyes starting to flutter shut.

“Mmhmm, I’m turning my phone off for at least a week. Anyone desperately needs me; they can find me through you so it’s only the super important folks. I want us to figure out some time away from Toronto, just me and you. I want to make sure we get time for us, to make sure we get to reconnect without any noise. We’ll figure it out when I’m home with you,” he utters. “Baby, you’re fighting it. Don’t. Go get some sleep.”

“Just a little,” you murmur, nuzzling into the pillow. “Missed you though, Shawn. Wanted to talk at least even for a tiny bit. Mmm vacation. Somewhere warm, over Toronto cold.”

“Warm it is,” he whispers. “Sleep now. We’ll talk again tomorrow on FaceTime, an off day with just travel in the morning.”

“Ok, sweetheart. G’night,” you whisper.

You wake up to a text the next morning

I can absolutely get used to you calling me sweetheart especially in that sleepy, cuddly cozy voice of yours.

Day 72

You come out of the shower to a bunch texts, which isn’t out of the ordinary to have a flurry of messages in the morning, but they’re not from Shawn or Didi who are the normal culprits. This time it’s a few from Cez, another three from Connor. At first you wonder if he lost or broke his phone but that’s not the case. You open Connor’s first.

He was being nauseatingly adorable so I figured you may want to see and enjoy or gag like I did :D

The next was a video clip of the crew meandering their way through the airport, heading down an escalator.

“Hey Shawn, where we off to?” you hear Connor ask from behind the camera.

“Last shows of tour. We’re off to New York,” Shawn smiles wide. “We did it. We’re wrapping it all up. Looking forward to these, they’re special.”

“Any reason for that shit eating grin?” he teases. “That’s more than a yes, a fantastic tour is over woo look on your face. We’ve come to know a face like that when a FaceTime call rings through. Come on bro, fess up.”

His smile softens a little, cheeks flushing, “I finally get to have my girl come in. She’ll be here for the last shows of tour. She hasn’t seen this show yet at all. So, I’m excited for that. I’ve missed her. And I get to have my family here too. All the people I really care about with me for this. Best way to wrap this era.”

“I can’t wait to get this reunion on film,” Connor pokes. “Epic blackmail material.”

“You wish, man,” Shawn shoves at him. “Not happening.”

“We’ll see, I think you may want that for posterity’s sake. Could be good…” he starts in before getting interrupted.

“To New York!” someone else calls out and the group. Shawn looks at Connor and the camera, smiling again before the clip cuts out.

He looked extra sweet and all that, so I needed to send you the still from it cause it’s a thing you should have coupleish shit and all. Fly safe, we need you here in one piece for him but cause me and you, we need to drink!

You trace over the photo with your finger, you’ve missed him. This was hard, harder than you both thought despite the effort and the trying and the energy. But. But you made it, battle scars and all. You got through 72 days. It makes you realize that him, that this of the two of you. It’s worth it. He’s worth it all.

The next block from Cez are confirming all your travel details, letting you know you’re in first and alone, with his family coming in later that night.

You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s nervous, excited, a little twitchier than normal. Vibrating out of his skin practically but smiling more than I’ve seen. He’s also fighting me on wanting to come to get you at the airport. No promises, but just to prepare you. Think I may let him win this one just this once.

Text or call if you need anything in the meantime and I’ll keep an eye on all the travel timing from my end as well. Look forward to getting more time with you this weekend!

As you are heading back from some last-minute errands so you can finish packing for your super early flight tomorrow morning, your phone trills.

“I get to see you tomorrow, baby. Like in person. With hugs, kisses and you tucked up against me,” he sighs. “I get to have you in my arms and at my show and in my bed. 72 fucking days, we did it.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance​, @ts-holland​, @sinplisticshawn​, @shawnmndes​, @fallinallincurls​, @itrocksmysocks​, @rainbowshawn​, @lasingphomustra​, @illumecherry​, @adelaidestreets​, @thotmendes​, @shawneu​, @turtoix​, @eugenedream​, @mendesficsxbombay​, @somethingaboutshawngoeshere​​

*Always feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut

[julessworldd]

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots​ @roger-taylors-car​ @reigns420​ @awildkaitlynhasappeared​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @izzysguitar​ since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year. 

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date.  Felt like it was yesterday.. 

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute.. 

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms.  "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed.  Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was. 

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros.  I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero. 

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me.  I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings. 

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk.  It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too. 

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything.  "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back.  "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around. 

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat. 

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers. 

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late." 

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room. 

 "Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled. 

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled.  Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused. 

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around.  "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil.  "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist. 

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me”  I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again. 

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection. 

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe.  I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek. 

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfic #highschool au #Oc!reader #Judith Channing

[shinsorokiri]

UA Idol | Chapter Three

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Language, big anxiety

A/N: Chapter Three is up because my dumbass forgot to upload last week! So here’s some more. The “original song” is “Pantaloon” by Twenty One Pilots, so if you would like to listen to it, go ahead! I hope you enjoy and I promise I’ll stop forgetting to upload lmao.

UA Idol Masterlist

───────────────────────────────────

You two are pulled aside and interviewed, in which Mina gives a short little excited burst of personality, and you’re there to make sure she doesn’t start shrieking again. It’s pretty endearing, it’s very obvious you two are best friends. After all of that is over with, the two of you are able to wander around, so Mina obviously drags you over to where Denki and purple boy were. They’re still there, and Mina makes it a point to shake the ticket in front of her friend’s face.

“No fucking way! You did it!” he yells, engulfing her in a hug. You don’t realize, but you and lilac man both cringe at their volume, but nevertheless you smile for your best friend. After all, this is a dream come true for her. You’re still in shock from your audition, so all you can think about is the pride and happiness you have for Mina in this moment. “Oh! My best friend and roomie made it to!” Mina squeals, grabbing your wrist and shaking your hand that’s holding the ticket for you. “Denki Kaminari, (Y/f/n), (Y/f/n), Denki Kaminari,” she says, motioning from him to you then you to him. “Hi there, cutie,” he says with a slight smirk and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Call me that again and it’ll be the last word you ever speak,” you say, and to your surprise, he laughs. “Damn, Mina, it’s like I’m looking at another Shinsou,” he says, and that’s when the lavender dude sighs. Ah. So, he’s-

“Mina Ashido, Hitoshi Shinsou. Hitoshi Shinsou, Mina Ashido. (Y/f/n), Hitoshi Shinsou, Hitoshi-”

“I got it,” you and Shinsou say simultaneously, with the same inflection in your voice and deadpan facial expression. That’s when you look at each other. And by that, I mean really look at each other, not just look at the other person when their eyes are focused on something else. And that’s when everything just kinda… stops for a few seconds. The only thing you can even focus on is him, and you can’t tear your eyes away from his, no matter how much you want to. Do you even want to? You don’t even know the man, and yet butterflies are erupting in your stomach and all feelings of unease leave your body. Of course, Mina and Denki don’t notice the cease in time or the feelings exploding in your body. You’re only forced back into reality when your best friend’s voice interrupts you. “Holy shit, they’re like clones of each other,” Mina mumbles, staring back and forth between you two. “The only difference is-”

“Contestants 14799 and 14800? Follow me, you’re on deck,” the same producer who grabbed you two away from them earlier comes and snatches them away from you. “Don’t go anywhere, Mina. If you’re cool with it, I kind of want to go to dinner to catch up after this, it’s been too long,” Denki says, and Shinsou raises his eyebrow at him. “What about me and (Y/n)? Are we supposed to tag along on your date?”

“Oh, honey, I’m gay as fuck. But Denki, I’m so down to catch up! I can’t believe we went a whole month without linking up. And I’m sure (Y/n) would be happy to come with. Especially if we go to her favorite restaurant which I just so happen to have a coupon for because I was gonna take her there to celebrate or mourn after the audition.”

“Awesome! You two stay right here, we’ll be back out!” Denki screams over his shoulder as Shinsou drags him away. “Seriously, Denki?”

“What? I want to talk to Mina again! She and I were literally the best pranksters of our little group in high school and it’s been like a month since we last caught up with each other,” Denki whines and Hitoshi sighs. “But why did you need to drag me into it?” he groans, and Denki smirks at him. “Oh please. Don’t pretend like I didn’t notice you eyeing up Mina’s friend.” “Choose your next words wisely.”

“Shin. Come on. You at least think she’s pretty since your eyes literally didn’t leave her the entire time she was by us. Give her a chance at least, maybe she’s the one,” Denki says, his joking demeanor gone away. Shinsou hesitates before speaking again, saying the thing he’s said to his overexcited blonde friend multiple times before. But this time, he doesn’t believe it as much. “I don’t have time for love, Denki. It’s time consuming and I need to spend my time on more important matters.”

“But she was really cute, right?”

“If you call her cute again, I will beat you up.”

“Why?”

“Because she was cute. And I don’t need you to make me think about it every five seconds because my brain is already doing that on its own,” Hitoshi mumbles, looking away from his friend who has a smug grin on his face. You were cute, so what? You were so cute that the world around him stopped functioning for a bit when you two made eye contact and all he could focus on was your eyes and how you made him feel like he was okay despite the fact that his anxiety was through the roof right now because of the situation he is in and all the people surrounding him at all sides because that’s normal. That’s normal, right? Please, assure him that it’s normal. “Hm. Have you thought about buying her dinner? That’ll send off the right message.”

“Shut. Up.”

“What’s up guys!” Shinsou and Denki’s conversation was cut short by Present Mic literally screaming at them. “Just getting pumped to do this!” Denki responds immediately, hopping up and down in place. “Alright! That’s what I like to hear! Now, who are you guys?”

“I’m Denki Kaminari and this beautiful bastard next to me is Hitoshi Shinsou,” Denki responds, finger-gunning over to Shinsou. Shinsou sighs but gives a genuine smile to Present Mic as he waves. “COOL! So, are you guys a duo?”

“No, we’re just here to support the other! My family doesn’t live around here and Shin’s… couldn’t make it!” Kaminari covers up for Shinsou, knowing that he just told the entire story of why his family couldn’t support him right now to the producers maybe thirty minutes ago. Shinsou silently thanks him for that, knowing he’d probably have to tell at least some of it again to the actual judges. “I love seeing y’all supporting each other like this! Makes me think of when I supported Aizawa the first time he ever actually performed instead of just sat on the sidelines watching someone else sing his song! Kaminari, you’re first, you ready?” “I was born ready.”

“HELL YEAH! Go on in!”

Hitoshi watches his best friend enter the room, his own nerves starting to kick in. Regardless of how he’s feeling, he listens as Denki belts out Kiwi. For someone who has the personality of a corroded triple AAA battery, his voice is really pleasing to the ear. Especially when he lays on the distortion but still somehow manages to hit high notes in his belting range. Honestly if anyone was born to be a rockstar, it was Denki Kaminari. Unsurprisingly, he comes out with a ticket, waving it around like the excited Pikachu he is. “I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it-”

“Okay I get it! You did it!” Hitoshi says, waving his fists in a little celebratory motion. He is genuinely smiling though. He’s happy for Denki. And then he realizes it’s his turn. “You got this, man! If I can do it, you definitely can!” Hitoshi gives him a small smile of appreciation before walking through the doors himself. This was... a lot. It was a lot. He stopped in the middle of the performing area and looked at the judges. “Hello, handsome.”

“Midnight. Please.”

“Never, Aizawa.”

“I’m sorry for her lack of professionalism. Hello, what’s your name, where are you from, and why are you here?” Aizawa completely ignores Midnight and Hitoshi clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Hitoshi Shinsou, I’m 22 years old, and I’m from Tokyo. I’m here because my roommate convinced me to audition with him, but I also just really love music and it would be pretty nice to have my mom see me performing.”

“Aw, a family man. How sweet,” Midnight says and Hitoshi shrugs. “It would just be nice for her to see it before she... you know.”

“Is she sick?” Hawks asks, a small frown on his face. Hitoshi nods. “Yeah, she is,” he says, and there’s a sympathetic look on all the judge’s faces. Goddamn empaths. “Well, hopefully she gets to see this! I’m sure you’ll do great,” Toshinori says, giving him a reassuring smile and thumbs up. “What will you be singing today?”

“Um, I was actually planning on singing an original? If that’s okay?”

“That’s more than okay! Go for it,” Midnight says, and Hitoshi makes his way over to the piano. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you tell us what it’s called?” Aizawa asks. “It’s called The Pantaloon,” Shinsou responds, placing his hands on the keys. He starts playing away, hoping that what he sings for them is good enough. He had to shorten the song a bit, but it’s still pretty wordy, so he’s worried they won’t like it that much. He also knows that his style and voice in general is a little different, so he hopes they don’t hate it.

“Your grandpa died when you were nine. They said he had lost his mind. You have learned way too soon You should never trust the pantaloon.

Now it's your turn to be alone. Find a wife and build yourself a home. You have learned way too soon That your dad is now the pantaloon.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends fertilize The ground you walk, Lose your mind.

You like to sleep alone, It's colder than you know, 'Cause your skin is so Used to colder bones. It's warmer in the morning, Than what it is at night. Your bones are held together by your nightmare and your frights.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends, they fertilize The ground you walk. So lose your mind.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends, they fertilize The ground you walk. Lose your mind.”

It’s funny how when you do something well, you forget how it went. Hitoshi finishes out the song, playing the last chord, hoping it went well but not really knowing since he kinda... blacked out...? Not really, but he doesn’t remember how it all went, so he hopes it went well. “Wow,” Midnight’s voice pulls him out of his head, and he looks over at the judges. “Literally what the hell, he’s the second person who auditioned who is better than me!” Hawks basically yells, throwing his hands up, the pen he had resting in them flying up and then coming back down to hit him on the head. Hitoshi can’t even pay attention to the fact that Hawks just assaulted himself because I’m sorry, did he say better than him?? He has 10 Grammy’s what the fuck does he mean better than him??

“What are the odds two kids like them would audition not just in the same season but on the same day not even forty minutes after each other?” Toshinori says, awe evident on his face. “It’s certainly rare, I can tell you that. Especially when it comes to actual songwriting ability, which it’s evident they have,” Aizawa says, and Shinsou’s breathing literally stops. Aizawa Shouta is his literal idol. And he just complimented his songwriting skills? What? “Well, Shinsou. I think I can say with confidence this isn’t the last time your mom is going to see you perform,” Midnight says, and Shinsou smiles. This is crazy. “You’ve got a future in the business kid, even if you don’t win, I see you in the top two with the other singer-songwriter we saw today. Easily,” Aizawa says, and Shinsou literally cannot believe what he is hearing. “Really?” he asks, disbelief in his voice. “Yes! Of course, after a performance like that in a room like this with a song like that, of course you’ll make it far in the competition! I’d bet you even make it to the top two with it!” Toshinori basically yells, and Shinsou scratches the back of his neck, letting out a flattered chuckle. “Thanks… thank you,” he says, and Aizawa picks up one of the tickets. “I’m just going to give this to you. I think we all agree that you’re a yes.”

Hitoshi goes and takes the ticket, thanking them again and again before walking back out the doors. He shows Kaminari the ticket, and Kaminari literally screams in his face. Full on shouts. “I FUCKING KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BRO!”

“Could you please be quiet? For once in your life? Just shh?”

#shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinso #hitoshi shinso #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #anime

[thiswasinevitableid]

Rockstar (Indruck)

A friend on discord, @morganeashton, requested #28 of the meet ugly list for Indruck: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]. This is NSFW.

A peril of high quality sound equipment is that when it goes out, it’s very obvious.

The mic goes, his guitar and Dani’s bass cut out, and the effects are gone. For a moment it’s total silence as the audience watches him. 

Then he picks up exactly where he left off, notes coming as easy as breath. After a moment Jake starts up quieter than usual on the drums, giving him rhythm. By the time he finishes, the mic and instruments are back on and the applause is deafening. He smiles to himself.

He’s still got it. 

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

Duck knocks on the dressing room door. 

He’s so fucking fired.

“Come in.”

Mr. Cold is sitting at a mirror, takes note of Duck’s reflection.

“Ah, Duck, I thought it might be you. Mama said you were the one who disconnected our sound tonight.”

“Yessir. I, uh, it was an accident, I was movin somethin in a tight space and caught my foot on the cord without noticin’. I’m, uh, I’m real sorry, and, uh, I’ll, uh-”

Mr. Cold holds up his hand and Duck shuts his mouth. The singer turns, in his chair, face now free of make-up. His features still have that alien edge to them, the strange mix of young and old that’s made his attractiveness the subject of much debate. Duck knows where he falls on it; anyone who thinks Indrid Cold is anything other than sex on legs should get their eyes checked. 

