#she’s always throwing in drummer references for me (i see you girl) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n

2K notes · View notes

highdramas · 3 years

Text

your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #your song #my writing #not me posting this at 11pm sorry yall

221 notes · View notes

dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Covenant: I’m With the Bassist

Reid Garwin x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,631

Warning: contains physical intimacy and mature language

Summary: Your band is popular on the local music scene and one fan in particular has managed to catch your eye. One night, you take him back to the dressing room after a show and things get heated.

Colored stage lights bore down of the band, illuminating them for the crowd’s sake but the heat had long since taken its toll. Even the crowd appeared damper than when the show first started.

Your cloth bracelets were glued to your skin and chaffed uncomfortably against your wrist with every stroke you played. The choice to wear a black top was a good one because it hid the patches of sweat well even though you felt soaked.

There was no such luck with your face—a trail of constant sweat had been trailing down the side of your face for the past hour and you suspected that the precise eyeliner you walked on stage was smudged. Hopefully, it was more of an artistic smear and not a case of you looking like a racoon, but there was no way to be certain.

Your singer’s voice trailed off as the song faded out and you strummed one last chord on the bass before ending. The crowd writhed in electric frenzy, riding a concert high and expressed their delight in different ways, most directing their energy into cheering but there were a few who opted to throw things on stage. Empty red solo cups and an assortment of men’s and women’s underthings, mainly.

The singer grabbed the mic and walked to the edge of the small bar stage. “Whoo! How’s everyone doing!?” Screams rang out in answer.

Your band was small-time only performing on the local circuit two to three times a week, but the fan base had been growing and there were always loyal faces that the venue being played on a given night.

Blue eyes in the front of the crowd caught your gaze for a second as you looked over the crowd.

Then the singer spoke again, pulling your attention back to the band. “Thanks for coming out, we love you. Honest! See you guys next week!”

The main lights turned on lighting up the inside of the bar with its usual dingy, yellow bulbs. Applause and cheers rang out once more from the fans as the band readied to exit.

Purposefully ignoring the audience, more specifically the front rows, you turned back to talk to the drummer while sliding your bass strap over your head to take the weight of the instrument off of your shoulders. The band threw quick waves to the fans, and the guitarist stopped to pick up a particularly silky pair of men’s boxer briefs with a coy smile, and then you all bustled to get to the dressing room.

Performing on stage for people was an addicting rush, for sure, but you liked having down time in the dressing room to come off of the adrenaline and go about your business privately.

First thing you did was get yourself to a mirror so you could clean up the mess around your eyes. Luckily, that night’s smeared make-up looked tastefully done and not like a clown rendition. Next, you redid your eyes so that they returned to their glory from the start of the show; a nice, sultry bass player look. A dash of lip color followed, but nothing so obvious that the rest of the band would notice that something was afoot.

You took your sweet time in the dressing room and one by one the other members left, until you were the last one in the room. A few minutes passed until you peeked out into the hall. Everyone was used to you taking your sweet time after shows so it wasn’t weird that you were still in the dressing room. Sneaking someone in was though, and you didn’t want to get caught in the act.

He saw you signal him from his position up the hall near the bathrooms and grinned, sauntering slowly towards you until he was within reach, at which point you hauled him into the room and slammed the door shut. The lock engaged with a click and you turned to scowl at him. “Could you have dragged your feet any slower? Someone could’ve seen you!”

“Are you really that embarrassed of me?” he pouted. “You’re gonna give me complex, babe.”

“You know that’s not true. It’s more like… I’m just trying to spare myself the roasting for as long as possible. They’ve never seen me with someone and they’re going to rag on me no matter who it is.”

“Even if it’s a fine specimen such as myself?” He puffed out his chest and pursed his lips in comical exaggeration.

“You’re lucky I like you so much Reid.”

Reid Gawrin, or ‘groupie guy’ as you had initially referred to him as, was a big fan of the band and had been coming to every show for three months straight. It was hard to miss him with that blond hair contrasting with his black beanie and intriguing tattoos that showed when he rolled up his sleeves or wore a loose collared shirt. And those blue eyes… it was easy to yourself in them.

He’d always made sure to stick around after shows so that he could chat you up and at first you figured he was just a groupie looking to score with a band member, hence his moniker ‘groupie guy.’ Not wanting to come off as rude you indulged him in conversation, but always kept your distance.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to try and sleep with the band, and to be honest, the band did end up in bed with some of them. Take your guitarist: she always managed to pick up the hottest women and men. It worked great for her but you wanted something more and weren’t going to take a chance on the guy, even if he was cute, if he was just looking for a hook-up.

And, who knows, maybe it had started out as purely physical attraction on his part, but the two of you had grown emotionally attached after a while too. It was the emotional side that had led to the current situation. Not officially dating, but no longer musician and groupie either. And that lack of a label wouldn’t stop you from finally getting intimate that night.

Reid picked you up with ease and you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your fleshly thighs as he pressed you between the hard brick wall and his body.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses onto the hollow of your neck. Your head titled back and hit the wall with a thud as he trailed upward with his nose so that he could kiss the soft underside of your chin.

“Yeah?” you panted with excitement. You knew what was coming next.

He nodded and finally kissed you on the lips, his tongue quickly gliding inside of your mouth with strong, measured licks. “Bassists are always hot.” Your eyelids drifted shut and you lost yourself to his ministrations, a warm cloud of pressure weighed down your muscles.

As soon as you moaned, Reid wasted no time in grinding his pelvis against yours, the friction from his belt buckle rubbing you just the right way to fire up a reaction in your core. You pulled back, panting and he chuckled at you trying to catch your breath. “You like that?”

He was obviously fishing for an answer but you weren’t so gone that you’d give into him just yet. You merely nodded your head and bit your lip at a particularly delicious thrust.

“Tell me you like it,” he pressed.

Still, you refused him and he took it as a challenge to get you to use words. He relaxed his hold your thighs so that you slid down the wall and ended up resting high on the leg he inserted in between yours. Now you were not only stimulated by his grinding, but also rode his leg whenever your hips, the added pressure making it harder to not give in.

Your will hung by a thread, ready to give at any moment. Then he upped the ante by reaching down the waistline of your bottoms into your underwear, his fingers skipping past teasing to directly touching you in your most sensitive place.

“Tell me. Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” you whined, your mind filled with pleasure.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re a good girl.”

His wandering nail-polish covered fingers reached down lower to cup your slit more fully and Reid purred when he felt a gush of wetness flow from you. “You liked that, huh? You like being my good girl.”

A nod. You weren’t used to this kind of dirty talk. Most guys are not good at it but Reid was. He didn’t give a shit what he said as long as it produced results and produced results it did.

“So wet,” he grinned as he slid a finger into you experimentally. “See, went right in you, just like that.”

A single black nail tipped finger soon turned into two and he was eager to caress your silky inner walls, scissoring his fingers into a v that stretched you nicely. “Shit, Y/N. Look how tight you are, you don’t wanna let my fingers go.”

You gasped, goosebumps raising on your arms. It was a good thing you were against the brick wall because you didn’t have the strength to support your head on your own. As it was, your head was still lulled to the side.

It took Reid capturing your chin in one hand to get you to straighten out. The other hand was removed from your pants and used to circle one of your wrists so that you were unable to turn away. He pressed his lips gently against yours, a stark contrast from the lewd things he had done a second ago.

He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes wild with adoration and desire. “Does my good girl want more?”

“Please,” you begged.

“Do you need it?”

“Please!”

With a parting kiss, he dropped down to his knees and pulled down your pants and underwear with a single tug. Your shaking hands grasped his hair as he placed his mouth over you, the blonde strands wrapped around your fingers. His breath was warm and, unlike when he was kissing your mouth, his tongue was relentless against the bundle of nerves between your legs. Circling, laving, sucking. It all blurred together and you realized that you were in trouble. If it was this good with just tongue, how would it be when he actually put his cock in you?

You moaned just thinking about it. Your legs squeezed together in reaction to his excellent skills but he didn’t seem to mind being stuck down there. Time lost meaning; it was felt like it was passing too slowly and too quickly simultaneously.

Eventually, his mouth left you with a wet pop and he stood at his full height. Making direct eye contact, he popped the top button on his jeans open and kicked them off, his shirt and beanie following suit. He stepped forward and hooked one of your legs around his waist to make more space.

You settled your hands flat against his chest and that damn tattoo that’s been teasing you for the past couple of months is now completely exposed for your gaze. It vaguely registers that the boy is ripped. Like, six pack ripped, but it’s the tattoo that you couldn’t stop looking at. It sloped at the base of his neck and extended past his collar bone; it was mesmerizing.

“You like that one, don’t you?” he cooed, noticing your heated stare.

Blue eyes held yours as he rolled on a condom. He entered you in one sharp thrust, your core feeling stretched and full. A sound that you didn’t know you were capable of making poured out from your throat and you immediately raised hid your face.

Logically, you knew pleasure was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn’t help feeling like you needed to reign yourself in.

Reid pried your hands away from your face and kissed you while he continued to drive in and out.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he cooed. “I like your noises.”

Almost like his voice had control over your body, another whine left you. “Reid. I-I nee- I need…”

“What? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“More,” you cried out. “I need more.”

He picked you up entirely, both legs circling his waist and walked you over to the couch. Honestly, all of the furniture in the room was probably suspect given that all the bands used it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on it during that moment.

Your back hit the couch cushions and then Reid was back to swiveling his hips, his cock hitting just right. This new angle with you on your back, your legs hanging over his broad shoulders, had your cries rising in pitch and frequency.

The euphoria was suddenly interrupted with a sharp knock. Panic ensued you snapped to look at the door. Thankfully, it was still locked which meant that you wouldn’t get caught in a comprising position, but there was still the matter getting rid of whoever it was.

“Yo, Y/N. You still in there?”

You were about to answer when Reid cupped your right breast and bucked into you hard. Shocked, you looked up in disbelief, your mouth wide open with no sound coming out. He merely winked and did it again.

The second time a whine escaped you and another knock rang out. “Y/N, you good?”

Reid leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in your ear. “Better answer them, Y/N.”

You swallowed. Risk wasn’t something you considered yourself to be into, but was a lie to say you didn’t feel yourself getting wetter at the thought.

Hoping and praying that you would pull it off, you tried to talk but nothing came out but a croak. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “H-hey. I’m still here.”

“You good? Why’s the door locked?”

In an attempt to keep your voice steady, you closed your eyes and clung on tight to Reid’s shoulders. “Just changing. Locked it to be s-safe.”

That was the right thing to say cause the voice at the door immediately backed off with an apology and left the two of you alone.

“Good save,” he acknowledged. He slowed his hips slightly and reached down to circle your clit with his thumb. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Oh my—Reid.”

