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#And that she can't sing that well so the guitar is her way of “singing” in music if that makes sense

stariekis · 3 months

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platonic feelings (or not).

pairing : guitarist!jay + fem!reader . genre : fluff . cw : kissing, skinship and nothing more i think ~ . wc : 2.4 k (that's actually insane gosh..)

— synopsis : friends also write love songs to each other ... and they also kiss sometimes ... right ? like that's normal ... right ?

— note : you, me, everyone loves guitarist jay ! and i'm obsessed with this jay live (pics above) so why not make a whole one shot abt him : D hope you guys like it ~ reposts and all kinds of feedback are always appreciated <3

Love songs are supposed to be written for your lover, not platonically lover but romantically. So why does Jay feels the need to write you one, he doesn't love you like that... right ?.

Of course he loves you, you've been best friends for the longest time, then why does he feel butterflies every time you are around ? Why does he get nervous every time you meet ? Why are you the only one on his mind ? Is he actually falling in love with his childhood best friend ?.

This brings us to the current situation. He was all alone in his room, his guitar on top of his thighs and the notebook he always use to compose his songs open on top of his desk. The page where the notebook was opened was filled with love letters and little hearts, all of them dedicated to you.

Jay has his own way to express his feelings and this was through songs, so that's why, as soon as he realizes his feelings toward you, he started writing one, hoping one day he would be able to sing it to you.

Little did he know that that moment was seconds ago to happen.

— 'Hey there pretty boy' said a female voice behind him. When he realized that it was actually your voice his eyes widened, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice you entering his room.

Closing the notebook rapidly he turned around in his chair looking directly at you. You were comfortably sitting in his bed, your leg crossed and a big smile plastered on your lips. And again, Jay's heart skipped a beat.

— 'Your mum let me in, she said that you were here so i wanted to come and see you' you said, eyes looking from his guitar to his desk where the notebook was. — 'Are you writing again Jjongie ?'

He was screwed. His best friend who he is in love with just discovered that he was writing a song, a song about her, and on top of that you asked him to sing it. He can't do that. — 'Well um i haven't finished it yet' he said looking at his feets.

But he knows you too well, he knows how stubborn you are and that you would keep asking him to sing it no matter what so, when you asked for the second time with pouty lips he couldn't refuse.

When you hear the song you were shocked to say the least. You weren't stupid, you knew that you both were more than childhood best friends, but hearing him basically confessing to you through a song was enough to confirm it.

Getting up from his bed you came closer to him without breaking eye contact. Now standing in front of him you took his guitar into your hands and you put it aside, sitting in his lap right after.

— 'Jay this is the best thing someone has done for me, you know that right ? ' he nodded at your words with a smile on his face, his hand around your waist rubbing the bare skin there and his eyes shining brightly.

Both of you were drowning in each other's embrace. He said, whispering even — 'I'm so in love with you god ' cupping your face with one of his hands and leaning in, connecting your lips in the sweetest kiss you've ever received.

Pulling away slightly you said those words he has been wanting to hear from you for so long. — 'I'm in love with you too, my rockstar' your lips connecting again, you could feel him smiling in between kisses.

So yes, best friends can also kiss and write love songs about each other but clearly they are never platonically.

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stars-and-the-min · 1 month

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☆ the wrong way to hard launch (2) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n more unserious behaviour

masterlist | last part | part 2 | next part

TWITTER

kayla @luna_apocolyse · 42m oomf... i fear you have girlbossed too close to the sun with this one

↳ MANIFESTED OSCALINA | LONDON N3 @12m0red4ys · 31m nothing comedic about it i was PRAYING actually

lila💚 @kasdanrights · 23m OOMF YOU SHOULD CHECK LINA'S STORY 😭😭😭 ↳ li(n)a @meliabelrose · 19m I ACTUALLY CAN'T WITH THIS UNSERIOUS WOMAN

INSTAGRAM

selinabui just posted to their story

TWITTER

MANIFESTED OSCALINA | LONDON N3 @12m0red4ys · 3m THAT'S SUCH A DEEPCUT TWEET ADFJSDF is she stalking me or smth AND THAT FUCKASS FONT PLS LINA I BEG YOU TO USE ANOTHER FONT and she tagged his ass as well ↳ abby <3 @devilvows · 3m thanks bestie we finally got the rest of the bday shoot bc of u 🫶

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 12m ok i see the vision, she is the vision, wtf is in the zhou genes? modelling? ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 11m oscar, pookie, i think she's a bit out of ur league but good luck? ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 7m i heard her sing, she's definitely out of ur league, i'm rebranding

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 1h do you think lina saw the comments under that tweet bc if so 😭 ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 1h this four-reply run SENDS me every time

↳ june @linafesting · 54m what was the context of this time period why are the comments so scattered? (new linami here) ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 49m i think this was around the time t*mmy got engaged and the paps were hounding lina and everyone was telling her to fight back (get a bf)

INSTAGRAM

emptybottlos

liked by zhouguanyu24 and 9,421 others

emptybottlos THE only cousins to ever cousin tagged: selinabui and zhouguanyu24

selinabui DELETE PLS I DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THIS ↳ selinabui @ selinabui I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD JUST PLS DELETE THIS I HATE THIS SO MUCH

zhouguanyu24 😂😂😂

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang, oscarpiastri and 118,023 others

selinabui the desperate image reversal post

stakef1team Kick Sauber green 💚 ↳ selinabui @stakef1team absolutely not but ok bestie stay delulu

pi4str1 oscar in the likes 😭 buddy ur supposed to be getting ready for qualifying???

pastry81 is lina gonna be at the race??? ↳ mickeyko @ pastry81 no :( the whole band flew out to jakarta this morning for the asian leg of the tour

TWITTER

↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 4h ok guys this has exited my little circle - just to clarify THIS IS A JOKE I'M NOT A KASLINA TRUTHER !!!

↳ kaslina on my mind ☁️ @kaslinatruther · 5h look at my babies 🥹

↳ oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 4h IJBOL ARIANA (kaslina) WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???

↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 4h certainties of the world: sun rising from east, kaslina resurgence every time one of them has a dating rumour ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 4h LEAVE MY TWIN GUITARS ALONE ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 4h and it's always when it's a DATING rumour, never when they break up

↳ emme @flowersforcami · 4h every baby empty bottles fan goes thru a massive kaslina phase after seeing them live i can't even blame anyone 🥸 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 3h hi there, oscar fan, so what exactly is going on with lukas (?) and lina? ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 3h absolutely nothing, they grew up as neighbours who just have pretty spectacular tension on stage but this is them irl: youtube.com/watch?v=....

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by selinabui and 76,295 others

oscarpiastri Post qualifying, pretty happy with the effort 💪

emptybottlesbar 🔥🔥🔥 ↳ oliviafufu @emptybottlesbar admin are you doing ok there?

landonorris P6 verrrry nice ↳ oscarpiastri @ landonorris P4 verrrrrrry nice :)

izzy.piastri LET'S GAURRRRRR

amelia_belrose he's on the exact opposite side of the spectrum dfjnskjd i can't believe we're getting calm bf x hyper gf

amelia_belrose mr piastri, just curiously, what exactly do you see in our lina?

pastry81 oscar went ok hard launch over, back to regularly scheduled content (papaya)

selinabui

liked by zhouguanyu24 and 98,834 others

selinabui *sigh* kick sauber green 💚

pi4str1 SHE'S SO DEEPLY UNSERIOUS THE PAPAYA #1 VAN 😭😭😭 ↳ pastry81 @pi4str1 i love her so much she's just soooooo

zhouguanyu24 🤨 ↳ selinabui @ zhouguanyu24 爱你爱你 🫂🫂

landonorris Love where your loyalties lie #teampapaya

stakef1team We'll take it 💚💚💚

lukaszhang YO WHO'S DOG IS THAT???

courtneysong16 convinced she saw a random orange van and said “wait let me serve first”

emptybottlesbar

liked by cameliazzz and 108,274 others

emptybottlesbar The two people currently breaking the internet (who look pretty proud of themselves) tagged: selinabui, oscarpiastri, emptybottles_official and mclaren

eb_jonno WHICH ADMIN IS THIS, LET ME SEND YOU FLOWERS OR SMTH

lukaszhang not the 'held at gunpoint' reaction pic AHAHA

cameliazzz admin... sara is that you???

aidan_ebass 👍 ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass you remembered your login??? ↳ lottie2418 @aidan_ebass omg grandpa hi hi

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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fangirlandtheories · 9 months

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Do you remember when we used to sing?

Eddie is away on tour while Steve is taking care of their daughter a few hours away. Too bad she can't fall asleep without her special bedtime song...

Steve’s brows pinched together as the cries grew in pitch and volume, almost drowning out the familiar click of ‘Hey it’s Eddie, call me back or don’t, I’m not your mother.’ from the speaker of his phone.

He had shifted from frustrated to desperate as he glanced over at their daughter, red faced and snot nosed. Bedtime was a solid hour past due and didn’t seem to be looming any closer.

“It’s okay, sweets, we’ll call him again.” Steve soothed as he ran a hand down the toddler’s back.

“Daddy!!!” She screamed again, choking with the effort of her sobs, as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had been love at first sight for Eddie and Steve when they had met Rayne’s mother. She was young, just turning 20 in the fall, with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was looking for someone who wanted a baby that couldn’t naturally have their own and the agent connected the dots for them. After several months, little Rayne was theirs.

“I know,” Steve muttered as he pulled up Eddie’s contact again. Eddie had taken a break from touring after the adoption of their daughter but had recently started back up. It started off pretty well, the excitement of getting to have a Dad weekend with Steve pulling her through, but now the newness was gone and all little Rayne Munson-Harrington wanted was Eddie.

Eddie usually found weekend gigs but had found a week long slot in a club in St. Louis that promised great publicity and even better payment, so Corroded Coffin hit the road and Steve held down the fort with some help from Robin and Wayne. They were obligated to babysit, she was named after both of them afterall, and he was grateful because work had been taxing enough without adding a feisty 4 year old to the mix.

A flu bug was sweeping it’s way through Hawkin’s Elementary and it spared no casualties in Steve’s kindergarten classroom. He spent the day trying to keep the class from putting things in their mouths and making sure everyone washed their hands, sending a child or two home after seeing the greenish pale tints of nausea pass over their faces. He knew that he’d have to deal with kids puke at some point, especially as a parent, but he’d like to avoid it at all costs.

“Pick up your phone you ass.” He hissed through clenched teeth, rocking the inconsolable girl in his arms as he dialed again.

***

Eddie first felt the familiar jolt of vibration in his back pocket just after the first chorus. The second time was just a few verses later. He smiled into the microphone as he continued to sing, ignoring his phone. The third time was in the bridge of the song, a particularly terrible time to take a call as Eddie’s hands were preoccupied with his guitar. The fourth time happened in the final notes of the song. The fifth during the applause. Eddie frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket, ignoring a glare from Jeff.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this but my husband is facetiming me right now. This is like the fifth time he’s called so I’m going to answer, everybody be quiet and let’s see how long it takes him to remember that we had a later show tonight.” Eddie laughed as the audience silenced quickly. Steve’s irritated yet grateful face popped up on the screen seconds later.

“Hey love…” He crooned with a cheeky smirk.

“Your daughter is very upset with you.” Steve ignored the affectionate nickname.

“Why is she my daughter whenever she’s mad?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s been screaming since 8:30 Eds.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated sigh. “She’s refusing to sleep until you do it, that’s why I’ve been calling.”

“Steve I’m um…” Eddie glanced nervously at the audience in front of him. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah I wanted to be relaxing right now too but our kid needs her dad and since he’s five hours away the very least he could do is sing her the damn song so that we all can get some rest.” Steve squinted at him. “You’re being weirder than usual. Are the guys there with you?”

“Yeah the guys are definitely with me.” Eddie ignored Gareth’s snicker. “Can I call you-”

“Edward, so help me God, sing the song so that she can go to sleep.” Steve interrupted. “Look at her.” Steve turned the camera to the distraught little girl and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Hi angel, I hear you’re a little sad.” He frowned in solidarity with her as her lip stuck out. “No, don't cry, it’s okay Ray Ray.” She howled louder, tears popping from her wet lashes. He winced as he lip quivered, his resolve wearing down to nothing. He glanced over at Gareth, leaning over to whisper to him before looking back to his phone.

“Alright fine, let’s sing it, yeah?” Eddie placated. “You’re breaking my heart Bambi.” The wide eyes and long lashes practically gifted the nickname to her. He glanced back at Gareth who gave him a thumbs up before looking at the audience. “Daddy’s band is going to help him sing it, is that okay?” Rayne whimpered as she nodded, snuggled into Steve’s arms as he held the phone in front of her.

“Wait, are you on stage right now?” Steve leaned forward. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You couldn’t interrupt if you tried.” Eddie smiled. “Isn’t that right?” Steve could hear cheers from the audience. “We love our rock and roll family here and we honor our traditions, most of all the bedtime song. Ready boys? Sing along if you know it, our most honored guest is in the audience tonight and would love to hear you guys.”

With that, Jeff played the opening notes on the guitar while Gareth tapped out the beat with the rarely used tambourine. The bass thumped along to Eddie’s singing, and though it admittedly wasn’t their usual style, the band loved Rayne like she was their niece and they would play anything to make her happy.

“-In the misty morning fog with our hearts a-thumping” Eddie held the microphone in one hand and the phone in the other, beaming at the smile on Steve’s face. “And you, my brown eyed girl.” Rayne giggled and clapped, tears still on her cheeks but sadness having finally passed.

***

Hours and miles away, Steve smiled as he shut the door to his daughter's bedroom, the nightlight softly glowing, as he hummed the song to himself. Tomorrow there would be a series of tweets about Eddie going soft and videos flying all around the internet, but for now, and for the first time that evening, the Munson-Harrington home was quiet.

#steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #oc child character #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #kindergarten teacher Steve Harrington #fanfiction #ficlet #steddie fanfic #my first tumblr fic #please request #always taking requests

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elliespuns · 3 months

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The prologue scene is so important. There's so much hidden emotion behind Joel singing to Ellie.

What's so unbearable about this scene is that Ellie already knows Joel is lying to her, and Joel, as guilty as he is, suspects she knows but still tries his best not to admit it to himself. That's why the conversation between them is so awkward, even though we aren't given any reason for it to be in that moment. We'd expect that something must have happened between them in the meantime to make them so distant, but nothing really happened—that's the thing—nothing happened.

Ellie wasn't sure whether Joel was telling her the truth or not back when he told her about the fireflies after he saved her, because even though something in her was telling her that he was lying to her, she WANTED so badly to believe he wouldn't. But I think that time spent with Joel from this point on made her realize.

Joel is not the type of guy to show emotions, to soften, or to try so hard. Yet, it's all he's been doing ever since they ended up in Jackson. All this constant trying to chitchat with her, tell jokes she likes, learn about her favorite things, sing to her (to somehow make amends to her), she knows what all this is about. She's not stupid. She can feel it, and she can see it in his face. It's not like Joel is good at hiding his guilt anyway.

This is perfectly portrayed in the scene where he comes into her room and sings to her. You can see how much he's nervous. Why is he nervous? To sing? No. He's nervous because he's about to sing to someone who might already feel disappointed in him. He's not self-conscious. He's not feeling himself because he's scared of what her reaction is going to be. It would break him if there was another thing she didn't like about him. And it's stupid to think so, because why would Ellie judge his singing? She wouldn't, and he knows it. Yet he can't help it because he's so buried in his guilt that he's losing his mind. You can see it in his face as he stops singing. He's ashamed to look at her; he needs her to say something. Something nice. He's avoiding eye contact.

Ellie, on the other hand, feels everything in that moment too deeply. The way he strums the guitar so delicately, the way his husky voice sings so softly, and how honest he is with the words he's too afraid to say out loud in a casual conversation. She can see he's trying. That's why she lets him do his thing, even though a part of her just wants him to leave. She knows he's lying to her. But she doesn't want to believe it. So when he starts, it changes everything for her.

You can see in the way Ellie carefully listens to every word that's meant just for her that she's falling for his love, letting the possibility of him not actually being the bad guy pierce through her being. He clearly loves her, so why dwell on it? She's letting his love in, forgiving him in a way.

That's why she's so sad when he leaves the room. If he's lying to her, why isn't she worth the truth? On the other hand, what if he's not lying to her? She's unreasonably pushing this mellow man, who means well, away. It makes her feel bad. She needs to give him a chance.

That's why later, when she's 16, we see her enjoying her birthday with Joel, laughing and bickering. It's because she let herself let go. She let the heavy feeling in her chest of him lying to her die that day and let his love in instead.

And then, a year later, she finds the letter, and all those feelings and doubts are back. It makes her go back to the hospital, and she finds out the truth. It is so sad to realize that maybe if she hadn't found the letter, she would have never gone back to the hospital and would have never found out the truth that cost her 2 long years of a beautiful fatherly friendship with the only person who had ever loved her so deeply.

#i got carried away with this #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie and joel #joellie #the last of us game #tlou game #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #the last of us talk #elliespuns analyses

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gretavangroupie · 3 months

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Enrapture

Word count: 13.2k

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Biting, Spanking, Blood, Blood Play, Cum Play, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the second installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Daniel's story! There's only two left now, and we can't wait to share them with you! See you real soon!

You’ve been waiting for this night for weeks, marking off the days on your calendar with a pink highlighter since the end of December. You got the call and immediately said yes, not even taking into consideration the day. It wasn’t hard to get the rest of your band mates to agree to it, only one of them even in a relationship. February 14th was really just another day, and tonight your band was set to play.

It took some careful convincing but everyone knew that opening for The Foxies would be, to date, your biggest opportunity yet. You put the finishing touches on your outfit, waiting for the rest of the band to pick you up in the van. You zipped your black chelsea boots, and straightened your black lace corset top against your jeans as you fluffed your fingers through your freshly blown out hair. You gave yourself a look in the mirror one last time, the shine of your lip gloss catching in the bathroom light.

The time on the clock is quickly ticking by, and you’re starting to get nervous that it's well past your pick up time. Thankful that they already have your guitar in the van, you know that as soon as they pull up you will be jumping inside as the van continues to roll.

About fifteen minutes and a few anxious walks around your living room later, you hear the horn honking outside. You grab your coat and your keys and dash out the door, sending a quick text to your friend letting her know you’re running late.

“Late to our biggest gig yet?! This looks bad, guys.” you screech, slamming the door shut behind you.

“Chill, we'll make it. Van wouldn’t start, but she's runnin’ now.” Carter barks from the front seat, patting his hand on the dashboard. You roll your eyes and buckle your seat belt, listening to them chatter as you anxiously await your arrival.

—

Rushing down the basement steps with your gear, you wade through the decently sized crowd making your way to the side of the stage. You can tell the opening band is almost finished and you rip your guitar case open to check the tuning.

From the corner of your eye you see your best friend sauntering up to you, camera in hand just like she promised. You try to give her the quick rundown of the set so she can plan her shots but you can tell her head is elsewhere as she peers over her shoulder scanning the crowd. You wonder if it has anything to do with the boy she was talking to as you walked in.

“Foxtrot, you’re up!” you hear the coordinator shout, and you know it’s time to take the stage. You throw your arms around your friend's neck, kissing her cheek and taking your leave for the stage. “Wish us luck! Make sure you get my good side!”

With your guitar slung around your shoulder, you wait for Carter to cue you in on the drums, ready to play to this rowdy crowd in front of you. Your eyes scan the audience as Steff starts to sing, spotting a few familiar t-shirts with your band logo on them. A smile crosses your face as you enter in on the next song, seeing your friend down below you as she works her away across the stage snapping photos you hope to use for the band's socials. Your fingers are dancing along the frets, keeping perfect time with the drums and bass as you look out into the crowd again.

When your eyes sweep the room you notice a guy leaning against the brick wall, drinking from a beer can as he nods his head along in time with the music. His eyes are on you, dark and piercing. His dark curly hair frames his face beneath his hat, turned backwards of course in the darkness of the room. You see a smirk pull across his lips as you make eye contact, and you feel yourself blushing so you look away.

You wish that you hadn’t abandoned his gaze when you look away and spot your ex on the other side of the room, about four rows back, with his eyes on you. You knew there was a chance he would be here. You’d been dodging his calls for weeks, and rightfully so. He betrayed your trust and that was that. You didn’t have time for the back and forth, and to be honest, he wasn’t what he portrayed himself to be anyways. You cut your losses and you have been significantly happier since. As he stands here in front of you, you feel a sense of dread wash over you, knowing this is an issue you’ll have to deal with after the set, on Valentine’s day no less.