That won’t help him, he knows that.

Indrid leans back in his chair, “you don’t need to plead your case to me Duck, for two reasons. One is that I’m not the one in charge of hiring or firing the road crew. That falls to Mama and Joseph completely, and if I ever tried to toss someone out for an accident they’d put me in my place very quickly. But more importantly, I’m not angry with you for what happened. Quite the opposite.”

“You...wait, really?”

Mr. Cold counts off on his fingers, “The space was small, so everyone could still hear me. There’s been rumors I’ve been using a dub, so this ought to quell them nicely, and” he looks at Duck over his trademark red glasses, smile widening, “it was unexpected, something that’s rare for me these days. When you get to this level of fame, everyone is terrified of not having a flawlessly executed plan. But that is not how the world is; it’s not how art is. So it was nice to have the chance to show everyone that the unexpected can be invigorating. Thank you for that.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome?”

Mr. Cold  smiles as he stands up, “you should sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s fine, uh-”

The singer simply rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes. Duck sits. 

“Would you, ah, like a drink? The hosts here left a very nice bottle of tequila.”

“Sure.” Duck tries not to stare as he bends over to retrieve a glass and a bottle, pouring Duck a shots worth of tequila that costs more than his rent. Duck mumbles a thank you when he hands it to him, then gawps when Mr. Cold sets the bottle aside and retrieves a Capri Sun from the mini-fridge.

“I can’t stand alcohol. Used to try for the sake of fitting in but” he makes a face like a disgusted cat, “eech. One moment, I need to change.” He disappears around a corner, leaving Duck to wonder what the fuck the polite thing to do is. Mr. Cold is always polite to his crew, but he keeps to himself much of the time. Not to mention Duck’s only been with them since the tour started a month ago. 

A photo on the table catches his eye, and he scoots his chair closer to get a look.

“Was, uh, was this an alternate cover or somethin?”

“Hmm? Oh” a light laugh, “no, though you’ve got a good eye; we shot it the same day we shot the cover image for The Cryptids. That was a shot that was nixed because we looked too silly, I think Vincent had said something funny and cracked Barclay up, who set me off. I bring it with me to every show, a sort of good luck charm mixed with a reminder of where I came from.” 

From the faded photo, nineteen year old Indrid Cold smiles at him. 

“I take it you’re a long time fan, then.” Mr. Cold reappears in a pink and yellow bathrobe, the last color scheme Duck would have assumed he owned. 

“Yeah, over a decade. I, uh, I was sixteen when The Cryptids released their first album. Scraped together fifteen bucks to buy the C.D and wore the damn thing out I listened to it so much. Never heard anything like it. That’s, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “that’s not why I took the job, though. Mama didn’t tell me who I’d be crewin’ for until after I accepted.”

“If you’re afraid of looking like a ‘fanboy,’ don’t be. Do you know how Joseph came to be our manager?”

“Uh, story I always heard was he came backstage during a show on your first tour and offered.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “he did. But what very few people know is that he came back in his lovingly homemade  ‘Bigfoot’s Boy’ t-shirt and a a lot of glitter--remember, that was the E.T tour so everyone was space themed--clearly having left the house with the intent of trying to get into our bassist’s pants, and instead proceeded to tell us he’d seen how our manager operated through the night and we could so better and here’s how.”

“Jesus.”

“He was remarkably intimidating in spite of the glitter and his argument was airtight. So we fired Hayes and hired him. He did eventually bang our bassist, but that was perhaps obvious.”

“Given that they’ve been married for like five years, yeah. Still can’t believe Barclay went from beiin a rockstar to bein’ a chef.”

“He was always an ingenious cook. He once made breakfast using nothing but the still-hot engine of a mini-van.”

“AGH, god, why?”

“We were broke and hungry and there was nowhere to buy food.”

“That’s hardcore.”

“Mostly just oily.” Mr. Cold grabs another Capri Sun, sitting down across from him, “hmm, if you were sixteen when we started, did you ever get to see us?”

Duck shakes his head, “only kinda. Y’all mainly played twenty-one plus places even after you started gettin big, then you weren’t tourin nearby. When you announced the farewell tour, my friend Juno and I drove to Richmond to hear y’all play from outside the stadium. She’s still got a picture of us from that night somewhere, all geared out, tryin to look cool enough to be there.”

“You’ll have to let me see it, so I can determine if you pass muster.” Mr. Cold teases. 

“I ask if she can send me it. Christ, I remember bein’ so fuckin bummed when y’all announced The Cryptids were disbanding, then so fuckin relieved when you said you were gonna keep makin new stuff and performin just as Indrid Cold. Your voice is fuckin amazin.”

“That’s not always the word used.”

“So you don’t sound like Bruno Mars or some pop diva, big fuckin’ deal. You sing and people listen because they ain’t ever heard anyone like you. No one in the world sounds like Indrid Cold.”

The singer gives him an odd smile, “that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Sorry, guess there’s still some fanboy hidin’ out under the roadie.” His cheeks heat up as he finishes his drink.

“I think we should both get some rest.” Mr. Cold stands, ushering him to the door, “and that we should talk again sometime. And thank you again, Duck, for your happy accident.”

‘You’re welcome, Mr. Cold.”

A famous smile that’s never stopped being weirdly captivating, “please, call me Indrid.”

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

“You sure Indrid wants me on the bus and not just to, I dunno, load it?”

“Yes indeed.” Ned, Indrid’s publicity man, gestures grandly to the open door of the tour bus, “now kindly get yourself and your bag on it so we can get a move on.”

Duck climbs aboard, awkwardly sets his bag on the carrier shelf as he nods hello to Boyd, Indrid’s driver and part time bodyguard. 

Indrid is lounging on a black couch, but sits up when he sees Duck, “ah good, you decided to join me.”

“Yep. Uh, did you ask me for a reason or?”

“I like talking with you.” Indrid cocks his head, as if puzzled by the question. Duck wants to point out that the a god of the alt scene, a musical genius, who could have anyone he wanted for company, seeming to be excited by hanging out with a roadie is a bit confusing.

Indrid, meanwhile, is shoving drawings and notes aside so Duck can sit down, “mind you, I don’t expect you entertain me or something; I’m working on some poster art right now, for that fundraiser, so if you have things you like to do on the road, you’re welcome to do them. My room is that way if you want to nap, and it has a t.v as well if you want to watch something. Oh, and we have wi-fi, of course.”

He sounds like a college kid showing off his first apartment and it wrong-foots Duck enough that he just grabs his book from the pocket of his bag.

“Thanks, uh, think I’ll read for a bit.”

Indrid grins, goes back to his drawing, pen scratching hurriedly as the bus jolts to a start and pulls onto the road. 

After awhile, Indrid glances at him and asks mildly, “what was your favorite album? Of The Cryptids, I mean, not my solo stuff.”

Duck taps the spine of the book against the table as he thinks, “I mean The Cryptids  has that whole edge by bein’ the first, because there was nothin like hearin’ your sound for the first time. But I gotta say...Unsolved. Whole thing is fuckin amazin, but your vocals on “To a Flame” still give me fuckin chills.”

“I haven’t played that song in a long time.” Indrid says softly, smiling, “it was always a favorite. I wrote it about someone I could never have.”

“You can feel it. In, uh, in the way it’s arranged, the way you sing, gives this whole feelin of someone who’s decided to love someone completely even though they’ll never be loved back.”

Indrid looks at him a moment, that same odd, small smile quirking his lips, then returns to his drawing. When the road gets bumpier, they move to a couch in the middle of the bus with a low table nearby. Duck pulls out his laptop and plugs in his headphones, pulls up Planet Earth as Indrid’s head starts drooping. Two episodes in, the singer falls asleep, flopping sideways so his head is in Duck’s lap. 

He should move him, Indrid will probably think this is weird when he wakes up. Then again, he looks so cute like this. And it’d be rude to wake him up. 

Duck’s to the episode on jungles when a slender, tan hand reaches up and plucks his left earbud out. Startled, he looks down to find Indrid putting it on and adjusting his head in Duck’s lap, clearly engrossed in the carnivorous plants onscreen.

“Do you want me to just turn the normal sound on?”

“No” Indrid murmurs sleepily, “this is perfect.”

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

Duck assumes the bus will be a one-time event, but he’s ridden with Indrid each time since. Which is why, when his phone dings, Indrid is sitting right beside him. 

“Looks like Juno found the, uh, the photo.”

“Let me see” Indrid grabs the phone from him, cackling with delight when he sees the image, “you two were really the pair of cryptozoologists, weren’t you?”

“Told you we were tryin too hard.”

“On the contrary, I love it, it’s exactly the kind of weirdness we wanted to inspire in people. And if seems you did like to collect our merch, that shirt you’re wearing was a limited run.”

“I know. I, uh, I saved up for it, way I always did if something had art of yours on it.” He slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the admission.

“That’s very sweet.” Indrid smiles at him, then lifts his glasses for a better look, “what does the collar you’re wearing say?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t remember, got, uh, got amnesia, collar specific amnesia, fuck, uh-”

“C, O, L...you were wearing a collar with my name on it.” Indrid’s grin takes on a hungry edge, “someone was downplaying whose fanboy he was.”

“I, I didn’t want you thinkin I was creepy, or that I was just bein nice to you because of the crush I had on you in college.”

“I don’t, I promise, though I appreciate the consideration. Here” he hands the phone back, but as Duck takes it he leans in and whispers, “but you really should wear a collar more often.”

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

“Sooooo how’s it going with Indrid?” Aubrey, Indrid’s magician opening act, sits down next to Duck at dinner.

“Good. Wait, shit, are people talkin about us?”

“Kinda? I mean, Indrid hangs out with the band, and with me, plenty, but none of us get to be on that bus. Not like I’m complaining, Dani and I have our own sweet ride.”

“There ain’t anythin goin on between us. It just...Indrid seem like he likes bein’ friends with me.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah” Duck sighs, wistfully, “y’know, it’s funny. Even after I started workin here, he was still Indrid Cold in my head, the guy who sang like he was diggin down in my head, who did wild shit like kiss his male bandmates on stage, who was always so fuckin cool. And now he’s Indrid, this guy who’s kinda awkward and wears way more pink than I assumed and flaps his hands when gets excited and somehow that’s even better.”

“Awww, someone has a cruuUUshh.”

“Had, Aubrey. Had.”

“Whatever you say, Duck” she winks at him, “whatever you say.”

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

“Are these yours?”

Duck shakes himself awake. They’ve been driving all evening and well into the night, and he must have nodded off and knocked his notebook over. Which is why Indrid is now holding several sheets of loose paper.

“Shit! I mean, uh, yeah, but they ain’t anythin special.”

“I didn’t know you wrote songs.” Indrid scans the pages with a critical eye.

“Sometimes. Like I said, they ain’t anythin to make a fuss over.” 

Indrid makes a noncommittal noise and picks up a nearby guitar, tuning it, “you can go back to sleep, I’m just going to fiddle about for a bit.”

Duck lays down on the couch, and falls asleep to the sound of Indrid’s hums.

He’s shaken awake two hours later, and is thoroughly confused to find Indrid in tight black pants and silvery shirt, black boots on his feet and a deep green on his lips; that’s his stagewear, not his pajamas.

“Put on your most punk-rock outfit, and make it fast.”

He manages to get an old Cryptids t-shirt on along with black jeans that, if he does say so himself, make his ass look good, and is tugging on his boots when the bus pulls into a dusty parking lot.

“It’s the only goth/gay bar in the county.” Indrid says by way of explanation as he pulls Duck out the door, Boyd following them as Ned stays behind to watch the van (“in case we need to make a hasty retreat”).

“Wait, holy fuck, I always thought that was a myth, that you would stop at random clubs and play.”

“Not in the least, though it’s been awhile. Ooh, whoever is already playing sounds very good.” He pushes open the door, the smell of smoke and stale beer and sweat pouring over them in waves as they enter. Indrid keeps to the side of the room, holding Duck’s hand all the while, and spots the tiny merch table with “The Hornets” painted on a yellow sign on the front. 

“Wait for me here.” He kisses Duck’s cheek and disappears into the crowd. When the band finishes the song, a youngish woman waves them over to the side of the stage, strangers in the crowd turning to each other to ask what the fuck is going on.

The guitarist and lead singer reappears, giant H on their shirt,  and grabs the mic, “y’all aren’t gonna believe this, but the Hornets have just acquired a new singer and it’s gonna blow your fucking minds. Give it up for one of the gods of horror-surf, the grinning man, the mothman himself, Indrid fucking Cold!” 

The crowd screams loud enough to shake an entire coat of dust from the walls as Indrid steps on stage, beaming and waving.

“Thank you very much, Hollis. I’ve got four songs for you tonight, including something very, very new. So, without further ado” he grabs the mic, flicks his hair, “let’s prowl.”

The Hornets launch into the opening notes of “on the prowl,” the crowd cheering and hooting and singing along with so much energy that Duck can’t hear Indrid’s voice until the last verse. He claps along with everyone else as Indrid takes the mic of the stand, “and here’s one I haven’t sung in far too long.”

The bass and guitar start in a minor key, half country swing and half horror sting.

“Always on the outs, always in the dark.” Indrid shuts his eyes as he croons, “always so hungry for one little spark. Always so willing to play your game. What can I say? I’m like a moth to flame.”

Duck knows the song by heart but he’s never heard Indrid sing it live, like there was someone in the room he was hoping would hear it and know it was for them. He doesn’t breathe until the song ends; he doesn’t want to miss a single note, miss the way Indrid’s voice curls around the room as if searching for him. 

As the crowd applauds at the end, Indrid crosses to Hollis, who hands him their guitar. He loops it over his shoulder, returns the mic to the stand. 

“Now, this next song is very special, it doesn’t have an arrangement yet, so you’ll have to live with just my melodious voice.” He picks the guitar, brow furrowed in concentration, and Duck gasps. 

He knows this song, he’s just never heard it played anywhere but inside his head. Indrid sings it flawlessly, the crowd swaying in time with him, and Duck realizes he must have practiced nonstop while he was asleep. 

The short song comes to a close and he tilts his head, “what did you think?”

The audience bursts out cheering and Indrid grins, “yes, that’s about how I feel too. I can’t take credit though, it was written by a friend.”

He returns the guitar, nods to the band, and purrs into the mic, “the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

Shit how did he know? Does he know? He can’t know.

He can’t know this is the song Duck used to jack off to. A cover of a cover, a video where Indrid growls and purrs and nearly fucks the mic as he sings. 

“You better duck, when I show up, the goo goo muck” he writhes in time with the music, “I’m a nightmare, honey, looking for some head.”

God, fuck, how could he have forgotten just how Indrid sounds when he sings this, like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you. Indrid is on his knees now, working the front row, dragging his free hand across his body with moans between the words.

“He must really like you, mate.”

“Gahfuck, Boyd.” Duck jumps, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stage.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s never let anyone come to one of these before. I only do because Stern’ll kill us if we let him go without some kind of backup.” Boyd pats his shoulder, heading back towards the door. 

Indrid finishes the song panting, the Hornets looking harried from keeping up with his energy. As the crowd screams and claps he bows, and hurries off the stage. In cries for an encore and the darkened house, Indrid finds him again, grabbing his hand and sprinting outside.

“God I missed doing that!” He laughs as they run, “did you have fun?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, fuck, you really liked my song?”

“Of course. And it seems they did too.” The bus doors close behind them, but Indrid doesn;t stop moving, “we’re both very tired, going to bed now, goodnight!” 

Duck’s about to point out he sleeps on the pullout couch, not the bed, when the bedroom door slams shut and Indrid yanks him into a kiss, tongue in his mouth and hands in his back pockets, groping him with a growl. 

When Indrid breaks the kiss, Duck’s certain he has stars in his eyes. 

“Is this alright?”

“Hell fuckin yeah it is.”

“Good” Indrid shoves him backwards onto the bed, “shirt off.”

Duck obeys, Indrid stripping his own away and tossing it on the ground. As Duck fights with his jeans, Indrid retrieves a condom and something black from a box, setting them on the bed. He notices his struggle and shakes his head as he prowls on top of him, “ah ah, we don’t have time for that.”

“Butmmmmfff” Duck gasps and moans as Indrid kisses him again, demanding and messy.