The ceiling came in and out of focus as Reid coaxed you to the edge at last. “Come on, Y/N. Say my name.” One well pressured flick to the small bundle of nerves did the trick and sent you flying, bucking like a high wire cable flailing wildly in the wind and chanting his name in a desperate prayer.

Your core clamping down on him sent him tumbling right after you with a drawn-out groan as he held himself deep inside you.

He dropped next to you on the couch, out of breath. “Shit.” He took a moment to compose himself and repeated his words. “Shit.”

You rolled your head to pin him with a teasing stare. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Oh, there was definitely a pussy involved.”

A weak slap landed on his chest. “Don’t use that word, you sound ridiculous.” Your favorite tattoo was within petting range and you kept your hand there, stroking it gently. The two of you settled into quiet bliss, content to cuddle into one another.

“That was a good one,” Reid finally remarked, stroking your arm. Exhausted, all you can do is nod against his toned chest. He hummed and you waited patiently for him gather his thoughts. “Think we can get another round in?”

_______________

Forgive me, for I have sinned 😂. Is it even good? I’m not sure but thanks to those who read it. Partly inspired by a conversation with @rpwithjayn but I made Reid the groupie instead of the rocker. Hopefully I did him justice for all of the Reid fans out there.

#the covenant #reid garwin #reid garwin x reader #rated m for mature #14 days of valentines

59 notes · View notes

twokinkybeans · 3 years

Text

The Arachnoids: Rock Band AU [Starker] - CHAPTER 1: SOUNDCHECK SETBACK

READ “CHAPTER 1: SOUNDCHECK SETBACK” ON AO3

Other chapters: Prologue (To be continued)

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth, @staticwhispersinthedark

Find the fic’s masterpost here!

Chapter 1: Soundcheck Setback

Peter swears he can feel the blood drain from his face when he sees the number of security guards surrounding the stage terrain. Of course, they’re necessary to keep out anyone who tries to catch a glimpse without a valid ticket. It’s highly intimidating, though, that they’re gonna have to walk up to them and ask for entrance. He clamps his backstage pass a little tighter and swallows as he huddles a little deeper into his warm winter coat.

MJ notices and she cracks a smile at him. Her curls playfully dangle from underneath her red Christmas-themed winter hat. She looks adorable, honestly, and if it weren’t for the fact that Peter was gay as fuck, he’d probably have fallen for her at some point. “Impressive, uh?” MJ teases, referring to the guards. Peter snorts and nods at her. MJ might seem cool and collected, but he knows she’s an expert at hiding her true feelings. “Who’s gonna walk up to them?” “It can’t be that hard, can it?” Ned squeaks, looking equally terrified with the mere thought of talking to the guards. MJ bumps his shoulder playfully. “Should I do the talking, boys?” Peter and Ned nod in unison, grateful for her offer, and follow after their lead singer timidly. The guard they’re headed towards spots them and smiles.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” The woman’s voice is warm and kind, and Peter’s nerves settle a little. Security guards are just normal people too, Pete. “We’re opening for The Avengers today, uhm, we got out passes right here?” MJ says politely and raises her own backstage pass. The guard checks it and nods. “Ah, The Arachnoids. Of course! Wait, let me call for Harley. He’s one of the roadies for The Avengers, sweet kid. He will inform you about everything you need to know.”

The woman asks for said roadie, Harley, using her radio and not soon after a young blonde appears. He gives them all a spontaneous hug and waves at them to follow him. “Come, let’s get you settled!”

Not much later, the three of them are waiting in front of the stage. It’s 4.20 PM, and the soundcheck was supposed to start at 3.45. Everyone, everyone, is here. Except for Tony Stark. Peter doesn’t know why it makes him feel somewhat disappointed. Steve Rogers- the drummer, and Natasha Romanoff- the bassist, don’t seem to be too surprised by the absence of their bandmate. “Do you think he’s always this late?” Ned whispers quietly. Peter shrugs. “I dunno. But he better gets here soon or we don’t have time to do our soundcheck anymore,” he murmurs. He knows how it works. The headliner gets to do a soundcheck first to make sure everything works as it’s supposed to. The opening band gets the remaining time. The Arachnoids haven’t opened much, but it wouldn’t be the first time they missed out on some vital installations on Ned’s pad controller.

“Harley?” Natasha speaks into her mic. “Let’s get started without him. It’s no use waiting.” Harley sighs and throws his hands up into the air. “Fine. God- Why must he always…” Harley’s voice fades into an agitated mumble when he signals for the tech crew to get started. His previously bright personality is nowhere to be seen.

Steve is up first and right when his foot taps into the kick pedal of his drum kit, Tony saunters onto the stage with a smug grin on his face. He walks up to Steve and pats the man’s blond hair. Peter can see the forced smile on the drummer’s face. “Getting started without me, uh?” “Tony, grab your mic. We don’t have time for this,” Natasha spits out. “We’re kicking off with The Dark World.” “Gloomy.” “Shut up, Tony.” “Thought you wanted me to sing?” The man laughs at his own joke, the sound reverberating around the otherwise quiet area.

Strange enough, when Tony does in fact take his microphone… Everything seems to change. His voice is warm and rough around the edges, ringing in Peter’s ears like a sweet melody demanding his full attention. The rockstar’s whole demeanor changes. He no longer carries himself like he owns the stage. No. He melts into it. Into the scenery. Like singing is all he’s ever done. All he’s ever wanted to do.

Peter frowns and clamps his jaws together. Is… Is this the man he adores so much? A part of him wants to believe the man is simply having a bad day, but it’s clear that everyone is used to the man acting like such a jerk. And he’s not the only one who caught on. “What an asshole…” MJ whispers. Peter doesn’t know what to answer to that, so he just nods. She’s probably right. She always is. This isn’t just Tony Stark being in a bad mood.

I've got this under control. Satisfaction is not in my nature. You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. We’re not gods. We are born. We live. We-

Peter bites down his lower lip. It doesn’t sit right with him, the way Tony Stark treats everyone around him. This is not a one-time thing, he’s sure of that now. He feels bad for the people that work closely with him. Steve, Natasha, Harley, the rest of the crew… It must be hard to deal with the man. Peter sighs. He’s still excited to play, heck, he never even dared to dream of playing for such a large crowd, on New Year’s Eve to be precise. It’s all of his teenage dreams come true. “-alrighty, so that sucked.” Tony stops himself and shakes his head. Instantly, the near-enchanting vibe vanishes. “Can you fix that or should I come up there myself?”

The young girl seated in the control booth doesn’t know what to say. She parts her lips and then shuts her mouth again. Her big, brown eyes innocently worried about the judgment of the legend. “Sir, I-” “I don’t want to hear it. Vocals were completely buried. Right?” Tony boasts and he looks at Natasha. The bassist only glares back. Tony scoffs. “Of course. The Red Queen is pissed off once more.” “Tony, cut it. This show’s important. After this, you can do whatever you want.” Steve talks over him. “Let’s get this soundcheck done and over with.” “Can we have a cheeseburger after? Harley? Do we have cheeseburgers?” “Fuck you,” is all the roadie responds and he shakes his head. Harley walks over to the control booth and whispers into the girl’s ear. A smile reappears on her face and changes the settings.

Yet, Tony Stark’s behavior has soured the mood. Peter hopes it won’t get worse. It won’t… Right?

Next Chapter >> Chapter 2: Roadie Rush

20 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Hard Sell IV: Substitutes

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | when his mother’s plan fails-- he can’t help notice Hvitserk getting a little too close.

❛ warnings | arguments, mention of slavery, impotency talk, mention of sex ‘toys’, lagertha x astrid reference, two way jealousy, mention of freydis x ivar (failed sex).

❛ sy’s notes | enjoy that mental picture okay? here you go, a sy 4B staple: jealousy, mention of sex, stupid boys with stupid issues.

He’s not sure of this.

Mother takes him to find a slave. Not just any slave-- she said-- a love slave. Someone that would make him feel good the nights where Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Bjorn were all having sex or otherwise occupied. Good enough, that’s fine, it’s okay. But…

“Isn’t this counterintuitive?” he asks, settled by her feet as she paced the dusty ground on her dainty, queenly feet.

“Do as I tell you and it will work,” he glances up, catching the sight of his woman-- his… you, walking inline with the men of your family. Not drunk, no, they’re rowdy all on their sober selves. They heave timber for trade near to where the slaves were traded. He catches your gaze as you run your hands together, drawing the wool scarf from your elbows up to cover your head.

God-- fuck. He wishes you wouldn’t do that. He can’t tear his eyes away. He knows why you’re dressed up. To draw in some lovely, drunk, stupid bastards to sell chunks of wood to. Your fingers flicker, tickling earrings that he knows his mother gave you. They’re gold. Your hand suddenly drops to pick up skirts, headed his way.

And he’s panicking. His heart strums out his chest, beating harder than any drummer could hit the skin of a drum, bounding out of his chest. “Ivar, which one do you want?”

You stop then.

Maybe you heard his mother speak. Your eyes have left him then, connecting with his mother’s hand, which held a lovely blonde lock of hair. And oh-- oh no, no, no. He wants to shout. When your eyes land back upon him, it’s with this pain. This soul wrenching, gut churning pain. He connects with your eyes again-- and it’s a slight shake that begs you not to listen to his mother.

But it’s impossible. Because you are.

You pull your dragging train and turn around. His heart drops into his stomach. He can’t bear it. Mother calls out to him again. “Ivar.”

“The blonde is fine, mother.”

The girl’s name is Freydis.

She is a little… attached, he realized. More than he needed her to be. She likes the attention. When he asks her to plate dinner and supply the ale, Ubbe chimes in. “Leave the girl alone,” Ubbe chews on his bone, flicking it onto his plate. Ivar has been abusing her all day, asking for her attention, because it’s fun and easy.

And he almost forgets that you’re there, sipping a soup that has gone cold. Your eye had followed him all evening like a dog after its bone. He likes that even. To be the one that was being watched. Even Bjorn had noticed-- and the man didn’t often notice what didn’t benefit him.

“She doesn’t mind,” Ivar cackles. “Do you, Freydis?”

It all came to a head when Ivar reached out, smoothed his palm over the curve of her well endowed ass, and squeezed. She doesn’t flinch, nor flick him off, but smiles as she pours him the ale. Her head is level, arrogant, pleased.

“No, Prince Ivar.”

The laughter dies on his tongue when you throw out your chair. It scratches along the planks, rivaled by the stomping steps that follow, beelining toward the door of the Great Hall even as Aslaug calls out your name.

“Look what you’ve done,” chimes Sigurd, his brother. Ivar, perhaps trying to convince himself, turns his head over one way and back. He draws a long sigh, trying to convince himself of what he’s about to say.