Your attention is snapped away from him, watching as your friend and her camera go flying over a rogue cord on the ground. With her eye to the lens she missed it, tumbling into the hands of a familiar stranger. You laugh under your breath, working your way into the next song, and letting your eyes flick back to your curly haired admirer.

You’re pretty sure you know who he is, his appearance definitely fits the description, though you didn’t realize how cute he would be in person. He was known to pop up at these shows, always looking for the next great thing, adding names to his ever expanding catalog of local bands. You hadn’t come across him at any of your gigs yet, but it looked like tonight was your lucky night.

—

After the show you find yourself accepting compliment after compliment, hugs and encouraging words coming from almost every familiar face in the crowd. Between conversations, you try to make your way to the kitchen for at least some water, but for a solid 10 minutes, you’re stuck hosting a receiving line.

As anticipated, your ex makes his way towards you. He’s got a look on his face that tells you he’s had a few drinks and that doesn’t bode well for you.

“Look at you,” he coos, physically pulling you in for a hug with a hand around your upper back. You grimace, politely accepting the inappropriate greeting. “Gotta admit, it’s pretty cool to see my girl up there knowing she’s–”

“Not your girl.” you say, immediately cutting him off. “Thanks for coming.” You try to get away but he grabs your forearm and makes it difficult.

“Hey hey hey, what’s the ruuush?” he slurs, stepping into your line of sight again. “You can’t still be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I just don’t want anything to do with you.” You try to pull yourself out of his predatory grasp but he’s effectively cornering you.

“I miss you, baby. Look at me and tell me you don’t think about me. Something deep down in there still wants me.” he says, poking you gently in the chest.

“Fuck off, Brent.” You snap, shooting him a look that could kill. Right as the tension bubbles over, you feel a warm hand on the back of your neck.

“Hey, got you that drink you wanted.” Turning to look over your shoulder, you’re met with the same pair of striking, dark eyes that were watching you from the back during your performance.

Brent immediately looks disgruntled, sizing up the tall stranger who is placing his arm around you.

“Do I know you?” Brent asks.

“Oh, hey, names Danny. Nice to meet you.” He lifts his arm back over your head, then offers his hand to Brent for a sarcastic handshake. You watch the two interact with wide eyes and realize that this Danny character noticed you were in distress and decided to step in.

“Didn’t think I needed to introduce myself, sorry about that. Most people here have at least some idea who I am.” You turn to look up at him, a little dumbfounded at the way he’s radiating smug confidence strong enough to disarm your asshole ex.

Brent gives a few slow nods as his eyes move between the two of you. He seems to put the pieces together, deciding to take his leave.

“I’ll see you around,” Brent says to you with a terse smile, pushing his way through the crowd and out of sight. Once he’s gone, you turn to fully face your savior, giving him a relieved smile.

You had heard about Danny Wagner. Drummer, Nashville local, party boy, general good time. He’s a little too famous to be at a show like this, so you can’t help but ask him why.

“Thanks for stepping in. I could have handled it, but… you really expedited it. So thanks.” You say, a little guarded, but appreciative nonetheless.

“He seemed like a real prick, and I had been waiting to come over and introduce myself anyway.” Danny says, his smile sweet and disarming, but you’re not going to let yourself fall into the trap you know many women have fallen into before.

“I thought you didn’t need to?” you quip boldly, opening the beer he handed you.

“Well, do I?” he responds quickly, laughing softly.

“It’s only polite…” you muse.

“Daniel Wagner. I really liked your set.” he says, tipping the bottle of beer back and licking his lips clean after he takes a sip.

“That’s very kind.” you say, polite, but a little cold. Your eyes scan the room quickly, a little concerned about what others may think looking at this conversation from the outside. Danny’s reputation is less than great, and you wouldn’t want anyone attributing the slight amount of success you would say tonight was to him.

“Can I ask what you’re doing at a basement show, though?” you prod, giving him a bit of a suspicious look. He takes it in stride, his confidence never faltering.

“I was supposed to be on my way to New York, but due to some…unforeseen circumstances, I found myself at home on Valentine’s day. Seeing as most restaurants are booked, bars are full of schmucks on dates, and all that… I figured I would drop in. Stay up to date on the local music scene. You know.”

You raise your brows at him. You actually don’t know, so you crack a smile.

“I see. How kind of you to grace us with your presence.” you snark, trying to suppress a grin.

Danny lets out a big laugh at that, almost choking on his beer. You laugh along, glad he’s not too offended. There’s no way he hadn’t heard the murmurings about him, so it’s nice to see he’s a good sport.

“I’m gonna–” You start to tell him you have to go load up your equipment when you’re interrupted by a random voice.

“Hey! Can we get a picture?”

That’s your cue. You sneak away towards the stage, starting to pack up alongside your bandmates. Every few minutes, you glance back towards Danny, caught up with some excited fans. It’s not that you’re avoiding him, because if you’re being honest, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s the gnawing worry at the back of your mind that’s telling you to tread lightly.

Crouching down, you peel up the tape from the makeshift stage. As you stand and follow the trail, pulling it from the floor, you’re brought to a pair of bright white Adidas stepping on it, keeping you from going any further. Straightening up to stand at your full height, you realize it’s Danny.

“Need a hand?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine. It’s a little complicated, so…” You try to brush him off.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” he says, a little snarky. “The faster you’re done the faster you can have fun, right?” He’s proving to be a persistent guy who definitely likes a challenge. Something about that brings some color to your cheeks, but you try to keep a level head.

“If you really insist…” you tell him with a smirk, stepping aside so he can unplug the cord you just freed from the stage.

The room is still fairly loud so as Danny helps you get packed up there aren’t too many words exchanged. You feel his eyes on you though. It’s difficult not to steal a few glances his way too, watching as he bends at the knee, his broad shoulders flexing while he maneuvers around equipment.

Carter pushes away with the last road case and then there’s little to nothing left to do.

“Thanks for your help. You seriously didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s all good. I honestly miss doing some of the more hands-on stuff. It felt like riding a bike.” He gives you a genuine smile, his comment making you reconsider your preconceived notions of him. He seems to be a sweet guy despite his sizable ego and cocky presence. You brush your hands off on your thighs and offer Danny a grateful smile. As you do so, you feel the key to the van in your front pocket.

“Oh, shit. They’re probably out there waiting for me.” You jump into motion, heading for the door you came in through. Danny follows your quick footsteps with relaxed, large ones of his own, shifting to squeeze through the crowd with you. You’re surprised to find him behind you when you get out into the cold, but decide not to question it this time. You just smile and jog down the stairs.

He proves to be incredibly helpful, lifting and stowing the heaviest items without more than the occasional grunt. Your eyes are constantly darting between your task at hand and his arms- the fabric of the athletic quarter zip he’s wearing is stretching around his biceps and it’s enough to make your heart pound.

“You really didn’t have to do all that.” you murmur with a warm smile as Danny shuts the door. He lets out a big breath, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“It’s really nothing. I’m happy to help.” He goes on speaking but you’re distracted as you look over his shoulder, seeing your best friend and photographer over at her car, talking to a guy who’s within awfully close proximity. You can’t see his face, but he’s in a red beanie and a sweater. You have a feeling your plans to hang out after the show tonight are about to go to the wayside as you watch them talk and bump elbows.

“It’s freezing out here. I’m gonna… head inside?” you say, a questioning lilt to your voice. You don’t directly ask him to come with you, but you assume he’s going to.

“Yeah, let’s get you another drink. I lost track of it when you put it down on one of the amps.” he says, leading you back inside with a hand on the small of your back.

You immediately feel nervous as you walk back through the door and a few pairs of eyes find you with Danny trailing almost too close behind. You worry they’ll think the worst, which you can’t imagine would be good for your possibly blossoming career, but he’s been charming and helpful thus far and it wouldn’t be fair to write him off.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere, alright?” he says, leaning in close to say the words in your ear, making sure they’re heard despite the next band starting to warm up. You nod and he walks off while you search the kitchen for something to drink.

You crack open a can of beer and sip the foam that starts to bubble up. As you’re doing so, a petite dark haired girl approaches you. She seems young, her skin a striking olive shade. You swallow the foam in your mouth and lift your head.

“Hey...” she says, looking over her shoulder, then back at you.

“Hi!” you return, wiping your mouth. You go to speak again, intending to ask if she liked the show, but she cuts you off. She steps a little closer, since it’s incredibly loud.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. About Danny?”

You retract a little, surprised that she thinks you need a warning. Had the two of you come across as having that much chemistry? You nod and lean forward again for her to continue.

“I’d just be careful with him if I were you. He really doesn’t have the best reputation, or a shred of respect for women. Don’t let him fool you.”

You scoff a laugh, a little annoyed and insulted that this girl thinks you don’t have good judgment or can’t fend for yourself.

“Oh, great! Thanks for the tip!” you quip, watching her eyes cut just a touch, as you feel a hand brush across your lower back.

“Tori…” his voice is smooth, as he takes his place next to you. “Can’t say I didn’t expect to see you here.” he pauses, dropping his hand from your back to step a little closer. “You’re always just kind of… here, aren’t you?” He sips from his fresh drink as he waits for her response.

“Actually, Daniel, I was just leaving.” she replies, tossing her hair over her shoulder pretending to be unaffected.

“Ouch, the government name…” he feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Well, thanks for coming out!” you say, an air of faux enthusiasm in your voice. She rolls her eyes subtly as she walks away, and you smile turning to face Danny who is wearing his own cheeky grin.

“So, what were you two talking about?” he asks, peering over the edge of his beer can.

“Oh, she was just… complimenting the set, nothing really.” you lie, biting your lips together.

“Who, Tori? She probably hasn’t even stepped foot into the basement! She’s here for one thing and one thing only and it’s not the music, I can assure you.” he says with a huff of annoyance.

“Oh, can you? Assure me?” you smirk playfully.

“No! Well, I mean, god. Okay yes, I can. But also, that’s not why I’m here, and it wasn’t that night either. Okay?” he stammers over his words, you’ve caught him in the act and you can tell this doesn't happen often.

“I’m just messing with you.” you say, watching a blonde girl pat him on his back as she walks behind him. “Hi Danny…” her syrupy sweet voice says.

He turns to her to say hello before quickly turning back to you. “Sorry bout that.” he says, refocusing on your conversation, stepping a bit closer.

Just as you go to speak, you hear someone call his name from across the room, grabbing his attention yet again. He lifts a hand and waves two fingers back at the girl, before lowering it back down and into his pocket.

You raise your eyebrows in question, and he lets his face grow a little softer.

“I can let you get back to the party, I don’t want to keep you–”

“No, listen, you wanna…You wanna go somewhere else? Not here? A bar or something?” he asks, sincerity lining his voice.

“I thought they were full of schmucks…” you quip.

“They are…Never said I wasn’t one…” he smiles back with the raise of his brow.

“What’s wrong? You worried the ghosts of girlfriends’ past are gonna ruin your chances, here?” you quip, offering him a tiny wink.

“So you’re saying I do have a chance…” his eyes are shining in the dim house lights, a few stray curls falling from beneath his baby blue trucker hat. He bites his lip nervously waiting for your response and you can feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach from just his gaze alone.

“Mmm, I haven’t decided yet.” you answer, taking a pull from your beer.

“So let me take you for a drink, then. You can decide after if I’m really as bad as they say.”

“Aren’t you even a little bit concerned about people talking? People have seen us together all night, and I’m sure half of Tori’s social circle knows at this point, and have found me on Instagram already.” you smirk.

“No, fuck all those rumors. They are completely out of hand. People get mad when you cut them off. If they can’t talk to you, they’re gonna talk about you. It’s all they have. I don’t let it get to me, I know it’s not true.” he answers, and you feel a little surprised to hear something so noble come from him.

You tap your finger to your chin pretending to decide, but you already know you’re going. You just don’t want him to know that yet.

“Where?” you question.

“Somewhere in East? I know a few quieter places.” he answers, really trying his best, you can tell.

“Hmm… You’ll drive me home after?” you ask.

“Of course. Just say yes, just one drink.” he pauses. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” he says, patting his hand over his heart.

You suck your teeth and pivot on the heel of your boot. “Alright, one…”

He smiles, and you're positive that had he shown that perfect smile from the get go, you’d have been a goner from the jump.

“Only because I live over there…” you smile.

“Oh, no other reason?” he grins, sending you a wink.

He places his hand on your back again, causing a shiver to run up your spine. You feel good walking out with him, despite the glares you can feel from across the room. He leads you through the crowd, heading towards the door but before you can reach it, a girl jumps out in front of you commanding your attention. You can tell she is drunk by the haziness of her eyes and the blush of her cheeks. Well, that and the drink sloshing out of her red solo cup.

“I'm sooooo sorry t’bother you…” her words are slurring together and you know this is probably not the first time Danny has had to deal with this.

“No no, no bother, what’s up? How are you?” he asks, his demeanor suddenly shifting.

“I just– I have to tell you how much I love your music, it like literally changed my life…I’m like your biggest fan ever.” she slurs, falling over onto her starstruck friend.

“That’s awesome, thank you so much for listening, we really appreciate you guys.” he answers.

“Can we take a picture with you?” she asks, pulling her phone from her back pocket. You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he would never tell them that.

“Yeah, yeah no problem, hold on let me just–”

Before he can step closer to her, she is holding the phone up as she moves back, crashing into him and sending her drink flying. Danny is doused in the sticky liquid, what you think is probably vodka and Coke.

His pullover is soaked through, and you watch his jaw clench with anger. He stays calm, however, consoling the very embarrassed fan as if nothing ever happened. “It’s all good, no worries at all. Happens all the time. But hey, we were heading out, great to meet you.”

He quickly ushers you through the crowd, letting out a few mumbles of anger as you walk towards his car.

“That really happen all the time?” you smirk, watching him smile as he shakes his head.

“It’s usually not that messy. Literally and figuratively.” He says, clearly in a bit of a huff. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the Jeep that you know is his once the lights flash. You head to the passenger side and hop in, happy to be safe from the wind. You see him standing outside the door for a second, tapping his phone screen before holding it up to his ear.

“Where’d you get off to?” He asks, his voice muffled. He opens the door, sliding into the driver’s seat as he listens to whoever is on the other line.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?” He starts the car quickly once he realizes you’re cold, his hands messing with the dials and turning on the heat for you. You give him a little smirk at the locker room talk you’re sitting in on right now and hope he doesn’t say a word about you. He smirks as he goes to speak once more.

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Danny says, getting adjusted and buckling his seatbelt. He laughs at whoever is on the other end of the phone and the sound of his laugh brings a little warmth to your otherwise freezing body.

“Yeah, yeah. You too. See ya.” He hangs up and tosses his phone into the center console. When he’s done, he lifts his hand to push some hair behind his ear and there’s audible proof of how sticky it is.

“Hang on,” he starts, shifting sideways to look at you as you buckle your seatbelt. “Can we actually stop at my place and have a drink first? I just… I need to change and maybe rinse this shit out of the ends of my hair.” He seems pretty annoyed and you feel for him, so you can’t help but nod.

“Totally fine.” You smile in an attempt to quell a little bit of his anger bubbling up under the surface.

He aggressively shifts into drive and all but peels out of the spot he’s parked in, probably leaving tracks in the grass of whoever’s house this is without a care. You smirk as he leans forward to look around the bend of the road before he pulls out and picks up a significant amount of speed.

The song playing picks up where it must have left off when he arrived, and you think you recognize the familiar sound of the Foo Fighters. He turns it up a little as he starts to sing along, softly and maybe even subconsciously as he concentrates on the road. He’s a bit of a reckless driver, and you find your hand reaching for the handle on the door subtly.

The chorus comes in and he drums along on the steering wheel as you approach some main roads, slowing down just a little.

“Give me some rope, I'm coming loose, I’m pulling for you now…”

You smile as he seems to let go of whatever anger was brimming and his charming smile comes back as his enthusiasm grows. Eventually, after a particularly loud, “YEOW!” towards the end of the song, you have to let out a laugh. He glances over at you once he hears it, his eyes flickering between you and the road for a moment before he bites his tongue between his teeth in a playful way that makes your stomach flip. The song ends and another one starts, this one softer, a sweet melodic undercurrent as he drives. Danny taps his fingers softly against the wheel along with the melody like he’s listened to it a few times.

You know the distance never made a difference to me…

It’s getting brighter as he drives, heading past the restaurants and bars lining the streets of Nashville, crowds and lines and not a single parking spot to be found.

I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea…

You listen, not feeling the need to make any conversation, taking these little insights into his taste in music and running with them, putting the pieces together. You find these tidbits more valuable than if he were to outright start talking about himself directly to you.

As you steal glances at him, you look around his car too. There are a few rubber ducks on the dashboard. One is a leprechaun, another is solid blue. There’s a bigger one that’s white with cherries. There’s one you think is Frankenstein, but you can’t quite tell.

He has some chapstick in the center console under his phone, a stick of Palmer’s cocoa butter lip balm. He has a friendship bracelet tied to the wrist closest to you, and the opposite has a thin gold bracelet and a smart watch of some sort. His jeans have a little faded indent that shows where he usually keeps his phone.

He flips on his blinker and pulls onto a side street, driving slower now through the suburban streets. As he pulls into his driveway, he turns the music down a little, looking at you while he shifts into park.

He reaches for his phone, then the chapstick. He puts some on quickly and then offers it to you, holding on to the cap. You accept, swiping on a little before wordlessly handing it back. He secures the cap and then speaks.

“Shall we?”

You open the car door and jump out, fixing your clothes briefly before closing it behind you. He wraps a warm arm around you as he leads the way down the pathway to the front door of his house.

“God, it’s fucking freezing.” He says, eventually taking his arm back so he can use both hands to put the key in and turn the knob.

As you wait for him to unlock his front door you can smell the sticky sweetness radiating from his clothes, mixing with the masculine scent of his cologne. He smells warm and clean and you want to bury your face into him to escape the cold. The wind is whipping your hair around, and cutting through the fabric of your corset top, sending shivers through your body. He pushes the door open and you’re instantly met with the heat of his home, bathed in warm amber lighting.

He flips a few light switches and plugs his keys into a Marshall key rack, before kicking his shoes off and locking the door. He takes off his hat, and peels off his liquor covered pull over, giving you the smallest glimpse of the dark hair peeking from the top of his jeans. He tosses it onto his kitchen counter and it's then you see the thick black bands inked across his bicep. His t-shirt is tight across his chest, adorned with birds and a sunset motif, as he reaches for his hat, placing it back on top of his dark curls letting out a sigh of relief before looking at you.

“So, drinks. What do you um– What would you like? I think I can make most anything.” he says, walking over to a small wooden bar cart against the wall. You unzip your boots and leave them at his front door, happy to finally have them off after all this time.

“Anything?” you ask, leaning your hip into his kitchen counter. “How confident are you in your mixology skills?”

He gives you a smug grin, “I’d say I’m pretty confident. I’ve been known to pour up a drink or two. No complaints so far.”

“Can you make a Martini? A good one?” you ask, pushing off the counter and walking over towards him.

“Vodka or Gin?” he asks, sliding both of the bottles from their respective places. “Wait, are you a dirty girl?”

You send him a self righteous smile and lean against the cabinet next to him. “What do you think?”

“Okay. So, Gin it is.” he says, twisting the lid from the bottle.

“Lucky guess.” you answer, watching him walk to the fridge to retrieve a jar of olives. He grabs a cocktail shaker and a few ice cubes on his way back to the bar cart, setting the items down to begin the process. You watch intently as he adds the Gin and Vermouth to the shaker, adding a healthy splash of olive brine to the silver cup. He places the lid on top of the shaker and starts to shake the mixture together over the ice. His arms flex as he does so, and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him and his perfectly tanned complexion.

After a few seconds he stops, pulling the frosty lid off and straining the mixture into two waiting martini glasses. He works precariously to skewer a few olives through toothpicks, dropping them into the glasses and extending the first one out to you.

You take a sip from the cold glass, tasting the saltiness on your tongue.

“Well, dirty enough for you?” he asks, sipping from his own.

“Mmhm. Just right.” you murmur.

He leads you over to his couch, a firm black leather number with a few throw pillows and a blanket or two strewn about. You both sit, sipping at your drinks as he reaches over to grab a remote, turning on a stereo system that's clearly wired through the whole house.

“Any preference?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

“Surprise me.”

Music starts to play through the house, something much softer than you expected based on what he’d played in the car. You definitely didn’t take him for a folk rock kind of guy, but the more you think about it, he’s been full of surprises all night.

You can feel your chest growing warm as the gin works its way into your bloodstream. His cheeks are a little more pink than they were, and since the removal of his jacket you notice his arms are a little flushed too.

You look around his living room, noticing pictures on the wall of what you can only assume are his bandmates and he in various cities and countries. A few framed albums hang on the wall along with some artwork for color. However, the entire back wall of his living room is lined with guitars.