“Get them low enough for me to fuck you.” He bites Duck’s lip and sits up, wiggling his own black pants down enough to free his cock. By the time he gets them free one leg and down to his knee on the other, Indrid has the condom on.

Indrid tosses away his glasses, gives him a long once over, licking his lips, “good boy.”

Then he’s on top of him again, cock inside him and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh fuck, you’re soaking, god, what got you so wound up, hm?”

“You, just you, watching you, Indrid, god please fuck me.”

“Gladly, goodness, fuck, that’s it sweetheart, you take me so well.” Indrid hammers into him again and again, kissing him each time he whimpers or moans. 

Duck wraps his legs around him, manages to get his head up enough to tease his tongue along Indrid’s nipple. 

“AH! Good boy, mmmm, I knew you’d be perfect to fuck.” He adjusts so he can run his hand up Duck’s throat. There’s no pressure in the gesture, but plenty of possession.

“What do you think, shall we get you a new collar?”

“Yes, yesyesyes, Indrid, god, fuck please.”

“Oh you like that, mmm” he switches to slow, deliberate thrusts, a counterpoint to Duck’s frantically jerking hips that makes them moan in tandem, “we could get you several, would you like that? I could put them on you according to my mood and what I wanted you to be that day.”

Duck means to say yes, whines instead, grinning breathlessly when Indrid strokes his cheek.

“Good. I’d like it, too. Nnnh, god I’m close.” He stops entirely, awkwardly shifts and pulls them until he’s on his knees with Ducks ass in his lap, “but I want you to cum first.”

“I, I can try.”

“It was an order.” He reaches down, revealing the black object from earlier; a vibrating wand.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckFUCK” his legs thrash when the vibe presses against his dick, “Indrid, sugar, ohmyfuckinggod.”

Indrid grins, wide and wanton, and turns the toy up, eyes flicking between Ducks face and cock as he cries out and bucks his hips. 

“What a good boy, getting my cock so wet” he wiggles his hips with a moan, “you feel delightful when I use this on you, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you sit on my cock and do the same thing over and over again, edge myself with the feeling of you needy and tightening around me.”

“Indrid, fuckplease, yes, yes, fuck, I’m so fuckin close darlin, ple-fuck, ‘Drid!” He cums with groan, whole body shaking as pleasure overloads his nerves. 

The vibrator thunks to the floor as Indrid lunges forward, pinning him to the bed and fucking him hard and fast, cock thudding into him in time with his purring groans. 

“So, so good, my Duck, so very good, god, yes, yesyes” he’s moving so violently Duck is now grunting from the force of the impact, “that’s it, good boy, take what I give youAHHnnn, Duck, Duck.” His hips slow as he groans, Duck drinking in the sight of him, orgasmic and loving above him.

Indrid pulls out, condom hitting what is hopefully the trash and not his guitar case, and immediately curls around Duck, kissing his neck and face.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou.”

Duck giggles, kisses him back, “why are you thankin me? I’m the one who just got to fuck a rockstar. You got to fuck some regular dipshit.” He bumps their foreheads together to show he’s teasing. 

“Incorrect. I got to fuck you. You, who are funny and charming and to the point, and who has taught me a remarkable amount about plants.”

“S’important to have hobbies.” Duck mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Indeed. My point is, you make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. And while fucking you has been on my mind has been on my mind lately, it was not actually what I planned to do first. I, ah, I” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, hides his face in his neck, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Hell fuckin yeah.” Duck hugs him tight as he laughs with relief, “Indrid, I wanna be with you, the real you, not the one I had the crush on all those years ago. I wanna make you happy.”

“You do that just by existing, but I have some other ideas as well.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck kisses his nose.

“Well, for starters” Indrid’s eyes gleam as he looks up at him, “how would you like to write some music with me, boyfriend?”

“I think that sounds fuckin amazin. Boyfriend.”

#indruck #rockstar au #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #prompt fills

[queenmendes]

things are changing | pt. 3

Note: super sorry this took so long but school and work got very hectic. I’m not sure how I feel about this part so please let me know what y’all think! This little series is almost finished! xxx Also, big thank you to @local-neighborhood-biderman for helping me a lot!

Part 2

~xxx~

Shawn made his way down the hallway of the arena, ignoring everyone that tried to stop and talk. His emotions have been all over the place since Miami. Since he saw Connor and you kissing at the beach. The image hasn’t left his mind, no matter what he does. Everyone felt the change in him. He snapped more at the team. He doesn’t even try and talk to Connor anymore. The only person he doesn’t seem to snap at is Brian and you; but the only reason he doesn’t snap at you is because you’ve been avoiding him. Shawn just didn’t know that you’ve been avoiding almost everyone since then. 

The kiss you had with Connor was amazing and not going to lie, it happened again multiple times that same night when he hung out in your hotel room. Part of you felt guilty, however. The expression you saw on Shawn’s face at the beach that day broke your heart. You’ve also seen how he has been acting to everyone and didn’t know what to do. You never expected to be in a love triangle. Which is exactly why you have been avoiding both of them, pretty much everyone, since Miami.  

Currently, you were in the back of the arena, watching as the main stage gets set up. You didn’t feel like being around people and thought this was the best place, where no one would look for you. You were wrong. 

You heard the heavy footsteps before you saw him; knowing exactly who it was. It was the only person who knew where you go when you wanted to be away from all the people in the many arenas you've been to. 

“Figured I’d find you here.” Shawn’s voice reached your ears as he sat down next to you. The cologne you got him last Christmas lingered in the air. Shawn’s eyes trailed the side of your face as you continued to look ahead. She’s so beautiful. “You going to talk to me?” Shawn asked, his hand brushing on your shoulder as he rested it on the back of the chairs. 

“Don’t take it personal. I haven’t talked to a lot of people lately.” 

“I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend. I’m your person.” You could hear the hurt in Shawn’s voice. His expression matched as you scoffed at his words. 

“Then where have you been these last couple of months?” Shawn went to answer but didn’t get the chance. “Oh, that’s right. You ditched me for her.” Now, you were pacing in front of him.

“You have not spent more than an hour alone with me since you started dating Camila. Do you think it’s a coincidence that anytime you are with me that she calls? Or that when she’s here, she never leaves your side? You don’t even see what she does to you. You act like she’s a perfect angel when she isn't! She treats your entire team like slaves when she’s here. You are ruining the relationship you’ve spent years building with your fans, because of her. I mean for god sakes Shawn, you probably wouldn’t believe the shit she said to me.” 

You were out of breath at the end of your rant, looking anywhere but him. Shawn just sat there, shocked at the feelings and words you just expressed. He had no idea you felt any of this. You were right. He has barely spent any time with you since he got back. Hell, not just you but everyone on the team. 

“Wait, she said something to you?” Shawn asked, realizing what you said at the end. You didn’t answer. “Y/N, what did she say to you?” He was now standing in front of you, looking down at you. 

“She… she told me basically to stay away from you. That you belonged to her now and that you wouldn’t want a low-life, piece of trash that follows you around like an unwanted puppy.” Shawn’s heart broke at the tears that start to fill your eyes. You couldn’t have believed anything she said, could you?

“You know that’s not true right?” Shawn asked, rubbing his hands up and down your arms soothingly. You didn’t say anything, just looked down at your feet. “Y/N, you are my best friend. You have been with me through everything. My vine phase, me signing to the label, my first show. Remember when I bought my Jeep. Me and you drove around for hours with the windows down, blasting music and eating junk food. We didn’t have a care in the world, it was just us. ” His voice cracked at the memory. 

“You help me through my first anxiety attack; which doesn’t bother me as bad anymore because of you. You’re the girl....” He suddenly stops talking and you look up at him. 

“I’m the girl..?” You repeated confused. 

“You are the girl I am in love with.” Shawn whispered as his hands move to your cheeks, brushing his thumbs against them. Your eyes where the size of golf balls at his confession but you didn’t stop him as he leaned down to place his lips on yours. The kiss was breathtaking; it was full of passion, but sweet. His lips were soft and moved perfect against yours. Shawn pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours; his curls tickling your skin. 

“It’s not real. It’s all for PR.” Shawn confessed, his voice so soft, you almost missed his words. “I didn’t realize how bad this would get out of control and you were right. She has made me act like someone I’m not and I am so sorry for everything she has said to you. None of that was true. And I am so sorry for acting like I did.” Shawn apologized. You didn’t say anything right away, just subconsciously played with his hair as his words spin in your brain. 

“I need time to think, Shawn. This was a lot to take in and I don’t want to hurt Connor either. He was really there for me.” You spoke as you back away from him, arms falling to your side. Shawn nodded, completely understanding. However, neither of you notice the blue-eyed blonde watching almost everything that happened between the two of you. 

The show went on as normal. Shawn, of course, was a rockstar and killed it. Connor did his job and filmed everything. You, however, didn’t attend the show; deciding to stay in Shawn’s dressing room and think about everything. 

Connor was the sweetest person. When you were sad about Shawn ditching you. When Camila made you feel so insecure about yourself and how Shawn viewed you; Connor was there for you. He picked you back up and made you smile. Connor made you feel good about yourself. Whether it was from a late night movie marathon or just letting you help him edit and film. In the short time you knew him, Connor became one of the most important people in your life. He was your friend first and along the way, feelings developed. Not just with him, but with you as well. 

Then there is Shawn. The rockstar had been your best friend all your life and knew everything about you. All of your best memories involve him. He was the person who would bring you soup when you were sick. He was the person who stayed up with you for hours and let you cry on his new shirt during your first heartbreak. Shawn knew how to make you laugh until it hurt. Despite everything that has happened these past couple of months, Shawn never lost sight of you. As cliche as it is, he was your first true love; and Shawn loves you. 

As you sat with your mind going a hundred miles an hour, everyone was making their way backstage. While most were on the aftershow high, two were not. Connor just finished packing all his equipment and was walking down the halls, looking for you. Shawn was finishing up a conversation with a few guests and was walking back to his dressing room, where he knew you’d be since he didn’t see you in the crowd with Brian. 

Connor saw the Canadian-singer walking in the direction he was coming from. The anger he has been subsiding all night was finally making its way to the surface. Without thinking, Connor rushes up to Shawn, pushing him back forcibly. Shawn looked at the videographer in shock but felt his own anger rise. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Shawn shouted. The two were now chest to chest and had everyone’s attention on them. 

“Why the fuck don’t you stop playing with Y/N?” Connor shouted right back. “The last couple of months, you have been a complete asshole to her, because of your little fling. Now, all of a sudden you want her?” 

“You don’t know anything. I fucking lover her. ” Shawn retaliated. 

“You don't get that after what you did,” Connor growled, eyes narrowed. Shawn pushed Conner off of him. Everyone around them silently watching the heated exchange; not knowing what to do. 

“How do I know you care about her?” Shawn challenged. Connor had heard enough. Before anyone could react, his fist hits Shawn square on his jaw. Shawn did not hesitant, and quickly threw his own hit into Connor’s stomach. Immediately, the crew around them sprung into action, separating the two; not without struggle though. Shawn was a giant, to say the least, and was doing everything he could to get out of everyone’s hold. Neither of the anger-filled boys realized that all the commotion caught someone’s attention from down the hall. 

“What the hell is happening?” You shouted, running down the hall to see what all the noise was about. Andrew, Cez, Brian and Josiah were holding Shawn back while Matt and Zubin did the same with Connor. Both boys were red in the face and you could see the mark on Shawn’s lower jaw forming. “What is wrong with you two?!” Everyone stayed still. 

Connor refused to look you in the eyes, guilty that he played a part in this. He knew it hurt you to see this happen. Shawn stared at you, speechless. All you asked of him was time to think and he ruined that. Given, he didn’t throw the first punch but he did not hesitant to throw one himself. Both of them could see the pain in your eyes. They just didn’t realize it because you blame yourself for starting all of this drama. So, instead of saying anything else, you turned around and left. Alessia and Liv quickly following after you. 

What Connor and Shawn didn’t know was that you did not go to the hotel like they thought you did after you left. You went to the airport; to wait for the first plane back to Toronto.

~xxx~

BOLD WOULD NOT LET ME TAG

Tag List: @turtoix @physicshawn @im-a-stranger-thing @shawn-youth @dreamersseeincolor @spn-marvel-nerd @someinsanefangirl @tinycertain @unsolvedhearts @ykicantbefoundwithyou @marissje @mae-petite-etoile @michellemxndes @curlyfan @haileyofthefandoms @whoopcalpal @chaotic-ness @arypesanchez @shawnmendes048 @sweetheartmendes @justinshawntom @carolineclds @ludiclove @kamustyles @loveylangdon @redrebecca @weliove @maximumcoffeesublime @introvertedrhi @peruvian-bae @iamanerdnot @lovablefangirl @foreveralone19588 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @ly--canthrope @night-girls-world @we--f0und--w0nderland @rodneywaber @xtmd5 @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @alphabeteeee @shawnandconnor @zigzagsandzebras @danidomm @mariamuses @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @shessoparticular99 @char-m-e @pitreshawn

Forever Tags: @sleepybesson @sunrisebrashx @calum-booo

#shawn x reader x connor #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #connor brashier fluff #connor brashier au #connor brashier x reader #connor brashier #connor brashier imagine

[notasiren21]

Lukanette 24, 86. First day at university/college?

Hell yea bud I gotchu (even tho I have classes in the morning and finished this af 4AM but lol idc)

Rootbeer Floats & Milkshakes

Rating: Teen basically

Pairing: Lukanette

Word count: 3,839

Prompt(s): (24) “Wanna go grab a drink?” & (86)”Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

Characters: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain Cheng, Ayla Cessaire

Description:

Marinette’s first day at university comes with a surprise planned by a certain quiet girl off somewhere else for school and her best friend/roommate Ayla. It’s been two years since Luka and Marinette last saw each other and inner thoughts get spilled and fluff takes place.

So many boxes.

That’s all there was to it. There were too many boxes she had carried up and unpacked between her and Ayla that filled their new university dorm room.

In fact, she was almost certain there was a god out there when a student happened by saying he was taking spare boxes to store away for a later time.

She collapsed onto her bed, black high waisted skirt spanning the mattress and covers, pink silk blouse hanging off one shoulder. An arm carefully draped across her face to avoid makeup, lips parting in an exaggerated moan of exhaustion.

“You alright there, girl?” Ayla snickered, folding her clothes and swatting Marinette’s thigh to get her to move.

“If by alright you mean, questioning my life choices and events that led me to here and disdain for being limited to colleges because of my other persona needing to be here for an akuma, then yes. I’m alright.”

Ayla whistled lowly, “Damn, bug. And here I was, worrying about that small thing called tuition and student loans.”

The bluenette sat up in a huff, leaning against the wall with eyes closed rubbing at her forehead.

“Right, that. God, the thought of starting university scared me, but being here is downright terrifying.”

And then she heard it.

“Aw, Mari, don’t be scared, I’m right here.” And there standing was the owner of the smooth and calming voice. Grinning with his perfect teeth and one snake bite piercing ring on the bottom left of his lip, hair more of his natural black roots and electric blue tips, and a few tattoos.

She was screaming excitedly and hurling her body into his for a hug before Ayla had the chance to turn around and the poor boy could blink.

“Luka!” She smushed her face against his middle ribs, feeling the muscles of his now matured figure and the soft cotton blend of his black hooded long sleeve.

Ayla still folded, more than pleased Juleka involved her in a scheme like old times and reunited the two after Luka left for university for those two years and spent breaks being Jagged Stone’s new protégé.

He placed a kiss to her hair, squeezing her tight and feeling his face burn from her presence altogether. “It’s nice to see you too, Ma-ma-Marinette.” He teased, watching as she pulled away and wiped some small flecks of glitter highlighter away from his shirt. “It’s fine, I don’t mind it.” He said, carefully grabbing her hand and bringing it down to rest between them.

“I didn’t know you went here.” God, her eyes were so blue.

“I could say the same. I came to visit because Ayla said she needed help with boxes and Juleka told her I attended the same school and lived in the same building.” He raised their hands, placing a kiss to her knuckles, “This is by far the greatest surprise though.”

Marinette blushes heavily from the gesture. She used to whenever Luka was sweet around her but the time spent apart seemed to reinforce her feelings. She smiled before a frown took over her features. She quickly whipped around to stare at the taller female.

“Why didn’t you just invite him over sooner? We would’ve finished forever ago.” Only receiving a huff and glance to her.

Luka blinked, “Oh, so you don’t need any help?” Great, now he was feeling like he was intruding and a possible nuisance hanging around.