“She’s too sensitive.”

Hvitserk drops his bone and glances to Ubbe for guidance. Staring like a puppy after a ball, he’s careful to wait until after Ubbe pushes out his chair first. After all, he knows the sort of man Ivar is. He can’t be the first one out.

Ivar watches the whole time.

It isn’t like you don’t want Ivar to find happiness.

It’s the exact opposite.

He deserves to be happy, healthy, and well-kept. If that slave-- the thrall Freydis, could give it to him, all the better. You’re not sure what has changed. Only that… the disrespect bothers you. That’s it. You chuck a rock and watch it bounce off the waters, plip, plip, plip.

He dared confess that to you-- naked. On bath day no less! That was your day to chase away worries and relax and he had complicated that with thought of his body and his love. Then, like a flip of the next smooth rock in your hand, he moved on. Like you were exchangeable. Just like that.

“What is it with him?” you ask to the figure who has crept beside you. Hvitserk, you don’t need to ask, you know it’s him. He’s the type of jolly hopper that would come up with that goofy ass smile on his face.

“He’s Ivar,” he rumbles.

You didn’t need that. “I know who he is. I just don’t know why.”

Your hands connect with your upper arms and he hops a little closer while making sense of it. His hands, searching up your arms, eventually stop just below your shoulders. You flick the rock in your hand out to the sea.

“He’s young.” He answers, like he’s the fucking star pupil of how to be a man, and you exhale out of your scrunched up nose. “He doesn’t know how to get a woman .”

“Then he shouldn’t have-- he fucked with me, Hvitserk. He told me that he loved me. He had me naked! Now he’s over there groping that--”

“Maybe he does love you.”

“It’s a lie,” you bark out, because you’re angry, and because nothing makes sense when it has to do with Ivar. Not anymore, anyway. You used to think you could ask him to fetch you the moon and his dumbass would seek it out. Maybe that was his love, though. And maybe-- you had abused by ignoring his many signs.

“You could always come with me.”

To the Mediterranean. Except you promised Ivar you wouldn’t. You draw your scarf over your head. Hvitserk, knowing that you needed that attention and touch, drew it back down. His large hand settled over your slight shoulders. “Warm waters and wet--”

“Do not,” you warn him, putting up your finger. “I’m not one of your men.”

“C’mon,” he turns you around. You realize-- just then. He’s big, boding, handsome. Well, in the sense that his boyish face only told curious little secrets of his plans, buried in his swirling eyes. His thumb came up to caress your cheek of tears you hadn’t realized you spilled. “You can meet our uncle.”

Rollo the Traitor.

Exciting.

Hvitserk laughs. “You can at least make Ivar jealous.”

Did you even want that? Your turn, connecting your fist with Hvitserk’s shoulder. “You’re not my taste, Hvitserk.”

He cocks a smile. “I’m everyone’s taste, sweet thing.”

You couldn’t pretend that-- that didn’t make you flutter. Just a little.

The next time he sees you, it’s with Hvitserk.

Hvitserk has this thing he does. A thing that gets every woman to coo or some shit. He picks a shitty looking flower, presents it to the girl, and boom. Instant sex. In this case, however, you punch him in the shoulder.

“You think a puny little flower is going to do it? Do I look easy to you, Hvitserk? You must think I look easy.”

“I don’t see any other men picking you flowers.”

...there was a point there. One that Hvitserk has enough weight in that you look down, and he tips your chin back up, laughing almost. It was a joke! It was a joke!

It did not feel like a joke.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, dragging himself over the ground, getting closer. Thwacking his brother’s leg, he gets his attention. Just to save you from Hvitserk. Not at all because he was jealous or worried or anything. You probably were tired of puny flowers tucked behind your ear.

“Go away,” he rumbles.

Hvitserk does. But only after you nod. Which is annoying enough, because this attraction Hvitserk and you shared, it’s not natural. He knows its not. It’s almost… as if…

“Take that stupid flower out of your hair,” Ivar tells you, dragging his feet around to sit up in the grassy blades. He wipes his hands over his brown trousers before folding them over his chest.

“Oh stupid?” you chuff out a laugh. “Hvitserk got it just for me.”

You emphasize ‘just for me’ in a way that makes his skin crawl. It’s some sort of revenge for the thrall-- Freydis-- who he slept in bed with every night. They kissed on occasion, touched one another, but he never could finish… you weighed on his mind, on his body that failed him that night. Hvitserk was different. He was… like his brothers. He didn’t give a ratsass who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted.

“I’m sure he did.” He glares. “And the rest of the women of Kattegat too.”

“You can’t let me have this, can you?” You sit on the grass beside him, still not plucking the flower from your hair. The sight is aggravating. That’s why he leans over, plucks it out, and crumbles it between his fingers like trash.

“Why are you here?” you ask, shoving him away. As if he’s surprised, Ivar balances himself and looks at you like he’s something wounded. He shouldn’t be. It’s boiling over the rim now, spilling over you and him, covering you both in rage.

You can’t share his feelings when you know that Ivar has nothing to worry about. In his mind, there was a whole boatload of reasons why he should be concerned. They began with his brother. Ended with… whoever else was sailing off to the Mediterranean. Like Bjorn. When he looked at you-- that’s the one he truly dreaded. Bjorn had no charm to women but sex. Sex made women do stupid… men.

“To stop you from doing something stupid.” Doing-- meaning Hvitserk. There he is, injecting himself in something that had nothing to do with him, absolutely nothing. “He doesn’t care about you.”

“Sex has nothing to do with caring,” you tell Ivar. His heart stops there, strumming out of his chest, because you dared to say it.

“You’ve had sex with him?” he presses.

“Ivar.”

No, you hadn’t. He exhales, his eyes softening from their wild state, and he realizes what Hvitserk must be doing. He must be trying to take you with him to the Mediterranean. Aggravating sack of shit.

“You have that slave so stop managing my body as if it’s yours.”

“She’s not-- mother thought she would make you jealous.”

“Your mother?”

He looks down, his eyes stuck on his pants, even as you climb over him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed, his hands hovering in their place, unsure where to land. Your hands turn his cheek over, caressing his sideburns. He glances around, sure that someone is watching, and supports your weight with his hands.

“She thought you would… think,” he stutters. “We’ve been together.”

“And have you?”

“I can’t.”

“Now that’s a lie.” You laugh-- because the other day, on the back of his affection, you felt him. Ivar falls back on the pier, his hand over his forehead. And oh, he’s serious. You know when he begins to avoid you, avoid the topic.

“It’s not an issue with… It is keeping it.”

You’re not sure how to help that. You only know how to comfort him by laying at his side. Until a thought itches at the back of your mind. “You know,” he peers through the space of his meaty fingers. “There are other ways to--”

“Gods,” he barks your name. “That is not a substitute to pleasing a woman.”

“I hear Lagertha has Astrid use a horn.”

“A horn?” he asks bewildered, sitting up on his forearms now. You’ve rolled off to the side, using your fingers for emphasis. “You know, to--”

“What is the point in that? Could she not just have used--”

“Ragnar? I heard Astrid loved him. Perhaps Lagertha didn’t want to share.”

“Enough, enough. I meant her tongue.” He regrets ever having mentioned it. His fingers shift among his face, laughing deep enough in his discomfort that his cheeks gained colour. He doesn’t know what to say. But a part of him is curious when you climb over him again-- and it feels right. Your hand buries in his hair, dragging him close. “But did it work?”

“Yes!”

His fingers flick-- almost certainly curious. Based on the warmth bubbling in his belly-- it’s worth a shot. Hvitserk be damned, he wouldn’t ruin this for him. “Do you think… it would work?”

“Are you asking me? Or the girl?”

He pauses-- was that jealousy there? You already know the answer and yet, you push him on to say it. Just to hear it from his lips. “Just you.”

“Then I’d say… yes.” He wonders what that yes is to; sex or love. He has a mind to think it’s both; t's good enough for him.

@beyond-the-ashes @supernaturalvikingwhore @mblaqgi @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer @therealcalicali @rekdreams-fandom @moondustmemories @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery @strangunddurm @shookforyoojung @peachesnpisces @tierneygonzalez @hexqueensupreme @nohemi2500 @queenmissfit @alicedopey @dmv49 @sallylebecks @terrainhead @mybarnesmyhero @youurkryptonite @lif3snotouttogetyou @vikingsmania @looneytunes20033 @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler @chinduda @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods @ilvebeenabad @queenbeeta @wonderlandofsu@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever

#ivar x reader #ivar/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader

103 notes · View notes

hinaaspanda · 4 years

Text

Vocalized Feelings

Paring: Garage band leader! Donghyuck x Retired choir member! reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word count: 8012

happy bday @aquinoa !!!

You didn’t need a calendar to figure out that today was a Saturday, nor did you need a clock to tell you that the time was early noon. All you needed was the noise of drumsticks bashing onto its respective kit, the most definitely unneeded feedback of guitar amps, and a terrible late-morning attitude. And that’s the exact reason why you loudly let out a stifled grumble as you flipped off the covers that once encased your legs, and immediately stomped down to your garage.

Entering the cold, barren, unfinished walls of your garage, you scan onto the exact sight you expected to see. 6 figures scattered all over the place. Three plopped onto the couch, Mark and Jeno tuning their various guitars and basses, as your little brother, Jisung, watches them with full intent swelling from his eyes. You glance to the left, meeting the eyes of an overly excited Chenle, waving both his hands as he screams your name and an apologetic Jaemin, clutching onto his drum symbol, indicating that he’s genuinely sorry for all the volume. You didn’t however, know if the drummer was referring to the band as a whole, or the pianist beside him.

Your eyes scan further as you finally link them with the vocalist of this garage band, Donghyuck, an irked expression painting across his face. You watch his eyes roll to the top of his head, utter disgust oozing out of him the second you trot down the few sets of steps, heading over to sit with your brother and his bandmates. Although, you never saw his purely bothered face, since you’ve learned to just ignore him.

The fact that he hated you was always head-scratcher for both you and the rest of his band. His little mutter of anger towards you, the grumbles of annoyance whenever you walk into a room, it never made sense to you. It’s not like he was jealous of you, he couldn’t have been. Sure you were part of the city’s greatest youth choir, a choir that, to your dismay, was terminated just last year--but it shouldn’t affect him, he’s the face of his own band after all.

Or maybe that’s why he always looked at you with the cold eyes of someone who wanted to slit your throat. The fact that he had a team of his own, a backbone to lean onto, complete with their own published singles and high chances at stardom. Maybe he wanted to taunt you with it, laugh in your face with the members of his band. Pin you down, the words “look at me now” spat onto your embarrassing figure. Maybe he wanted to prove his worth, or he’s already concluded that you weren’t worthy enough for him.