“You play guitar…” the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Yeah, yeah. I do. Was my first instrument, though now I’m a drummer. Guitar was really my first love. What about you? How long you been playing?” he asks.

“Oh, since I was eleven. Got one for Christmas and my parents got me some lessons. Just kinda clicked you know?” you answer, “Which uh– which one is your favorite?” you ask, gesturing your glass towards the guitars hanging.

“Oooh, probably– Um, probably the yellow one, far left. I find myself reaching for it the most. Good little thing, lots of power if you know how to wield it.” he answers, sipping from his glass.

You nod and look back at him, “So you love guitar but you’re the drummer?” you ask.

“Yeah, I know, sounds backwards but, my brother, Jake, he’s…He’s way better than I’ll ever be. I fit on drums, you know? It works for us. Obviously.” he laughs, a dimple peeking out on his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah I understand I almost played bass in my band.” you quip, tossing back the rest of your drink. You pull the toothpick of olives from the glass and pop one into your mouth.

“Are these blue cheese olives?” you ask.

“They are, yeah. I like them in a Martini.” he answers confidently.

“They’re really good. I love olives.” you reply, setting your glass on the coffee table.

“So, you had your one drink. It’s the moment of truth…”

“Hmm… Might need another to make a really good solid decision, you know?” you say playfully, resting your head on the couch cushion and letting your eyes flick up to meet his.

“I think I could do that…” he says, snatching your glass from the table and returning to the bar cart.

“You know, you guys sounded really good up there. I was into it. I’m glad we got there when we did.” he says, shaking the silver shaker.

“We?” you ask, wondering who he left at the show.

“Oh, yeah. I came with my buddy Sam. The one on the phone earlier. He’s the bass player in our band.” he says, pouring up the drinks.

“I see, so you left him there...” you joke.

“You heard for yourself he seemed preoccupied…” he laughs, and he’s right, he definitely sounded busy.

“So you two are like, best friends outside of the band?” you ask, accepting the glass from his hand as he rejoins you on the couch, a little closer this time. He grabs a thick blue blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it to you with a gentle smile as he answers your question.

“Yeah, I mean we were best friends before the band ever really existed. Just kind of solidified our friendship. Been quite a few years of craziness together.”

“And the others…They’re all brothers, right? Or is that just a rumor?” you ask.

“Yeah, all brothers, twins and then Sam who is a couple years younger. My age.” he says, sipping from his glass with a loud exhale.

“Is that…weird?” you ask, a little hesitantly.

“Not at all. I’m practically their brother too. Known ‘em my whole life. Wouldn’t be able to do this crazy on the go life with anyone but them, I think.” he says, letting his walls down just enough to let you peek in.

“How many months out of the year do you guys tour?”

“Shit, a lot. We’re gone more than we’re home these days. Probably eight or nine I’d say. Either in the US, Europe, Mexico… Fuckin’ everywhere now. It’s crazy.” he says, staring off into the distance, his eyes locked on the small flame flickering in his electric fireplace.

“So you guys are pretty famous then...Touring that long… Even have random girls spilling their drinks on you at parties just for a single photo…” you wink.

“Oh, do I detect a hint of jealousy from Miss Y/N?” he asks.

“No, I’m not jealous… I mean, I’m the one sitting on your couch drinking Martini’s aren’t I?”

He laughs and shakes his head, tipping his drink to his lips. “I had to work for it, but… you sure are, sweetheart.”

“Did you think I wasn’t gonna say yes to drinks?” you ask, your eyes locking in on him as the alcohol swirls through your system. You can tell he’s feeling it too, letting himself become a little more flirty.

“Wasn’t sure, was kinda touch and go there for a minute. I hoped you would agree. Could hardly take my eyes off of you all night. Saw you and… Yeah, I just had to talk to you.”

“You use that line on all the girls?” you ask, sipping the last of the frosty drink.

“No, guys too, I don’t play favorites.” he smirks, biting the olive off of his toothpick with a wink.

Fuck…

You smile and nod, biting your lip between your teeth as you feel color rush to your cheeks.

“How does it feel?” he asks, his eyes trained on your lips, watching as you release it.

“What?” you breathe.

He swallows harshly, “Nothin’...Nevermind.” he says, shaking the thoughts from his mind. “Well, drink two…Have you made up your mind yet? Am I as bad as they say? Are you dying to get out of here?” he asks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He’s inched a little closer to you and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

“What if I say yes?” you ask, leaning forward just a touch.

He repositions himself, taking your glass and placing it with his on the table. He moves a little closer, mirroring your body as he rests his head on his hand on the back of the couch.

“Well, then I’ll get us some water, get my head on straight, and take you home. Is that what you want?” he asks, his dark eyes boring into yours as he tilts his chin down.

“And if I say no?” you answer.

“If you say no, then I…Make us another drink and we can keep talking and…see what happens…” he says, his voice trailing off, hoping you will take that option, and there’s no doubt in your mind which option you’re going to pick.

“What were you thinking about a minute ago? …Tell me.” you say, pulling your legs up and tucking them under you.

He rubs his hand over his chin, nodding his head in agreement. “Your lips.”

“What about them?” you ask, feeling your heart start to pound.

“I don’t know, they’re just pretty. Wanted to know how it felt… watching you bite them.” he admits. He grins, unabashed. “Your turn…What’re you thinking about?” he asks.

“I’m thinking…another drink.” He grins when he realizes you’ve made your decision.

“I’ll make you another drink… But only if you tell me what you and Tori were actually talking about.” he counters as he stands, grabbing both of your glasses. As he walks away, you snicker softly.

“Why do I feel like you already know?” you ask, standing to follow him to the kitchen island. He shrugs, his broad shoulders flexing a little in a way that catches your eye. You walk by him, exploring his kitchen.

“I’m certain I was the subject, but something tells me her interpretation of what happened between her and I has become a bold departure from the truth…” he muses in a smooth voice as he pours.

“It was a warning really…” you begin, standing in front of his refrigerator. There’s one pizza menu, a mostly unused magnetic notepad, and some photos. “She was letting me know that you’re very charming and convincing, but underneath it all, you apparently have zero respect for women.”

He chuckles as he gently places the olive skewers in your drinks, unbothered by the retelling of Tori’s dramatic warning. You look at the photos on his fridge, realizing that most of them are of his family. They look pretty wholesome.

“Tori and I ended badly because I felt that she was a bit too… immature, emotionally. She puts a lot of stock into social media and status and things like that, which just isn’t how I am. My life is on display enough already.” He says truthfully, pushing your drink towards you.

“You have a sister?” You ask, looking over your shoulder, then back to their Old Navy catalog-esque family photos.

“I do, yeah. She's my best friend… much to Sam’s dismay.” He says, sipping from his own glass and retreating to the couch.

“That’s sweet…You two seem really close.” you say as you turn to grab your drink, following him as he takes a seat.

“I’m not all bad.”

He looks up at you, a devilish smirk on his lips. He tugs the brim of his hat a little, as if he wants to see you better. Taking a big gulp of your drink, you remove the olives and hold the toothpick between two fingers.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, shifting his hips a little so his thighs are spread wide on the couch and patting his thigh. You flush from the combination of his eyes on you and the alcohol hitting your system. You put your glass down, figuring you’ve had enough, and delicately straddle him where he sits. Watching as he takes a sip of his own drink, you let out a little huff.

“Oh, I didn’t get to eat my olives.” you say, a little disappointed, turning to reach for your drink.

“Here.” Danny’s voice is suddenly delicate as he speaks. You look back into his eyes and he’s got his own toothpick between his fingers. “Open.”

You open your mouth tentatively, then bite down on the bottom olive once it’s in far enough. He pulls the toothpick away and you chew gingerly, your smile a little coy.

“S’good?” He asks, his voice still soft. You nod your head. “I feel like olives are hit or miss for a lot of people.”

“I love a good salty treat…” you say with a shrug, which earns you a boisterous chuckle from him.

“You were a tough nut to crack but… you’re pretty fun.” He says, watching as you take a sip of his drink to wash the olive down since you can’t reach your own. You smile, your eyes slightly narrowed, wordlessly confirming that yeah, you’re fun when you want to be.

As if he sees you’ve gotten a little bit of a big head over it, he decides to trip you up. He leans back and puts his drink on the end table before he speaks.

“Why don’t you come a little closer and give me a kiss? I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

You lick your lips, a little nervous. He’s telling you to make the first move.

“Let me just get my pen…” you say, looking around.

“What?” He looks genuinely confused.

“Oh, for the NDA. Right?”

As soon as you deliver the punchline, he’s pulling you in for a hungry kiss so fast you barely get a laugh out. His massive hand is on the back of your neck to keep you in place while the other has a grip on your forearm, again, keeping you in place. You moan softly in surprise but let yourself lean into him, steadying yourself on his chest with your free hand. You feel how damp his shirt still is from the drink he had poured on him.

His lips are perfectly soft, reminding you of the chapstick he so graciously shared with you in the car. You tug softly on the grip he has in your forearm and he releases it, allowing you to push up for a breath of air.

He, however, doesn’t seem to need any. He quickly buries his face in your neck, his mouth latching onto your throat, his tongue pulling the delicate skin between his teeth before he bites down with a bit of force. You can’t help the way your hips roll forward, your mouth releasing a sound you don’t even recognize.

“Yeah?” He says, his smirk audible.

“…Yeah.”

He does it again and again, moving down your neck towards your clavicle, then the fullest part of each of your tits, leaving red bites and splotches as he goes. You’re breathless by the time he looks back up at you, his lips swollen and his eyes a little wild. He grins, his perfect, sharp teeth flashing in the dim light of his living room.

You capture him in another kiss, this time lacing your fingers in his hair, carefully making sure not to pull at any of his perfect curls. You feel a little bit of the stickiness from the spill earlier and pull your hand away gently as hair gets stuck to your fingers. He breaks the kiss, taking a few shallow breaths as you watch the way his chest rises and falls.

“…I’m a fuckin’ mess. What do you say to helping me wash this out of my hair?” He mumbles, his eyes looking over you in a way that implies he knows you’re going to say yes.

“Oh, yeah. It looks like a two person job. I’m happy to help.” You giggle softly before he pecks you on the lips. You lift from his lap, feeling your balance waver slightly as you get your footing. He’s on his feet quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind to steady you.

“Think you’ll make it up the stairs?” He jokes, his voice soft, his lips against the shell of your ear. You laugh as he squeezes tight around you, leaning your head against his.

“You do make a strong drink… but I’ll be okay.”

He kisses your cheek, sending you forward with a quick smack on your ass.

You ascend the stairs, Danny following close behind. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach the top, and turning over your shoulder only confirms it. He looks up and meets your eyes, giving you a guilty smile.

He puts a gentle, possessive hand on the back of your neck as he guides you into his bedroom. It’s dark until he flips on the lights, the switch controlling two lamps on either side of his bed. He doesn’t stop there, though, continuing to guide you towards the bathroom.

Once inside, you’re met with a sparkling clean bathroom, an impressive shower that’s about as big as your bedroom, and a dual basin sink. He turns you around for another kiss, this time sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth biting softly into the skin. When he hears the whimper it conjures from deep in your chest, he does it again with more enthusiasm before breaking the kiss and leaving you wanting more.

He steps into the large open concept shower, flicking the handle to start the water. There's chill bumps spreading across his skin from the coldness of the water and the tile beneath his feet. He walks back out as you lean against the bathroom wall, watching him as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a fairly chiseled physique. His skin is pretty tan for February but you chalk it up to traveling and don’t think much of it.

He presses the button on a portable speaker hanging from a towel hook behind you, powering it on. He slides his phone from his pants pocket and turns on the same music that was playing downstairs, before tossing his phone onto the counter and stepping over to a closet to grab another towel. He hangs it on the hook next to his and you wish that the sight didn’t make your cheeks grow warm.

Steam starts to rise from the streams of water in the shower, and as you remember just how cold it is outside, you shiver wanting nothing more than to be standing under the scalding hot water. He breaks your trance by stepping in front of you, sliding his hand around your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. He pulls your bottom lip away from your teeth as he pulls away from you, releasing it with a grin. He runs his warm hands over your arms, feeling the chill bumps that have taken up residency.

“You cold, sweetheart? You wanna get warmed up?” he asks, sliding them back up to your shoulders. His fingers hook into the the straps of your top, pulling them down over your shoulders to rest gently on your arms.

“Yeah, got any ideas?” you answer playfully, toying with the button on his jeans. You free the button from the hole, and slide his zipper down before pulling them away.

“A few right off the top of my head. Why don’t you take this off for me…” he says, sliding his finger down the center of your top. You reach for the zipper on the side, slowly pulling it down until the fabric breaks free. You let it fall to the tile floor, leaving you in just your black jeans. His eyes dart down to your chest and he sucks in a deep breath before letting his eyes meet yours. They are darker, deeper, and completely blown out with lust.

He lets his knuckles just barely graze over your skin as they travel up your stomach and over your sternum, sliding across your collarbone and down around the fullness of your tits. His thumb just lightly grazes over your nipple, feeling the pebbled flesh beneath his finger tip.

Your eyes flick to his lips, full and pouty as his fingers trace over your skin. You let your hands wrap around his torso as you press your lips to his, feeling his hands grip into your chest, with a firm squeeze. A whimper leaves your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“These too?” he says, sliding his hand to the button on your jeans.

“Mmhm…” you hum, letting him pop the button. You shimmy out of the tight black pants, just your thong between you and his hands now.

“Red…How festive.” he snarks, sucking hard into your neck again. You roll your eyes but he can’t see, still it makes you feel better.

You slide your fingers into the front of his open jeans, silently asking him to join you. He pulls his pink lips away from your skin and kicks his jeans off, pausing and looking at you for a moment before sliding his dark colored boxers over his hips and down to the floor. Your eyes don’t leave his, but from your peripheral you can see that he is fully hard, and hanging heavily between the two of you.

You swallow thickly, and he seems to notice, letting a smug grin spread across his face as he licks his lips.

“Still a bit uneven, hm?” he says, hooking his fingers into the sides of your thong, and sinking to his knees before sliding them over your hips. When they hit the floor you step out of them, kicking them to the side. You feel his hands slide up the front of your legs, circling around to rest at the back of your thighs as a deep hum leaves his chest.

His lips connect with your hip bone, kissing and sucking at the skin until a deep purple mark is left behind. You can feel yourself practically dripping with want for him, and you know if you two don’t get into the shower quickly, he will be your undoing without even properly touching you.

He stands, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his large stone tiled shower, a freestanding tub just to the side. The second the water hits your skin you let out an audible groan, the goosebumps quickly disappearing.

“Yeah? Not too hot?” he asks, pulling you under the spray.

“Not hot enough…” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

“Any hotter and we’ll descend into hell, babe.” he laughs, twisting the handle a bit further.

As he steps under the spray to wet his hair you take the time to look at him. The subtle contours of his body, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, the stretch of his tattoo as he rakes his hands through his curls. Your eyes flick to his groin, taking in the sheer size of him, and of course you’re caught in the act.

“S’not polite to stare…” he smirks. “You wanna hand me that body wash right there?” he asks, nodding his head to a shelf of products. You grab the amber colored bottle, ready to hand it to him but instead squirting the masculine smelling shower gel into your own palm.

You rub it between both of your hands before pressing them both to his abs, starting to slide the soapy bubbles across his skin. “This okay?” you ask, locking eyes with him.

“Fuck yeah, baby.”

You continue sliding your hands around his body, traveling up and around his broad shoulders before sliding back down his slender frame. He presses his tongue into his cheek every time your hands slide a little further down, and after a few teasing attempts you let your hand circle around his fully hardened cock.

He swallows heavily as you slide your soapy fist up and down his shaft, your eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah baby, just like that, feels so good. C’mere…” he pleads, pulling your face to his and pressing his lips to yours. His tongue swipes against your lips before pressing into your mouth, your tongues playing a game of cat and mouse as your hand continues to work him. He groans as he pulls away from you, letting the water wash over him and rinse away the suds. You press a kiss to his chest, sucking the skin into your teeth to leave a mark of your own, but he stops you, pulling you away with a smirk.

“No, no, no…Can’t this time, gotta wear a sheer shirt in three days. Gonna have to mark somewhere you can’t see.” he says, tilting your chin up with his thumb.

You purse your lips together before raising a brow. You sink down to your knees, feeling him brush your wet hair away from your face. You grip his cock in your fist once again as he leans against the cold tile behind him, his hand coming to rest in your hair.

You lean forward, pressing a wet kiss to the tip of his dick, locking eyes with him before letting him slide past your lips and into your mouth. His jaw clenches as you stroke him, letting your tongue slide up and down the underside of his cock as the water pours down around the two of you. You slide your hand up his thigh, cupping his balls in your free hand as you take him as far down as you can. You swallow around him, and his hips jerk forward, a groan leaving his chest.

You blink up at him, and seeing that he’s enjoying this is making you all the more aroused. His eyes flutter closed and you whine around him, causing his eyes to fly back open.

“Oh, you want me to watch you, baby?” he asks, his hand gripping into your wet hair. You blink at him as the wet sounds of your mouth echo in the large shower.

He clicks his tongue, “Of course you want me to watch you. I saw you on the stage tonight…Everyone fawning over you. Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart? Having everyone’s eyes on you? It’s addicting huh, baby?” he pauses, jerking his hips forward, earning him a gag from your throat. “Fuck… It gets better you know… Bigger crowds, more people, more pressure. People fucking dying to meet you everywhere you go. My eyes are on you now baby. You’ve got my full attention.”

He fucks into your mouth again, a grunt leaving his chest as his words falter. Water is dripping from the ends of his hair down onto your face as his eyes stay locked on yours. “You looked so fuckin’ hot on the stage tonight, but you’re so goddamn pretty right here just for me.”

He slides his hand from your hair and cups your jaw, letting his thumb and fingers press into the hollows of your cheeks. You’re positive he can feel his cock sliding against his fingers as he moves in your mouth, and you feel like you might cum from this alone.

“Fuck…” he groans, pulling himself from your mouth and quickly grabbing your hand to pull you up from your sore knees.

“But I wanted–”

“Don’t worry baby, you’re gonna get exactly what you want…” he says, pulling you under the spray to warm you body for just seconds before spinning you around to face away from him. He pulls you tightly to his chest, his hard cock resting just beneath your ass. His right hand slides around to your front, his fingers sliding between your folds, feeling the wetness collected there.

“You sweet little thing, you like sucking my cock?” he asks, swirling two fingers over your clit. “Answer me.” he says, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You jump at the contact and you feel a rush of wetness sweep over you.

“Yes…” you breathe, unable to form a coherent sentence. You want him to do it again. You want it harder.

“You did so good, might let you do it again…” he says, sliding his middle finger inside of you.

“Oh goddamn, you’re so tight…” he groans, adding another finger as his palm works over top of your clit.

“Danny…” you breathe, feeling your nerves come alive.

“Yeah? You want more?” he asks, your heavy breathing echoing in the shower.

“Bite me… Again…” you beg, “Please…”

“Oh, so sweet with your tight pussy and your manners.” he taunts.

His lips brush against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the skin, letting his tongue swipe over it before sinking his teeth into you again.

“Oh, fuck…” you cry out, clenching around his fingers as his tongue laps against the fresh bite mark.

“Yeah? You like that? Want me to mark you all up, claim you as mine?” he asks, “Your pussy says yes, but what does that sweet mouth say?”

“Again…” you beg.

A hum leaves his chest, “Step forward, put your hands on the edge of the tub for me, gorgeous.” he says, pulling his fingers from you, and smacking your ass with his wet hand.

You grip your hands into the white porcelain, feeling him step up behind you, admiring the red handprint he left behind seconds ago. You feel his hands grip into your ass, rubbing over the round flesh before sinking to his knees behind you. You feel his breath hot against your core, a shiver of anticipation settling deep within your bones.

His hands grip into the meat of your thighs before his mouth connects with your core, his hot tongue lapping at your entrance. The sounds echoing off the walls are lewd, but the euphoria washing over your body is all consuming. His tongue flicks over your clit and you find yourself arching your back to grant him easier access. His hand travels up the inside of your thigh, his thumb finding your clit and flicking across it as his tongue toys with your opening. You groan into the empty tub below you, your knees growing weaker with every movement of his tongue.

“Danny…” you plead, knowing your orgasm is approaching.

The wet sounds of his tongue on your pussy are growing louder, and with a particularly loud suck you find yourself screaming his name. He hums against you as your legs start to shake, feeling his lips pull away from you and move to the inside of your thigh, he presses a kiss to the sensitive skin, before again sinking his teeth into you.