He was about to offer to leave them so they wouldn’t be distracted when the small and petite girl he spent his last teenage years loving squeezed him into another hug.

“Oh my god, you being here is more than enough help. I think I can see the light, is this it? Seeing Luka has killed me with such peaceful serenity I’m able to leave this horrid place for a possible paradise?”

He gave an amused laugh that rushed out of him, staring wide eyed to his old friend with glasses.

“Don’t even bother. She spent a summer with Chloé having to serve punishment by working in her family’s bakery and everyday it was nonstop dramatic monologues until their shifts ended.” She smiled, “It was amusing and did get better as time went on though.”

He only nodded, hating when she let go and moved to put small and casual heals on, long hair falling over her shoulders as she lent to the side, finding solid balance along her bed post.

“Well since it’s a reunion and all, wanna go grab a drink?”

Luka only dimpled down at her in response, excited she wasn’t ready to part ways with him just yet.

“You even have to ask?”

~*~

There was no question about it in her mind; Luka had definitely gotten hotter in their time separated.

His hair was messy in his young rockstar way but still gravitated the urge for Marinette to play with from across the table. His eyes seemingly more of azure than just regular blue when he was younger. Eyelashes and brows black and more defined.

How in the hell did his features harden after two years?

Marinette played with the straw in her milkshake, glancing up frequently to catch a glimpse of Luka who was at the counter ordering a root beer float. She coward every time he looked to her like he felt her stare.

Ayla passed on the reunion trip, saying she was going to go visit Alix and then spend the rest of the day with Nino who attended the same school as them.

“Sorry I couldn’t take you to a bar or something to ease your nerves, I can’t drink.” He said, sitting down and alternating between a spoon and a straw for his drink.

“You can’t?” She was surprised, most university students would frequent shops and stores to buy out the liquor section back home.

He shook his head, the curve of the spoon sitting on his tongue before he spoke. “Nope, alcohol intolerant. Pass out the second it hits my system, I get sick and the worst hives ever.”

“That sounds awful, how did you find out?”

He laughed lightly, “My roommate was in charge of making punch for a party he was going to later when I would be out buying a new release of this one game. He asked me to try it and only told me of the fruit ingredients, wondered if it needed more sugar. Had no clue until I woke up in the campus’s infirmary.”

She grabbed his hand with hers, white nail polish tips visible to him on short nails of hers. “If it makes you feel any better, I had planned to order a Shirley temple or something had you taken me to a bar. Never like the idea of drinking anyways and I don’t have the luxury of freedom to.” She faltered before she smiled at him.

“Yeah, never know when one will need to run across the rooftops of Paris huh?”

She went impossibly still before he realized what he confessed.

“You knew?” Her voice was a mere whisper, eyes growing wide and beautiful mascara lashes blinking rapidly.

He let go of her hand quickly like he just hurt her, opting to lean on his elbows on the hard table and mess with his hair nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“I mean, I’ve always known since I first met Ladybug in person,” he was speaking quietly to avoid drawing attention. “The way you spoke was just, it was mesmerizing and like a song in itself. When she talked to me, all I could hear was you. And one day you approached me from behind and said my name in that way you do that gets to me and I turned around and saw her instead. And I just knew, I mean that day I was more sure than I had been the first meeting.”

The air suddenly turned thick and she didn’t know how to respond until she thought about certain things he said that she could focus on and giggled.

“And yet the people I spent everyday with in class never picked up on it. You truly are one of a kind, Couffaine.”

The hand that messed with his colored locks stilled, eyes meeting hers that were amused and he felt himself burning like mad. Clearing his throat and sipping the soda from the ice cream concoction.

“So, how’s Adrien?” He wouldn’t dare give himself hope like last time when he first fell for her.

“Adrien? He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you guys hit like your third year yet? When was that anniversary?” He really didn’t want to know but it would provide him a slap of reality before getting hurt again by his own damn self.

She giggled again, head hanging low and bit her lip in a way that made his chest tighten. “I wouldn’t know. We broke up a few months into our first year because we just weren’t made for one another. We’re still great friends and that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more.”

Ah fuck...the hope is seeping in.

“Huh, didn’t see that coming.”

She added some sprinkles to her shake that sat on the ice cream parlor’s table besides the napkins. “We were younger, thinking everything made sense and it would work out. In reality, I just had some tween love obsession goggles on that inhibited my logic and real life objectives.”

He was smiling now, arms folded with one able to eat the soda flavored ice cream, “You really grew up, huh?”

“I could say the same to you. Wonder how a Viperion would look today than from two years ago? Sexier? More fitted? Definitely hotter no doubt.” She flashed a smile and her shoulders shook when he coughed harshly and choked on his spoonful, looking at the way the red traveled down to his neck and his eyes shook in panicked awe of her. “You okay there, Vipey?”

“Vipey?” He hit a fist to his chest, drinking the soda at the top again. Questioning that one little thing was far easier to draw attention to her teasing compliments.

She waved him off like that new nickname wasn’t twisting his heart in the most delicious pain he ever felt. “Always wanted to call you that but Chat was such a jealous and possessive thing back then, I was afraid he’d claw you to bits if I gave you your own pet name.”

Did she really not know what she was doing to him?

Wait.

“Okay, I get it. It’s a cute name.” He leaned towards her again, “On another note, is this you confessing that Chat Noir is Adrien? Because I kinda already figured.”

She gaped before smiling, “You’re just too good, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I mean, a socially repressed kid who lives by a set of rules and is made to be perfect all the time suddenly gains powers, and what is he expected to do? I would think look untamed and be unfiltered as much as possible. It wasn’t that big of a leap when I knew she was you. Well, a small fraction of you at least.”

Marinette ignored the last part. “You know, most people love to say her name. Ladybug’s. Why don’t you?”

His dark brows furrowed before he held a spoonful of his ice cream up to her lips, still leaning forwards and meeting her eyes. “I like your name better, Marinette. You’re what makes her, you’re always Marinette. Why call you by something else unless it’s required of me to do so?” She pretended like the hitch in her breath wasn’t obvious and ate the ice cream, noting the way his eyes didn’t dart down to watch her eat it like most boys would but instead held her gaze, and only dropped to grab more for her.

“What do you mean by that?”

He gave a sad smile, “You’re a smart girl, Mari. Ladybug isn’t who you are, it’s just a persona you created to ease the worries of an entire city that’s heavily populated. Someone you made real to stand up against someone with a power and lust for evil when I’m sure you wanted to hide away like the rest of us. Who you are behind the mask is so much more powerful than the one presented to us because you’re human. You made her to get through the challenging times and give a hero to a city when you wanted to be protected and safe just like them. I admire Ladybug for all she’s done, but I admire Marinette more for the sacrifices she’s made to help Paris and the victims of akumas.” He wiped the corner of her lips when the tinted ice cream caught his attention, his smile dropping. “Every time Ladybug got hurt, my heart didn’t break for her, it broke for you.”

“Me, what why?”

He chanced it and leaned his forehead to hers. “Because everyone saw you gain injuries throughout battle and they cried for Ladybug. Then your purification presumably took away the pain and injuries, but I always assumed some lingered. And that the memories in fact did stay and I wondered how many sleepless nights you had where you jolted awake in fear of getting hurt again, and I prayed to whatever deity there was that you didn’t cry alone in the dark.”

She wanted to cry now.

“People worry about the hero and then the fight is over, then worrying about themselves and the close calls. No one ever stops to worry about the person behind the mask though. I’ve always hated that.”

“No one but you, huh?” They had quieted down significantly and whatever had been flickering between the two had grown to sparks that remained unsettled inside them.

Luka glanced down at their hands that were close to one another’s, taking a deep breath before pulling back. “C’mon, I’ll take you back.”

The walk back was silent, Marinette holding onto his arm that was lazily available while his hand rested in his shirt pocket. He gave her a small smile when she took off her heals to walk through the carpeted dorm hallway, offering to carry the small shoes for her that now dangled from his free hand’s hooked fingers. He watched her step on the patterns in graceful ways, dancing around them to his humming in the near empty hallways.

He assumed there was a first day party raging on somewhere in the building.

They stopped at her dorm, finishing out keys and letting him walk inside to place her shoes down on the rack she brought with her from home. He looked up just in time to see a familiar bracelet presented to him, a snake kwami floating near it and a red one zipping in the back to eat baked goods from home.

He couldn’t find words for how surprised he was, looking between the little god and then her and the bracelet.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Sass won’t mind. I just felt like I would’ve had a great partner in Viperion if I was given the chance to work with him more.”

He willed himself back, “How do I know this isn’t some elaborate excuse to check me out in a skin right suit?” He nearly prided himself when she became equally as flustered.

“That’s only a quarter of the reason why I’m offering, Luka.” She pouted, avoiding his eyes and shifting her weight nervously. He smiled down at her, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his waist as his crossed over her shoulders, cheek resting to her hair again.

God, this felt like home.

“When have I ever said no to you, Mari?” He could feel her excitement shoot through her and the small squeal of excitement reached his ears as he laughed. Letting her pull one arm from her shoulder and slip the bracelet on. “Hi, Sass. I’ve missed you.”

The snake smiled, glancing between Luka and the smaller girl in his arms that was beyond content with the turn of events for the night. “Not assssss much asssss her I presssssume?” Earning a snicker when he winked to the small god.

“Luka, the main reason I asked you?”

He pulled away, letting her sit on the bed on her knees, messing with her skirt in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“It’s because, I’m, um,”

“Take your time, Marinette. I don’t mind.”

She took a breath, “I’ve never trusted anyone with my inner thoughts and feelings like I do with you. You read me like an open book and try to keep it to yourself so I never become embarrassed. But you know the real me behind the mask that most others don’t even if they know my secret, and that counts for something.” She met just azure eyes, “Who better to protect me than the one who sees I’m just as weak as any civilian.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, instead walking closer to her and letting his right hand guide the back of her head to his lips as he placed a kiss to her forehead.

“Is that a yes?”

He nosed her hair, “Maybe I just want to hear you call me Vipey again.”

She giggled in kind, flicking his nose. “It’s a cute nickname for a cute boy who is a cute superhero.” She nudged the tip of his nose again, “With a cute, button nose.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Dupain Cheng.”

“It took me a few years to gain the courage for it, but yeah, I guess you could say I am.” She blinked up innocently at him. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“You know it’s dangerous for cute and beautiful girls like you to make guys like me hopeful right?”

“Is it?” She tried matching his height, even with the extra inches of the bed she only reached to his chin while she stood on her knees. “You said I’m smart, meaning I’ve learned my lesson this second time around. It’s okay for you to be hopeful, right?”

“Marinette?” He couldn’t move, afraid he would scare her off and praying to those kwamis he knew what was happening next.

“Luka?” She nudges her nose to his chin, giggling lightly when he shifted down to meet her nose like she wanted. He couldn’t and wouldn’t make the first move, she knew that. He respected her too much to read too far into things she did. “You know I always had this crush on you, right?”

“You what?”

She frowned, tears glistening around the blue hues of her eyes. “I really did miss you while you were away.” He forced a swallow, ignoring the matter that no one has ever spoken those words to him before and the weight they carried to him. “I’m not messing up this time, Luka.”

She pulled at the collar of his hood, bringing him down to her lips as her name died on his tongue and his hands slipped out of the pocket of his shirt to find support from her waist. His eyes screwed shut in fear of it all not being real or worse, her realizing it was a mistake to take with him.

But she still let her hands travel to his hair, giving a small happy noise with the ability to now play with it and feel it between her fingers. That alone coaxed him out of his potential nightmare slowly and encouraged him to move his lips against hers , feeling her smile when he found the bed to sit on so she wouldn’t have to lean up and felt her legs draped over his lap sideways.

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything when she broke the kiss, scared she’ll kick him out or express regret. Instead she gave a shy smile and then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, hands framing his face before she hugged him with enough force to send Luka tipping backwards into her pillows with her on top of him.

She didn’t move off of him, only brought her face up to rest on her arms on top his chest while he refused to look at her. She held his face again, feeling the heat of the blood rushing to his face.

“Is it my turn to say how cute you look when you’re a blushing mess?” Her impish smile widened when the depths of his blues met hers, his jaw hardening in response to let her know he was at a loss for words. She ran a hand through his hair, noting the way he couldn’t stop the hum from escaping his throat. “You always were the one who got away, I didn’t want to risk it this time around and knew it the moment I saw you step into the university dorm that it had to be.”

He swallowed nervously, fingers twitching on her back. “Does this mean you want to be-,”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend for the time being? Absolutely.” She gave a firm nod, lips pressed in a straight line to make him laugh finally. He tried not to think about the her response and what the “time being” could lead to, hopefully a future together like he always wished for.

“Okay. I want that too.” She grinned, resting her chin on her arms again and staring up at him with an awed look. “What?”

She shook her head, leaning up to peck his lips before darting down to his chest and resting her cheek against his heart, “Nothing, you’re just really cute, Luka.”

“Oh my god, you’re going to kill me.” He muttered, arms leaving her and covering his red face.

“You okay?”

He whimpered, “Peachy. I meet up with the girl I’ve had a crush on forever and have a date with her and she ends up being my girlfriend before the night is over. And she’s the type to shower me in compliments. I’ve sighed my own death wish.”

“While you’re dealing with that, you mind if I turn the television on and catch up on an anime I’m watching?”

He uncovered his face to look at her then the tv across her bed, “Does this mean we have to move?”

She shook her head, moving to grab the remote and he noted he recognized the show already from some posts and expressed interest to himself of it before.

“No, I’m too affectionate to pass up on cuddling.” She sat up to grab a blanket before resting on his chest again, tangling her legs with his and giving a happy wiggle when he hugged her close. “You smell nice, I like it.”

“Fuck, you’re really too adorable, Marinette.” Luka sighed, forever grateful the university he didn’t care much about had one thing he would give the world to and she wanted nothing but him instead.

“You’re adorable too, Vipey.” Giggling when he squeezed her in retaliation and muttered to just watch her show and cuddled him.

#luka couffaine #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #miraculous luka #luka x marinette #mlb luka #marinette dupain cheng #marinette dupain cheng x luka couffaine #love #lukanette fic #lukanette fanfic #prompt #fluff #mentions of viperion #answered ask #i need sleep #lukanette

[who-is-olivia]

Who Is Olivia?

Harry Styles x OC

Harry proposes during the recordings of Made in the AM. [4.2k]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: hello! fine line is on the way and i think i might have a creative meltdown when it arrives, so i'll just keep posting whatever i please with all the beautiful content harry's ever brought to light. this chapter is a throwback to old school 1D fanfics, bringing the boys back because i'm soft and i miss one direction =) enjoy xx

August 2015

“And you will find me... in places that we’ve never been, for reasons we don’t understand, walking in the wind” he sings in the booth for the 8th time, then stands quietly for a few seconds to give her a clean cut spot. “How’s that?”

“You’re almost hitting the note, but it’s not quite yet” Olivia comes over to the booth, “If you put more pressure in it you might find the best placement, come on, do it again”

He rubs his frown in stress, it’s late and he’s tired, having Oli press him is not helping at all. “Don’t we have a take already?”

“We have, but you can do better”

“Come on, love...”

“Trust me, you can do better-“

“Can we take 5?” he asks Julian, who just shrugs. It’s already late, it makes no difference. However, Olivia doesn’t take it half as well as him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m bloody exhausted, that’s what, and having you... diss me every two takes is not helping”

“You think I’m picking on you?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m just saying you don’t criticize Liam or Niall half as much as you do me” he fires back in frustration. Instead of lashing out as he expects she will, Olivia waits for him to calm down and then spells it out for him.

“The only reason I push you is because I want you to give your best. If you want someone to pat your head and shower you in compliments, you’ll sound fine, but fine is also mediocre” he nods in agreement, letting his head fall embarrassed. At the comfort of that position, he almost lets his eyes close but he knows once he does that he’ll probably fall asleep. “We’re almost there, just help us out”

“Alright... I’m sorry” he replies with a small sigh and so she pulls him to a hug, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she strokes his back.

“Forgiven” she leaves him with a small smile and a quick kiss, “Don’t forget to put pressure on it”

Julian starts the recorder once again, signaling to him that they’re rolling before playing him the playback. “And you will find me... in places that we’ve never been, for reasons we don’t understand, walking in the wind”

Oli waits for a couple of moments before grinning, “I think it’s the take, come out here”

  After Zayn left, making the fifth album was insane. The four of them kept pulling to completely different artistic directions, Julian could barely help them with the singles so little he could give some coherence to the album. That’s when Oli decided to step in.