While your mind wandered off into overthinking land, a certain, turmoil filled body, sauntered over to the very couch you sat on, shadowing you from the lonely light bulb that shined all its might around the inner walls of your crowded garage.

“Well, well, well, the infamous Park Y/N finally awoke from her terribly long slumber.” Donghyuck held a hand to his hip, judging you for the sleep clothes you didn’t bother to change out of. “Now tell me, why did the gremlin run out of her little cave to come here? We’ve got work to do here, you know” The passive-aggressive vocalist crosses his arms, earning miffed groans from the boys and a stellar eye roll from you.

“Piss off, Hyuck, Y/N’s my sister, stop insulting her like that or you guys won’t have anywhere to practice,” Jisung spoke up, a section of your heartwarming just a tiny bit at your little brother’s defensive words. As you shot a gracious smile at your only family in the room, a stifled chuckle escaped from your left.

“And we wouldn't wanna switch practice places, now would we?” Mark challenged, Donghyuck immediately growing mute as his elder shot him a knowing, sly smirk. You overlooked it, however, as you shot up, faces just inches away from his.

“You’re right, Donghyuck, you do have work to do!” you jabbed at his chest with a single finger “You need to learn how to stop being such a nuisance to everyone you meet!”

Taking a step back, Donghyuck sent you a sinister grin. “I’m sorry sweetie, but ‘Donghyuck’ is only reserved for close family and friends, so it’s ‘Haechan’ to you.”

“I’d rather die than ever be close with you”

“Go for it, baby. No one would miss you”

“Neither of you ever know when to quit it, huh” The spare door right from the garage bounced open, and a furious, brunette boy emerged from the once empty door frame. “Both of you, seriously, shut up sometime? I got good news for us and I don’t want this embarrassing conversation ruining it”

“Renjun!” Chenle beams with joy as the exhausted figure hustles forward, a laptop in hand, before squeezing into the couch, in between you and your brother. You and Donghyuck mutter under your breaths as you retire to your former spots within the garage floor while Renjun, sensing your discrete actions, grumbles in defeat as he whips open his laptop.

“I got in contact with this studio, SM, they said they like your guy’s stuff” Renjun continued, not sparing anyone glances as they jolted in a positive surprise. “You guys might even get a single”

As the members with instruments encased in their hands jump in pure joy, Renjun quickly turns his attention to you. “...But you guys need a girl to sing with you, that's their one condition”

As if on cue, everyone’s (minus Donghyuck) heads whips to your overtly shaken figure, hands tucking in between your legs, and sweat beginning to pool from the top of your forehead, pupils shivering in fear, you barely even dared to continue Renjun’s sentence.

“...You’re not really saying that--”

“Please sing with Hyuck, Y/N!” Chenle, definitely the most spontaneous one in the group, rushed to kneel in front of you, has clasped together in a praying formation. “Your voice is amazing!”

Your heart couldn’t help but feel a little light once the orange-haired boy uttered those words, the same way Donghyuck couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief. And your heart couldn’t help shatter once you uttered your following reply.

“No”

…

Despite evading the room the minute every band member chased you around with pleading eyes, you couldn’t help but be filled to the brim with guilt, strings of your disgrace spilling out and binding you to the pavement as you sulking continue your way towards the bank’s clear glass doors. It was Saturday, and by definition, errand day. A day you truly dreaded for its repetitive manor, complexity, and most definitely the mundaneness of it all. Lifelessly stopping at the counter of the bank, just to visit the supermarket moments after. It was a necessity, of course. But there was never an errand day that you didn’t greet with a wholehearted scowl every morning.

Errand day, something you knew would happen, much to your dismay. And everything would’ve stayed the same, if it weren’t for the overly confident, egoistic, and prideful figure with the voice of an angel, panting in exhaustion as he tugs harshly onto your jacket sleeve. And if you were being completely honest, a sparkle of joy pooped through you after seeing this main vocalist dishevelled.

“Park--wait up--fuck” Donghyuck spat through, hands gripping his thighs in a failed attempt to straighten his figure. Rouch exhales escaping his lungs when he finally succeeded in fixing his posture. Your eyebrows knit together as he neglected to drop your wrist out of his grasp. If any stranger were to mistakenly glance at the two of you right that second, it would look like the climax of those Korean romance dramas your mother loved so much. You didn’t give him a slim chance to continue his probably useless tangent as you tilt your head to the side in annoyance.

“If you came all the way here just to throw another insult at me, then you can save it!” You snap. Swatting your hand away from his surprisingly strong clutch. A clutch even he seemed to forget he held so tightly. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Park, just listen to me”

“I’m busy, Donghyuck”

The now angry idol-wannabe huffed a loud sigh, as he forced a hand between you and the glass doors, loudly calling out to your freedom. The freedom you couldn’t grasp at, not with the peculiarly toned forearm clasped onto the door handle, rendering you unable to move. You swear, you saw this exact scene plastered onto the t.v. just last week.

“Sing with me, Y/N”

Was he kidding?

The vocalist stared at you with full intent and the most earnestness you’ve ever seen in someone, as he fully rejected the staring strangers from inside the bank, the bank you wanted nothing more than to be inside right now. “For the single, sing with me”

He sounded so forced, yet so nonchalant, it almost sounded attractive, if it weren’t for the literal flare burning through his pupils. You simply crossed your arms, the bank audience swiftly minding their own business, not wanting to witness what they thought was a couple seconds before a break-up.

“They got you on this, too, huh? How much did they pay you to say that?” Donghyuck quickly retorted, shooting you a stare that only said “I’m serious, Y/N” straight to your face.

“Well, whatever” you continued, eyes stuck to the gravel before you. “Why chose me, anyway?”

“Um” eyes traveling to the sky, praying they wouldn't come in contact with yours. “Well..”

All 7 boys, scattered across the garage floor, winced as you slammed the secluded door shut, not baring to watch you dash away in utter fear. Every band member let out their share of aggravated sighs and grumbles, a worried Chenle fast pacing around the pattern carpet that laid below them. All while Renjun, and an equally worried Jisung massage their temples in an effort to calm down their nerves.

“I’M SORRY GUYS I WAS THE REASON SHE LEFT I SCARED HER OFF AND I--” a panicked pianist was shaken in the hands of the band’s drummer as he set him down, placing Chenle on the couch, snuggled in between the their guitarist and bassist.

“You didn’t scare her off, Chenle, she’s just a wuss” Donghyuck tapped his foot in a comical effort to look as equally annoyed as the other members. Yet deep down, both he, and the rest of the boys behind him, knew he hated watching her leave for another, unsuspecting reason.

“You can drop the act, Hyuck, she's gone.” Renjun clicked away at his laptop keys. “Stop pretending you hate her already, you suck at acting”. A giggling Jisung loosens up on the couch, legs crossed in a comfortable t-formation as he turns to Donghyuck.

“Yeah, Hyuck, just tell her you like her, already. My sister could really use a boyfriend” Jisung was more than lucky that Donghyuck dropped that heavy mic cord to the ground just moments prior, or else he would’ve gotten a concussion right that instant.

“Shut it, Jisung” He snapped, concealing the true fact that he was nothing but ecstatic to hear the news.

Donghyuck didn’t know what led him to practically spit on your face the minute he first met you, despite his automatic admiration for your voice, a voice that felt like honey to his ears. He never knew why he acted so cocky, so immature around your presence. Was it because you were part of the city’s most esteemed youth choir of its decade? Was it your bubbling, harmless personality that he always felt the need to brutally tarnish. He could never tell. But when your soft voice was replaced with harsh insults made to rebuttal his, the vocalist’s heart couldn’t help but snap in half.

“OH, I KNOW! Chenle jumped up from his sulking position on the couch, gaining the attention of the two guitarists beside, along with a inner-monologuing Donghyuck. “Let’s get Hyuck to ask her!”

Heads whipped towards the orange-haired boy’s idea as he continued his radical idea. “Think about it, Hyuck was the only one who didn’t ask her yet, and if she knows that the whole group wants her in then she might say yes!” Various members of this esteemed ‘neighborhood garage band’ began to nod their heads in agreement. Everyone except Donghyuck, of course.

“And…” Jeno wiggled his eyebrows, cocking them at the now flustered face of the band. “Hyuck can spend some more time with Y/N”

Donghyuck already knew that this was their ulterior motive all along, but hearing it out loud just threw pity at his heart. But his own friends didn’t even give him a chance to argue, as he felt the palms of Mark and Renjun force him out of the same door you escaped from. Yet he couldn’t feel his feet change directions, because deep down inside, Jeno was right. He did wanna spend more time with you. God he was such an idiot.

Of course, Donghyuck couldn’t tell her all that. Sure, he was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew that much. That was why his reply to your question was, nothing close to stellar.

“Your voice is...ok, alright? And you’re like the only girl we know around here so… just take it ok? And take the compliment, too, it's the only time you'll ever get one of those” his words wandered off as you let out a sigh, the corner of your eye telling you that, judging by the whole new set of customers lined up at the bank counter, you’re kdrama-esk stay in front of the glass doors lasted longers than you had desired. Looking up, locking your eyes with his, you sigh once more.

“Fine, just so you can shut up.”

...

You swear, you were just one tier behind a professional singer, but all this singing equipment and technology trapped in a room equally confusing, all of it made you nothing but a nervous wreck. It didn’t even matter that you’ve already stayed in that room for 4 hours straight, everything still sent strong shivers up your spine.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, looked unsurprisingly calm, of course. He's gone through this exact same process countless times before. Singing your heart out, just to let it get tweaked, tuned, shuffled in a different state, never enjoyed a voice in it’s originality. You never really understood it, hence why loitered in the corner of the glass room, shaking like a wet mammal emerging from the cold water.

You were just baffled that Donghyuck hasn’t said anything to you about it, anything at all, actually. The 8 of you drove to the rented recording room with a pair of cars earlier that morning, the heavy instruments hauling together in one vehicle, while your 7 figures squeezed into another. You already knit your eyebrows at the mere fact that Donghyuck took his cramped seat right next to yours, no one taking a grain of notice. Who would know just how weird it would get the minute your shoe’s clicked against the driveway pavement.

4 Hours in, with Jisung sound asleep on your lap, other members sprawled across the couch provided, and an unusually calm Donghyuck uttered out his last lines in that milky voice of his. You’ve already taken your turn, only remembering how easily distracted you got by Donghyuck and the admiration glittering in his eyes. Eyes that strongly contradicted the tone of his voice just moments prior.