Lighting strikes through your body, and you know your release is within reach. He runs his tongue up the inside of your thigh, pressing a kiss to the tender bite before returning his mouth to your core.

“Danny…Danny please… please…” you beg.

You feel him smile against you, “You sound like my fans, baby…You don’t have to beg…” he pauses, sucking your clit into his mouth.

He brings both of his hands to your ass, squeezing the skin as he lets his teeth gently graze your clit, sending you straight over the edge. A string of indiscernible curses leave your mouth, strung together beautifully with his name woven inbetween.

He holds you against the tub, not letting your body crash to the ground as it so badly wants to do. He works you through your release, his tongue slowing as he feels you start to come down.

“Guess I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of a rockstar cumming on your face…” he jokes, running his nose up your spine as he stands behind you.

You huff out a laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah?” you pause, “And which end do you prefer…”

“This one.” he says, delivering a harsh smack to your ass cheek. You yelp in surprise, and feel another rush of wetness to your core.

He kisses your shoulder again, breathing in deeply as he fists his cock behind you. “Wanna fuck you, baby…”

“Last chance for that NDA…” you joke, quickly feeling him press you back down onto the ledge of the bathtub, the head of his cock brushing at your entrance. He presses into you, sliding in quickly from the wetness accumulated.

Your once playful demeanor has rapidly changed gears at the fullness you feel inside you. You tighten around him as you feel his groin pressed to your ass, the coarse pubic hair at his base brushing against your opening.

His hand rests on your shoulder as you feel him start to pull out just long enough to slam back into you.

“Oh, fuck…” he breathes, the tightness of your pussy suddenly a little too much for him. He slides his hand down your back, both hands now gripping into your hips as he moves in and out of you, setting a fairly quick pace.

Your tits bounce against your chest as your hands grip into the tub, whines floating from your lips as his cock crashes into your cervix. You gasp each time, and you think that's what's spurring him on, but by this point he knows that you may possess a few masochistic tendencies.

“Goddamn you’re so gorgeous, perfect fuckin’ body, perfect tight pussy…” he grunts, the hot water still streaming down over the two of you.

“Tell me what you want.” he demands, “Want you to cum on my cock.”

“Harder. More…” you plead, the sound of your wet bodies slapping together, inching you both closer.

He leans over you, his hands sliding up your back to rest on your arms. You feel his lips trail up your spine, kissing into the soft skin at the juncture of your neck. “Yeah, you want more?” he growls against you, biting into your skin harder than he has.

You feel his perfect teeth sink into you, the harsh sting sizzling through you like fire. He groans into your neck with his lips still attached to you and you feel a rush of warmth trickle down your skin. A drop of crimson red blood drips onto the tile below you, quickly washing down the drain.

A whine leaves your chest, the pressure in your groin building as his tongue laps over the broken skin, hot and wet. His hips snap into you a little harder and a little tighter, and it’s evident to you that maybe he has a few kinks of his own.

You feel a rivulet of blood trickling down your back, his hand coming up to spread it across your wet skin for only him to see, that is until his hand grips into the white porcelain next to yours. His hand is tinted red, and as he pulls it away to grip back into your hips, it’s a smear of bloody fingerprints that's left behind.

“Fuck…I’m– Hold on to the tub, don’t let go.” he says, spreading his stance a little wider behind you, but bringing one foot up to the edge of the tub for leverage. He drives his hips into you harder, a groan leaving his chest with each pointed thrust. “Baby…” you whine, only thoughts of him floating through your mind.

“Yeah…Come on…” he grunts, his hair dripping onto your back.

“I’m–”

“Yeah, give it to me. Cum for me so fuckin’ sweet and pretty, god I love it…” he says through gritted teeth.

“Danny–” you warn, fluttering against him.

“Yeah right, there, oh fuck…” he whines, as you clench around him.

A loud cry leaves your mouth, his cock still working against your g-spot as you fall apart around him. You feel like you're floating around the room in a thousand pieces, falling back down perfectly into place as he moves inside of you.

“Danny…” you breathe.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, gonna cum, baby… You want that? You want my cum?” he asks, his hips starting to stutter.

“Please, yes… My mouth… In my mouth, I want you…” you plead.

“In your mouth…Fuck…” he says, still pumping into you. “I want your pussy so fucking bad baby, but god you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” he pauses, “Fuck it, get on your knees.” he says, pulling out of you, and continuing to rapidly stroke his glistening, wet cock.

You drop to your knees again, ready to take what you were promised earlier. You pull him into your mouth, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fill your throat full of him.

“Mother fucker…” he groans, snapping his hips into you. His hand reaches down palming at your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You whine against his cock, and that pushes him to his finish. He swiftly pulls himself from your mouth, pumping his fist over his cock as you peer up at him with your mouth open, and your tongue presented to him.

“You want my cum, fuck… Take it… Fuckin’ take it.” he grunts, his hot release shooting into your mouth, landing on your tongue. It drips from your lips, rolling down your chin in bitter salty streams, and as he stares at you with a heaving chest you know that both of you need more of each other. Your mouth is full, his hot cum dripping down your chest as he releases his cock from his hand.

He cups your chin, rubbing his thumb over your cheek with a smirk, before letting it drift into your open mouth, nodding at you to close your lips around it. You close your swollen lips and swallow down his cum with a flutter of your eye lids. It's warm as it slides down your throat, the taste of him unique, causing you to hum. Your tongue toys with his thumb and he pulls it from your lips with a pop.

He drags his thumb up your throat and over your chin, collecting the drip that had fallen, before returning his thumb to your lips, and smearing it across the puffy pink skin. You lick your lips in response, and you watch as he crouches down in front of you, meeting you at eye level.

He presses his lips to yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, tasting the remnant of himself on your skin. His hand settles on the side of your neck, pulling you in a little closer and deepening the kiss before pulling away.

He stares at you with a satisfied smile, and you’re sure you’re looking just as blissed out as he is.

“Stay here, tonight.” he breathes, rubbing his thumb over your throat.

“You sure?” you ask, placing your hand on his wrist.

“I’ll wash your hair and we can order a pizza?” he smiles, trying to sweeten the deal, as if you’ll say no.

“With pineapple? Or is that a deal breaker…” you counter.

He smiles his perfect smile and kisses your forehead, helping you stand and escorting you back to the streaming hot water.

—

After an ironic heart shaped pizza, with pineapple, a glass of red wine and a few laughs, you find yourself being ushered back upstairs with the swat of his hand. He leads you into his bedroom before disappearing back into his bathroom, his queen size bed perfectly made with fluffy beige sheets and feather pillows, and you want nothing more than to melt into them. He was kind enough to lend you a t-shirt and a pair of sweats after your shower, but as you make your way towards the bed you find yourself wanting to slip out of the clothes all together. You kick off the sweats and are left in just his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers.

He emerges from the bathroom, his curls disheveled around his face without any product to keep them together. “I uh, I don’t know if you want this… I dug around in my cabinet and found this from the last time I went to the dentist, but it’s new, and I am honestly shocked I found it, but it’s all yours if you want it.” he stammers, offering you a toothbrush.

You take it from his hands, pulling it from the cardboard packaging as you follow him into the bathroom. He places himself in front of the sink, grabbing his black electric toothbrush, and the tube of toothpaste. He wets his toothbrush, and unscrews the lid, ready to squirt the paste onto his brush, but stopping and turning to you first. You hold out the toothbrush and let him squeeze a line of toothpaste onto the bristles, giving him a smile before he turns back to his own.

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth, reading the letters ‘CME’ on the gray t-shirt, and smiling because you’ve always wanted to go there. You catch his eyes in the mirror, watching him brush his own teeth, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he stands in just his black sweatpants. Your eyes flick down to the V of his waist and you find yourself brushing a little harder as you recall the events of the evening.

He smiles around his foamy toothbrush, likely having the same thoughts, before turning the water on to spit into the sink. You do the same, rinsing your mouth with water and placing the brush on the counter.

“Do you want me to toss this in the morning or…” you ask.

“Oh, no, you can uh… You can just use it next time I guess. I can keep it here or something.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” you snark, raising your eyebrows in challenge. Your eyes suddenly catch sight of the bloody handprint left on his pristine white tub, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Should I call my lawyer back? I already had him working on that NDA.” he says through a laugh, turning off the bathroom light and smacking your ass as you cross the threshold into his bedroom.

He pulls down the comforter, letting you slide into the ice cold sheets before sliding in after you. You shiver a little, but not for long. He snakes his arm beneath you, wrapping it around your shoulder, and pulling you to lay half way on top of him. He twists his legs with yours, and you can feel his semi hard dick hiding just beneath his sweats. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he laughs.

“I’m not sorry, who knew you would be so fucking cute brushing your teeth in my t-shirt?” You roll your eyes and lay your head down, the amber glow of his lamp illuminating the room.

“I mean it, though. I’d like to do this again.” His voice is almost boyish as he looks over at you from his side of the bed. You grin, nodding in agreement as your heavy eyelids make your blinks long and slow.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand, and turns down the brightness. As he unlocks his phone you see the background is a photo of his mom, his sister, and himself, on a beach somewhere.

“They don’t live here…” you ask, but it’s not a question. You already know the answer.

“No.” he answers, his voice solemn. “They’re in Michigan.”

“You miss them.”

“Yeah, but I’ll see them soon. I think they’re gonna come down for a show. Just been too long this time. Gonna take my dad golfing, I think.” he says, opening his texts, and though you're trying not to look, you can’t help but notice that his inbox that you assumed would be full of unsaved numbers and girls names, isn’t. In fact there’s hardly any.

He clicks on an unread message, laughing as he reads it.

Jake

7:05pm: You still coming over later?

Jake

8:11pm: You prick how the fuck do you have plans, we aren’t even supposed to be here

Jake

9:17pm: Nevermind 😎

“How many friends did you ditch tonight?” you laugh.

“Ehhhh, listen… Jake– He– I would have been stuck there until 3 in the morning if I went, I much prefer how my night turned out.” he giggles, sending back a skull emoji.

He opens the next thread and sighs, clearing his throat and rubbing his fist into his eye as he responds.

Sista ✨

9:34pm: Happy Valentine’s Day, miss you! Love you & see you soon!

Danny

1:04am: Happy Valentine’s day, love you 💐

You feel your heart warm a little at the message, and you realize that maybe these girls that warned you, really didn’t know him like they thought they did. Sure he has a bit of an ego, maybe he’s a little cocky, but you kinda like it. He gives you a run for your money, and apart from the insanely hot sex earlier, he’s been a perfect gentleman. Kinda the best of both worlds if you think about it.

He locks his phone and tosses it on his nightstand, rolling over to his side and pulling you into his chest. You can smell the body wash you washed him with earlier still lingering on his skin, and as you breathe in the smell of him, and feel the warmth of his body against yours, he wraps his arms around you kissing your shoulder atop the deep red mark that his perfect teeth left.

—

When the morning comes, you’re woken up by the natural light in Danny’s bedroom and a dull throbbing in your head. He’s rolled over, facing away from you as he sleeps peacefully on his clean, white sheets.

Reaching for your phone, you suppress a groan at the soreness that radiates through your body. It's late morning and you have a few texts waiting for you already. The first is from your best friend, who you’re assuming went home with the guy she met. There’s an attachment and from the preview you see it’s a film strip, so you assume it’s a sneak preview of the photos she took of you at the show.

When you open the picture, you quickly realize you’re wrong. There are a few strips laid on the table, the first of which are a few provocative photos of her in a bralette and then wrapped in a scarf of some sort. The strip underneath has pictures of people you don’t recognize at first, but as you zoom in on the third frame, you see… Danny? Then, a text comes through asking if he was the guy you were hanging around with the night before.

Danny starts to stir in bed next to you, stretching and rolling over. He seems relieved when he lays eyes on you and sees you’re still there. You roll a little closer to him on your side, holding up the zoomed-in photo.

“Is this you?”

He lifts his head a little, craning his neck and squinting his eyes to get a better look.

“Uh, yeah. Where’d you get that?” His voice is hoarse and sleepy, and you wonder if he’s feeling as rough as you are after the night you shared. You can’t help but smile as you look harder at the photo.

“I think my best friend spent the night with yours?” you say, pinching the screen and zooming out. There isn’t anything too lewd on the photos she sent you, but when he sees them, he puts the pieces together too.

“Oh, shit. How’d that happen?” He asks, putting his arm behind his head and laying back. You see the underside of his tattoo that wraps all the way around his bicep, your eyes drawn to the muscles you can see shifting under his skin.

“She was the photographer last night. In more ways than one, I guess.” you snicker, looking at the frames again.

“If I would have known it was like that, I’d have taken some photos of my own…” he says, his morning voice making your stomach flip. He sees the way color rushes to your cheeks and he grins, rolling on top of you and sliding his hands up under the t-shirt you’re borrowing. You hum as he peppers your face with kisses, pulling the duvet over the two of you, in no rush to get your day started.

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kaiokentimesten · 5 months

Text

The stuff with q!Wilbur and Tallulah is SO GOOD. like

q!Wilbur is a spoiled brat who expects everything to go his way. He has no issue drifting from place to place, never staying for long. And then, on this island, he finds a kid, abandoned in the adoption center. She looks just like him, and the first thing he thinks is "oh no, I can't do this". He tells her he can't take on that responsibility. But then, he does it anyway. You could argue that maybe he didn't really have a choice (the egg looks like him), but you could also argue he always did

He spends time with her while he can. He gives her a pretty name and he tries to raise her with pacifism in mind. Saying "You don't need to fight, you can just stand back and let me protect you!" when he can't even protect himself. He teaches her how to play guitar and sings her songs. "You were the person I asked for and even more."

And then he leaves. Days go by, then weeks, then months. Circumstances change, and Tallulah can't be a pacifist. qPhil raises her, teaching her how to fight and survive. He's there for Tallulah more than qWilbur could ever even hope to be, and Tallulah's attitude starts to change. For a while, she was hard on herself, feeling unloved because her only parent was gone. She felt bad that she viewed Phil as a father more, and the guilt nearly ate her alive until Phil reassured her that he considered her a daughter from the moment he started taking care of her

Then, Tallulah disappears, and the midst of chaos, Wilbur comes back. Immediately, he's taken aback, and he scolds the other parents for seemingly doing nothing. But, what has he done? At least the others were here. His fight with Phil and subsequent actions show off just how little he understands how things work on the island. He goes "well, I'm the one thinking LOGICALLY here while everyone else is just acting on EMOTION", all the while he spends the whole time throwing tantrums and starting fights. He really thinks leaving her a letter and playing a song will bring her back. Meanwhile, Phil's sent to purgatory, fighting tooth and nail to find her and bring her home

When they finally find the eggs, Tallulah's not even surprised that Wilbur isn't here. It's "papa Phil" and "Wilbur" now. She's jaded, and she has every right to be. Wilbur can make all of the promises in the world, but if he's not here, what good is his word?

Of course, from a meta perspective, I don't think this was cc!Wilbur's intention. He said he would've written more letters, but he was so busy that he couldn't. However, the story's moved on without him, and I am very eager to see how he decides to play this, because Tallulah and qWilbur's dynamic is definitely changing, and it's not for the better

#holleh.spk #holleh.qsmp #q!wilbur #qsmp tallulah

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

(The final part of November Paramedic; part 6 is here and the AO3 version is here. If you want to avoid the smut, you should read on AO3.)

Eddie's apartment is full of song, but for probably the first time since he moved in it's not metal.

Max sings This Old Heart of Mine with gusto, her attention glued to her fingers as they move on the fretboard. She's in an awkward position, sitting slumped and with her leg propped onto five pillows on the coffee table. An elastic bandage is wrapped around her knee. Steve was right – she did exacerbate the injury by walking on it, and had to spend the next three days on bed rest. The knee already looks a lot better, less swollen but likely still tender, not that she's uttered a peep about it. Today is the first day she's been up and running, though not without support. Since crutches is the uncoolest kind of mobility aid Eddie took it upon himself to dig out a cane from his closet for her to use. When he asked if she liked it, she said it was great for thwacking people; he assumes that means 'yes'.

On the other end of the couch, Gareth taps along on a handheld drum. Max felt like she kept losing the rhythm and wanted extra help. Eddie is certain she was doing fine, but hey, if it calms her last-minute nerves, so be it.

The song ends, the last note lingering in the otherwise silent room. Max heaves a sigh, guitar slipping from her grip as she relaxes into her seat.

Gareth is beaming with pride; Eddie feels it too. Approximately two months of practice led to this. Just two months! He knows that she's been diligent, but still – it's impressive. Damn, he has the raddest little neighbor.

He rests his elbows on the couch's backrest and pokes Max's shoulder.

"It sounds great. You'll do amazing tomorrow."

She nods, lips tugging into a sweetly pleased smile.

"I'm ready," she says. Craning her neck, she locks their gazes. "Are you performing too?"

"No. The stage will be only yours. Although," he pats the acoustic in her lap, "I will of course be there and make sure you treat DragonSlayer with the respect she deserves."

Max's eyes crinkle with mischief.

"She won't react to you ever again after I show her what real talented fingers can do," she says, wiggling said fingers at him, and giggles when he gasps like a Victorian lady at the implied vulgarity. Turning to Gareth, she asks, "Are you gonna be there?"

Gareth's expression crumbles.

"I can't. Something is going around at work and we're short-staffed, so I'm no longer free," he says miserably. "I'll come next time. You'll do it again, right?"

She smiles wryly. "Unless I crash and burn."

Eddie pushes off the backrest and rounds the couch. He hates to spoil the mood any more, but…

"Before I forget," he says, piercing them with an unamused look. He also tries standing with his hands on his hips, but there's no way he can convey the same bitchy determination Steve can with the stance, so it feels hollow. He crosses his arms instead. "You two need to stop conspiring against me."

They blink at him, baffled.

"What?" Gareth says.

"You've been trying to set me up with Steve!"

"Well, yeah," Max says. "But not with him."

"Yeah, not with her."

It's Eddie's turn to blink. Releasing a breath that shudders with emotion, he closes his eyes and rubs circles on his temples.

"You're telling me you've worked independently of each other this entire time?"

"Seems like it!" Gareth laughs, though the mirth dims quickly. "But… who's done the best job?"

They whip toward each other. Their postures are tense, bow strings drawn and ready to shoot. Flames of competitiveness engulf them. Weirdos.

Gareth points at Max. "I made them go on a date!"

"I made them go on two dates!"

"I'm the reason they got to know each other!"

Max scoffs. "Oh, please. As if I wouldn't have eventually introduced them."

"Would you?"

"Sure. They're both older brother figures I can't get rid of who're hopelessly single and into men." She shrugs. "Why not?"

Eddie gasps again, this time more like a grandmother who's been presented with an incomprehensibly scribbled drawing from her toddler grandchild.

"I'm an older brother figure to you?" he asks, bending down to Max's level, his tone patronizingly light.

She sends him a withering look and reaches for her cane.

"Well, they almost kissed on my date!" Gareth shouts.

Max’s jaw drops. She loses her grip on the cane but gains a terrifying intensity in her eyes. A chill runs through Eddie, the tips of his appendages tingling. This is the closest he's ever gotten to catching frostbite.

"What," she says flatly.

Eddie scrambles away, metaphorically and physically, in case she decides to smack him anyway.

"N-no, we- It wasn't- Our faces just- But we didn't!"

"But it was so close," Gareth says, fingers pinched and with maybe the fraction of a fraction of an inch of air between his thumb and forefinger.

"Huh." Max continues staring Eddie down like she's plotting his murder for keeping secrets. He's about to point out that he can't be set up with Steve if he's dead when she swivels back to Gareth. "I'm making them go on a third date."

"Wait, what? When?"

"Open mic tomorrow night," she says, like he's an idiot. The scrunch of Gareth's mouth indicates that he agrees with her.

"Shit." He pats himself down, in search of something. "What time is it? Where's my phone? If I text him now I can schedule a spontaneous hang-out for tonight!"

Eddie's eyes double in size.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaims, hands raised and palms facing out, as if he's warding off wild animals. "You have Steve's number?"

Gareth pauses his search to tilt his head at Eddie, like he's a puzzle he can't figure out how to solve. Or maybe just like he's a huge fucking moron. "You're telling me you don't?"

Eddie clamps his lips together; fights the urge to fidget beneath their judgmental stares. Max slowly shakes her head.

"Dumbass. You need us."

Eddie makes an ugly face at her. "Shut up."

She tuts. "So aggressive. That's a symptom of sexual frustration."

"I'm not-"

"Remember: thin walls."

"They're not that thin! I never hear you!"

"Because I know how to keep my business to myself. And you've heard me practicing the guitar, haven't you?"

He has. Shit. He buries his face in his hands.

"Shit."

"That's right," Max says snippily. "I hear everything. Every. Thing."