  Harry knows he pales in the shadow of her abilities as songwriter, virtuosi and producer altogether so he willingly gave her the helm. At first, the other lads were uncomfortable with her command, fearful that this was one of Harry’s things he does for love, but surely enough Olivia proved herself to be very experienced. Harry always wanted to be an entertainer, but he never truly endeavored to become one before the X-Factor, however Oli’s been almost genetically programed for that, studying music ever since she could talk, studying every part of the process and also rubbing shoulders with generations of rockstars. She’s the woman for the job.

  For their luck, Oli and Frank have been touring across America keeping track of One Direction’s leg in there, often making shows in the same city but a few days apart. To keep up with the recordings, she’s been making an extra effort, dedicating almost all her vacant hours to the album. As they often record in hotel rooms, it at least offers a place for them to pass out after endless hours of work.

“Check it out” she places the heavy headphones over his ears so he can hear the mix with the guitar base. Her whole equipment lies on the bed and over the tables, it’s the best she and Julian could assemble... at least it gets a really great sound.

“That sounds really nice” he smiles at her.

“See? I told you”

  She takes all the material they recorded and starts mixing with Julian at their improvised studio. At some point, Liam and Louis decide to participate, leaving Oli free to rest after long hours of work. She curls up in the bed and immediately blacks out, making Harry feel a bit guilty – through all his hissy fits about exhaustion he never once considered how tired she must’ve been feeling, as not once did she bring it up. But now there’s no point in apologizing, he just lays behind her and spoons her back, holding her like a big teddy bear through deep slumber.

  He wakes up hours later with her still unconscious in his arms. It takes a moment for him to realize where he is, getting up without moving her the slightest he notices Julian and Liam still glued to the computer. At the balcony, he finds Louis and Niall sharing a beer and laughing while the sun creeps up the horizon, so he decides to join.

“Morning lads”

“Morning, Romeo” Niall pokes.

“What’re you up for?”

“Trying to come up with something, we’re still missing a couple tracks” Louis explains, taking a gulp of beer. “You’ve got anything?”

“I always do, just don’t know if it could make it to the album” he mentions while resting his back on the railing. He keeps a writing journal full of poems ever since the band started, and in it he keeps great ideas that never saw the light of day. Recently, he wrote one that feels very personal and very cheeky... just thinking about it makes him laugh. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I have a really great one”

“How does it go?”

“It’s silly...”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I just play around with Oli’s name” they raise their brows, ready to mock him. “One of these days she was telling me something about alliterations or something like that, and I just played around with the phrase-“ he blushes, “‘I love Olivia’, because the L sound just bounces off. So I wrote a song for her that went I live for you, I long for you, Olivia, I’ll be now idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia... see? It bounces off”

“S’ a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Niall comments skeptically but Louis is thoroughly entertained. “Using her name on the song, it’s not very subtle”

“We’ve got songs with names on them” he argues, playing with the glass bottle. “Don’t see why not”

“We better tell Liam about it-“

“Tell me what?” the man himself walks through the door to join his bandmates with a bottle of his own.

“Harry’s got a cool song for the album but it’s got Oli’s name on it” Niall explains.

“Is she cool with that?”

“She doesn’t know yet” Harry clarifies.

“Well, is it a good song?”

“It’s not done yet, but it has potential” he insists while noticing how much their confidence as a group has grown over the past few months. They embark on his idea without even hearing the full song, although they’ve been rewarded for their trust time and time again. Harry came up with some great compositions this time around, taking all his experience with the band and Olivia in consideration.

“If you want, you can make a demo when we get to London and show us what you’ve got. I think we booked Abbey Road for a couple of days”

“Alright, I’ll give it a go”

  Before they start the British leg of the tour, they get a couple weeks off schedule which give Harry some time to finish the melody before actually recording it. The last shows of the American leg take place fairly close to New York, so he and Oli get to go home ahead of everyone else. Sadly, one side effect of touring for three months in a row is an empty fridge, making them drag their already exhausted bodies out of the house for their meals.

“Do they need someone for the orchestras? I know a guy who can help” Olivia tells, holding her Starbucks cup in one hand and Harry’s on the other.

“Thanks love, but we’ll record the rest in London”

“Oh, right! I forgot... shit, I’ve got to book a flight” she gets ready to fumble for her phone but he holds her wrist.

“I’ll get a private one, just chill, I’ve got this” he soothes, pulling her hand to his lips then smiling amicably.

She smiles back but it immediately flips into an irritated growl. “For fuck’s sake”, he turns around and notices a couple paparazzi snapping at them. When they notice they’ve been caught they lose all decorum and just harass them.

“Harry, how’s the tour? Are you taking a break?” one of them asks, shoving the camera on his face.

“Hey, back the fuck off-“

“Oli, don’t” Harry holds her closer, taking the sunglasses from his shirt and handing them over so she can at least cover her face. “Let’s get a cab”

“Have you been talking to Zayn?” another one asks.

“Would you please let us through? We just wanna walk” Harry pleads politely.

“Sure man, I’m just doing my job” a third one steps out of the way, helping him and Olivia reach a cab and leave the streets for good.

“77th with Central Park West, please”

Olivia watches the paparazzi stay behind as the taxi speeds by, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a restaurant beside Central Park, I went there the other day, thought you might like”

She smiles, “Look at you, all local and stuff”

“I’m looking forward to at least a year of vacation, might as well learn my way around”

“Oh, thank you, by the way” she returns the sunglasses which he stores in his shirt once again.

  They disembark at Central Park, being faced with an enormous queue outside the restaurant they were set to enter. In spite of it, they decide to walk around anyway. The park is a couple blocks away from their apartment, a purposeful decision as Harry appreciates extensive morning jogs when he sticks around. Although they come from polar opposite backgrounds, they both grew accustomed to New York and truly built a life in the city.

“A little blue bird told me that we’re recording at Abbey Road next week... is it true?” she taunts.

“Yes...” she celebrates discreetly, “You’ve never been there?”

“No, never! I always wanted to record something there”

“And Uncle Paul never took you?” he mocks.

“Very funny” she scowls in return, pushing him away.

“You know, it’d be crazy to go to Abbey Road with a Beatle...” he pulls her back, “What do you say? I give you the Road, you bring the McCartney?”

“He’s probably busy” she laces her arm around his, “Uncle Jim used to say Paul and Ringo only show up if there’s a wedding or a funeral... let’s see which one comes first”

“Let’s see” he looks down, his mind immediately sinking deep in thought.

  They’ve talked about getting married, they agreed to it months ago but they never made a move to officialize it.  They didn’t arrange a party, invite their friends or consult a register office — hell, he didn’t even buy a proper ring. For a moment he frets she might think he’s given up, they’ve been living in good graces for three years straight, the only reason they’re not properly married yet is... inertia. Maybe, with the stars aligning and time on their side, he can come up with something.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You got all quiet all of a sudden” she rests her chin on his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Just random things in my mind”

“Yeah, no shit!” he chuckles, “Mind to share?”

“Have you ever written songs about me?”

She frowns, “Not exactly... I usually write about what I feel, and you’re usually the cause of that but it’s way more complex than that. Feelings are a mix of all the baggage you have from life and a catalyst, something that makes you express that. Sometimes that’s you, sometimes it’s not”

He sighs, sometimes she’s humiliatingly clever, “That’s very... fancy”

“I know” she holds on to his hand, holding another over her eyes as the sun hits them directly. “Have you ever written songs about me?”

“All my songs are about you in some way, shape or form, I don’t even have a fancy answer for that” he takes his sunglasses off again and places them over her face, she mutters a small ‘thanks’. “And it’s a bit weird ‘cause I always want people to relate to the songs but I feel like they’re too specific, might as well just slap your name in the title” he suggests almost as an internal joke with himself.

“I think you’re not getting this right”

“Yeah?”

“Take Uncle Paul for example: he wrote a bunch of songs with names on them and people still relate to it. Like Michelle, Dear Prudence, Sexy Sadie...”

“I think they listen to it more like made up stories than like autobiographies”

“Maybe, but you see, these songs have a clear subject and yet everyone can be touched by the lyrics. When you hear Dear Prudence do you think about Prudence Farrow locked up in her room at an Indian meditation camp?”

“I didn’t even know that story” he admits.

“Exactly, and you don’t have to! ‘Cause when you hear Dear Prudence you understand it’s about going outside, enjoying the day and feeling good about yourself”

He ponders, maybe his song can make its way to the album like that: being based on this incredible experience he lives every moment they’re together but still describing something everyone goes through, “Yeah, it feels like that”

“See? And he’s not talking to you, he’s talking to Prudence” she points a finger on his face to prove a point. “The best art makes you feel personally addressed, even if there’s a name between the artist and the listener. You can quote me on that”

“Alright, clever clocks” he pulls her to a hug and presses a playful kiss on her lips, which extends to this sweet contact in the middle of Central Park. This last album has been challenging, it’s pushed Harry so hard he sometimes feels he’s not up to task as a singer, a composer or a producer. And having her beside him’s helped him realize all the things he can do as well as what he can be better at. He breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. “Thanks, love”

“I can tell when you need a pep talk”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my left nipple starts aching” he laughs between them and curtly gropes her left tit.

“This one?” she pushes his hand away.

“Stop it!”

  Their domestic week ends too fast, soon they’re back in London to record the rest of the album. Her words help him finish the song without any insecurity holding him back, in fact it inspires him so much that as soon as he gets to London he walks into Cartier and buys her engagement ring. He chooses a delicate one in rose gold with flowers engraved on it and a small diamond nestled between the carvings.

  Today is the last day of recording at Abbey Road and he decides this is the day he’ll propose. However, to do it right, he’ll need a plan:

“Lou, keep her busy in studio 1” he instructs, gathering the four of them on a circle with their arms around their shoulders, almost like a football team, “mess up as many takes as you can-“

“That won’t be hard” he mocks.

“Liam and I will record the strings and the vocals at studio 3, remember, you have to stall her there”

“We get it mate, keep her in studio 1” Niall sighs tiredly.

“Right, when I call her up, you wait outside the hallway. I’ll play her the song and ask, if she says no... please, pretend like it never happened-“ Lou smacks the back of his head. “Ouch!”

“Stop saying that, focus!”

“Alright!... when she says yes, you can bring it on” they all nod excitedly, “Don’t forget to bring Frank up!”

“We’ve got this” Liam hypes, putting his hand in the middle so they follow. “3, 2, 1-“

“We push!”

  The plan gets into motion when she arrives at the studio, leaving her coat at the door. She starts taking pictures of the lobby to send her Uncle, but as soon as she crosses the security Louis comes over and drags her to studio 1.

“Come on lass, we’ve got loads to do!” he pulls her by the hand playfully.

“Calm down, I can walk!” she groans but jogs behind him nonetheless.

  While she’s busy recording Lou’s uncannily messy vocals, Harry and Liam greet a violinist that plays the sheet music for the chorus and the outro. They’re recording and mixing at the same time, hurrying to get a decent enough base for the vocals with what they’ve been working on for the past couple of days, skipping through compressors and equalizers just to get something done.

  At the hallway, Niall is returning from the restroom when he catches Olivia sneaking out studio 1 to look for Harry.

“Oi! What’s up?”

“I can’t take this anymore, if Lou messes up one more time I’ll hit him with my shoe” she pulls her braids out of her face. “Where’s Harry?”

“I... I don’t think he’s here yet” he messes up the last few words. God he sucks at lying, and his hard accent doesn’t help one bit.

She frowns suspiciously, “You  sure?”

“We can call him later, come on” he pushes her frustrated self back to studio 1, “we don’t have all day”

  Few more hours pass and Niall replaces Louis in the recording booth to give her a break, they know he’s got the best intentions at heart but it’s not working a treat. Harry steps into the booth to record his vocals in one go, it doesn’t sound great but he can work on it better if they actually decide to put it on the album. He’s got a lot to prove with this song: for once, he has to prove himself as an artist that can make something incredibly specific and still relatable; and then prove himself to the band, even if it’s probably their last album he wants to be relevant in it. His songs were never really taken seriously, neither were Zayn’s, and he doesn’t want to thread the same path as him.

At last his input is enough, they get great takes and start mixing it together with time to spare — that is, until Louis rushes inside: “Lads, come on, she’s not buying it! Tell me you’ve got it”

“We’ve got it!” Liam replies enthusiastically but Harry holds him back.

“Wha- No! I-I haven’t got anything!” his heart starts racing as it never did before, the prospect of the big moment being so close terrifies him. “I’m not ready for it”

“Of course you are! Mate, you’ve been together for ages, this is just one more step” he encourages, holding Harry by his shoulders.

“Bloody hell... what if she says no?”

“She won’t say no!”

“What if she does?!”

“Then nothing changes! You keep on living your life just without a ring and a wedding date” Louis argues, crossing his arms casually as he tries do play it cool. “Now, can I call her in?”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, Liam’s hands slip from his shoulder with a friendly pat. “You’ll be great”

  They leave the studio with encouraging looks, leaving him alone and anxious in the vast studio. He pats his jacket to find the box safely stored inside his pocket, one more time he takes a deep breath. This is happening. The silence seems to extend for ages when the door opens again, this time for Oli to sneak in. Once he sees her it dawns on him what is about to happen, but he doesn’t panic... instead he feels at ease.

“What are you up to?” she tip toes inside and sits on his lap, pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Just checking this demo”

“Hmm, quite the professional!” she mocks, looking at the tracks. There’s too few of them, only one vocal track and three instrumentals. She’s about to mess with it when he holds her hand.

“Before you play... just bare with me, it’s not ready yet, it’s just a demo –“

“It’s okay Haz”

“– I know, but it just might not reach your standards...”

“Harry... look, I know how hard you’re working on this, I’ve watched you learn this bit by bit for years. I had a lifetime of learning what you learned in five years, don’t be harsh on yourself” she strokes his hair with a humble smile, as if she’s begging him not to torture himself about it. “Now, may I?” he nods in response so she hits the space bar.

 The metronome count starts and a simple violin chord plays before Harry’s vocal kicks in blasting around the room’s sound system. Although she loves every piece of him to the bones, there’s something special about his raspy voice that gets her weak in the knees. She listens to it keeping her eyes fixed on the ground to better focus on her hearing. The first couple of verses are a bit weak, but she won’t say anything to an already nervous Harry. The following ones sound a bit better until it comes to the pre-chorus.

“Please believe me, don’t you see the things you mean to me oh! I love you, I love you, I love-I love- I love Olivia”

“Wait” she frowns at the computer, then the chorus progresses.

“I live for you, I long for you Olivia-“

“Oh my god...” her eyes turn to him in a bolt, he only smirks with those cheeky dimples of his and hugs her waist closer.

“... I’ll be now idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia. I live for you, I long for you, Olivia-”

“Oh my fucking god...” he laughs at her reaction, covering up her mouth in a struggled gasp. “You didn’t!”

“I did!”

“When you’re gone and I’m alone you live in my imagination, summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation. I love you, is all I do, I love you...”

She chokes a bit at the lyrics, and that is the moment Harry chooses to get the velvet box from his pocket and show it to her. “Oh, come on...” she cries absolutely overwhelmed at the sight of that beautiful delicate ring. She was successfully fooled, in no way would she ever imagine that the sound he was working so hard on was for her and that it was also his proposal... still, all she can do is smile and cry at the same time.

“I think I’ve said it all already, but still” he starts, her reaction causing him to tear up a bit. “You said you wanted a ring, a speech and an ugly cry”

“I did, didn’t I?” she tries to say through a sob.

“Will you marry me, love?”

“Yes! Of course!” she cups his cheek earnestly and kisses him with all she’s got, leaning into him gently but with the sheer will of a hurricane. She breaks the kiss only to wipe her own cheeks and leave a strained chuckle, “I swear to you, one of these days you’re gonna kill me”

“No way, who’s gonna finish the album” to that, she can only roll her eyes. “May I?” he takes her hand.

“Please” she watches him slip the delicate ring on her finger, astounded by his attention to detail. “It’s so beautiful... everything Haz, seriously, the song is...” she huffs, absolutely speechless. Harry smiles in satisfaction, lacing her hips as she hugs his neck pressing herself completely against him, feeling his love irradiating from every pore.

“I meant every word” he whispers, cupping the back of her neck and showering her with small pecks on the cheek.

“She said yes?” they both turn to the door and find Liam, Niall, Louis and Frank lining up at the frame waiting to come in.

“Of course she did!” Harry answers smugly.