You find your eyes glued to the vocalist trapped in the glass room that always stumped you, the vocalist that, starting today, would confuse you more than any recording room could. His composed pupils linking with your skittish ones. You thought back to the car ride, his breath hitched as he planted his vision on the trees and buildings passing by. How he barely spared you a glance, let alone a cheap insult. Was he finally done through with it? Has he finally grown past the phase of finding simple fat jokes funny? Your mind wandered, and you wish you wandered a little bit more so you wouldn’t have noticed the pink tint creeping onto his cheeks as he closed the door to the recording room, his eyes still planted onto yours.

“Thank you very much, sir.” Renjun shook the hand of the man behind the recording stand, other members of the band following his lead as you shook Jisung awake. But everything you touched, you did so halfheartedly, as the thought of a certain prideful vocalist couldn’t escape your mind.

Huh, that was weird.

...

It was Saturday again, the clashes of symbols and guitar strings wrapped up in a melodic harmony ringing into your ears as you woke up. It was Saturday again, and that Donghyuck kid hadn’t left your mind for a week. Too many questions passed through your mind, you didn’t have the motivation to scream for joy the moment Renjun burst through the door, showing the band the email. An email that was practically lined in gold for the other viewers, and email giving them directions to a small coffee shop across town, and approval for an upcoming gig.

“Let’s celebrate!” Mark howled, earning other loud screams from their designated dolphin boy as the 6 of you immediately grabbed your coats and headed to the nearest building that served purely mediocre fast-food.

“Save some for us!” Jisung, chanted through the garage door, both him and Chenle dreading the table behind them that overflowed with unfinished highschool homework and completely finished bags of chips.

6 milkshakes and 6 stuffed stomachs later, the garage band sat around you, giggling at what you thought was the email you ate out for, as you shuffled away to the washroom. But as Donghyuck would put it, “You’re always wrong, Y/N!”.

“What am I gonna do?” Donghyuck gripped the strands of hair residing at his front scalp. “I almost blew my cover back in the recording room!”

As if on cue, Donghyuck’s seemingly useless remark earned a groan from the rest of the band mates, and especially the band manager, digging his fingertips onto his temples, giving him the much overdue head massage he needed due to Hyuck’s stupidity.

“You could, I dunno, tell her the truth?” Jaemin sipped from his remaining milkshake, receiving that infamous empty- straw crinkling sound just seconds later. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, right Jeno?” The bassist only nodded silently, earning a pleading groan from the vocalist in question.

“Hey man, we’re already helping you and everything, poor Sungie’s gotta deal with our bullshit in his house every week just so you could get a chance with her. We don’t have any other reason to practice there, you know.” Mark stirred the striped straw. “Even Renjun, Y/N”s bestfriend in highschool, mind you, became the manager to our dumb garage band just to help your odds”

Donghyuck stared into the popping bubbles of his pink milkshake, his guilt mirroring the bubble’s movements. He knew about Jisung, your little brother, but he never even thought about Renjun. All his friends, trying harder than he was, all to not get cock-blocked. God, how stupid was he.

Apparently, he was stupid enough to forget you even left the table for a bathroom visit, as he almost spat out the last of his milkshake as he watched you emerged from the dim-lit room. Earning giggles from the other boys.

...

You missed singing, you really did. The memories you cherished singing alongside the 30 vocalists, awaiting the audience’s standing ovation, you craved for more than anything. Sure, it sounded a little too self loving for your liking, but anyone could agree that you guys deserved. That’s why, when the Harmonics Youth Choir finally shut down due to an untimely accident, it surely left a broad hole in your heart.

Especially now, right after feeling the thrill once again at the recording room, the sensation of letting out notes and melodies gripping onto your heart, never letting go as you sent in the application email. This wasn’t all your idea, though. This scheme was given to you in a fully wrapped package of taunting and disbelief of your true abilities, and handed to you by no one else but the egotistical vocalist, Donghyuck.

“I heard there was an opening for this new choir downtown” Donghyuck clicked away at his laptop as he took his break at their weekly practice. The phrase ‘new choir’ caught your attention faster than a fly to the scent of rotten food. You shuffled towards him, reluctant and half expecting for him to revolt at your presence. But you truly didn’t care when the chance to shine under the spotlight of a stage was upon you once again, and you would rather die than miss the chance to grasp it.

“They look pretty serious, though” Donghyuck scrolled through the choir’s website nonchalantly, angling the screen so you could get a better view. “I don’t think you’d fit in at all” You knew he was kidding, partially at least. Nevertheless, an arrow of hurt shot through your chest as you stood up, spine straightening with the smallest ounce of pride left in you.

“Are you even hearing yourself, Donghyuck?” You jabbed your own chest, concealing your genuine hurt. “I was a member of Harmonics, I’d fit right in!”

“Uh huh, yeah, what happened to your esteemed choir, again?” he didn’t even spare you a glance as he exited out of the choir’s website Opening another window filled with gruesome battles and skimpy female armour, he proceeded to ignore your defensive figure, keeping all his attention on that dumb video game. You, however, couldn’t care where his attention was facing, as you had a point to make, and an argument to win.

“You’ll see, Donghyuck, I’ll make that choir, and you’ll be the first to see it. In fact, you should watch the audition, then you’ll see how great I am!”

Donghyuck couldn’t help but recite the words ‘you’re already the best’ over and over again in his head. He didn’t have any other choice, really. He couldn’t say it out loud, of course, he was too prideful for that. Or maybe too much of a coward. He couldn’t tell.

“Whatever, I’ll watch just to prove you wrong, Park” Of course he couldn’t say no. He truly was a coward.

You didn’t even notice the proud, stunned expressions that coated the rest of the band member’s faces as you trotted upstairs, ready to write another, responsive email to a certain choir company.

...

A tired, fatigued Donghyuck rang your doorbell two days after your last interaction. Despite his reluctant character during then, he still, to your surprise, offered to give you a ride, knowing full well of your father’s disappearance to another city in the name of his job. After an awkward, silent, 30 minute hell of a car ride, the two of you threw his car doors shut, and entered the grand church building.

You stood in the middle of the rented church stage, various chandeliers and crystals covering your view, as you faced the three judges of this audition. The three obstacles left in your road to stardom, and the three obstacles blocking you from your chance to prove yourself right.

“Miss Park Y/N, Auditioning for the part of Alto” The somber toned middle seated judge read straight off of the application sheet, before barely glancing up at you. “You may start whenever you’re ready.” You closed your eyes, softly beginning to hum the words of Donghyuck’s single. It only made sense to choose what you chose, it was the song that gave your heart the inspiration to impulsively act on it’s dreams.

Donghyuck’s world stopped as he sat in his lonesome three rows before the judges, the single frame of you singing staying frozen in his mind. Your voice felt like honey trickling into his ears, as he sat in awe, not bothering to keep that fake scoffing expression on his face. He felt weak to the knees. Your voice, your appeal, everything, it all made him almost want to drop the act and tell you the truth.

But you could only handle one earth shattering truth at a time, right?

The middle judge raised her hand up, signally a stop just after a couple of lyrics spilled out of your lips. The two judges coupling her sides all kept their cold expressions as you trembled in fear. You anticipated their impending responses, although, deep down, you already knew exactly what they were going to say.

“That’s enough, Miss Park”

“Wait, I can--”

“That won’t be necessary. Now, can you please step off the stage? The next contestant is waiting” The left judge uttered effortlessly, not sparing a glance at you as you stalked backstage. Donghyuck roughly followed you, jolting the plastic table the three judges hid behind, before shooting those judges a very irritated glare.

“Please assure your girlfriend to not take this personally, it was a tough decision”

“Bullshit, you didn’t even listen to the full thing” Donghyuck spat, earning the wide eyes of the three judges who sat below him. He didn’t even care what their response was as he spurt towards the doors, the doors you had already burst out of with pure rage.

Donghyuck cursed at himself for feeling just the slightest bit giddy at the judges assuming those two were closer than friends. He scanned you through the car window, a flame burning in your eyes. You two clearly need to reach the level of “friends” first.

The rest of the drive was silent, or at least restrained, as your huffs and puffs of anger could be heard from Donghyuck’s side of the vehicle easily. You would rather die than look at him right then. You were surprised that he hasn’t laughed right at your face yet. But whether he hurls another one of those prideful scoffs at your direction or not, one fact still remains, he was right. You’ve stayed out of touch with the whole concept of singing, that the only thing keeping you sane were the lyrics of a single written by the vocalist with a grudge against you. How pitiful were you?

And to think, you truly began to believe that this demon, this evildoer, began to have feelings for you through a simple set of flushed cheeks. All those times he stained your mind, none of that mattered. All Donghyuck wanted was for you to fall to the ground, pride and ego brutally shattered. That was why he brought that stuck up, cold-shouldered choir. Just to watch you get rejected. And it worked. You were bruised, broken forever,and it was all thanks to him.

“I hope you’re happy Donghyuck. You were right” You murmured just loud enough for his ears to perk. You couldn’t see his expression, but you were sure he was a smirking, evil mess.

Donghyuck watched you swiftly pass him, his sulking eyes defying your assumption once again.

...

The neighborhood garage band’s practice room fell into a tense silence as you slammed the garage door shut, stomping up to your room. Everyone’s eyes, despite already becoming aware of the situation, still mirrored the ones of innocent puppies ready to be adopted. Except for Hyuck’s, of course. His overflowed with guilt, burning up with an anger that could only be pointed towards himself. Donghyuck fell into the cushions that decorated the couch, earning pats and shoulder rubs that were laced with empathy, empathy that he couldn’t reciprocate. His palms ruffled the strands of his hair, gripping onto them in stress as Renjun scooted towards him.

“Don’t blame yourself, Hyuck, she just really missed singing” Renjun angled himself to face the remorse-filled vocalist. “Anyone would, with that choir”

Donghyuck let out a heartfelt whine, his back-scalp collapsing onto the couch backframe. “I got her all excited about singing again, I couldn’t help it. I kinda got excited for her, too. How was I supposed to know they’d be so picky with their contestants!” Hyuck rose to his feet, bewilderment rising through his veins. “Their rejection’s all bullshit, anyways! Her voice is amazing!”

“Then tell her” Jisung twiddled his fingers, not even sparing the distressed vocalist a glance “Tell her that her voice is amazing, tell her all the compliments you want to”

“You know I can’t do that, Sungie”

“Why?” A certain flame echoed in his booming voice, starling the already traumatized older band members. “Is it ‘cause you're a coward? It sounds like it! How else do you think it was gonna turn out? Pretending to hate the person you’ve loved since highschool, of course she’s gonna hate you back! Now you better clean this shit up, and I don’t just mean this dumb audition. My sister’s amazing, ok? And she doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

Jisung, with a fury of his own, stalked into his own home and away from the band members that resided in his garage. Mark, the band’s leader, took it upon himself to call for the two Park siblings that escaped his grasp, praying they would come back, but it was no use. Donghyuck truly felt like an idiot, and a coward.