"Oh," Gareth says. He squeezes her good knee, oozing empathy from every pore. "Oh, you poor, innocent girl."

She soaks it up, lamenting, "It's been awful."

"Yeah… But, um. You realize that if they get together, then… "

Gareth trails off as Max nods miserably.

"Yeah, I know. I'm resigned to my fate."

Eddie pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until he sees stars. He needs friends who are less invested in his sex life.

Max leaves soon after, cane clacking louder than necessary against the floor. (Eddie suspects he might not get it back once she's healed.) She stops in the doorway on her way out. While smiling in a manner that makes him break out in a cold sweat, she tells him not to take his car to the open mic and to dress nicely.

And then she's gone.

Gareth harrumphs.

"She's planning something for tomorrow. Damnit. This is unfair, you know. She's known him longer; she can talk to and influence both of you in ways I can't. I'm at a disadvantage here."

Eddie, without replying, twirls on the spot and faceplants on the couch.

Gareth groans above him. "Oh, what is it now?"

'Same as always' is what he'd like to say. Instead, he saves his breath by rolling onto his side, curling up his legs, and giving Gareth a look. It must convey how he feels, because Gareth's irritation melts off, replaced with something gentle. He squats by the couch and brushes a stray lock from Eddie's forehead. A bit like how Uncle Wayne would when he still lived at home.

"Eddie, man, you don't have to be nervous. He likes you."

"That makes it worse," Eddie says, voice raspy and thick, and fuck, he's not going to cry over this, is he? Bawl when a boy doesn't like him is normal, not when they do. "He likes me now, but if he finds out I'm his obsessive quasi-stalker? Then what?"

"I think you're blowing this out of proportion," Gareth says. He starts scratching at Eddie's scalp; it's good enough to dry his tears and slow his pulse. "Max knows about the calendar and she doesn't mind!"

Eddie snorts derisively. "Because she's nineteen and doesn't yet understand how some actions can have terrible consequences."

Gareth frowns at that with obvious disapproval. "She's still an adult. For that matter, so are you and Steve? Just talk to him about it." He sighs. "Look, I don't think he'll mind so much that he'll never get over it. And if he does… it sucks. But you'll live. There are dozens of hot guys out there, waiting to be swept off their hot… feet." He pauses to snicker.

"You're so bad at this," Eddie whispers; Gareth snickers even more.

"You know why I've stuck by you all these years?" he asks once done laughing. "Why I even started hanging with you in the first place?"

"You had stoner aspirations and I zero qualms selling weed to fourteen-year-olds?"

Gareth flicks his forehead. "Because you're cool. And likable. And you make people happy when you're around. So go out there tomorrow night and sweep those hot feet!"

Eddie snorts. Then again. His diaphragm tightens, air forces past his pursed lips, and then his body shakes with laughter. Gareth is grinning proudly, of himself and possibly Eddie as well. He snakes his arms around Eddie's waist and pulls him so close the mirth rattles through them both. It takes an eon, but at last, the laughter abates. Eddie’s lungs are sore and his eyes are wet with happiness, and he's still got an armful of best friend clinging to him.

"I'll call you the day after tomorrow." Gareth punctuates the promise with a squeeze, before pulling back. "Lunchtime. And I'll expect progress. Okay?"

Eddie nods. "Okay."

Gareth beams, ruffles Eddie's hair, and then he too leaves the apartment.

Eddie turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t sigh as much as make noise while gravity pushes the air from his lungs. He could fall asleep here, on this uncomfortable couch. Turns out guitar lessons, worrying, and funny friends deplete your energy.

Before his eyelids slide shut for good he drags himself up to brush his teeth and go lie in his real bed. He needs a proper night's sleep if he'll survive tomorrow.

He wakes up on Saturday having dreamt of Steve. He eats his breakfast while thinking of Steve. He replaces brake pads, rotates tires, and talks to clients while thinking of Steve. He returns home and showers off the sweat and oil while really thinking of Steve.

He also spends a lot longer than usual contemplating how thoroughly he ought to wash himself. Fate dictates that if he cleans as if he might get laid, he won't be. However, if he's perfunctory about it, he's more likely to score. Ultimately, he does an extensive scrub. Rather be presumptuous and get nothing than be unhygienic and get lucky.

Then comes the worst part: picking an outfit.

Max told him to wear something 'nice'. Jesus. 'Wear something nice', what did that even mean? Dress less like himself? Dress more like himself? Something skimpy? Or snug? He has those leather pants that make his legs look divine, but they might be too much. He doesn't want to look like he's trying as hard as he is. Also, he's going to an open mic in a coffee shop at seven in the evening. There will be high schoolers, retirees, families with children, and others present who do not need to see his dick imprint. 'No' to the leather pants.

But maybe…

The hangers clatter and screech as he pushes them aside. Sticking his arm far into his wardrobe, he then pulls it out grasping his other battle vest.

The one in leather.

He hasn't worn it out yet. It's only recently finished, and almost ended up looking too nice, too pristine. It's not really him, not the way his frayed and trusty denim vest is. But it's still a thing of beauty: band logos immaculately painted onto the leather and spikes adorning the shoulders, collar, and lapels.

It's fucking badass. Him, though a little nicer.

He pairs the vest with his tightest Metallica tee – the one with the sleeves shorn off and the neckline cut into a v deep enough to show both tattoos – and distressed, black jeans, rips over the knees and a big hole along the inside of one thigh. The retirees will just have to fucking deal with some exposed skin.

A crowd is thronging inside Connie's when he arrives ten minutes to seven. They've built a makeshift stage on one short side, crammed between the cream'n'sugar station and a huge monstera. Microphones, stools, and a keyboard stand upon it. All the café's tables are pushed to one half of the floor, letting people mill between them and the stage. None of them seem to be his people, though.

Eddie weaves through the crowd, scanning it for short redheads and tall hunks. Nothing… nothing… not-

"Eddie!"

He turns, coming nose to nose, like tip to tip, with Steve, who's… wow. Call him the moon and Eddie a wolf, because he's about to start howling.

He's wearing pants, not jeans, that hug his hips without being obscenely tight and a fitted, teal dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and the top two buttons left undone, allowing yet another tantalizing peek of the sculpted pecs beneath. Nice but not too formal, if you ask anyone. Positively edible, if you ask Eddie. His mouth is actually watering a little, which is a sign he's been staring for too long.

Lifting his gaze from Steve's chest to his face, he realizes he could've taken his time because Steve is also staring. At Eddie.

Steve's breaths are slow but deep as he bites his lip hard enough to dent it, tongue flicking out to soothe the mark. Eyes glowing like embers, he trails them over Eddie's body, threatening to set him ablaze.

Eddie's jeans are too fucking tight for this.

"Starting to worry you wouldn't make it," Steve says, low and gravelly.

"No, I just, uh, running a bit late…" Eddie says, faltering as Steve drags a finger along the lapel of his vest.

"Haven't seen you in this before," he murmurs.

"It's new. First time wearing it."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I made it."

Steve's brows jump. "You made it?"

"Make like one-third of my clothes and heavily alter the rest. Metal's all about DIY, baby."

Chuckling, Steve grabs both ends of the attached leather belt and opens the vest for a better look at the Metallica shirt underneath. He doesn't ask any questions about the band, thank God, because Eddie's brain is too liquid to answer. If Steve opened the vest a bit more he'd be undressing him. Or if he tugged at the belt Eddie would stumble into him, he's so off balance.

But Steve does neither; he closes it and lets go.

"I left the others at the table. C'mon."

The rest of them also look nice, Robin in suspenders again, this time paired with shorts, and Lucas in a black sweater-red jacket combo that reminds Eddie of all the cool boys he pined over in high school. Both of them gush compliments at the sight of his vest; their childlike enthusiasm is a pretty effective boner killer, phew. The only one not mentioning his outfit is Max – she's silently staring at the tablecloth, hands in her lap and head bowed.

"Hey, Red," he says.

She looks at him, eyes like clear ponds and her freckles stark against her white skin. It might be his personal bias, but she's the prettiest of them all tonight. Canary yellow t-shirt dress and oversized jean jacket, one shoulder artfully slipping down. Loose, wavy locks cascading past her shoulders. Barely chipped nail polish and glossy lips, but no other makeup. She's radiant.

And she's shaking.

He slides into the chair next to her.

"You're still ready?"

Max nods.

"You know, I still feel like puking every time I perform."

"Yeah?" she breathes.

"Yup." His fingers encircle her wrist, squeezing. "You're gonna crush it."

She smiles tightly.

"Do you want us to film it?" Robin asks. "To show your mom?"

Max's first reaction is a frown, which evaporates at the mention of her mom; then she nods so hard she's indistinguishable from a bobblehead.

"Yes!" she says, and that's the last bit of conversation between them, for the next second the lights dim and Connie ascends the stage to announce the start of the open mic.

It's three hours long, with fifteen performers given ten minutes each, plus a few for getting on and off the stage. Max is number eight, which means she'll have about an hour and a half to sweat before it's her turn. And maybe she does manage to sweat it out and dry off, because when her time comes she strides up with the poise of a seasoned veteran.

A café worker helps her up and adjusts the mic for her. She hooks the cane on the stool and situates the guitar across her lap – one of the younger audience members shouts "Dragon!" to everyone's amusement. Once the laughter stops, she puts her mouth to the mic and emits one stuttering breath.

"Hi," she says. "My name is Max, and I'll be playing two covers and one song I wrote." She giggles as some onlookers whoop their approval. "All three are dedicated to one person here tonight. He knows who he is."

Then she plays. It's the best fucking thing Eddie has heard, not just tonight, but ever.

Her voice is strong, her rhythm is perfect. When she pauses for breath her expression defaults into a blinding smile. She breezes through The Isley Brothers and Stevie Wonder as the crowd claps along. Eddie manages to tear his eyes from her only once, to view the others' reactions. Robin tries to hold her phone steady as she sways in her seat, Steve is misty-eyed like a proud dad, and Lucas…

Lucas sits slumped forward, chin pillowed on his hands, pupils huge and dark. Lovestruck.

After You Are the Sunshine of My Life she takes a breather, sipping from her bottle of water. There's a shift in the air; the audience settles, mood sobering. When she resumes playing, the notes are softer, slower. A melancholy made bearable by her warm tones.

Max's song is about a happy then and an uncertain now. It's a song about guilt and regret. About apologizing and vowing to improve. About past loss and about future hope.

Above all, it's a promise.

It strikes like a blade through Eddie's chest. He shouldn't be hearing this. None but three, or maybe just one, of the people in here should. It's not for their ears, because they can't ever truly understand. It's too personal. Yet, she plays it for them. Tearing open her flesh and breaking her bones to show them. Listening to this is a privilege.

Her last note is a tattoo – covering up those before her, impossible to erase by those following her.

Max smiles and bows, again like a pro. As the café erupts into deafening applause, Lucas shoots from his seat. Appearing by the stage, he extends his arms to her. She hooks hers around his neck and lets him lift her down. Smiling at each other, they rest their foreheads together like they're the only ones in the room. Shit, perhaps they are.

They walk back to the table with Max's cane underneath Lucas' arm, she using him as her crutch. Arriving, the first thing she does is ask Eddie:

"How was it?"

He schools his expression.

"Red. I'm ditching my band. From now on, you and me – duo."

She boxes him in the shoulder, the shine of her smile rivaling a star.

The rest of the open mic is nice, even though the highlight is over. Still, live music is live music (and leaving in the middle would've been unacceptably rude), so they stay until Connie closes the night by thanking everyone present and encouraging them to come back next time.

Outside, they stretch their unused limbs until their joints pop, then walk a few blocks to Steve's car. It makes sense for Eddie not to have taken his van, he tells himself. The BMW is big enough for all five to sit comfortably, and he'll save on gas. Still, there's a disappointment pooling in his gut, because this means Steve will drop off Lucas, Max, and Eddie at their places before driving himself and Robin home. It's not a bad thing! He has yet to figure out how to breach the subject of the calendar. But… getting some more time to talk to Steve without amateur musicians drowning out the words would've been nice.

(This is what he gets for being so thorough in the shower.)

"Well," Robin says, hands clasped behind her head, as the BMW beeps unlocked. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks.

"Steve and I live just past that building," she says, pointing. "So, I'll walk while he drives you guys."

Oh.

The disappointed pool freezes. Eddie swallows thickly. This is fine. It means nothing. Steve will drop everyone off and then go home, as planned.

He gets shotgun. Really, it's given to him because Max and Lucas commandeer the backseat, snuggling up on one-and-a-half seats while DragonSlayer claims the third. Eddie doesn't mind in the slightest – not when the kids are so close they're basically on top of each other, slotting together like a pair of puzzle pieces. Watching them separate when they arrive at the apartment complex will be devastating.

Except.

They do not go to the apartment complex. They go to a neighborhood Eddie's never been to before, parking outside a two-story house. So, they're dropping off Lucas first, then Eddie and Max, and then Steve will go home. Just as planned.

"I'm staying with Lucas tonight," Max says. "The DragonSlayer is all yours, Eddie."

She slams the door shut, the two of them walking up the shingled pathway hand in hand.

Steve hums pleasantly. "I think that did the trick – they're an item again. About time, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, yep, sure took them long enough, yeppers," Eddie's mouth says with negative input or permission from his brain.

Steve grins before pulling out, shirt straining against his arm as he turns the wheel and holy shit, Eddie is alone in a car with Steve!

Is everyone conspiring against him?!

Steve makes small talk during the drive, recounting which songs he recognized, sharing his favorite performances, asking for Eddie's more knowledgeable opinion. Eddie responds to the best of his abilities, which is to say 'poorly'.

When they stop by a red light and Steve absent-mindedly undoes the third button on his shirt, Eddie’s mouth dries up and he stops responding altogether, fearing his tongue will crumble to dust if he tries. If Steve is put out by Eddie's conversational skills reducing to various affirmative noises, he doesn't show it.

Finally reaching the complex, Eddie resolves to at least croak a 'thank you for the ride'. But when he turns to do just that, Steve is already looking earnestly at him with his large, honeyed eyes.

"It's really nice of you, teaching Max to play. Thank you."

"Oh, 'twas nothing." Eddie clears his throat. "She's a good student."

"I'm curious: is there a difference between acoustic and electric?"

"Not really. Electric is a little easier, 'cause they're smaller and the strings are lighter."

"Acoustic sounds better, though," Steve says and laughs at Eddie's answering grimace. "All right, maybe not to the metal master," (Eddie stifles a gigglesnort; what an adorable dork), "but to a common listener, such as myself, acoustic is nicer. You can try to change my mind if you want, though."

"By… playing both for you?"

"Yeah."

Eddie gulps audibly. "N-now?"

Steve's smile is almost too wide for his face. He cocks his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, who are gleaming like gold in the light of the nearby street lamp.

"I'm not busy."

Eddie leads them up the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. Their steps echo in time with the drumming of Eddie's heart. His grip on the DragonSlayer is unyieldingly stiff, lest it slides from his clammy palm.

This is fine. Steve is going to listen to him play and then go home, just as planned.

Like the building, the locks are old; his key jams and needs to be rattled before the door opens. He lets Steve in first, then closes the door behind them. Steve waits patiently, back to the wall and chest inches from Eddie's. Has the hallway always been this cramped?

Eddie turns to fumble around for the light switch, breath hitching when Steve touches his shoulders. Grasping the vest's spiked lapels, he pulls it off Eddie's frame and hangs it on the coat rack. Next, he grabs the guitar – warm, dry skin brushing Eddie's – and props it by the doorpost. Last, he looks at Eddie, his eyes searching, searching, searching…

Disregarding his sensibilities, Eddie nods.

Steve kisses him.

The force of it sends them stumbling, Eddie's back slamming into the wall. Their mouths smush together and their noses bump; for a moment it's too hard, too much. But then Steve angles his head, their lips melding, and it's perfect. Like silk sheets and rose petals, like champagne and chocolate truffles, like summer nights and meteor showers.

Steve mumbles something about waiting, about wishing, about finally. He's touching Eddie everywhere, chest pinning him against the wall, hands running up and down his arms, thigh pushing between his legs. His hard cock pokes against Eddie's groin, and it feels so thick.

All of Eddie's nerve endings are lighting up, sending tingles to converge in his belly before shooting back out to his limbs. He has no regrets. Everything he's done or that's been done to him was worth it, because it led to the best fucking kiss of his life. Steve will have to keep him after this – exposing him to this kind of touch only once would be cruel.

It's gentle, is the thing, but with the passion of a thousand lovers. Steve cups his face, tipping it, thumb caressing his cheek and fingers rubbing circles in his hair. His lips, soft but determined, parts Eddie's for a quick taste that leaves him wanting.

Eddie tries chasing, but Steve withholds – fucking teases – and goes back to nipping and licking. Rolling his hips until Eddie gasps, then slipping in his tongue to stroke the roof of Eddie's mouth. Then he starts over again, repeating the cycle until Eddie is whining, his knees so weak he slumps onto Steve's thigh.

Grabbing hold of his ass, Steve hoists him up. Eddie squawks, legs automatically wrapping around Steve's waist. Steve grins, juuuust on the wrong side of smug, and steps away from the wall, carrying Eddie like it's nothing. It would be infuriating if Eddie wasn't too busy wondering if, and if so for how long, Steve could fuck him like this.

"Bedroom?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, it's, uh, through there," Eddie says, pointing in what might be the right direction.

Then he yanks Steve's head back by his pretty hair and swallows his moan. Because with Steve's hands occupied, it means Eddie can do whatever he wants. And what he wants is shove his tongue as far down Steve's throat as he can.

It takes them a while, but they reach the bedroom. Steve deposits them on the bed, bringing them from vertical to horizontal in a smooth slide without breaking the kiss.

Eddie wraps tighter around him, wanting to feel him everywhere and always. Alas, Steve disentangles them with a chuckle. He sits up so he's kneeling, legs spread, Eddie's thighs resting on top of his. A hungry glint in his eyes, he undoes one more of his buttons, then forgoes the rest by pulling the shirt off like a sweater and flinging it aside.

Eddie wastes no time touching him, groping the firm pecs and caressing the soft belly. The coarse hair tickles his palms.

"Fuck me, you're perfect," he murmurs.

Steve giggles, pink blooming on his face. Coaxing Eddie's hands off him, he arranges his limbs on the bed, and Eddie lets him – he can do anything as long as he does it shirtless. He smooths his hand over the Metallica logo, pretty much petting his chest, before rucking the shirt up to Eddie's chin. Steve's eyes are black, more pupil than iris; he thumbs at the tattoo on Eddie's ribs.

"I was hoping you'd have more," he says. His other hand slides across Eddie's leg, fingers ghosting the edge of the large hole before one slips inside, tucking between the denim and the skin of Eddie's thigh. Eddie gasps; Steve smiles. "How much do I need to take off to see all of them?"

"Why don't you find out, big boy?" Eddie says, breathless but grinning, scooting closer to rub his ass on Steve's dick.

Steve rips off Eddie's shirt, tosses it where he tossed his own, and crashes their lips together as he unbuckles Eddie's belt.

Eddie hums into the kiss. It's perfect. Steve is perfect. The whole thing is as if out of a dream. Jesus Christ, it is straight out of one of his fantasies. The only thing missing is… is…

The uniform.

Fuck. He can't do this. Not like this. Fuck.

Eddie breaks the kiss, gently pushing Steve away.

"Eddie?"

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. Looking at Steve right now is impossible – the shame will consume him. He shouldn't have let it go this far.

"Eddie? What's wrong?" Steve asks. "Please, I-"

"There's something you gotta know." Eddie forces his eyes open. The least Steve deserves is to be looked at while given the truth. Also, this is the first and possibly last time Eddie will see Steve on top of him. He should savor it. "I haven't been completely honest."

Steve's eyes dim. "You're married."

Eddie goggles. "What? No! Shit, I've never had a relationship go past the three-month mark. No, it's… Um…"

He sighs. Here comes the music; time to face it.

"You know that calendar you did? Gareth told you his mom had it?"

"Yes?"

"He lied. It's mine. I have the calendar." He inhales deeply, then lets it all out in one fast gust. "I recognized you the first time we met and I thought you were so hot and Gareth thought we should try finding you at the university and we did and then we hung out and now, uh, now we're here."

Steve blinks owlishly. "Oh."

"Yeah. I've jerked off to your picture for two and a half years and I thought you should know." Eddie rubs his eyes; they're burning, and his nose is clogging. Shit, not now… "So, um. If you want to stop, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It- Huh?"

Eddie's jaw slackens. He gawks up at Steve, who calmly meets his gaze. But it can't be this easy. It's never this easy, not for Eddie.

"S'fine." Steve shrugs. "Was that all?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"Good."