“She said yes!” Lou screams, sparking a big celebratory mayhem of champagne popping and flying paper around them. “You should’ve seen his face when we left, he was totally passing out”

“He was shaking” Liam adds.

“Thanks mate, cheers”

“Were you stalling me today?” she points to Louis in accusation.

“In my defense, I was told to stall you for the whole afternoon”

“Can’t believe you were all in it... how long have you been outside?”

“We got here when the music started, I gotta say... it’s really good” Lou compliments, handing them plastic cups of champagne.

“Really good” Niall joins, “We should put it on the album... I mean, if you’re ok with it”

“I’m more than ok with that” she laughs.

“Than that’s it! Just missing another three songs” Louis mocks.

“Can we take a break? Just got engaged, if anyone noticed" Harry shrugs, his inner egomaniac begging the attention to turn back to him.

"Cheers!" they join cups in the center an down the content of their cups merrily, then doing it again this time with Harry and Olivia crossing their arms to do so.

A/N: and that's it! just a small taste, i've got more stuff cooking, adore you has been driving me crazy all week but i'm still figuring out how it makes me feel and how it can become a story... you'll see xx

Check more at masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #adore you #watermelon sugar #Fineline #fine line #lights up #harry styles x oc #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfics #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #made in the am #olivia #who is olivia #harry styles anthology series #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 19 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic.  In this chapter:  Paul has a nightmare and finally starts to confess to Gene. (Yes, there’s finally some smut again.) (Author’s note 6/24/2020: Smut has been revised! Thighsex imminent.)

           In his dreams Paul was always himself. Sometimes he was eight years old, in the school playground, hearing his classmates singsong "Stanley the one-eared monster" to the tune of Rudolph, and sometimes the classmates would turn into a whole stadium full of people, thousands, cackling and pointing, while he stood onstage and couldn't say a word. Sometimes he was his own age, walking off a plane, or at a photoshoot, stripped down and bare-faced and afraid as soon as the cameras started.

           That night he was seventeen again. He knew because the T.V. was on in the living room, Neil Armstrong on the screen in all his astronaut garb, sticking the flag up on the Moon's rocky soil. Julia was there, for once, sitting beside him on the couch.

           "Do you think it's real?" she said, and he looked at her, disgusted.

           (of course it's real)

           "Do you think it's real?" she repeated, and he thought she must not have heard him. He put his hand to his face, touching the start of his sideburns—something new he was trying, something he'd need to shave before school started back up, but for now, it was cool. He'd seen them on rockstars, but rarely in person, and never on someone he knew, until that guy he'd met a month back. Gene. But Gene was too fat in the face to pull the look off. They would look better on him, once they grew out.

           (it's got to be real. why would they waste all that time and money on something that wasn't real? why would they be so stupid?)

           "You tell me," Julia said, and her face and build shifted, dark hair bleaching out to light brown, pockmarks and freckles sketching across her face, Carol's face, Carol's voice now, Carol's hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me, Stan?"

         (i don't—)

        Another shift. Carol's face melted down, skull pushing outward, hair going shaggy and wild. Her nose forced out and flattened all at once, muzzle emerging. A lion's face on a man's body, a man's voice coming through its throat.

           "Are you going to tell me?"

         (please)

          (please, take it off, i'm sorry—i'm so sorry—)

           "Is it real?"

          (please)

        (what're you saying, i don't understand)

           "Is love real, Stan?" Marbas' voice was oddly soft as he curled his hand around Paul's suddenly much more narrow shoulder. Tapped it, then Marbas' still-human fingers moved to trace the sides of his smooth, bare face. "Or—let's put it differently. What she felt for you, was that love?"

           (i)

            (i don't think you can love someone you don't know)

           But you've made your fortune pretending." Marbas' lips pulled back, revealing teeth as long as his thumbs. "And so has he."

          (he?)

           "The man in your bed." The demon pushed Paul's hair behind his left ear. "I've cursed greater men than you. Byron. Shelley. More. Watching you was hardly entertaining in comparison, until he came along."

         (don't hurt him)

          (please don't—)

           "Do you really love him, Stan?" Marbas didn't give him time to answer, tugging at a curl, longer now than it had been minutes before. Paul couldn't feel a centimeter of what was happening to him, could barely do more than watch and breathe as his body warped before him. "Why? Because he was kind to you?"

          (i don't know)

           "Because he had the qualities you lacked? Or because you didn't believe he'd want you?"

          (i don't know!)

           The demon wasn't letting the point go. Neil Armstrong still in the background, the sound of the T.V. tinny. His shoes off to the side on the dirty carpet. The plugged-in fan on the coffee table. Everything, everything the same in that little apartment but him.

           "You won't tell me. You won't tell him. What I wrought on you really makes no difference." Marbas touched the center of chest, full and heavy before the demon even moved his finger towards it, and Paul realized, just from what he could see of his body, that he was still seventeen after all. The weight he'd had back then was there, the stomach flab, the too-thick thighs. Every bit of him dumpy and unattractive, no definition, nothing worth wanting. "Even if you'd always had this form, you'd have kept your silence. You'd never have given yourself up."

          (i can't, i just can't—)

           "Then you want to remain as you are?" The demon's mouth twitched again; he seemed almost to smile, fingers toying with Paul's shirt.

          (of course not!)

          (you don't understand!)

           "Paul? Paul, wake up."

           He opened his eyes. Gene was there, leaning over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a book and a newspaper on the other side of the bed. Gene had stayed with him.

           "What time is it?"

           "Noon. Are you okay?"

           Paul nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking down, he realized he was still in last night's dress. The nightie's straps beneath it, amazingly, had stayed in place, though the sleeves of the dress had slid a bit. He swallowed, the memories of the night prior trickling in like a drizzle before a thunderstorm, replacing the fragments of his dream, and tugged the sleeves back up to his shoulder.

           "Did I say anything strange?"

           "You were getting kind of twitchy."

           A glance at the kicked-askew bedsheets told Paul that was an understatement.

           "I'm sorry."

           "No, I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

           "From kicking in my sleep?"

           "From leaving last night."

           Paul looked over at him.

           "What could you have done? Chased down my car?"

           "I could've grabbed you when you were going out the door." Gene grabbed the book—it was one of his old self-help numbers from high school—and set it on the nightstand, possibly the only attempt at putting something away that Paul had ever seen out of him. "Or I could've done what you wanted. It's my fault."

           "It's not your fault at all. You got me out of there." Paul shifted until he was on his side. "If it hadn't been for you, I…"

           "Mary-Anne was taking care of you."

           "She… she was, wasn't she? She must've thought I was so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't know how you knew where to look for me."

           "I didn't. It was just a guess."

           "I shouldn't have gone off. I guess I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted." Paul paused. "I'm okay. I promise."

           "Are you sure nothing—"

           "Nothing happened." Paul tried to smile, weakly. "I wouldn't still be in this shape if something had."

           "If anybody touched you, then—"

           "It's fine. I'm fine."

           "Paul, you're not fine." Gene swallowed. "Somebody spiked your drink."

           Paul didn't answer for a long moment.

           "Nobody spiked my drink."

           "What?"

           "I said nobody spiked my drink. I took the 'ludes myself."

           He didn't want to look Gene in the face. He didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust there, now that he knew that Paul had drugged himself when he was already in danger. That he hadn't been innocent. That had to have done it for Gene. Wrecked any chance of leftover fondness or want.

           "Why?"

           "Because I couldn't stand the thought of fucking some random guy sober." Paul exhaled. "I didn't realize I couldn't stand the thought of fucking him trashed, either."

           "Paul—"

           "It's okay, all right?"

           He was surprised when Gene gathered him up in his arms. His breaths hitched, all of him just tightening, tightening up at first. Gene almost let go then, but then Paul grabbed him, burying his face against Gene's neck.

           He didn't deserve that kind of comfort out of Gene after what he'd done. Worrying Gene. Risking his own safety. He knew it, but that didn't make him any less greedy for it. He remembered, in blurred-out fragments, Gene's hold on him in CBGB last night, Gene's arm around him in the limo. Gene wiping his face off with the towel. He remembered leaning into all that warmth, too 'luded out to even quite understand it, only recognize that it was there for him, despite everything.

           Hopeless. So hopeless. But he kept holding on anyway, grateful, pathetically grateful, holding on longer than he should have, breathing in the scent of Gene's skin. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. Closer, maybe, than he'd ever get again. Gene hadn't even gotten dressed yet, was still in his boxers, and his bare arms around him felt so good, so reassuring, it almost hurt. Paul shut his eyes and peeled himself away, not wanting to wait for Gene to let go first.

           "It's really… it's okay."

           And then he got up. He felt more clearheaded than he'd expected. Peter had told him 'ludes kept him from waking up with a hangover after a night of partying, but he'd never really believed him until now. Except for the acrid taste of vomit and morning breath still in his mouth, he felt… bizarrely enough, he almost felt refreshed, physically. He crossed over to the master bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash before returning to the bedroom. He walked over to the closet door, where the other blouse and dress that he'd bought still hung from coathangers. "I… I'm gonna get dressed. Which one do you want?"

           "Paul, they're your clothes."

           Paul chewed on his lip and took the dress off its hanger, lining it up level against him. The hem fell two or three inches above his knee. He turned around, dress in hand, and started to head back to the bathroom, but Gene spoke again before he got there.

           "Don't wear things just because you think I'll like them."

           "I'm not."

           "Paul." Gene got up from the bed. "I gave it a lot of thought last night. I haven't helped you out like I needed to."

           "Gene, all you've done is help me out."

           "I've hurt your self-respect. I told you what to do. I made you dependent on me."

           "I was depending on you way before this. You just didn't realize it."

           "Not that way." Gene walked up to him. Paul draped the dress over one arm like a waiter's napkin. "I made you feel like you had to—to wear things, to do things, to keep my attention. I never should've—"

           "That's not true."

           "Yeah, it is. Last night, before you left…" Gene's gaze lowered to the floor before lifting back to meet Paul's. "I didn't know why you were acting like that. I'd thought you wanted me."

           There it was. There it was, closer than Paul had ever dared to put it himself. There was his chance. He could shut it all down right now, seal off any hope of Gene ever getting close enough to hurt again, do what last night had, somehow, failed to manage. Drive Gene away with an assurance that what he'd done, he'd done out of practicality. Tell Gene he'd used him all the way around, that every flirt, every kiss, had just been a means to an end. Lie to him the way he couldn't lie to himself.

           He had to struggle to keep looking Gene in the eye. The nerves that the Quaaludes and drinks had destroyed were all back again; he was keenly, so keenly aware of what he stood to lose. Gene's expression was guilty, almost penitent, and that hurt, too, but—maybe there was something past that. Maybe there was still some desire left in him. Maybe, even, if it wasn't the same as what Paul felt, it would still be okay. Paul wanted to believe that. He took a breath, and said three words.

           "You weren't wrong."

           "What?"

           "I did want you."

           "C'mon, Paul. You know my ego could use a little knocking down."

           "I did want you. I do want you."

           "Paul—"

           It felt like he was walking through water, every movement artificially slowed down. Two steps to close in on Gene. The reach of his hand to touch Gene's face, the morning stubble he hadn't yet shaved, tugging his chin down to kiss him. Just once, quickly, softly. Gene didn't stiffen up, didn't draw back, but he didn't answer immediately, either. As he broke the kiss, looking at Gene, trying to gauge his expression, Paul realized, offhand, that he'd had to raise up on the balls of his feet just to reach him. He hadn't even noticed.

           "You're not gonna want me after. I know that."

           "I don't know that I'd say that."

           "I would." Paul's mouth crooked upward, only a little wobbly. The words seemed to spill out of him like the water from a burst dam. "That's why I acted like that. That's why I left, because I knew."

           "Paul, listen—" Gene started, but Paul cut him off.

           "It's okay. I… I haven't treated you right. You've been real good to me and I—" Paul shook his head. "Let's try, all right? If you still want to—I wanna try."

           "I—"

           "I don't think I could go all the way yet. But I wanna be with you."

           "Don't push yourself. Especially not after last night."

           "I'm not pushing myself."

           "Paul, I'm serious."

           "I'm serious, too."

           Gene didn't answer for awhile. Paul felt frozen in front of him, biting back a thousand more words, swallowing every impulse to spill his guts even further. He wouldn't hold eight years of want over Gene's head like a ransom that needed to be paid. He wouldn't beg Gene again. He wouldn't yell at him, or throw a fit. And he wouldn't—he wouldn't give himself up, any more than he had already. He couldn't.

           Gene's hand touched his cheek. He seemed to be thinking. Gene always seemed to be thinking. Paul took a few quick breaths, until Gene bent his head and met Paul's lips with his own. Warm lips he'd already half-given up on touching again. Paul kissed back hard, suddenly desperate, arms looping around the back of Gene's neck. Beyond eager, beyond grateful, wanting to erase the memory of last night on the bed. Touching him the way he'd wanted to before. Kissing him the way he'd wanted to before, the way he'd done when they were dancing. Gene's tongue was in his mouth, one hand tangling against in his hair while the other tugged him tight against him.

           Paul was getting wet, like before, trying to grind against Gene like he still had a dick, like any movement of his hips right now, standing up, was granting him half the friction it was giving Gene. Gene was tugging him backwards before long, back towards the bed. Paul let him. His whole body felt hot and just on the verge, already unraveled over so little. Gene eased him into sitting on the bed and he scooted backwards, swinging his legs across the bed.

           Gene didn't go for the zipper of his dress this time. He seemed almost cautious, only kissing him on the mouth and neck, not yet even groping his chest. Paul reached behind him, sliding the zipper down, down, sliding the dress off. More purposely exposed than Gene had seen him until now, nothing remaining but the thin, purple nightie and panties. He was trying not to squirm as he felt Gene's gaze on him, but he couldn't seem to help himself, fingers curling around the nightie's hem. When he'd put it on late yesterday afternoon, he'd realized how short it was, the hem only barely skirting the upper part of his thighs, and how the silky material strained against his breasts. It had sort of warmed him, then, made him feel a little hopeful, a little desirable. Now, he wasn't so sure.

           "Do you like it?"

           "Yeah. It looks good on you."

           "I got it for you."

           Gene hesitated.

           "That's what I mean, you don't need to wear things to—"

           "I'm not—"

           "What… what I mean is, you had my attention already."

           Paul felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that. Gene didn't seem to be waiting on an answer, anyway, one hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the nightie, tracing the soft skin there and the spreading wetness on his panties. His other hand went for one breast, squeezing it, sending another surge of need through Paul's body. He'd tried groping his own breasts a few times, before Gene came, never getting anywhere with it. It had been about as pleasurable as rubbing a hand against his knee. But now that Gene was touching them, tweaking one already-hard nipple and then the other, Paul found himself groaning, back arching. On some level it was almost humiliating, to be crying out over so little. Gene's other hand had only barely started rubbing him through the damp fabric.

           Gene tugged Paul up on his lap before long, Paul's legs splayed on either side of him, the nightie bunched up above his hips. Gene's erection was rubbing up against him, too tantalizingly close to be avoidable now, and Paul held his breath, half-expecting Gene's slow strokes to stop entirely, but they didn't. Paul grunted a bit, tugging the elastic of Gene's boxers down just enough to free his dick.

           "Lemme suck you off," he urged, starting to scoot back, although the twitch of Gene's fingers, finally sliding beneath his panties, made it almost impossible to want to get off of him for that long. "You haven't gotten a damn thing out of this yet."

           "I don't know about that." Gene was smiling, running his fingers against his slick folds, Paul pushing his hips forward to meet them. "Just give me a hand here. I've got a great view."

           "C'mon, you… you can't just want a handjob." It had to be disappointing enough just keeping it to fooling around in the first place with him. Paul hadn't even been brave enough to take off the nightgown. Paul grasped Gene's dick anyway, almost unprompted, his own strokes firmer and more assured than he'd expected. He watched Gene take a deep breath, his cock already twitching a bit in his hand. "I've blown guys before, I'm not a virgin there—"

           "Maybe later." Gene grinned, pressed a kiss to his throat. "You know, I never actually got to see you relax the other night." His finger ran lightly across the edge of his clit, too lightly.

           "You felt it," Paul protested, distracted. It was already getting hard to concentrate. He didn't want to halfass it, especially when part of him could still barely believe it was happening at all. Especially when he knew, from rare, scattered conversations early on when they'd toured, that Gene tried to avoid masturbating much—which had always struck Paul as weird. Gene's selective orthodoxy and hang-ups were so baffling. He shifted, rolling his hips harder against Gene's fingers and hand.