Your pillowcase felt damp as you lightly pressed your cheek against your newly shed tears. Everything seemed...useless now. Your sulking figure couldn't lift itself from the cozyness of your plump mattress, string of sorrow binding your limbs tightly against the bed’s fabric. You laid still, your world turning to stone as you tuned in to the quiet chirps perched onto the roof just below your window. The tiny squawks sent you into a calm abyss, one that you haven’t visited in a while. With all this song recording and impulsive acting, everything grew hectic, never giving you a chance to breathe.

You didn’t know how your consciousness was able to do it, but Donghyuck still stayed trapped in your mind the whole time.

You were definitely brimming with anger when you thought of him, but the thought of his smile, even if you only saw it after one of his smug insults, still stained your mind. And you hated it. And that was why your expression was nothing less than relieved when it was just your little brother who peeped through the small crack your door created after his knuckles clicked against it in a soft knock.

A soft smile wiped across his face, his eyes painted with a calm appeal, as he shuffled into your room, friction from the carpet swiping against his cotton socks. With a tilt of his your little brother simply suggested.

“Milkshakes?”

...

“I don’t care, Jisung, I’m not gonna sing with them at the concert” Your eyes watched the various cars pass by in a blur, trying desperately to avoid contacting the pleading pupils of your brother. You trusted him, the blade of betrayal impaling your heart. You whole-heartedly believed that Jisung invited you to this milkshake bar to free your mind, get rid of all the thoughts about those 6 boys that roamed freely within the inner workings of your garage. Instead, he simply induced your brain with more thoughts of him, luring you in with the taste of a strawberry milkshake.

“C’mon Y/N, It’s gonna be a small gig, the venue maxes out at 50 people.” Jisung gave his weight to the surface of the fast food table, gripping his ice cold glass with his fingers that were dipped in anticipation. You sunk into the lush, red

seats, finally sparing your brother a glance.

“What are you gonna gain from this, anyways, it’s not like you're in the band anymore, anyways.”

Shit. You followed Jisung’s hairbangs as they dropped before his eyes, most likely concealing his growing hurt for the words that effortlessly flowed through your careless mouth. Why would you say something that stupid, when you knew full well of the complicated truth. The truth of your brother's resignation of the band due to a harsh wrist injury. All Jisung wanted was the satisfaction of growing old and succeeding with his garage band, but when the rookie drummer finally grew fixed of his wrist damage, the first thing he saw was his supposed drum-kit, standing before the new addition to the band, Jaemin. Although the old and new drummers came to converse on friendly terms, you knew your brother more than anyone else, and you knew he would never get over his replacement so quickly.

“It’s fine, Y/N, it’s not ‘cause of that” He vigorously waved his two hands in an effort to change the subject. “We just wanna hear your voice again, that’s all” His calm voice sent you away from your current state of overthinking, as you took another sip of your pink tinted milkshake. Although his choice of words led you to ponder a little more.

“We?”

“Yeah! Hyuck especially. Mans literally gets weak to the knees when he hears your voice. He loves it so much, you don’t even know, Y/N. But not as much as he loves you lmao--wait-”

The straw fell limp from Jisungs lips, the whites of his eyes spilling out of their sockets as he finally pondered just how much he messed up. It’s funny actually, how quick he caught his mistake AFTER he made it.

You swear, you could’ve exploded right then and there.

“Hyuck--he--what?” A sentence couldn’t even form in between your quivering lips. “You’re kidding right? Sungie? Please tell me this is a joke”

Jisung could feel the ember of his existence about to extinguish as you used that Nickname on him. A nickname that only escaped your mouth when you were either terribly angry or terribly drunk. Jisung swiftly closed his eyes, praying that there was at least an ounce of alcohol in that milkshake of yours, you were a lightweight afterall.

“I--er--no” Jisung’s head downcasted, attempting to hide from your incoming wrath. “Donghyuck likes you, a lot actually”

If it weren’t for the fact that he was your brother, you would’ve spat on his face with the remaining milkshake in your mouth, unable to be swallowed as you sat in pure shock.

“How long?”

“...Since highschool, actually”

The glass mug encased between your fingers shivered in fear. After all this time, all the taunting, all the times he scoffed at your mere existence, that was all from…affection? It was all an act towards grabbing your attention? He didn’t actually despise you? And on top of that, he loves your voice, the voice he only labelled as “ok” in the past? What was with him, couldn’t he had just said something, instead of saying the complete opposite of his feelings?

But apparently, you found that attractive, and everything else clicked. A lightbulb finally glowed a bright amber as you connected the dots. You finally figured out why this prideful vocalist couldn’t escape your thoughts all this time.

As your little brother, shaking in fear by your--apparently menacing-- presence, continues his tangent on how letting them stay at their garage even after his untimely injury was just a ruse to get the two of you together, you shoot up from your seat.

“Oh my god, Jisung, I think I like him back”

“Excuse me, what”

A sense of urgency shot down your spine. “Change of plans, I’m gonna sing with them.”

“WAIT”

“THANKS FOR THE MILKSHAKES, JISUNG, I GOTTA GO TAKE CARE OF SOMETHING” your voice violently hurled through the glass doors of the milkshake place as you ran past them, alerting the commoners that innocently roamed around.

...

“It looks so full” a stifled Chenle murmured towards the band manager as he gripped onto the stage curtains. “God, ok, is it hot in here or just me?”

“It’s fine, Chenle, everyone else is nervous too” A calming Renjun sent a soft hand onto the cusp of the pianist’s shoulder. The rest of the band loitered around the cramped stage rear, the echoes of various audience chatter ringing in everyone’s ears as they shiver in anticipation. Well, everyone except a certain sulking vocalist perched rather uncomfortably on the wooden make-up chair.

Donghyuck’s heart felt numb to everything else but the brutal beatings of guilt. The issue only arose just hours prior, of course the regret still lingered, staining his once proud, upright soul. Jisung was right, he always had been. He should’ve let go of this stupid act when he got the chance. He should’ve taken your hand in his, letting a soft kiss from his lips fall onto your dazed face after nervously stammering sweet nothings to you. He should’ve sprinkled you with compliments every chance he got, showed his pure excitement when you do something as simple as enter the room, or even chant your name half as animated as his pianist always did. The thought of your name trickled into his head. The name that he refused to refer to you as, always going for the rough tone of “Park” instead. All in the name of that dumb ruse, truly used to prank his heart.

“Y/N” He let out a soft murmur under his breath. It felt sweet against his lips. “Y/N.” He scoffed at himself. Maybe it was a good thing you decided not to sing with him, you wouldn’t get to see how pathetic he’s become.

“Y/N?” Renjun’s yelp at your disheveled figure standing at the door, drove Donghyuck straight to reality. His head whipped in response, the wooden chair collapsing under the sheer weight of Hyuck’s speechlessness as his sitting figure fell straight to the ground. Renjun stammered out another shaken response. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry Junnie, I’ve changed my mind. Can I still sing with you guys tonight?�� You could practically see the heavenly wings raising his once lifeless body as the rest of the band members produced luminescence from their beaming smiles. A riled up Renjun scrambles towards your feet, slamming a hand to your shoulder. “OF COURSE YOU CAN Y/N NOW GET OVER HERE WHAT THE FUCK.” After being vigorously yanked into the dressing room by your highschool best friend, you migrate over to the still-faced, wide-eyed vocalist laying frozen against the tile floor.

“Donghyuck I need to--”

“Curtains up at 5, get into your positions” A man donning a large black headphone set, gripping a brown noteboard in his hands yells in a robotonus tone before shooting a deadpan look at you. “You there, are you with the band?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Then get into position! Can someone get this girl a mic?” he croaked into his headset’s mic, with a mic falling into your hands just moments later.

Amidst all this chaos, with Renjun pacing back and forth, Mark and Jeno simultaneously tuning their guitars, Jaemin dropping his drumsticks onto the ground, and Chenle loudly greeting a sweaty and panting Jisung resting against the doorframe. You tilt your head, never noticing how your brother followed you over here after you burst through those doors at the milkshake place. Before you could greet him, however, a tight grip landed straight onto your forearm.

“Y/N, wait--” before Donghyuck could even grab your attention. The lights on the other side of those maroon curtains finally dimmed.

“We’re on in 10 seconds” a robotic voice bombed through the band's now trembling figures. They stood before the closed set of curtains, anticipation riling through them.

“Now, please give a warm welcome to the neighborhood garage band; NCT DREAM!!”

The curtains fell into each other smoothly as what seemed to be a million faces staring back at them. A blinding spotlight shined onto the 6 figures ready in their positions. Spilling a lifetime’s worth of confused feelings would have to wait for now.

...

“You guys were amazing!” Renjun and Jisung practically said in unison as they watched the stage performers saunter backstage, Jeno pushing the maroon curtains back as your 6 figures retired back into the coffee house’s dressing room. Sweat dripping down your foreheads as you panted away the shockwaves that traveled through your bodies through the duration of that evening concert. As everyone else let down their instruments and settled down in various places of the cramped prep room, a certain vocalist began to stalk in your direction.

You studied Donghyuck’s image. His eyes glowed with determination, the disgust and repulsion that stained his expressions, and that were apparently all fake, weren’t found beneath the whites of his eyes, unlike before. They looked blank, like he was simply being pulled to you by sheer force. Like you were a captivating magnet, and he was just a mere, insignificant paper clip, ready at your disposal.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, wasn’t just a blank minded zombie lusting for its next meal. Something awoke in him, like a switch hidden behind cobwebs everyone reluctant to switch it on. Exhilaration zooming through his veins, nothing else mattered to him. Nothing else except your cute face trapped snuggly in his two, sweat filled, shaking palms.

The vocalist did think about at least consoling you about the question you had for him before what could only be considered as their best concert, like, ever, but your innocent, curious face had him melting to his feet. His composure flew away the minute you stared back at him, eyes glossy and cheeks as rosy. Sure, he was an idiot, but he was an impulsive idiot, and right now, that helped his odds more than anything.

Roughly, due to the immense amount of feelings bottled up in the weakest material you can think of, Donghyuck cupped the sides of your face, smushing your lips together in an ecstatic kiss. Gripping onto each other like your lives depended on never letting go--although, at the time, it felt like exactly that--you pulled him closer, chests against one another as you tugged on his loose shirt collar.

As Hyuck’s stomach began performing flips just below the fabric of his shirt, and as your knees grew weaker, the two of you slowly detached, earning the gasps and full on screams from their fellow bandmates, the bandmates that they simultaneously forgot existed, and the bandmates who estatically witnessed a very much anticipated kiss. The two of you, too scared to look down at the couch, set at the perfect angle to watch your most recent romantic endeavour, finally glanced down at the wide eyed spectators, all at the edge of their seat waiting to see what will happen next.