He dives back to resume the kiss, except this time it's hotter, dirtier, Steve licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue so Eddie's toes curl. He yanks Eddie's jeans and boxers down to his thighs, Eddie's cock springing out. Steve grips it, but doesn't stroke or squeeze – just holds. Eddie starts rocking into his fist and oh, oh, it's so good but not enough. He's so hard his head is spinning and he needs Steve's hands and his cock and he needs he needs he needs-

"Eddie," Steve says into Eddie's mouth. "What d'you want me to do? Tell me."

"Mmm, I want… Fuck, I needed you inside me two years ago."

Steve licks a wet stripe along his throat. "Whatever you want."

Then he sits up and flips Eddie over. Eddie grunts at the sudden movement, but his cock between his stomach and the mattress feels heavenly, and Steve parting his ass cheeks is even better, so he's not complaining.

He's especially not complaining when Steve leans down, rubbing his nose against Eddie's tailbone.

"You're okay with any part of me inside you?" he asks, breath warm on Eddie's skin.

Eddie groans. "Yes. Anything! Just touch me!"

Steve does, dragging the flat of his tongue from Eddie's taint up to his hole.

Eddie keens, burying it in the pillow due to those damn thin walls. It probably doesn't help, because he's being loud. He usually is, but not like this. Turns out Steve's tongue is amazing no matter where he puts it. He swirls it around the hole, laps heavily against the rim, slowly loosening Eddie up.

He writhes and moans, cock leaking precum on the sheets. Jerking forward, he humps the mattress for two sweet, relieving seconds before Steve grabs him by the hips and holds him in place. He would've griped about it if Steve hadn't immediately plunged his tongue into Eddie's hole. But Steve does, so Eddie screams instead.

Fuck the walls, he's having the time of his life.

He has been rimmed before, two or three times, but not this intensely. He hasn't been fucked by another man's tongue. Because that's what Steve's doing, lips on Eddie's ass and saliva dripping down his taint. He's as far in as it can go, tongue thrusting and stroking and… oh. Oh! Oh, fuck-

Eddie jolts, despite being held down, because Steve just flicked his tongue tip against someplace sensitive. He whines, begging Steve to do it again. Steve laughs, the sound reverberating through Eddie's ass, and does as told. And again. And again.

He flicks. Eddie screams.

He flicks. Screams.

Flicks. Screams.

And Eddie's on fire. His legs are shaking, his insides are thrumming, the pleasure courses and courses in electric waves and shit, did he just come?

"Holy shit, I think I just came," he says, fingers cramping where they've clutched the covers.

Steve pulls out with a slurp.

"Oh, cool," he pants. He crawls up the bed, his hard cock dragging a wet trail on Eddie's leg. "D'you wanna take a break or keep going?"

Eddie groans. What kind of a fucking question is that? His cock is still hard, and Steve's cock is hard, and Eddie is reeling from the best orgasm he's ever had, and does he want to keep going?

"Steve…" he says. "If you don't fuck me now, then I'll… I'll… " He trails off, slurring.

"Yes," Steve says, catching on anyway. "Okay. Yes."

He sounds wrecked. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie is met by perfect hair in disarray, cheeks flushed and blotchy, a chin glistening with drool, and Steve's wild, ember eyes. Assured he's not the only one losing his mind, Eddie thumps his head back on the pillow. Bending his knees, he pushes his ass into the air and reaches back to spread his cheeks with his own fingers.

"Then hurry up, big boy," he croons, index finger circling the spitslick rim. "Before I do it myself."

Steve laughs, high-pitched like he's drunk. He fumbles for Eddie's lube and a condom he brought, thank fuck, because Eddie only has expired ones.

Lying on top of Eddie, Steve aligns their arms and interlocks their fingers, and pushes in. Eddie whimpers, because as loose and cock-starved as he is, Steve is huge, the tip alone wrecking his already sore ass. Steve shushes him gently, brushing away sweat-damp curls to plant a soft kiss at his nape. He rocks slowly, squeezing Eddie's hand and rubbing his hip, until the stretch gets better and the pain eases.

And then they fuck. Or maybe 'make love' is a more fitting term, because they hold hands during most of it. And sometimes, Steve will ease off, going so slow and sweet it borders on edging, drawing high-pitched noises from far down Eddie's chest. Then, once satisfied, he speeds up again, fucking harder while whispering compliments into Eddie's skin.

He makes Eddie come two more times, by fucking him and by jerking him off. At least, Eddie thinks that's what happened when he wakes up some hours later. He got a little delirious with pleasure at the end, though, so he's not a hundred percent sure.

He yawns and stretches. It's dark out, but the blinds are open and light pours in from the street lamp that for some reason had to be positioned right by his window.

"That light is the worst," Steve mumbles, burrowing into the pillow.

"Hmm, yeah. But I don't have to have my own lamp on. I save on electricity."

"Economical." Steve laughs, peeking up from the bedding. He's beautifully rumpled, bathed in shadows and light. "How d'you feel?"

"Awesome… did you clean me up?"

"Kinda had to – you passed out. I'm not letting you sleep with come crusting all over you," Steve says, nose scrunching.

"Not my fault. Blame your cock!"

They laugh again, together. It's nice. But it would've been nicer if there wasn't still one tiny thing nagging in the back of Eddie's head.

"Hey," he mumbles. "When you said… that the stuff with the calendar was fine, did you mean it? Or was your judgment clouded by horniness?"

Steve snorts. "'Course I meant it. I don't mind."

"Jesus."

"Do you want me to mind?"

"No. It's just that I've been putting off telling you about it because I was afraid you'd be upset. It's pretty creepy."

"Yeah, but…" Steve props his head onto his fist and shrugs one shoulder. "I guess it would be creepier if it were someone else. But it's you, and I like you, so… it's just flattering."

A grin stretches across Eddie's face. "You like me?"

"Uh, yeah." Steve rolls his eyes, but his face is also splitting in half. "Don't you like me?"

"I do."

Eddie winds his arms around Steve's waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I thought so," Steve says after their lips part. "I just didn't know how much – if you wanted to just fuck or if you wanted something more. Max was hinting you wanted more. And your friends seemed too invested for you not to want more. Then Robin told me 'he definitely wants more'. So I knew it was safe to go."

"Christ, dude, I like you so much I've given myself ulcers worrying you didn't like me back!"

"Sorry," Steve says unapologetically. "You can stop worrying."

They embrace, trading chaste kisses as they snuggle. Alternating between whispering nonsense and drawing patterns on each other and simply looking, unabashed and unhurried.

Then, Steve pulls away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He asks, "So where do you keep that calendar?"

Eddie's heart and stomach leap, trading places and knocking every other organ off course. He lunges at Steve, coiling around him like an octopus and trapping him to the bed.

"Nooooo!"

Steve guffaws. "I'm not gonna look for it! You'll have to tell me where it is."

He cocks his head at Eddie, sweet, innocent, evil. Eddie groans with the vigor of an annoyed pre-teen. Releasing Steve, he points at his desk.

"Top drawer."

Steve flies up, rummaging through the drawer before Eddie can blink. Whooping in triumph, he holds the calendar in front of himself and begins flipping through it. Eddie pulls the comforter up to his nose to hide his blush.

"April is missing?" Steve asks.

"The model was a cop."

"Ah."

Steve reclaims his spot on the bed. He's reached November and is scanning the photo with an approving smile.

Eddie grunts. "Are you admiring your own photo?"

"So? It's a good picture." Steve smirks at him. "I know you agree."

Grumbling, Eddie hides completely beneath the cover. This is what he gets for being honest. He's never telling the truth again.

"What do you say about me fucking you while wearing the uniform?" Steve asks.

Eddie throws off the comforter and catapults into sitting.

"We can do that?"

"Sure," Steve says easily, like he didn't just turn Eddie's world upside down. "Unless…" He leans in, lips hovering over Eddie's. "Unless you want to fuck me while I wear it?"

They don't fall back asleep until hours later.

(In fact, they sleep in until 11 am, when Eddie's alarm goes off. Gareth calls by lunchtime as promised, but Eddie misses it. He's too busy getting fucked against the shower wall.)

"You're not allowed to break up," Max says later that day, during their guitar lesson. The open mic might've passed, but she needs to learn more if they'll perform together. "It'll be awkward if you're exes. I won't be able to hang out with Steve if you're next door – I'll have to move."

Eddie smiles. He should point out they're not really together yet; that they've only barely started dating. Instead, he says:

"We won't."

And he can't explain how, but it's as if some higher power whispered all the answers to him while he slept in Steve's arms and he knows, he just knows, that he's telling the truth.

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

Thank you for reading. You're the best.

Oh, and I realize that I introduced things that excited a ton of people (such as Eddie meeting everyone else), so I might have to write a mini-sequel where that actually happens. Not now, though. Later.

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction, @pemsha

#eddie: max is only 19 she's too young to know stuff #gareth who is 1 measly year older than max: 👁️👄👁️#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic: november paramedic #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #lumax #my writing

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thefallennightmare · 6 months

Text

Just Pretend-one

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: First off, huge thanks to @thescarlettvvitch for bouncing ideas off with me for this story. She deserves every ounce of praise as well because a good chunk of these ideas came from her. This story takes place during the era between Finding God Before God Finds Me and The Death of Peace of Mind. Tags will be open, send in an ask or comment on the chapter. I'll try to catch every one!

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch

Swearing from below caught my attention as I reluctantly dragged myself out of my bunk to the noise. It was angry and loud followed by a kick then some more swearing. I ran a hand through my hair while I exited the tour bus and raised a brow to my fellow bandmate and boyfriend, Trey.

"What's your problem?"

He shot me a look, one that he thought would scare me, but I nearly chuckled at the sight of it.

"You forgot to pack my laptop. I can't find it on the bus or down here."

Now my eyes sliced into him. "I didn't pack shit of yours, Trey. I told you I was already stressing out about this tour, the last thing I needed was to take care of you."

He scoffed before slamming the door to the under compartment of the bus shut. "Why the fuck are you stressing out for? It's not like it's our first tour."

As he walked past me, I smelled the lingering scent of vodka and nearly strangled him. Leave it to Trey to drink before eleven a.m. Tonight was the first night of our month-long tour across the United States and here he was, drunk before soundcheck. And he dares to ask me why I'm so stressed out.

"Maybe I'm stressed out because this is our first sold-out tour and you're already drunk," I seethed while following him down the street.

Trey pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Calm down, Y/N. It's not like I can't perform drunk."

The long locks of his curly hair fell into his face and he ran a hand through it to push it away from his eyes. The tattoo on his palm caught my attention like it always did.

Rose.

No, not a tattoo of the flower but a name; his ex-fiance.

I absolutely hated that tattoo and after two years of dating, I begged him to get it covered up but he refused. Which should have been the first sign to leave him but I was desperate for some kind of relationship with him so I overlooked it.

Like everything else about Trey.

Plus, our band Hollow Souls was his and if I broke up with him, Trey would turn the rest of the guys against me. I couldn't afford for that to happen. When Trey came to me, as a friend, four years ago with the idea of starting a band, I thought he was crazy. Especially when he wanted me to sing for the band, he was the screamer and guitar player, so why would they need me to sing?

"Your voice is amazing, Y/N. Think how cool our band would be with my screams and your soft singing. There's nothing like it."

Now four years later, Hollow Souls were one of the most popular bands in the metal genre and this was our second tour in the last year. We might have been exhausted but the prospect of touring with another band that was just rising to fame made us all giddy with excitement so of course we agreed to another tour.

Well, not all of us were excited to be touring with this band. Trey made his distaste for them pretty damn clear; hence why he was drinking already.

"Why don't you go sleep off your hangover, I'm sure you still have and I'll come find you when our soundcheck starts," I suggested.

Trey tossed down the butt of his cigarette and walked away, without stomping it out. Rolling my eyes, I crushed it beneath my boot then slowly followed him back to the parking lot of the venue where our bus was parked.

"Fuck sleep. I want to be wide awake when those assholes show up."

I shook my head at Trey. "Why do you hate them so much? We haven't even met them."

He whipped his head around. "You haven't but I have. Their vocalist is a young entitled prick who thinks just because they had one hit off their last album that they deserve to have their name bigger on OUR tour poster?"

Oh, here we fucking go. Again.

I pushed past him to make my way to the bus. "You're so fucking stupid, Trey. You're believing bullshit you read online. When have they ever come out and said that themselves?"

"Don't walk away from me," Trey hissed while grabbing my hand; a little too hard.

I ignored the pain by keeping my gaze hard on his face. "Trey, let me go. Now."

Movement sounded behind him and I peered over his shoulder to see Chase, our drummer, poke his head out from the bus.

"Everything alright?" He gave us a curious look.

"Yep," I ripped my arm from Trey.

Chase patted my shoulder as I climbed up the stairs of our tour bus and didn't bother to look toward Malcolm, our bass player, as I retreated into my bunk. Our soundcheck was in a few hours and if I wanted to make sure our first show went off without a hitch, I needed to calm myself.

Three hours later, I was dressed in one of our merch hoodies and a pair of black biker shorts ready to get soundcheck over with. Trey didn't bother coming back to the bus and after waiting for him, Malcom suggested we should head into the venue without him. The wind blew through my hair as I stepped off the bus and gave a worried glance to Chase.

"Did you find him?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I texted him but no response. You know him, Y/N. He's probably at a bar right now but he'll be here in time for the show."

Reluctantly, I nodded and followed Chase into the backdoor of the venue when a large bus pulled up right next to ours.

"About time," Malcom chuckled as he appeared almost out of thin air right next to me.

His red hair was pulled back tight into a bun, his emerald eyes shining with the rays of the sun. Chase, whose blonde hair was buzzed short and blue eyes were dark as the night ocean, waved to the mystery bus as the door opened.

"The next time I take your directions, Malcolm I'm having you pay to fill up the bus' gas tank," a man with long hair and a thick accent said as he took the final step from the bus.

Malcom rolled his eyes before doing the typical man/bro hug. "Fuck you, Jolly. My directions were perfect. It's the only venue in all of Texas that has a blue roof."

I looked over to my shoulder so I could look at the venue but smacked Malcolm in the chest. "You dumbass. The roof isn't blue; it's red!"

He gave a sheepish smile while shrugging. "Oh shit. I forgot I'm colorblind."

"No, you're not," Chase noted.

The man, Jolly, chuckled while extending his hand to me after he hugged Chase. Clearly, they already knew each other.

"I'm Jolly, guitar player of Bad Omens."

With a bright smile, I shook his hand. "Y/N, clean vocalist for Hollow Souls."

"Oh trust me, I know who you are. We listen to you guys pretty often; huge fans. Noah talks about your vocal range all the time," Jolly admitted while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

A red hue crept over my face at the simple compliment. It wasn't something I heard often because everyone always talked about Trey's screams and how long he could hold a note or how deep his growls could go.

"That means a lot to me, really. Few people compliment me, it's usually something they save for Trey," I admitted while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Well, it's true," a different man slinked up beside Jolly with a goofy, bright smile. "I'm Nick but you can call me Folio."

"Oh, let me guess." I tapped my chin. "Drummer?"

Folio chuckled while nodding. "What gave it away?"

I pointed to his hoodie pocket. "The drumsticks."

Another guy with hair down to his shoulders emerged from the bus and nodded towards the group of us. "Blue roof my ass."

Malcolm rolled his eyes and flipped this guy the middle finger. "Sorry, Nick. I forgot I'm colorblind."

Chase pinched his eyes shut. "No. You're not."

"Wait," I pointed between the two men. "You're both Nick?"

They nodded and Folio spoke next. "Which is why you can call me Folio."

Nick then extended his hand towards me. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows."

I don't know why but that small tidbit of information made my heart stutter. I had no idea who this Noah was but apparently; he thought pretty highly of me.

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," I laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of my feet.

Then as if the air around me shifted, taking all the oxygen from my lungs, I watched as the final member of Bad Omens exited the bus. A black beanie covered most of his long hair and the brown jacket he wore did absolute wonders for his skin. The black jeans hugged every inch of his thighs as he walked towards us; no, almost stalked towards us in a way that practically screamed confidence. His plump lips parted to speak and my ears were hit with the most angelic voice I ever heard.

"Malcolm, your directions-."

My bandmate groaned while rolling his eyes. "Yes, I already fucking know."

As the guys chatted amongst themselves for a moment, my eyes were glued to the tall man in front of me. Easily he had to be six foot three because being only a few feet away from me, he towered over me. Tattoos were peaking out from the collar of his shirt and when he extended his hand towards me, I trailed over every single tattoo on his fingers.

Long fingers that could make the devil weep in sin.

"Hey, I'm Noah."

When I realized he was talking to me, I blinked a few times and stammered out my name.

"Y-Y/N. Nice to meet you," I shook his large hand, and the immediate warmth his gentle touch brought made me weak in the knees.

"Trust me, I know who you are," Noah smiled.

Suddenly gaining more confidence from his smile alone, I playfully raised a brow at him. "Yeah, your bandmates kind of told me you're a huge fan."

Oh fuck, even his laugh sounded breathtaking.

"Yes, I'll be the first one to admit that. When the record label told us who we're touring with, I may have fanboyed."

Chase hummed in response before ruffling my hair. "Rightfully so. Y/N is what makes Hollow Souls."

I pushed his arm away. "Whatever. All I do is sing."

All of this attention towards me wasn't why I was so defensive. It was because if Trey heard me getting all the praise, he would blow a fucking gasket. He always thought he was the center of Hollow Souls since he started the band so whenever someone else besides him got even a hint of praise, he would throw a fit.

Noah snorted. "You're too hard on yourself, Y/N. The range your voice gets is insane."

The blush never left my face, only intensified, so I stared down at the toes of my shoes because I wasn't sure how to take yet another compliment.

"Speaking of which," Chase sighed. "We should probably find out where Trey went."

"I'm honored you're all worried about me."

Internally, I cringed when an arm slung around my shoulder and a wet kiss was plastered to my cheek. I was avoiding the gazes of everyone and I nearly missed the look of shock that crossed over Noah's face as Trey left another kiss on my cheek after I wiped away the first one.

"You stink," I muttered under my breath.

"Sorry, sugar. I had a few drinks at the bar down the road," Trey admitted while brushing his hair away from his face.

The sides were shaved, but the rest lay on top of his head in a curly mess. His dark eyes held no light behind them, it dying so long ago, and the array of tattoos that littered his arms were as dull as his soul. The alcohol and stardom over the years changed Trey and not for the better. Before we started dating, Trey was the most vibrant soul I'd ever met but once we got together and Hollow Souls took off, everything changed. He became the asshole that now stood next to me.

Many would ask why I was still with Trey but he was familiar and I didn't want to go through the fear of starting over. Also, I liked my position in the band and didn't want to mess that up.

Trey nodded to Chase and Malcom, completely ignoring the guys of Bad Omens.

"How'd soundcheck go?"

Chase scoffed. "We haven't even started. We were waiting for you."

"Oh, you guys don't need me. Since Y/N here is the heart and soul of our band," Trey pushed himself off of me but then smacked my ass. "Let's get moving, babe. We're wasting time out here."

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling very embarrassed with the way Trey was treating me, something Noah immediately picked up on.

"Nice to see you again, Trey," he said.

"Noah," Trey gave him a curt nod then linked his fingers in mine to drag me away from them.

NOAH

Holy shit. She's real and absolutely beautiful.

The pictures on her Instagram paled in comparison to the real thing standing in front of me. The way her hair blew across the softness of her face or how when the afternoon sun casts over her eyes at just the right angle, they shined with so much light it made my heart flutter. And when her cheeks flushed red as I complimented her voice or the way her eyes cast downward, it made all the blood in my body rush straight to my dick and I suddenly cursed myself for wearing such tight jeans.

Then that prick Trey came along and treated her like she was nothing as he dragged her away. I nearly stepped between them but with the stern look that Jolly gave me, I knew it was best not to get involved.

"This is going to be a long few weeks," Nick said as we all watched the members of Hollow Souls walk into the venue.

"I'd be happy if Trey wasn't a part of it," I said truthfully.

Folio hummed in agreement. "He's always had a problem with us even before you flirted with his girlfriend."

"I didn't know they were dating," I retorted back. "And I wasn't flirting with her."

"Right," Jolly nodded. "Because the looks you two were giving each other weren't all that heart-eye shit they talk about in romance novels."

Thankfully, our crew's bus pulled up right on time so I didn't have to explain myself and for the next while, we helped everyone take our equipment from the bus to the venue where Hollow Souls was still doing soundcheck. Every so often, Y/N's ethereal voice would pierce into my soul causing me to stand still in place, watching her on that stage.

As much as I disliked the guy, with his deep guttural screams and her siren-like voice, they were perfectly made for this.