           "Let me see it."

           Oh. Oh. Paul was crying out again, cursing as he tried to focus, keep a rhythm going despite his own arousal. The precome already dripping from the tip was gratifying, Gene's breaths getting ragged, but he didn't know if it was enough. Gene kept watching him, watching his face. Every high-pitched sound that came out of Paul's throat was hotly embarrassing, not in the least because Gene was quieter in comparison, while Paul's moaning was only ever covered up when his lips met Gene's. But Gene was getting less cautious now, groping his breasts beneath the nightie instead of just through it, the skin-on-skin sensation almost overwhelming. His other hand, caught between Paul's thighs, was certain, slipping along his folds, finger running small strokes against the hood and clit.

          Gene was already closer than he was. Paul could tell that by the feel of his dick in his hand, and the expressions crossing his face, making him redouble his efforts. Paul’s vision swam, his own concentration faltering far before Gene came, groaning lowly, spurting mostly in his hand and on his dick, a bit of come ending up on Paul’s bare thigh. Paul let go, bracing his damp hand on the bed, leaning forward. Gene’s own hand had gone almost still between his legs. The blissed-out look on Gene’s face almost made up for it.

          “Hey, Paul, you haven’t—” Gene started, fingers moving again, not quite as intently as before. Paul grabbed his wrist, tugging it back.

          “Wait. Let’s try something else.”

          Gene looked a little confused but moved his hand away, starting to rest it on his leg. Paul shook his head.

          “Not there. I need that.”

          “You need that?” Gene furrowing his brows post-coital would’ve been funny, if Paul wasn’t battling his own arousal. The heat was starting to rise in his cheeks as he took Gene by the wrist again, setting it on the sheets. He wasn’t quite able to look Gene in the eye again yet, so he ran his fingers against the warm, soft fabric of his boxers, rolling up the hem of one leg slightly, mouth pursed.

          “You’ll see.”

          Paul closed his eyes briefly, breaths heavy, and scooted in closer, shifting until he was straddling one of Gene’s thighs. He made only a token effort at wiping his right hand off on the sheet before clasping both hands around the back of Gene’s neck, as he started to rub himself against Gene’s leg.

          Gene’s lips parted in surprise. Unbelievably, he actually looked like he didn’t know what to do at first, hands taking awhile to find their way back to Paul, one resting on his shoulder while the other slipped back under the nightie to rove over his stomach and back up to his breasts. Pairing that with Paul’s own grinding made it all the more intense, stimulation almost overwhelming. His damp panties were barely a barrier, exactly the extra friction he needed as he rocked his hips in short, quick bursts. Every so often, his leg would brush up against Gene’s dick—still soft for now, but still its own sharp thrill. Warm. As long as he was this close, this wet, he wasn’t nearly so worried about how letting him, about how actually fucking, would end it. It was just something else spurring on his arousal, a promise of something to come.

          “You’re killing me, Paul.”

          “Yeah?” Paul’s mouth twitched into a small smile as Gene tugged him into a kiss.His legs were clamping tight around Gene’s thigh nearly of their own accord, amping up the pressure, concentrating it. Paul was panting and groaning again before long. His clit was throbbing, the wetness that had already soaked through his underwear going past it, making Gene’s bare skin and the edge of his boxers slightly slick.  Easy to push and rub up against, find the exact right rhythm to leave him breathless.

          But it wasn’t quite enough until Gene pulled him forward just a bit, just until Paul found himself panting against his neck. Paul sped up a little, hips rocking, moans and curses all he seemed able to manage as the pleasure built up, closer, closer. He realized, dimly, that he was starting to finally get used to this body, figure out what he liked now, how to get off. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not that it mattered right now. Gene was still watching, his gaze, the unfettered, needy want there making Paul feel heady. Looking him right in the eye was better than before, better than it had been in the dark. He cried out again, sharply, as he finally came, clutching Gene hard as he rode out his orgasm. It was a few seconds before he let go, Gene’s grip on his shoulder not loosening up until Paul relaxed his legs again.

          “Gene,” he said. “That… that was good.”

          “Yeah? Good.” Gene grinned. “You look cute when you come.”

          Paul glanced down reflexively at the comment, shaking his head. The spunk on his hand and on the sheets was long since clotted up. He started to get up from Gene’s thigh, a little shakily, straightening his underwear and pushing down the nightie with his clean hand. He felt a little like apologizing—it couldn’t have been that good for Gene, who probably hadn’t had a chick stop at a handjob with him in ten years, and Paul knew he couldn’t have been that fun to watch get off, either, if only because of what it wasn’t—but Gene didn’t look unhappy with the way things had gone at all. He looked pleased, maybe almost sated, running his hand almost possessively down the wet spot Paul had left behind on his thigh and boxers, rubbing the fluid between his fingertips. Paul’s face felt hot as Gene brought his fingers to his lips.

          “You taste pretty good, too.”

           “Aw, c’mon, Gene--”

          “You do.”

          Paul shook his head, but his heart was beating a hard, hopeful cadence at the words. He didn't quite feel sated. There was a weird leftover warmth in him, a deep-down feeling that he could probably go again without much trouble, but he felt like he'd asked too much of Gene already. It'd probably be another ten minutes at least before Gene could get hard again.

           "Uh. Lemme get you a towel or something, then we can… I don't know, I can fix some toast…" Paul trailed, awkward as all hell, starting to scoot off the bed. He'd forgotten how to handle anyone in the after. Gene, especially. Gene looked at him as if he were about to laugh.

           "You'll really leave it at that?"

           "I'm not leaving it at anything." Paul tried to rearrange his face into as bland an expression as he could, too keenly aware of how tightly he was still pressing his thighs together. Gene laughed, tugging him back up by the arm, back nearly into place on his lap. He wasn't facing him head-on this time, at first, but he turned his head, a vague sort of hope making his pulse flit. "C'mon, Gene, I know you can't—"

           "You have a hard time enjoying anything, don't you?"

           Oh, God. Just like last time, Gene was picking the worst point possible to start asking questions. Paul hesitated.

           "I enjoy plenty."

           "You're still soaking." Gene had gone for the hem of the nightie, tugging it up and pressing a finger against his panties, making Paul twitch anew. "I bet you could go again. Maybe more than once."

           "I don't know— "

           "You wanna try?" Gene leaned in, kissing the top of his head. Just as easy and thoughtless as if they really were together. As if this wasn't going to evaporate the second Paul gathered up enough nerve to give in entirely.  Why shouldn't he be thoughtless about it? I want you was all Paul had managed to own up to.

           Paul shoved those thoughts aside as hard as he could, and turned around entirely, tracing his hand down Gene's chest. Gene, to his credit, barely winced at the cold, not nearly inadvertent smear of come from Paul's hand.

           "Depends. Would you go down on me for it?"

           The glint in Gene's eye gave him away long before he even licked his lips.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #gene simmons #paul stanley #gene simmons x paul stanley

[ubernoxa]

The Sip: A GNR Modern Day AU

Chapter 4: Shot Hill

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: Alanah may have gotten more than she bargened for when she discovers a little game can have other intentions

I had 4 beers and that was the only reason I agreed to play this shot hill game Stevie and Duff had mentioned earlier.

Dinner was absolutely delicious and I don’t think Slash could have done a better job cooking. It just tasted amazing. It was fall off the bone perfection.

We quickly moved that party inside and that’s when I saw Sandy again, happily sitting on the couch with some guy’s arm draped around her. She gave me a not so discrete thumbs up before I followed Duff and the rest of the guys to the basement.

When I walked into the basement, the only worlds that came to mind were holy shit. A large pool table occupied the center of the basement with a bar and mini living room off to the side. My eyes darted right back to the pool table which was filled with shot glasses. There were so many that it was impossible to count.

“Alright the name of the game is shot hill. For the newbies in the room, the rules are simple. There will be 3 teams. Me and slash, Stevie and Maggie, and Duff and Alanah.

Each team will select an A person and a B person this will determine who goes which round. Whoever got last the last time we played goes first. If the person to your right makes the shot, you drink. I should note that not all of the shots are normal shots, so tread lightly. If you don’t want to take a shot or if the ball lands on the floor before the second bounce, you remove an article of clothing of your partner’s choice.

Everyone give your phones to Izzy before we begin, Any questions?”

Duff gently rubbed my back as Axl explained the rules. I almost jumped when I felt his fingers dance in the straps that held my bikini top on. Before I could question if I should even play the game Axl tossed Duff the small ball who gave it to me.

“A for Alanah,” he smirked rather proud of his discovery. I had only had 2 beers or wait was it 3 or 4? Fuck. Never mind that doesn’t matter. A little fun never hurt anyone. I have played beer pong before. How different could this be?

I bounced the ping pong ball and it made it into a shot glass. Duff cheered from behind me as Stevie took the shot of what I assumed to be baileys mixed with milk.

Laughter quickly filled the room as he coughed a little.

“ Izzy what the hell was that?” Stevie jokingly yelled across the room.

“What you’ve never had vodka mixed with milk before?” Laughter filled the room again as Izzy spoke. Axl wasn’t kidding on how some of the shots weren’t ‘normal’.

“One of the winners gets to setup the next game and makes the shots,” Duff explained as we watched Stevie aiming across the table. There must have been something over there that he wanted Axl to drink. By the look of disappointment in his face, it wasn’t the red shot that the ping pong ball made it into.

Axl took the red shot and made a comment about how it tasted like cherries. Good news to hear that not all of the shots are messed up.

“You little bitch, were you trying to go for the black shot!” Laughter filled the room as Steven smiled and nodded.

“We all know what’s in there, Izzy made the shots and that special one is always there. I don’t want to EVER take that shot again. Sorry Alanah,” Steven then turned to me as he apologized.

“Why are you apologizing to me for?”

“You’re gonna have to take the shot,” he casually replied.

I looked up to Axl who seemed much too excited to toss the ping pong ball into the shot that was practically right in front of him.

“Survival of the fittest. I had to take that shot last time Izzy setup the game, and there is no way in hell I’m taking it again,” Axl joked once the ball landed in the shot.

“Well fuck..” I then turned to Duff and asked, “if he is afraid of that shot then I want to part of it. Which piece of clothing goes?” I couldn’t help but smirk as Duff’s eyes lit up.

He tugged on the belt loop of my shorts and I quickly pulled them off before he took his turn.

This time it landed in a clear liquid and Maggie asked, “hey Izzy, what are the odds that it is just vodka?”

“I’m not telling you shit Maggie. Part of the fun of winning is that you potentially get to fuck with people as they become more and more paranoid about what is in the glasses,” Izzy replied before leaving his seat and joining the rest of us at the pool table.

Without hesitation, Maggie grabbed the shot and finished it in one go.

“Holy shit that was water. I almost removed an article of clothing for water,” I couldn’t help but laugh with her as she spoke.

“Aim for The Shot,” Stevie pointed over towards the black shot he tried to get Axl to drink earlier. Maybe Slash would be the one to take the shot,

“No promises,” she responded before eyeing down the shot glass. I had never seen someone focus as much as she did as she tried to sink the ping pong ball into the cup.

“Woooo!” I joined in the cheering as she sunk it in.

I could hear slash groan across the room and laughter quickly followed suit.

“So how bad are we talking here? How bad is this shot? Cause my curiosity is getting the best of me right now,” Slash said earning a what the fuck look from Axl.

“It has the consistency of sludge, smells like shit, and fuck knows what that bastard puts in it but it will fuck you up,” Axl tried to reason with Slash. I wanted him to take the shot, so I wouldn’t have to. Please take the damn shot.

“But Axl, I haven’t tried it before!” Laughter filled the room as Axl threw his hands up in the air and walked away from the table.

“I swear to fucking god Slash. That shot is going to fuck you up and I don’t want to have to take care of you tonight. Remember why we call it the Dead Man?!” It was clear Axl was done with Slash’s shit.

“Alright, alright I was just fuckin’ with ya. What should I remove?” Axl rolled his eyes and I couldn’t help, but giggle at his response. I don’t know what I expected from the infamous Guns N’ Roses, but this wasn’t it. I wasn’t disappointed though, the media made them out to be a bunch of loud trash people. Standing here, in their basement, playing this drinking game made me feel like they were a big family. Without hesitation Slash removed he shirt earning a cheer from Stevie and threw it across the room making a little show.

“Alright Duff, how much do you love me,” I couldn’t help but laugh as a mischievous look crossed Slash’s face. He was going to land it in what Axl referred to as the dead man shot.

“You’re my favorite lead guitarist,” I shook my head knowing that Duff was going to take the shot.

“Hmm not good enough,” Slash replied. Before I could even blink, the ball landed in the shot glass.

“Sucks to suck,” I teased at him.

“Says the one who didn’t take the shot not even a round ago. Also we are on the same team,” I watched him as he eyed the shot. Was he seriously debating it?

“Jesus Christ,” I perked up and looked over at Axl who was trying to hide laughter and was whispering something I couldn’t make out to Slash.

“Pass the shot,” the room went silent as Slash passed him the shot. Was he seriously going to drink it?

“You know you don’t have to drink it,” I whispered to him. Saying I felt bad was an understatement. Like he said we were on a team.

“Ehh, one of us is drinking it tonight, so might as well get it over with,” he shrugged and whispered back, but I still felt bad. I shouldn’t had wimped out last round and just taken it.

“Here, a courtesy shot of vodka,” Izzy handed me a shot to give to Duff who mumbled something in auditable.

Without any fanfare Duff took the shot and immediately yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK IZZY” the room irrupted in laughter as Duff coughed and grabbed the shot of vodka to wash the other shot down.

“That’s fucking rancid,” Duff said between coughs.

Time flew by as the shot glasses began to slowly disappear, along with clothing. My shirt was the second to go. There was no way in hell I was taking a chunky shot, it looked absolutely repulsive.

“Is someone a little tipsy?” I giggled at Duff as he whispered in my ear. No...I only had like 4 shots and a couple beers...I was fiiiiiiiiine.

“R u talking’ ‘bout urrself” I giggled right back at him. My stomach was being thrown into loops from the smile that was planted on his face. He was hot. I tugged on the belt loops of his pants earning a mischievous look from him.

“Hmm...no I don’t think so,” He whispered back. I giggled as I felt his hand rest on my ass.

Without looking I tossed the ping pong ball across the table. It didn’t just miss the remaining shots, it never even hit the table. The room erupted in laughter and I quickly joined in. Maybe I was a little tipsy.

“Alright, rockstars choice,” I turned around to Duff and cringed at my slurred words. God I sounded like a damn basket case.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,” he whispered in my ear. I felt him gently tugging on one of the strings that held onto my bikini top, and then poof, just like magic, it fell to the floor.

#gnr #gunsandroses #gnr fanfiction #gnr imagine #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan fanfiction #the sip fanfic #the sip

[kerwritesthings]

Walking Hand in Hand

Summary: It’s been a long time coming, but when the moment is right you cannot help but say yes

Word Count: 2,120

Warnings: a whole lot of fluff and feels

Author Notes: This story, this part kind of was always a thing for me. I knew that I wanted to get them here. It niggled at me when I was writing the first part, I just needed to get them there the right way. I did entirely too much research on the fashion of this and yes, they’re legit items I found. #thedevilsinthedetails

This was another one of those sit down and words just came type pieces. Another 2k in about two hours. It’s crazy. I love this little ‘verse of mine so much. It’s brought my muse back from her mini hibernation that hit prior to the holidays. I want to work on my own original piece, but she wants to play with Shawn. So, I’m not going to tell her no. First part, second part, third part all linked up here.

There was an underlying purpose to this trip, aside from getting to spend time outside the bitter cold during the dead of winter in the sunshine of the west coast. It was the start of the season, and this was a big one, so finally you were going to be a part of the hoopla with him.

You weren’t a secret – it never, ever was that from moment one with the two of you. You just made a conscious decision, that he completely supported you on, to not be in the spotlight like that. You would be there, for everything and anything he ever asked you to be present for, but there was never the need to be the draped accessory or be out wildly in front of the cameras on a red carpet. You also wanted it to remain about him, the music, his hard work. Not who he was sleeping with. He respected you, respected that decision. It also gave you a sense of security when you were first together, with your own non-industry professional goals and blossoming career, that you weren’t ‘that girl’ with Shawn Mendes.  

But now, with how important this last album was, the scope of all the nominations, and with what you two were settling into, where it was all heading with your relationship, you made the decision. And this time, it was an easy one: it was a yes. His eyes went wide when you told him, his lips half quirked in smile before tackle hugging you.