“What are you guys waiting for?? CONFESS” The finally stress-free manager jumped up to his feet, a demanding index finger pointed at your flustered figures. The giddy pianist followed Renjun, his whole arm shot out in front of you. “OR BETTER YET??? KISS AGAI--” Chenle’s words were quickly disrupted by the swiftness of Jaemin’s hand as he nodded silently, giving you a signal to talk again.

Donghyuck found his breath hitched as you turned to face you. He put all of his effort into kissing you, so he kinda forgot about what to do after. But after observing your calm, not wanting to beat him up, soft expression that glowed onto your face, alongside those pink tainted cheeks, he figured out that, well, you already kinda knew.

“...heh, hey?” Donghyuck picked onto the skin on his wrists, waiting for them to grow red from the pain. Cringing from the awkward tone of his voice, you spoke up.

“I know, Hyuck”

“Wait what”

You shot him a slightly aggravated glare at his ignorance. Did he not just experience that same kiss you did?

“You’re just that bad at acting, Hyuck” Jisung croaked behind this highschool drama confession. Donghyuck most definitely would’ve given your little brother the greatest jab straight to the head, if it weren’t for your angelic smile presented before him.

“I like you too, Donghyuck. Unless, I’m not close enough to call you that” Donghyuck chuckles to himself, remembering that very interaction back at your garage just weeks prior. Swiftly, his hands drop to your waist, his eyes locked with yours as he pulls you closer to his chest.

“Yeah, you need to get a lot closer” The two of you exchange giggles while your supposed judges fake puke and groan at their vocalist’s flirtatious words. The two of you stay comfortably, his hands softly lounging around your waist as you stay snuggled against his chest. The silence washing over you as your face grows sober.

“Why’d you lie about it?” you distance yourself, just get a view of his face, glistening in the backstage spotlight. A sigh escapes his lips as he glances towards the sky.

“I dunno, I was dumb, jealous of your talent, dumb, desperate for attention, did I mention dumb?” he flew off into a meaningless tangent, his fingers gripped onto the fabric of your shirt. “I was an idiot, Y/N, I thought this was just some stupid crush, but you’re so much more. God, and I probably hurt you so much during that whole dumb thing, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, your insults are pretty weak, anyways”

“Oh wow, ok, I see how it is”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding”

The vocalist glanced down to his feet, his eyes reaching back to you right after. “Can we, ya know, start over?”

You plant a feathery kiss against his cheek, summoning the red hue that stayed for the rest of the night. “Of course, Hyuckie”

...

“Miss Park Y/N, I am afraid you have to leave, as you are the cause of the main cause of our vocalist’s distraction.” Renjun stated in a deadpan, robotic tone. An arm, raised and pointing to the direction of the door while his foot rapidly tapped against the carpet. Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if the manager was messing with you or 100% serious with his supposed rage.

“I live here, Renjun” you subtly snapped back as Hyuck, who was perched on top of your lap for the most peculiar reason, snaked his arms around your waist. According to your vocalist boyfriend, he got to sit on your lap cause he was ‘more famous than you’. That dummy.

“I’m taking a break, Junnie, go bug Jeno or something. I’m busy with, um” He scans the figure trapped underneath his grasp as Hyuck continues to formulate his poorly thought-out excuse to spend more time with you. “Vocal exercises, yeah, that.” A disapproving sigh slips out of Renjun’s lips, heading over to the guitar and bassist duo. Once the two of you were alone, Donghyuck’s eyes once again fell onto you.

“How’d you find out about my feelings, anyways? I refuse to believe my acting was THAT bad.” His head slithered into the crook of your neck.

“If I’m being completely honest, It was Jisung”

Donghyuck shot up, mic wires and lyric sheets falling to the ground of your garage. “WHAT?”

“Yeah, he went off, exposing you so much. He didn’t even realise it until after he said everything lmao”

“Hey guys I brought snacks” Jisung slipped through the garage door, bags of chips in his hand. Hyuck sent your brother a narrow glare. “You’re a dead man, Park Jisung.”

You watched Hyuck as he sent himself flying towards the not-so innocent boy, the various chips dropping to the ground. Your brother did kinda deserve it though. You glanced at the ripped up calendar on the wall of the barren garage, your eyes landing on the little Saturday square. You smiled to yourself. Usually, you hated Saturdays, for their errands and boring chores, But this one in particular, seemed to be alright.

...

#nct dream #nct 127 #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x you #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck x you #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #writing #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #garage band! au #choir! au

74 notes · View notes

twit-moonstar · 4 years

Text

i fall to pieces: chapter one - roger taylor x fem!reader

N/A: Hey! This is just the first chapter of this little mini series I’ll do. I was intending on doing a big ass one shot but I can’t force myself to finish it so I decided to post what I have and see if there’s actually any interest on reading this. It’s a 80s Roger x Stripper!Reader, in case the little banner didn’t gave it away. Let me know your opinion and reblog the fic if you liked it <3

N/A2: I edited this myself, so pardon me if there’s any grammar mistake or incoherence! (Doesn’t excuse me but) English it’s not my first languaje.

Summary: When Y/N, a dancer at the Blue Velvet stripclub mets rockstar Roger Taylor, she’s torn between mistrust and flirting shamelessly but little by little they find a way to each other’s heart.

Warnings: There’s no smut in this bc i’m not up for it but there will be a few references to sex.

Words: roughly 3K

“Bring you ass here, Laura!” exclaimed Coco and you rejected the various shots that Laura offered you before she walked to Coco with a simple gesture of your hand. Applying the deep wine lipstick carefully, you smile in different ways in the mirror to try to get into this persona you had created for the club.

Working on the club night after night was taking its toll over you, and you were in desperate need of a vacation but you wouldn’t dare to ask Mike about it. Your rent was due in a week and you still needed a few pounds to get the amount of money you needed.

Maybe I should go on that date with that guy, Tate, you think. You already know him and how his crushes tended to go for the girl he had put his eye on—The fortunate chosen one would end up with a new shiny pair of brand shoes and a gold bracelet or a diamond necklace, all of that without even sleeping with him. Of course, those who did sleep with him could get a whole lot more but that wasn’t something that you were thrilled for— and he was certainly interested in you.

You walk out of the dressing room. The club wasn’t yet at its fullest, as it was fairly early yet. The lights, however, were starting to get lowered and soon the place would be bathed in blue and red.

“Busy night, Karma?” asks the new barmaid, Matt, you think. He’s been trying to get into your pants ever since he started to work, but you never pay him any attention.

“Not yet, Matthew,” you reply, passing by without looking at him and walking straight to a group of three men drinking beer and watching to one in particular.

They seem delighted with your presence as if you had chosen them for some special reason. By the end of two songs, you’re fifty pounds richer. It’s not the most you can get, but you’re tired and at this point of the week you don’t even care.

You walk to the bar and observe the club. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it felt cheery enough for you after all this time. Sometimes it scared you how comfortable you felt there but you had to remember why you had started to work in a place like this.

A group of men enters, laughing at some joke probably, and they stumble to one of the black velvet sofas. As a dancer of the well-known Blue Velvet strip club—or as the owner preferred to call it ‘gentleman’s club’—, it wasn’t uncommon to see band members around. The almost-naked girls were beautiful and the alcohol was the good kind if you had the money, who wouldn’t be attracted to come? So when you recognise at least two of them as Roger Taylor and John Deacon, you’re not surprised.

You walk to the pole that’s right in front of them and start dancing, without looking at them at first, just to catch their attention. Bet they’re good money, you through, lucky me.

Much to your surprise, Roger requests for a private dance, just for him. That flattered you; you wouldn’t deny it. Rockstars usually picked someone else—like Ginger, with her long legs and big ass, or Coco, who had straight blonde hair and nice tits.

Of course, you had your charms, but usually, you would give private dances for rich and boring businessmen in suits. Never someone as exciting as Queen’s drummer.

With his blonde hair, mischievous blue eyes, and delicate yet strong features, he was, by far, the most attractive man you had ever met.

Despite your nervousness, you flashed him a flirty smile that he returned as you led him to a private room. He sits down on the black leather couch while you pour him a glass of whiskey.

“You don’t drink?” He says, taking a gulp and licking his lips afterward. You shake your head no with a little smile.

“I don’t drink while working, Mr. Taylor.”

He asked you then to not call him mister, to which you replied with a smile and an amused ‘yes, sir.’

“What’s your name?”

“Karma,” you replied simply, walking to the little selection of vinyl you had to play. “Do you like Pink Floyd? Or maybe Led Zeppelin?”

You know there’s a lot of magazines that gather trivial information like what’s his favourite band, or book, and even actress, but you never bother to buy them. You’re not greatly interested in keeping up with the life of any rockstar, to be honest. You’re quite busy trying to keep up with your own life.

He cocks his head slightly to the side, thinking for a moment before ignoring your question. “Why did you pick it?”

You weren’t bothered by his curiosity, although not many had asked you about it.

You had earned your nickname in your first week when you slapped a guy when he tried to undress you himself. Whereas some of the girls believed you would be instantly fired, the owner warned you against taking the matter into your own hands next time and let it slide, saying you had to call security next time—unless it was urgent.

To the exception of a few regular clients, who had already heard the story, men usually came to ogle over your body and not to learn anything about you.

“Because I’ll punch anyone who has it coming,” you reply.

“When is that?”

“When someone tries to piss me off trying to get way too handsy when I don’t allow it,” you say with a light and joyous tone. Oh, how you would be happy to throw a punch or two to some idiots that believed that could touch with no consequences because you were wearing little clothes. You had gained pretty much all of your patience just working here.

He took the glass to his mouth again to cover a nascent smile, but you notice the corner of his lips curving upwards.

It made you smile as well.

Despite the more than a generous tip that Roger gave you, you didn’t think he would come back and were pleasantly surprised to see him again two weeks later.

There was a certain lustful glow on his deep blue eyes, and you would lie if you said that the prospect of having his hands all over you didn’t send a jolt of desire straight to your core.

So you decided to end your dance by sitting on his lap, giving him a proper view of your almost naked tits, and taking his hands to slide them to your ass.

A little flirting never hurt anyone, you think.

He grinned at you. “You’re not gonna hit me, right, love?”

“Of course not, sir.”

He squeezed your ass and you grinded against him trying your best to follow the rhythm of the music.

“When does your shift end?”

You almost stop on your tracks at the question but you laugh softly instead.

“We only provide dancing services, sir. Don’t let your hands on my ass confuse you,” you replied teasingly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t seem offended by the insinuation on your word’s choice but instead amused.