"You're staring," Nick whispered as he walked behind me to set down one of the large crates.

"Fuck off," I grumbled before adjusting the beanie on my head and reluctantly walked away from the stage.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #slow burn #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

Text

Friday I’m In Love

A/N: So jokes on me because I didn't expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not.

Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls

Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up.

“Remind me why the hell were here again?”

You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors.

“Because, we were invited” you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do”

“We could literally be doing anything else then this- isn't Clair throwing a party tonight?”

“Yeah, but all her parties are always like, major depressing. Ever since Heather you know”-you make a gurgling choking sound and cross your eyes “Its like, why do we have to do a toast to the dead girl, every party. I get once- but it feels redundant”

You get it. Claire and Heather were best friends. You’re also not in the mood to go hold her hand while she cries about it. Again.

Also, Heather had put gum in your third grade. So-

“For one- you're a horrible person” Shelly accuses, shaking her overly curly head “For two, we could’ve gone to the movies or something”

“You think the theaters boring, plus like. Won't it be fun to try something new? Come on” you grab her hand and pull her along behind you. Sparing one last glace at the familiar van, parked idle towards the front of the lot.

“So like, this has nothing to do with you and weirdo Munson, right?”

“Right- and its funny the way that you only think he’s weird after he sells you weed. Asshole”

Well- its not like you we’re expecting anything fancy from the Hideout. No expectations, no disappointment, right? The bar is the textbook definition of a dive.The lingering smell of stale beer hits you straight in the face as you walk in. Seedy lighting that makes everything look shadowy and almost green-

“Oh look! They have pool tables!” you point out because that could be fun. Maybe?

“Oh great” She replies, voice fasle sugar sweet before dropping “I want to leave”

“Shh” you elbow her, hard. “We just got here. Play nice”

And she does, for the most part. Sit down at one of the sticky tables with you. Avoids the looks of the bar's patrons- older. Wasted. White trash, for sure. You wouldn't talk to them, not ever but like. Whatever. You can just ignore them. That’s easy enough.

Especially when they get on stage. The Dark Wizards, Eddie at the lead. Even though he's not singing, even though he’s off to the side with that bright cherry red guitar of his. He’s the star.

“We’re the Dark Wizards, and we’re about to rock your mortal world”

You don't know when this…thing you had for Eddie developed. Somewhere between smoke laced conversations and late nights glued to your phone, him fighting the shitty static of his own line to talk until one of you called uncle, the thing had taken a life of its own.

He’s odd. Yeah. But no other guy has ever been this nice to you. Eddies odd, but he’s not cruel. He’s not like the asshole jocks or elitist math nerds. He’s not even like the rest of his leather clad D&D playing posse.

You wish you could get everyone else to see that. Get your friends to see that.

The singer is trash, the drummer can't keep a beat to save his life, but the guitar riffs are melodic. Smooth and sharp, and your heart catches the tune and beats in time. Blood flow slowing and stopping until your all but hypnotized.

You clap and cheer and cant manage to tear your eyes away until the final note plays, their set is over-

“Oh my god, you're so into him” the statement is disgusted, mostly. Fascinated. Your friend looks at you like she's watching a car crash- violent and bloody, but she can't take her eyes off of it.

You just shrug because like. Yeah. Obviously.

“Oh fuck no” she groans, face palming hard.

Eddie hurries out from behind the stage, which is really just their supply room. Grinning from ear to ear, beaming arms spread out wide. “Look who came!”

“You invited me, I told you I’d come” You try to contain it, but you're giddy. Even more so when he throws a gangly arm around your shoulder. “It’s no biggie”

“No biggie? You came all the way out here to see little ol me. Huge biggie, my friend. Huge” He holds his heart with his other hand dramatically-

Always so dramatic. Always so enamoring.

“You deserve a drink. A real one, what is this?” He dips his pinky into your friend's drink and her nose scrunches up something fierce and offended “Sprite? Nah, that's a peasant drink. Bartender kind sir- pour us something strong. And…fruity”

The bartender, who looks like an Ex-con, actually makes a mean Mojito.

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

“It’s totes okay, I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?”

You're in the parking lot, again. Except for you're not leaving in the car that you came in.

Shelly’s tucked into the Subaru, staring out at you with all knowing eyes.

He’s just going to drop me off at home.

Uh Huh.

Seriously.

“Yeah whatever you better call me later- I want all the dirty details. Use protection- bye” she waves before her tires screech, hauling ass away from the Hideout. You flip her the bird all the way.

“Okay let's blow this popsicle stand” you plop into the passenger side of the beat up old van, bouncing along as you go. Glad for the low cut blouse you’d donned because Eddie's eyes follow your chest, comically, animatedly. Up and down.

“Whatever you say, mi’lady. Your house?”

“I mean- I don't have a curfew or anything on the weekend- we could go somewhere else. If you want to?”

Eddie looks pensive, lips pursed, before a light bulb goes off in his head.

“Want to go to the end of the earth with me?” He questions as he reverses, and well. How can you say no to that offer?

-----

The cliffs of Sattlers Quarry are jagged and high. Eddie parks too close to the edge- takes you out. Holds your hand tight as you screech, not being able to look over for more than a second.

“Its okay,” Eddie chuckles, herding you into the open back of the van. “I come here all the time, were all good Y/L/N.”

The seats are ripped out, posters of dragons and bare tittied ladies plastered on the metal walls. Black Sabbath plays lowly from the crappy speakers and he lays an armful of threadbare blanket down for cushioning, for the two of you to curl up on.

You cling to him just to do it. Keep close as he rolls the cleanest joint you’ve ever seen. Spark and smoke and laugh- all attached to hip. He talks about Tolkien as fluidly as he does Karl Marx, he likes pineapple on pizza and was born the day before Valentines. Cats are superior to dogs, and he like lives off of peanut butter crunch cereal.

His dad split when he was in eight grade and living with his Uncles not so bad, really. It’s kind of like rooming with a chill homie, but definitely nothing like having a real parent.

“I'm boring you aren't I? Just tell me to stop, and I’ll zip my lips. Locked. Key is thrown, right off that cliff” He makes the motions, zip. Key, tossed and you lean your face into his jean clad shoulder.

“Mmm, no. I like listening to you talk” its not a lie, not the usual shit you blow up guys ass. Everything out of Eddie’s mouth is unexpected, he tells stories with words. Vivid pictures, film on a loop. With your lungs burning and THC running through your system it's even better.

“I like you. In general” Eddie whispers, and you hide your face even more. He shrugs you away though, turning. Face to face, no way to run from his dark eyes “I like your eyes” he leans in, and you think finally he’s gong to kiss you. Instead he gets close enough. Blinks fluttery fast, his lashes against yours. Butterfly kisses

You shake your head, cheeks burning, chest tight.

“And your hair? I really like that- even if it is better than mine which is rude. And don't even get me started on your perfume because that? That’s my favorite. And your-”

You slap a hand over his mouth pushing until he gives way. Until your on top thick thighs caging his waist “Stop it, jeeze I lied. I hate your voice, shuddap!”

He makes a few muffled attempts, squirming a bit before giving up. Going lax, bringing his hands behind his head and looking at you with dark eyes that shine and sparkle. He's enjoying this, and the long languid lick he gives to your hand shouldn't feel as good as it does.

You like Eddie, like the way he feels. You like the way he lets you be who you want to be, do what you want to do. Other guys would’ve thrown you off, too heavy. Too dominant. They didnt want to play, but Eddie. Eddie’s wanted to play with you since you hit that doobie behind the gym.

You unbutton your blouse slowly, letting him watch you. He can have it. All of it. Everything. You unhook your bra and those dark eyes go wide.

“This okay?” you ask, taking your hand off of his mouth, resting on his shoulder.

He nods, quick, adam's apple bobbing “Are you even asking me that right now? Yes, fuck yes I am a-okay. The best, really-”

The kiss you cut him off with is messy, too much tongue. Too much want. Why had you wanted this long? Maybe it should’ve have been more romantic- but then again maybe it is? It’s own version of romance, its own courting and dating and being cared for.

Eddies hands are everywhere, eager and exploring and its almost funny until he thumb brushes over your nipple, just on the right side of rough, making you gasp sharp into his mouth, and grind down onto his hard lap in tight circles. Eddie pulls away, just barley. Dragging his slick mouth acros your jaw, down your chest, your hands fist tight his hair as he runs the flat of his tongue along the nub.

It feels too good, mind numbing. Base instinct, two teenagers and in a fogged up car. Breathing eachothers air, tasting each other spit. Fumbly and needy, too fast.

Struggling out of your clothes, you wiggle out of your tight acid washed jeans as Eddie shed’s layer after layer- Hell Fire Club Tee, Leather Jacket, Denim vest. The floor of his van littered. You’re tugging on your pink panties when he blankets himself over you, pushing you back down. The blankets rough on your bare skin.

Eddie’s a weirdo, not a virgin. And most importantly, he’s good with his hands. The long ring donned fingers work magic. The real life kind that gets your back arching and has sounds that would embarrass you to think about later clawing their way from your throat. Feels almost too good as he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping as he pounds his fingers in and out of you.

He likes it, watching you squirm, watching your hips shift every time he tries to pull his hand away.

He keeps condoms in the glove box, mostly for show. Hope. The off chance that some girl gives him a chance and wants to hook up- once in a blue moon shit. He’s glad for them now, even if it means pulling away from a whining writhing you

When he slides back between your thighs it's a heady feeling. He’s almost vibrating, shaking out of his skin, nervous excitement making him clumsy. He misses. Doesnt slide into you easily, the two of you shifting and giggling, gasping and nosing at one and other until.

Oh.

There.

The inhale you take is shaky and sharp and Eddie groans and buries his head in your neck. Breathing in your sweet perfume as his hips begin to pump.

“O-oh my god. Eddie-” You stutter, holding on to his shoulders. He’s not the thickest guy you’ve been with, but his dicks long. Longer then average forsure. Jabbing at that place inside you, pleasure pain bursting behind your eyelids and you cling to his shoulders. There's no real pace, not from the nineteen year old, but the friction of sweaty bodies feels good, the rocking rhythmic and almost peaceful as you stare up at the van’s ceiling. You like it, the way he moans, the way he tells you how it feels- he really doesn't ever shut up.

Its quick, you’re young and Eddie’s never been with anyone who feels so tight. You can tell when he’s close, when he speeds up to nothing more then a dirty, desperate grind. When his whole body goes taught and his arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you as he rides it out. As he shakes and shudders, needing the grounding. You hold him in the cradle of your thighs.

He pulls out with a hiss and slumps, heavy and boneless on to you and you stroke his back, trail your fingers across his shoulders soothingly. It felt good the minutes that go by in overexerted bliss. It wasnt like you weren't used to not getting yours. Guys just had a one track mind, right? No big deal, you’ll handle it when you get home-

Eddie's head perks up from your chest. Almost like he could read your mind, Isnt that one of his D&D elf powers or whatever?

His animated, recovered enough to have regained that mischievous look. He waggles his tongue, vulgar and pushing corny

“Your turn, mi’lady”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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milgram-tournament · 3 months

Text

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 5 I LOVE YOU vs. CAT

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for I LOVE YOU:

mappi’s spitting bars 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️

ok but i, as the iloveyoucountdown person before it released, waited 89 days for ily and SHE DID NOT DISAPPOINT‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥 go vote ily now bc its peak music

---

the acoustic section where it just feels so raw and emotional it's crazy also we love to see mappi/miho okasaki rapping again and good lord mahiru delivered hadauwd, like you think about it a lot? like "Ishokujuu plus ai Miss you Raishuu aemasuka no Cadence Yurusarenai ikigai mou iki mo dekinai" it's also so catchy just "Dai- dai- dai- datte suki suki! Dai- dai- dai- datte daisuki."

it's such a quick song but it delivers and it DELIVERS WELL there's so much in the instrumental you can also miss, like sirens and such! again guitar section it's crazy!! i didn't even touch on the visuals, like the visuals are absolutely amazing and really touch on the toxic cycle of mahiru's relationship for example, the carousel turning into a forest! and also they were still able to implement some of tihtbilwy in the beginning of the song! we got to see mahiru's boyfriend as well!! additionally, RATS AND CAKE. HOLY SHIT we all know the absolute shock that appeared on everyone's faces the second that cake turned into a rat (to be honest, I was absolutely sick with shock for the rest of the day) It's really amazing as a song and MV, plus it did help give some more information on Mahiru!

---

miho okasaki's vocals are so powerful. it sounds like mahiru is screaming because of not being forgiven and because of what happened to her boyfriend and because "she can't just do it right".

THE LYRICS ARE SO. "clothes food shelter + love and miss you"?? "my lethal weapon is how to be in love with you"?? "kiss goodbye to this feeling cuz it's too heavy"?? again, the "why can't i just do it right" line?? SO GOOD.

MAHIRU RAPPING. THIS SONG STARTS WITH HER RAPPING. LITERAL CHILLS

i've heard the i love you chorus once and now it's in my head forever. i wake up, i sing the i love you chorus. i go to sleep, i sing the i love you chorus.

the lyrics are so sad when you start thinking about them more. "saying i love you but doing what i did, i know i have no right, crossed and covered in sin"?? please, don't you want to give mappi a hug. please she deserves it. she needs it

the "DIE-suki" pun.

the mv is so. i can talk about it for hours. it literally starts with showing us what happened to her bf. i've watched it live, i knew about this part and i still was shocked. mahiru's boyfriend is dead. mahiru is also rapping. also, the lyrics. this scene is terrifying to me and i mean it in the best way possible.

the cake symbolism. mahiru refusing to accept her reality and the true nature of her relationship with her bf and still seeing everything around her as cute and soft and pink. her feeling guilty and not knowing how to express love properly and still choosing to continue to love in this way. i don't know, something about it is so.. it's so sad and so realistic and so heartbreaking

i love how we can say so much about her relationship with her boyfriend based on mv and the lyrics. this is more of a theory and i probably shouldn't talk about it but i like the fact that mappi and her bf's relationship wasn't just abusive or one-sided love or anything like that. it's like they loved each other, they just.. didn't know how to show it or express it in a healthy way (or maybe mahiru's bf did know, but he was okay with going through all of this for her). like this scene when they're both riding the carousel and looking happy at first and even when both of them look like a mess, mahiru's face expression is still pretty much the same while her boyfriend looks much more tired, but he's still smiling. something about that part breaks me.

the instrumental is so fun and chaotic and creepy please listen to it. all milgram instrumentals are great but ily instrumental is definitely one of my fav ones.

Propaganda for CAT:

"You like jazz? Jazz is chaos within order. Got to love the whole band. Vibraphone, saxophone, trumpet, flute, piano, guitar, drums, bass… Go, rhythm section, go! The song sounds tender at times and aggressive at others as different instruments pop up at different times. Sometimes they follow Kazui’s voice (“follow the king of the masquerade”). Sometimes they get to be the focus. You have the chill piano one moment and the screaming guitar in the next.

You’ve got a lovely “jingle” (“Lie until it gets better…”) which occurs at the beginning, middle, and end. It fits the “newspaper ad” style of the video really well. Also at the very end, there’s one more line that gives the jingle an upward contour, giving a sense of finality. “Until you can meet the king of the masquerade.” You’re there now.

The two verses start off differently before they take on a similar melody. It feels like Kazui is talking to a different person in each verse.

The chorus is a beautiful façade the first time and a sinister truth the second time.

The opening for solos shows that this jazz song means business. I love how the saxophone and trumpet especially get in your face. And with the tacet on vocals, the walking bass really shines if you lend it your ear.

And the smoke break! Silence is golden. Glass click. Lighter. Huff.

As always, Kazui’s voice is super deep. He hits even lower notes this time around. He’s a fifth lower than the next lowest singers (Haruka and Shidou)."

---

-Great instrumental choice. Kazui and jazz is *chefs kiss*

-Symbolism. THE SYMBOLISM. I can’t type out all my thoughts but ifykyk

-The almost comic like style of the MV is really appealing.

-Lyrics!! There is so much to unpack but it’s really cool.

-Kazui eating the dove… fricken iconic.

---

FIRST OF ALL the vocals????? BEAUTIFUL. His va put his whole pussy into this song and you can tell!! The way he sings the chorus is so damn addicting I'm so in love with him. His voice is more or less stable throughout the entire thing until the final chorus but you can hear the emotion peaking out which fits perfectly with Kazui keeping everything hidden. The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper during "all the things I wanna do that I can't say outloud"??? The way his voice starts trembling during "this feeling it's yearning to be satisfied"???? The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper AND starts trembling during "hey, if I said I liked-liked you, what would you?"?????? HEAVENLY! You can really feel how afraid Kazui is under his disguise and my heart breaks a little everytime I listen. Not to mention how absolutely powerful his voice gets at the climax!!!!!! It's insane!!!!!!! It's genius!!!!!! It makes me wild makes me crazy makes me eat my walls!!!!!!!!!!

THE SMOKE BREAK?????? What other song has something as powerful as that huh???? This isn't just a song produced by the milgram machine using his memories, this is HIS song and he is OWNING IT! The music builds up so much and gets so intense right before it, I can literally feel myself get tense and starting holding my breath right before he takes the break and everything relaxs… it's not just a break for him, but a break for the viewer. The song is spiralling out of control just like his life and his lies and he has no choice but to put it to a quick stop before its too much to handle.

THE IMAGERY IS WILD!!!!! He's a magician!!! Little magic guy!!!! Using tricks and lies to amaze and captivate the people around him! Trying desperately to magic his own feelings into something else! But it's all fake! It's all tricks and no matter how hard he tries he can never actually change himself into what he wants! But he's trying to convince himself the same way he's convinced his audience!! And when you're watching a magic act, are you there for the magician themself or are you there to watch the show?? The people in his life only cared for him when he performed for them, but they didn't give a drop of love to who he was a person! ALSO the transformation of the wedding ring to a cigarette to the dove at the end??? Makes me wild every single time! Right infront of his wife, he showed her that their marriage was something unhealthy for him that was slowly killing him from the inside. AND THEN he uses it to harm himself???? And then he turns that cigarette into a dove- a representation of love and literally TEARS INTO IT. He tears his marriage apart with his mouth!!! AKA HIS WORDS. makes me wild. Also fun fact Kazui says he started smoking because when he was younger it was "just natural for everyone to smoke" and that lines up with his reasons for marriage perfectly.

Kazui looks really hot in it. You should vote for Cat because Kazui is insanely attractive. What other reason do you need huh? Hot gay middle aged man.

#milgramtournament #milgram #mahiru shiina #shiina mahiru #kazui mukuhara #mukuhara kazui

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watermelonsugacry · 9 months

Note

Little Freddie going with Louis to 1dbandmate!y/n concert for her tour and having a sign for her then seeing her after the show when she comes of stage and gives her the biggest hug and she’s so happy to see him 🥹

umm...YES 🥹

When she first gets risen on stage with her four back up dancers, posed and looking as elegant as ever in her iconic pink, glittery outfit. She looks out to the sea of fans filling up the stadium with their excited screams and lights on their phones. A cocky smile sits comfortably on her face, her eyes bouncing all over the crowd until they land on a little blonde lad with Louis's face.

Sat on his father's shoulders, Freddie's little arms hold up a sign above his head that has Hi Auntie YN! messily written on it with different colored markers.

Her smug look instantly turns into a surprised, loving one. In the little designated spot for family and friends at the side of the pit, she's pleasantly surprised to see that alongside her usual ensemble of her husband and her manager, Louis and her godson are there as well.

Harry knows how much the Tomlinsons mean to YN; aside from her wonderful stepmum, they were the family she needed when she had none growing up. So why not have her childhood best friend and godson be flown out for a surprise visit?

As she struts alongside her dancers, she returns the excited wave his little hand gives before hitting her first dance move for her opening song, Woman.

Throughout the whole night, fans can't miss the way YN keeps glancing back to where Freddie dances, jumping up and down with his arms raised in the air to the music she plays. But the audience doesn't mind that her attention drifts elsewhere given the way she has the happiest look on her face when she goes to the edge of the stage close to where he's at, jumping along with him.

Later on in the show as YN situates herself to sit down in front of the pit, sitting prettily on her thigh and leaning on her hand, she points over to her godson with a bright smile, "This one is for you, little lad!"

She giggles when he sees his little fists shoot up in the air, his mouth forming an "O" as he hollers not only at the recognition and song dedication, but when the beginning beats of R.E.M. begin to play--his favorite song of hers.

But nothing can compare to when after the show is done and YN goes into her green room. She hears her name first, and then she's quickly squatting down to be engulfed in a bone crushing hug. Freddie digs his little face in the crook of her neck, his arms encircling her neck so tight that it's like if he would left go, she would disappear.