Fast forward to the day before the awards, and you’re sitting cross-legged in just one of his sweaters and a pair of boy shorts on the floor of a lofty studio in West Hollywood.

“Do you need help back there?” you call, fighting back a laugh. “It’s a suit and you’re a boy, it should not take you that long to get ready.”

He sticks his head out from behind the shoji, shoulders still bare and blows a raspberry at you. You stick your tongue out at him in retaliation.

“Unless you’re planning on using it, I wouldn’t do that,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“Enough with you, get that suit on already,” a voice calls out from the opposite side of the room.

“Now you’re getting me in trouble,” he exaggeratedly pouts and flicks back behind the screen. “I’ll remember this.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him as the owner of that stern voice plops down on the floor next to you, patting your knee.

“I’m so glad we get to play together on this,” Tiff starts. “I know he’s trying to play it all cool but let me tell you he’s been buzzing a special way about this one. Had to be way more hands on to what he was wearing. Couldn’t clash with what you were thinking. He kept telling me he had to look good for you and had to be the good arm candy for you tomorrow night.”

You can’t help but flush. This man of yours.

“Don’t worry,” she continues. “He knows nothing. I just made sure you two would look good together for photos. He kept trying to press on a color, any type of details. I told him it’s a dress.”

You both giggle. The stylist kindly offered her help, the two of you back and forth over emails and late-night texts what you wanted, what you didn’t, colors, whose style did you like. There was one designer that was a total pipe dream, you thought there was no way, but luckily one email and a lovely conference call later, dream became reality. You had one fitting while he was still away on the last show swing, a whirlwind day in the brightly lit townhouse you had only seen on Instagram. The rest would be handled here in LA with the team and with Tiff.

“You know it was more because you’ve been making your own name outside of his, yeah?” she explains. “Being with this pain in the ass was just the added bonus. Plus, first carpet look? That’s a getter.”

“Ladies, I’m right here you know,” he calls out. “Hey Tiff, can you help…”

She scurries to her feet and heads behind to him, “Wait wait, please don’t fuck anything up!”

“Am I seeing this today or waiting until tomorrow?” you ask, stretching your legs and wiggling your toes. A mani/pedi was on tap for later, prepping your feet for the destruction of the strappy heels awaiting you.

“Am I seeing yours today?” he replies in turn.

“Not the same. Other than less bed head, and probably more bling, you’re gonna look the same tomorrow. Me, I need all the glam help I can get. Pineapple hair and a couture gown do not go together, my darling,” you say.

He sticks a hand out from the shoji, flipping you off.

“Remind me why I agreed to do this?” you sigh, flopping back on the floor.

“Cause you love me. Or at least I think you do,” he quips.

You hear him murmuring to Tiff. He’s probably trying to get any final details out of her while making sure he’s got his look on lock.

Next thing you know, Tiff is back and pulling you up off the floor towards the other side of the studio, “Your turn!”

The gasp you let go when you see the final dress, it’s perfect. You can’t wait.

You stay downtown that night, easier to get ready and even easier to get to the carpet. It’s quiet, just the two of you. Room service and a fluffy bed.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your temple you both settle into down into the duvet, his one arm coming around to hold you tighter to him, feeling his breath tickle your face. “I know I probably have said it before, but I want to say it again. Thank you, and I love you. More than I can even explain. I’m so fucking happy you’re here and that I get to have you tomorrow for this.”

“Need to be able to kiss my man when he wins his first Grammy,” you say softly before pressing your lips against his jaw. “It’s me and you versus the world, right? So, we may as well let the world really know that, yeah?”

He kisses you, slow and soft and deep, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.

“Only and always me and you versus the world, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.

Your suite is a buzz the next day, you are whisked away to the bedroom while Shawn is exiled to the sitting room for you both to start getting ready.

“Love you,” you mouth before the door shuts.

After a few hours of primping, curling, shuffling, squeezing, a few happy tears and a whole lot of singing along to your boyfriend’s album, which causes him to call through the door a few times making fun of you, you’re finally ready.

Tiff sneaks back into your room to help with the finishing touches on your dress.

“He’s trying not to pace, but he’s antsy as anything. God help us on your wedding day,” she exhales, sliding the last eye hook closed on your dress.

You turn to look at her, jaw dropping slightly.

“Shit, shit I’m sorry. But like girl come on, you know that’s where this is headed. He’s talked about it too you know. You’re endgame,” she says, squeezing your elbow. “This dress is perfection. He’s not going to know what hit him. Lemme go make sure he’s not wearing out the carpet.”

You take a deep breath, count to ten and put your hand on the door handle.

“You ready out there?” you call out.

“For like the last hour, baby,” he replies. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Sliding out from behind the door, your eyes lock. You always knew he was beautiful, unfairly gorgeous, but tonight is something else. He’s in black, head to toe minus the hint of the deeper shimmering grey in his shirt and the silvery shine glimmering from around his neck. The jacket though is something else, a subtle black on black snakeskin pattern with a shawl collar. His hair, the perfect riotous mess of loops and swirls of his curls.

“So, this is how my rockstar cleans up for the big night? You’re so handsome, Shawn. This is such a look,” you say as you make your way to him, hands lightly sliding up then down the front of his jacket, before tangling your fingers with his. He’s just looking at you, blinking, not saying anything, his thumbs a soothing rhythm over the tops of your hands. Then he takes a step back, still leaving your hands tangled.

“I am the luckiest. You look, like you’re always pretty and gorgeous and lovely. You know I think that. But you’re just, you’re this. God, I don’t even think I can figure out the right words,” he babbles, holding you at arm’s length to take you in. “This dress, you. You’re a fucking vision. It’s so perfectly you.”

“Cause it’s a custom Siriano,” you hear Tiff chime in. It’s everything you ever wished for in a dress. You knew your first time out on a carpet, the last thing you wanted was splashes of color or massive attention, but you still wanted to look good next to Shawn. Black and gunmetal grey interwoven, with the scalloped beading on the skirt and a swath of black chiffon to soften the top. Not too form fitting, not too much cleavage but enough to make you look feminine, feel sexy. Enough to be worthy of the man standing in front of you.

His eyes widen and you nod bashfully.

“Tiff’s work, all her help. I was happy with whatever and off a rack at that, but she asked for a wish list. She went right for the top,” you explain. “I still can’t believe it.”

“We’re sending him a case of champagne tomorrow,” he says to Tiff. “Now, can just I have a moment with my girl before the world takes us?”

Everyone scurries around the room and Shawn pulls you into the bedroom, door shutting with a click.

“I’m glad you don’t have sticky lipstick on yet to fuck up,” he mutters before slinging his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

“I guess you hate it, then?” you laugh, kissing him briefly and softly again.

“Ok, one more then we need to stop or we’re going to have some problems. Well, no I’ll have some problems. Plus, the girls will want to powder the two of us to death before we go and gloss you out most likely. Which we should get moving anyway. Sooner we’re there, less hoopla to navigate around on the carpet,” he says, opening the door to pull you both back out into the main room.

He’s right. There’s more powder, some tugging and straightening, more scent sprayed about and a swipe of lipstick for you before you are shuffling downstairs to the waiting car. Staying close to the venue, the ride isn’t long despite the lineup of cars ahead of you. Your nerves start to kick in a little, worrying at the seam of your bag with your index finger.

“Breathe for me baby,” he says, snagging your hand to intertwine with his. “Promise you, it won’t be that bad. First one is always a bit of a shock to the system, but it’s nothing more than a fancy little walk is all. ‘Cept this time, I get to be hand in hand with my favorite person.”

You look over, his smile easing some of the tension sitting in your chest.

“Shawn, what if…” you begin.

“Nope, there’s none of that. Not ever and especially not tonight. Not when you and I look like a fucking power couple,” he drops a kiss to your knuckles. “This is just a fancier date night, just happens to be a couple hundred more people on it with us is all.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby. As much as I love this dress, I really cannot wait to take you out of it later,” he says, dusting a light kiss to your neck just below your ear just as the car pulls to a stop and you hear a knock against the car window. “You ready? I’m going to be right there. You and me.”

You lean in to rub your nose against his gently just before the door opens, “Always you and me.”

TAG LIST: @loveat2am​, @sinplisticshawn​, @hollandraul​, @whenidance​

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fluff

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Afraid ch 10

Taglist: @sparxx27​

“I don’t understand why we have to keep having this same argument” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“You’re not getting any less pregnant with my kid (y/n)” Nikki hissed between clenched teeth. “You expect us to transport him between two houses as an infant?”

“I just don’t understand why this is such a big deal and why we’re in such a rush.” I nervously picked at the skin around my nails.

“You’re almost four months pregnant!” He was pacing the small space between my living room and kitchen. Something that had become habit while we argued.

“You’re welcome to be here with the baby and myself.”

“I haven’t lived in an apartment since I had the money to buy a house you think I’m willingly moving into your tiny ass apartment?” Okay maybe that was a ridiculous request.

“I’m not sitting here and fighting with you.” I stood up grabbing my purse and car keys from their places by my front door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“For a fucking drive.” I slammed the front door behind me and quickly made my way to my car as angry tears filled my eyes.

“I hope you don’t cry as much as you make me cry” I sniffled patting my stomach as I pulled out of the parking lot. I knew exactly where I needed to go to get myself together.

I pulled into the driveway behind one of the many cars that sat there, most of them hardly receiving any use. I cut the engine and checked my reflection in the rear view mirror to inspect how puffy my eyes were from crying during the drive over. I knocked on the front door and waited a few seconds for any noise on the other side. Hearing nothing I knocked again to no avail. Finally getting fed up I rapid pushed the doorbell and the front door was soon swinging open to a freshly awake Tommy lighting a cigarette.

“What the fuck (y/n) I was sleeping.” Tommy yawned.

“It’s 2 in the afternoon” I pushed past him making my way into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of Coke out of the fridge before flopping on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asked sitting next to me on the couch and placing my legs in his lap. That was our usual position for when we needed a good venting session and despite his question Tommy knew exactly why I was there.

“Your best friend is pushy and thinks everything should go his way or not at all.” 

“Hi have you met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy chuckled. “What is it about this time?”

“He just keeps insisting I move in with him and I don’t see why I need to do that.”

“You’re having a baby together. I think that calls for living together” Tommy scoffed.

“I don’t want to move in with him.” Well that was half true.

“Why? You guys basically have lived together since we first went to Vancouver.” 

“I don’t want to live in that house Tommy. I can’t raise our kid in that place.” I felt tears starting to form in my eyes. “That house is where Nikki lived his worst moments, where he shot up, and every time I go there it’s all I can think about the entire time. Our baby can’t be there.”

“So tell him that then you dork. Make something work.” Tommy shrugged like it was the simplest solution. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the phone ringing in the kitchen. He got up muttering that it was probably Heather calling from where she was filming.

I flipped through the channels on TV to see what I could distract myself with while he had what would probably be a long phone call. I changed the channel again to Mtv and was both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised with the Motley Crue music video for “You’re All I Need” playing. I couldn’t help but chuckle remembering the story Nikki had told me behind that song, man he really was a crazy person while on drugs.

“God that might be one of my favorite and least favorite songs off that album” Tommy spoke before dropping back onto the couch and putting my legs in his lap again.

“Well I’m sure when you helped him write it you didn’t know he was writing it to be vindictive. How is Heather?” Tommy paused for a half second then cleared his throat.

“She’s uh- she’s good. We’re kind of in our own little argument right now” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well spill, what’s going on?” I patted my thighs indicating for him to rest his head there, which he did without question.

“It’s just with you and Sixx having this baby, and Vince and Mick having kids, I want to start a family too.” He said quietly.

“And Heather still doesn’t want to have children?” I ran my fingers through his long and messy hair.

“She’s worried they’ll ruin her chance of having a long career, but she’s my wife and I’m a fucking rockstar. She doesn’t need to work. She’s just stubborn.”

“She wants to be her own person not just Tommy Lee’s wife.” I chuckled.

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have made her my wife if I knew we were never going to be a family” He huffed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Any time you want to you can”

“Can I touch your belly?” He asked shyly and I grabbed his hand resting on his side and placed it on my stomach.

We stayed like that for what seemed like forever before I even noticed Tommy’s sniffling. He sat up to wipe a stray tear that had fallen.

“I’m sorry. That isn’t very manly of me” Tommy sighed.

“Don’t be sorry. I know how bad you want to be a dad” I could feel my own tears starting to form and mentally cursed Nikki for doing this to me.

“I just have always wanted my own family. It’s my lifelong dream.” Tommy mumbled.

“I hope she comes around.” I cried as the flood gates opened in my eyes.

“Oh my god Nikki was right you do cry about everything now.” Tommy laughed and I smacked him with the throw pillow behind me.

“I can’t help that the slightest sad thing makes me a blubbering mess.” I sniffed. “It’s Nikki Jr in here that is making me emotional.”

“Please tell me that is not really a name consideration for the baby.”

“God no!” I exclaimed. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I name any of my children Nikki Jr. I would rather name them something weird like apple or lavender”

“You should name him Tommy Jr.”

“Yeah right!” I giggled.

The lock to my apartment felt ten times louder than normal as I turned my key inside of it. Nikki sat on the couch watching an action movie I couldn’t name. I didn’t say anything as I set my things in their designated spots and made my way to Nikki. I went to walk past him to sit on the recliner near by, but he reached out and grabbed my wrist pulling me into his lap.

“Hey” He said barely above a whisper.

“Hey” I played with his hand nervously. “I was worried you wouldn’t be here when I got back.”

“With you is where I want to be.” He grabbed my chin softly and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “I love you (y/n).”

“I love you Nikki.” Our lips connected in a soft peck and Nikki rested his forehead against mine.

“You know if you keep running to my best friend when we argue I will have to challenge you to a fight for him” he tucked his hand under my shirt to rest on my abdomen, his new favorite spot and my ass long forgotten.

“Wait how did you know I was with Tommy?”

“I called him to see what he was doing to try to clear my head with MY best friend.” I stuck my tongue out at his playful words and he tickled my side in response.

“He only got one phone call while I was there and it was- ohhhh he lied to me so I wouldn’t know it was you that called.”

“Yeah I kind of asked him to not tell you it was me.” He chuckled nervously.

My stomach growled loudly cutting through the breif second of silence that had fallen between us.

“Did Tommy feed you?” Nikki scowled.

“I didn’t ask him to feed me.” I replied sheepishly.

“You know you need to feed our son so he can grow to be a big strong rockstar like his dad.”

“Would you quit calling our baby a boy we don’t know yet.” I rolled my eyes and my stomach punctuated my sentence with another growl.

“Come on momma bear let’s get you and the baby some nourishment”

Nikki wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just said to get dressed and get ready for a surprise. The sports car purred as Nikki (who insisted we take one of his cars) drove up a small incline up to a gated neighborhood full of houses bigger than I could ever imagine.

“Nikki what are we doing here?” I questioned as Nikki punched a few numbers into the box on his side and the gates swung open.

“I just have something to take care of here really quick and then we’re gonna have us a nice date day” Nikki smiled wide kissing my hand that was interlocked with his own.

We drove up the street until we reached a house at the end that looked like it could fit four of my apartments inside of it. Nikki pulled into the driveway and cut the car off hopping out and motioning for me to join him. Raising an eyebrow, but following without question we made our way to the front door. Nikki opened the door and gestured for me to step inside.

“Nikki what are we doing here?” I repeated my earlier question.

“Would you just get in the damn house.”

I stepped inside the foyer and noticed the house was entirely empty. It was clear that nobody was currently living there or possibly nobody ever had.

“So what do you think?” Nikki asked leaning against the wall.

“Of what?”

“Our new house.”

“Our new WHAT?!” I choked.

“This is where we’re going to live and raise our son and any other kids we have.” Nikki shrugged. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a crazy person Nikki fucking Sixx.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his face close to mine. “But I love the shit out of you”

Nikki wasted no time closing the distance between our lips and slipping his hands to the back of my thighs. Following his cues I hopped up for him to lift me and wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me into the kitchen never once breaking concentration off of kissing me. He sat me on the counter and we broke apart to sloppily remove our clothes.

“Not even moved in and we’re already breaking in the kitchen” Nikki chuckled undoing the ties on his leather pants.

“We’ve haven’t done a single thing traditionally yet why ruin a good thing?”

And break in the kitchen we did.

#afraid #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fic #douglas booth!nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx #douglas!nikki