Off to the side, Louis and Harry look onto the encounter with fond smiles. Ever since Freddie was born, YN has been attached to his side anytime she could. It made things easier when Louis' baby momma made a somewhat friendship with the pop star after YN had extended a generous offer to provide anything the new mom might need, before and after the baby. Brianna saw how YN's love for the child was genuine, how much she cared for the tiny baby swaddled in her arms.

In turn, anyone can see the love and admiration Freddie has towards YN. When he was still a baby and cried every hour of the day, he would magically stop and coo once he was in her arms. He would smile a toothless smile at the sound of her soft singing and would almost immediately fall asleep afterwards.

She spoils the child to no end, anything he wants is his. Just last Christmas, she gifted him yet another electric guitar and he did a impromptu performance with it, strumming it messily to showcase what he's learned so far.

She plays toy cars with him, facetimes him whenever she can, and she's never missed one of his birthdays.

Freddie loves her with all of the love his little heart can muster and quite frankly, he thinks she's the coolest person on the planet.

Time spent with him has decreased significantly since she's been on tour for almost two years now. She's missed him dearly and it warms her heart that he's finally in her arms. Even with the distance, their bond is still as strong as ever.

"Freddie," She lets out a playful groan as she stands back up, cradling his kola grip on her. "Yeh gotta stop growing mate or else I won't be able to carry you anymore."

"I can't control it!" The little boy laughs.

"You have to," She playful argues. "Yeh have to stay my baby forever. And ever and ever and ever..." She trails into his cheek before she smothers his face in kisses, making him break out into boyish giggles.

It's not long before she throws a smile at her other surprise guest for the night, "Hi, Louis."

"Hiya, love." Louis greets, kissing YN's cheek and giving her a hug the best he can while his son still clings to her. "S'good to see you, babe. This little guy hasn't stopped talking about how excited he was to see you."

"Yeah?" YN pulls back to look at the little boy's face, a smile that's identical to his father's when he was younger. She almost cries right then and there when Freddie leans in to press a gentle kiss to the center of her cheek. "I can say the same if I knew you lads were coming."

"It was Harry's idea to surprise you." Louis claps a hand over his old band mate's shoulder.

No words need to leave her lips because the look she gives to her husband is enough to express her gratitude. Harry gives her a quick peck on the lips, praising her on her performance for tonight.

"Don't think I'ma ever gonna to get used to that." Louis sighs, making the couple chuckle. It's only as if were yesterday that they were all touring together, Louis off on the sidelines as he watched these two secretly pine over the other during their time in the band. It's still crazy to see that now his old band mates who were forced to be apart now married and happier than ever.

"Did yeh want to show yeh aunt the sign you made her?" Louis ask rubbing his son's back.

"Oh yeah! Uncle Harry." Freddie wiggles out of YN's arms and goes over to his godfather who holds his sign.

YN gasps when the sign is presented to her. From her spot on the stage, she could only make out the big lettering, but now up close, she can see the little stickers, doodles of microphones and guitars, and other little writings he added: You're the best! You rock! I <3 YOU!

"Did you make this all by yehself?" She gasps. Freddie nods excitingly and she listens intently to all of his explanations for each doodle and sticker. After a while, YN explains how she's off to take a quick shower, get out of her performance outfit and into some more comfortable clothing with a promise of everyone going out for ice cream afterwards.

Now dressed in shorts and a hoodie, YN holds Freddie's hand while her other holds her gifted sign. They talk amongst themselves as the two men trail behind--their security surrounding them as they escort the group down the huge parking structure and towards a black Range Rover.

"She's going to great mum someday, huh?" Louis nods over to YN, who's now skipping along with his giggling son.

"I don't doubt it for a second." Harry agrees with so much love in his eyes. Louis sees it and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"Could that 'someday' be any time soon?"

The topic of having kids has only come up once or twice between the couple. Subconsciously, they both knew that they haven't been in a place to have a baby given that they've been on tour for a little over two years now; tour has been their baby.

But that doesn't mean the thought hasn't crossed their minds for the future.

It's not like Harry hasn't thought about a little him running around their living room. The boy's dimples digging into his cheeks like his father's as he laughs after YN finally catches him and smothers his face in kisses. Or for YN, the image of Harry holding his baby girl to his bare chest, rocking softly in a chair to get her to go to sleep. His hand coming up to brush away the curls on top of her head that she inherited from both of her parents.

The thought of starting a family excites Harry. He might not know it in this moment, but it does for YN, too. To have a family of her own, to provide the love and care to a child that she never received from either of her biological parents, is something she eternally hoped for since she was still living in her run-down home in Doncaster. And she knows with all of her heart, that Harry will make the best dad in the world.

Their kids will not go a day without being told and shown that they are loved.

Now with their world tours coming to an end, who knows what their future holds?

"Who knows." Harry chuckles, deciding that to be his answer for the time being.

But he does know one thing for sure: YN will make a great mum to his children someday.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @harianaswhore @gxbigs @mvaldez7821 @yourfavplayboybunny @drewrry @thurhomish @roseke @majasophieanna @lilfreakjez @rach2699 @renatavieira

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lowkeyrobin · 1 month

Note

Trevor Spengler x reader where reader has a job being a singer in an oldies style restaurant? Where they sing and play guitar on the stage while the customers eat?

And they make mashups of more modern songs (mainly rock and pop) in their spare time? Like a music prodigy of sorts

Or Generally cover-artist reader x Trevor Spengler?

this is me in every desired reality/self insert fixation I have LMAOOO I got you ; thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy !! ; post writing robin here, sorry this is so short I had no idea what I was doing

TREVOR SPENGLER ; cover artist

summary ; Trevor develops a crush on the kid who covers songs in the local diner

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; gotta admit I was listening to bailey zimmerman so I apologize if this is has a very country-angst vibe. I see the color orange and go back to Leave The Light On idfk I apologize. i had to restrict myself. I'm not too caught up in popular modern music so bare with me 🙏 ; okay post me here, only the first part is but this whole thing kinda sucks so I'm sorry

word count ; 808

masterlist

You sit at your wooden barstool, strumming the strings of your guitar as you try and retune it.

Working in an oldies style restaurant wasn't the most fun nor best paying job, but you needed the money, and you needed something to do with your talent and time. You had enough hardships to overcome in life and enough passion to sing up on a stage how you did, even for patrons at a cheap restaurant. You found fun and therapy in your music, so it didn't make it that bad to sit on that barstool all evening after school.

You strum the strings again, finding the right sound for your instrument as you clear your throat. You typically ignore when people watch or look at you, imagining you were the only one in the room. This time though, as you begin plucking at the strings, you can feel someone looking at you.

You could always feel that feeling, but this time around, it was different.

You ignore it, continuing on with your six hour long show, trying to please the audience that wasn't even paying attention to you. The place was shaped like a bar, with you stuck in the corner on a little stage, just doing your thing. Tonight was more of a calm, well-deserved night for something relaxing. There were only a few booths taken up. There was no need to put up a big show for the two dozen people in the building.

Across the room, a curly haired boy was staring you down, receiving a glare from his little sister. She was no good at social cues or social interaction, but she knew damn well that her brother was being weird. He snaps out of it, shyly looking away from you.

"...bittersweet October, and I'm headed for the Northern pines. Well, this autumn fall feels empty, black and white leaves touch the ground. You're the only color I've got left, and it's slowly fading out"

The boy looks back up at you again, his fingers tapping off the wooden table to the rythym. He can't help but watch your every move, every strum beneath your fingers, every movement your lips and the front of your throat made to create the beautiful sound of the lyrics with your voice. He was encapsulated.

He rests his chin on his hand, perched on the table at an angle. A soft smile rests on his face, eyes heavy like he was ready to fall asleep.

"Trevor, stop staring at them!"

A few weeks later, the same boy sat down at the same booth as before, this time not occumpanied by his family. He ordered some food so as not to look like a creep, but he was more focused on listening to you than enjoying said food.

He'd been here since to see you, always sitting in the same booth. Maybe he saw it as a free concert.

You didn't mind. Maybe he was trying to recognize your face from somewhere, or was developing a hallway, or diner, crush on you, who knew.

As you pause to catch your breath after playing Back To December by Taylor Swift, you see the boy stand up. He's making his way toward you.

At least you had time to chat, as it wasn't rush hour, merely 2pm on a random Saturday.

He awkwardly stands in front of you as you gulp down the liquid in your water bottle and set it back down on the floor. You turn to him with a welcoming smile, assuming he was here to ask a question or give a compliment.

"Uh, hi." He begins, a nervous smile painting his face. "I just, I've been seeing you play here for a while, and like, I think you're super cool"

You smile, resting your arms over your guitar. "Thank you, I appreciate that"

"Uhm," He runs a hand through his curls, clearly nervous yet trying to hide it somehow. "Could I maybe give you my number? If you wanted to hang out sometime? I can play guitar as well"

You lightly chuckle, "Yeah, sure. You got something to write on?" You ask him, seeing him looking around for a pen and paper.

He quickly scrambles towards one of the waitresses, kindly asking if he can use one of the bill papers and pen really quickly. He returns to you, handing you the folded up paper.

"Thank you." You both speak in unison. Both of your faces flush in embarrassment and the flustering of the situation.

"Uhm, I'll see you around?" You speak, strumming the strings of your guitar to make sure it was still tuned out of habit.

He nods, "Yeah, I'll see you around. Oh, my name's Trevor, by the way"

"Y/n" You reply, waving as he walks away, silently cheering himself on.

"Bye, Y/n!"

#lowkeyrobin #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters x reader #trevor spengler x reader #trevor spengler #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn!reader

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thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

You Say Bark, I Say Bite

Prompt Day 1: Open Mic Night | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Smoking | Tags: Pre-S4, Pre-Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin

"No, no, no," Steve says, waving his hand in front of him. He's not doing this.

"Steve, please," Robin begs, "it's just one night. For me. You love me."

There are so many other ways they could spend a Saturday night that don't involve listening to shitty musicians. They'll all suck. He knows that. They've done this before, and he's never heard anything he's liked.

"Steve. For me," she pleads, giving him the eyes.

He sighs. He was always going, but he's not happy about it. And he wants Robin to know that.

"Tammy Thompson sounds like a Muppet," Steve says.

"You've said," Robin mumbles, annoyed.

That's the whole reason they're here in Indianapolis tonight, at some under twenty-one club, listening to teens and college kids play shitty music. To hear Tammy Thompson nasal her way through a song or two.

Someone brought a goddamn flute. To an open mic night. A flute. These people are all weirdos. No talent to be found.

Then the little stage is suddenly bustling with movement, bringing in actual instruments and equipment. Okay, maybe they're getting somewhere. This has to be better than another douchebag with a guitar.

Oh, no.

That's definitely a douchebag with a guitar.

"Is that…Eddie Munson?" Steve asks, cutting Robin a look.

"Well, duh," Robin says, totally unbothered by this very weird turn of events, "he has a band, you know that."

He knows that? He doesn't know that. He knows Eddie Munson is a dealer. He knows Eddie Munson is a freak. But he didn't know Eddie Munson played the guitar.

"I didn't fucking know that," Steve says, confused, wrinkling his forehead.

"They play at The Hideout every week. Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Goodie. Corroded Coffin. You know that. Everybody knows that. Eddie is always hanging up flyers everywhere."

News to him. He doesn't know any of these guys. Who the fuck is Goodie? That's not even a name.

"I think you're making shit up. I don't recognize any of those guys. Like, not at all. Did they go to Hawkins? While I was there?"

Robin looks at him like he's an asshole. Okay, they must have.

"They gotta be way younger," Steve finally says, indignant. "I know Eddie. Because he's been a senior for the last five years."

She gives him a withering look, "Three years. Last three years."

Like that's better.

Eddie is quietly helping the drummer get his shit set up as fast as they can, and Steve watches. This should be good. This will be way more entertaining than Tammy Thompson. Because he can't fathom what Eddie Munson might think is good music. God, Steve hopes he tries to sing.

He's positive this will be worth the cover charge, for sure. A trainwreck.

It's not a trainwreck. Eddie Munson falls back, and the black kid takes the mic. Okay, he didn't expect that. He expected Munson to be front and center.

"Who's the singer?"

"Jeff Williams. His sister was in your class," Robin hisses.

Oh, okay. Molly Williams was fun. She wouldn't give him the time of day when he tried to get her to go on a date with him, but fun. He didn't even know she had a little brother.

They start playing a song, and Steve doesn't recognize it.

Jeff shouts, "All aboard!" and laughs as the drummer starts clicking his sticks together, then playing, and it's okay. Fine.

Then, Eddie starts playing the guitar.

Goddammit.

Steve hates to be wrong, and hates that this is really working for him. Eddie Munson looks at ease, happy, and kinda hot. Steve's never seen him look like that at school. Not once. Munson is snarky, snappy. Always quick to bite back. Funny, for sure, but Steve would avoid him, because Munson never shied away from trying to make Steve look stupid at every fucking turn.

But he can play the guitar, apparently.

Robin nudges his shoulder, "They're good, right?"

He nods, not looking away. They're good.

They play another heavy song, but it's Queen. They're doing a metal cover of Bicycle Race, and that amuses Steve, he likes Queen.

After they're done playing, Steve makes excuses, and slips outside into the alley. He's pretty sure Eddie Munson isn't going to stay to watch this other shit.

Eventually, there he is, guitar case in hand. Steve thinks he'd like to ride him like a bicycle, and that's a new thought.

About Eddie. Not about men.

"Oh, hey," Steve says, leaning against the wall of the alley, smoking a cigarette he bummed. Robin will kill him, but he needs an excuse to be out here. Like he wasn't waiting. Even if he totally was.

"Harrington," Eddie says with contempt, "what brings you out here with us freaks?"

"Robin," Steve says, and Eddie gives him a look.

"Buckley's really friends with you? I thought that was a terrible rumor."

Steve pretends that doesn't hurt, and just nods.

"Too bad, I like her," Eddie says, and this was a mistake. What the fuck was he thinking? Eddie Munson will just give him a tongue-lashing, and not in a fun way. He's an idiot for thinking otherwise. Steve isn't this hard up.

"Okay, well, you guys looked good," Steve says, pushing himself off the wall.

Eddie laughs, incredulous, "You thought we looked good?"

"Sounded," Steve corrects.

"You, King Steve, thought we sounded good? I've been to your house parties. You don't listen to metal. Do you even know who Ozzy is?"

Steve doesn't, and shakes his head. And Eddie's been to his house? Since when? Nevermind. Doesn't matter.

"You guys were good compared to all that other shit I had to sit through tonight. You sounded like, you know, actual music. I guess."

Eddie raises an eyebrow, like he can see right through Steve.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Steve suddenly feels like he's in big trouble. Trapped. Backed into a corner.

Eddie smiles and takes a step towards him, and it's predatory.

Steve swallows.

Oh, he's definitely in trouble.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, head on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🎤

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #writing challenge #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #corroded coffin fic #open mic night #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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tiktaalic · 11 days

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tortured poets review. by song

fortnight: fine. sounds like a song. one of the lana drag ones. the actual lyrical content is nothing special. i would not have made this track one. 6/10

tortured poets department: kind of exactly what you would expect from a taylor swift album called tortured poets department. it's silly. it's got references. it makes you go. girl? already less distinct musically. 3/10

my boy only breaks his favorite toys: the consequence of doing lana drag is that you listen to songs and go this would be a lot better if lana got her chords on it. fundamentally not a song that i can enjoy from taylor allison swift. a song i would respect in lana of video games fame catalogue once she strips it down. not like head turningly strange like tpd just plain and simple middle of the road. 4/10

down bad: this one is unlistenable for me. cant explain why. probably the chorus of down bad. i think it's tooooooo silly too silly by far when taylor swift does how do you do fellow teens vocabulary. 2/10

so long london: i can see the place that this takes on my spotify wrapped. lyrics are fine. good even. this + backing + doing something even the littlest bit different from soft monotone talk singing makes it one of the most memorable on this album by miles. probably not near the top of most memorable in her hundreds deep bench though. can't think of anything to dock it for but it's no belter. 8/10.

but daddy i love him: yeah okay. i love when she does a silly one. i think the instrumentals are nice. i'm having his baby. no i'm not! but you should see your face. easily i would listen to an album that was full of songs to this theme / musicality. points docked because i dont think she knows it's as silly as it is. 7/10.

fresh out the slammer: bored. i just looked at the lyrics and they're passable but they're performed in the most boring possible manner. stupidest name imaginable. i actually might bump it a point or two if the name was different. 4/10

florida: makes me go yaaaaaay florence every time i hear it. taylor's part halsey 2014 core. could have been worse! if i was in charge of cutting tracks i would keep this one. 6/10

guilty as sin: started it went oh i'm docking this one for boring. read the first quarter of lyrics and went oh this is fine? got to second half and went oh i don't care for this. can imagine a world where it's a better song with different backing and emphasis. 5/10

whose afraid of little old me: i dont think it's good necessarily but i love every song where shes like im craaaazy im insane. i think for the concept it's going for it could have been put together differently. 6/10

i can fix him: i like the way it sounds. but could use more oomph. it's so nice to hear guitars though. don't care for the subject matter. 5/10

loml: snooze. boring lyrics. boring performance. 4/10

i can do it with a broken heart: BAFFLING. easily the me / karma of the album. the tonal mismatch is the point but . well. it is what it is. i would like this more if it WAS a barbie soundtrack release i think. then it would have an extra layer of silly. i think this might make my wrapped. unfortunately. 5/10.

smallest man who ever lived: who gives a shit about matty healy. 4/10

the alchemy: head in my hands. head in my hands. football song. it's so over. and we are never going to be so back. 3/10

clara bow: i like the intro. i can't see myself ever doing more than half humming this. lyrics are whatever. fine, passable. 6/10

the black dog: yeah it's fine. no complaints. guitar 👍. 6/10

getyouback: why would you EVER tee yourself up perfectly to be compared to a better song. 3/10

albatross: oh i liked this one on first listen. 7/10.

chloe sam sophia marcus: outing song ‼️‼️‼️divorce music‼️‼️‼️. nothing too exciting or groundbreaking musically. 5.5?

how did it end: um. it gets points for being #real but not much else. 5/10.

so high school: i think i would like it if it was even a TOUCH less heterosexual. i would cut 3 lines that would turn it into a 6. i can see this song in someone else's hands dominating the radio and me loving that. in taylor's hands i'm giving it a 5/10.

i hate it here: not interesting. next. 4/10

thank you aimee: out of respect for taylor swift's struggles i will withhold comment and rating. -_-

look in people's windows: lyrics aren't bad but it's another one that's not really. doing anything. 4/10

the prophecy: yeah i'll give this one a 7/10. i would have one (1) greige complaint if this was on folkevermore but that's pretty damn solid.

cassandra: passing it and moving on. that's as much as it deserves. 5/10

peter: lyrics get a thumbs up. another 5.5? i could be talked into a six.

the bolter: yes girl commitment issues. 6/10. actually. 7/10.

robin: jesus god this album is too long. i have listened to too much taylor swift tpd to give this any kind of rating.

the manuscript: 5/10. like if woulda coulda shoulda had no beat

thank you for sharing this journey. with me and also taylor swift

#etxt #t swift

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mitsuyaya · 1 year

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[ good old-fashioned lover boy ] okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro megumi & nanami kento

♡ contains: 300 words. none just fluff, lowercase intended, unedited

♡ summary: how the jjk boys court you the old fashioned way

♡ end note: my sis has been singing this nonstop on the karaoke and I suddenly had an idea. would edit this if i have a free time :)

jjk masterlist

okkotsu yuuta

yuuta learned the guitar for one purpose only and that was so he could serenade you. he was driven to woo you just by creating and singing a song for you. it took a lot of time, a lot of paper and pen wasted, as well as strings broken but he managed to write a song about how special you are to him. by the time he finishes his song the line that goes: “I'll never make you cry, so baby just let me be your guy” is now stuck in your head.

megumi fushiguro

when megumi said he'll show you how determined he is in making you his significant other you didn't think he'll take it so seriously. come tomorrow morning and he's in your kitchen. your mother said she let him in and asked if he could make you and your family breakfast. and when your family is in need of another helping hand, he's quick to extend help and asks if there's anything else they need. he would always ask your mother if they finished grocery shopping so he could be the one to do it instead. it's not a surprise when one day your mom referred to him as her son-in-law.

nanami kento

letters have been long gone since cellphones and the internet became popular. and yet, nanami stuck with using the old-fashioned way of sending love letters to you. at first it was just little notes written in the back of a receipt from the coffee shop you work at. but as you two grow closer, get to know each other much better — now he leaves two to three pages of letters about how his day has been and how he can't stop thinking about you the whole day.

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