“I was planning on wine and dine you.”

This time you do stop moving and look at him, slowly getting out of his lap and standing in front of him. The music keeps playing, but you don’t move at all as you watch him carefully, searching for any hint of…

What were you looking exactly? Something in his eyes that gave away his true intentions, probably, since you always guided yourself by your mistrust when it came to people, especially men who were older than you.

“You did, huh?”

He’s obviously only interested in seeing what’s down the skimpy lingerie, right?

But he seems sincere, so you smile. “Fine.”

“Can I get your real name now, love? I think I deserve to know with whom I am having dinner,” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, like savouring every syllable in his tongue, made your heart give a little jump on your chest. “Nice.”

Despite Roger’s best efforts to impress you and convince you to stay a night at his place, it takes two dates more before you finally agree to do so.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed you have enjoyed very much the expensive wine and fancy restaurants, but you truly enjoy his company and there’s this feeling that if you sleep with him once you will never see him again.

Not that you can see getting involved in a romantic relationship with him, but if you can just spend time with Roger, then you would take the most advantage out of it you could.

“Sit down, put yourself comfortable,” he says, walking into what you assume it’s the kitchen and you nod.

You observe the spacious place. The walls are painted with a warm cream colour, which doesn’t exactly match the wooden furniture, like the shelving on the corner. You’re surprised to see the great number of books and before you realise you’re standing in front of the shelving, caressing delicately a book spine.

You take one out and look at the cover. On the road by Jack Kerouac.

“That’s one of my favourites,” Roger’s voice says on your ear and you jump a little on your spot, which makes him smile. “Have you read it?”

“No. I was about to buy it once, but I choose another,” you say, opening a random page and reading whatever it catches your attention.

«"I love love," she said, closing her eyes, and I promised her beautiful love.”» You smiled. Would it be just a coincidence that you had read exactly that paragraph?

“What’s so funny?” he asks and you read it out loud for him. Roger looks into the nothing, his blue gaze deep in thought.

“That’s a good chapter,” he says simply and you nod, without knowing what to say.

Had been reading something like that a too-bold of a movement? You didn’t expect anything from him, you couldn’t have the luxury to fantasize about him. A few dates can’t mean anything, do they?There’s a strange shift in the air, and you hate it. Ten minutes ago you were laughing and whispering silly things on the corridor while trying to open the flat’s door.

“Do you have something to drink?” you say softly.

“You can keep the book if you want,” Roger said and you looked at the book on your hands. It’s in good condition, which means it’s either new or he hasn’t read it that many times, but he said it’s his favourite and you feel a little bad thinking about taking it.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I couldn’t,” you say, shaking your head and leaving the book on its place.

“If you don’t want to keep it, you can borrow it.”

“I’ll think about it. Now, what about that drink, uh?”

“Yeah, yeah. You like white wine?”

“Actually, do you have something without alcohol?” you ask, sheepishly, and he nods.

“Of course. You like Cola?”

You both sit down on the couch, facing each other, and drinking.“Y’know, we have been in three dates but I don’t think I know much about you,” he says and you bit your lower lip softly, which only brings his attention to your lips. He’s making conversation before fucking or is interested in knowing you? Men usually weren’t interested in hearing whatever you had to say, it was the sad truth and you had already gotten used to it.

“Nothing worth of telling you, to be honest,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

“That’s a load of crap, and I don’t buy it,” he replies and you smile, before leaving the glass on the little coffee table. Getting closer to him, you finally connected your lips to his. It tastes of wine and the cigarette that he had been smoking earlier while driving.

“Let’s go to your bedroom,” you whisper before deepening the kiss. He pulls apart, getting up and taking your hand to lead the way. Chit chat can come later if he still wants to be around after fucking.

You’re the first to wake up the next morning so you try to be as quiet as possible as you roll out of bed and go to the toilet to refresh yourself a little. You wash your face, trying to get rid of the eyeshadow under your eye as much as possible, and after you’re satisfied you tie your hair on a loose ponytail.

You’re already dressed, so all you need to do is get your bag and coat, write him a note or say goodbye if he’s awake and leaves. You open the toilet door and go to the living. Just as you’re putting on your coat, Roger gets out of the kitchen with a water bottle on his hand and smiles at you like he’s thinking gotcha.

“Stay for breakfast?”

“I got things to do,” you lie quickly. Roger raises an eyebrow, probably questioning your answer.

You’re one to value honesty but right now, you can’t bring yourself to spend more time with him. He’ll start to ask questions and that’s the last thing you want, as much as you like his company.

“Really? I’m starting to think you’re just using me for sex,” he says, with mocking hurt and you try not to smile.

“That’s a low blow,” you accuse.“What you got?”

“Coffee, toast and pop tarts,” he recites with closed eyes like he’s mentally looking through his cupboard.

You think he probably doesn’t have a lot of food right now since it’s the last days of the months. You wondered if someone did shopping for him and when was the last time he did? Did he ever do that? Was he able to do it now, being famous and all?

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry?”

“I want two,” you demand. Roger just nods with a smile.

You walk inside the kitchen and sit on a stool by the breakfast bar and observe Roger preparing breakfast. He’s wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants; his hair is dishevelled but it gives him certain charm.

“You slept well?” Roger asks, placing your coffee in front of you.

“Yeah, I think I can confidently say your bed is the most comfortable I’ve slept in.”

“You’re welcomed in again whenever you please,” he winks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Shut up,” you reply, taking a bit of your pop tart but you’re smiling.

“I’m serious, though, I’d love to repeat that. Dinner included, of course.”

“We’ll see,” you just say.

A long beat happens before you speak again. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he says, sipping on his cup.

You sigh. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, I’m just saying it’s strange.”

He raises an eyebrow, and his blue eyes are inquisitive, looking at your face like he could find on your eyes the answer to your constant changes between being apprehensive and flirting shamelessly. “Why?”

“Because I- I thought men like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me?”

“Someone like you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think I can be interesting and, maybe, a good company but you could be with anyone you want,” you state like it’s obvious like it’s the kind of thing every man with a highly successful career thinks.

“And I want to spend my time with you, guess it’s because you’re good company,” he states, matter of factly but your expression must give away that you’re not so convinced so he takes one of your hands and interlocks your fingers.

“Look, I like you and as long as you’re willing to entertain my interest on you, I’m gonna keep asking you out.”He looks at your hands for a second before looking up to see you smiling down at him.

“Fine. I like you too, you know?”

“I know,” he replies with a cheeky smile.

“But I gotta go,” you say and he lets go of your hand.

“Can I pass to the toilet?“

“Go ahead, you know where it is.”

After you’re done, you get out of the toilet to put your coat on and get your purse. However, you’re not exactly sure of how to say goodbye, so you stand awkwardly in front of him, close by the door.

“C’mere,” he chuckles, softly pushing you flush against him and cradling your face to kiss your lips with delicately.

“See ya soon, love.” He opens the door and you step outside on the corridor.

“Goodbye, Rog. Thanks for yesterday, I enjoyed it very much,” you smile.

He grins. “Well, of course ya did.”

“Don’t get too cocky now, Taylor, you lean towards him, your mouth close to his ear. “It wasn’t me begging last night, after all,” you whisper and kiss his cheek quickly, like fearing being seen, and start walking to the elevator.

He watches you with a smile until the elevator door closes.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor x female reader

55 notes · View notes

writingfortoomanyfandoms · 5 years

Text

Shyer Than Me

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Reader

Summary: The band want to meet Brian’s girlfriend - Brian reflects on his time with her

Requested: No but I love Brian so fucking much and haven’t written for him properly before

Warnings: Swearing, lots of references to English literature (whoops), italics mean it’s set in the past!

A/N: so this is my first full-length Brian fic! Please remember to let me know what you think - I love hearing from you guys!! Reading your comments, reblogs and asks really make my day and inspire me to write more and I also kinda love the way this turned out so please let me know if you want me to write more for Brian (bc I totally want to write more for him :))

“We’re just saying, Bri, you guys have been dating for how long now?” Roger asked the university student as he tuned his guitar.

“A year and three months,” the soft-spoken man said, not looking up at the drummer as he answered his question, though there was a smile on his face, a smile that was always present whenever Y/N was brought into the conversation.

“Right, you guys have been dating a year and three months now, you’ve told her you love her, she loves you, she’s met your family and yet we can’t meet her?” Brian raised his mop of curly hair just in time to see Roger gesturing between himself and the other two band members.

“You’d scare her off,” Brian shrugged and Freddie scoffed.

“Please, darling, if she’s stuck around this long I hardly think meeting the rest of us will scare her,” Brian rolled his eyes, setting his guitar to the side, finally finished with tuning. He stood and stretched, feeling the satisfying click of his muscles as they stretched out.

“We don’t know anything about her other than you love her, Brian, and that one photo in your wallet,” John said, putting it more gently than the other two. Brian raised his eyebrows at his friends.

“How do you know about the photo of her in my wallet?”

“None of us wanted to pay for the food when we went out a few months and you had left you wallet unattended,” Roger waved him off.

“It was Roger’s idea if you couldn’t tell,” John added, laughing at Roger’s nonchalant response.

“She’s hot though,” Roger added helpfully. Brian’s smile widened and he nodded.

“She’s beautiful,” he agreed.

“So we can meet her?” Brian shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips at his best friend’s persistence.

“Nope!”

“Then at least tell us about her!” Freddie demanded. Brian rolled his eyes, becoming well aware of the fact that, for once, the men weren’t going to back down on the subject of his girlfriend.

“We need to prepare for the show,” he tried but the men shook their heads, each of them taking a seat. Freddie pulled Mary onto his lap and they all looked at him expectantly.

“We have hours to go before the show, we’re fine,”

“We just want to hear about your girlfriend!” Roger groaned, throwing his head back. Brian let out a long sigh before giving a slow nod, taking a seat on his amp.

“What do you want to know?” The boys eyes lit up at the question.

“How did you meet?” A smile crossed his face as he remembered meeting Y/N for the first time.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked, approaching the girl. She was stood on her tiptoes, desperately reaching for a book at the top of the shelf in the bookstore. She turned to Brian and immediately looked away, ducking down to hide her face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she whispered and Brian noticed the adorable way in which she played with her fingers, clearly shy and embarrassed.

“Do you want me to get that down for you?” He offered gently, not wanting to scare off the woman but at the same time not wanting to stop talking to her - she was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. And this was probably the longest conversation he had successfully held with an attractive woman in over a month.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she denied quickly, twisting her fingers together as she risked a look at Brian under her lashes. He gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head easily.

“No bother at all, love, don’t worry. For once my height may actually come in handy,” he joked and a sense of accomplishment and pride filled his chest at the sound of her quiet laughter filling his ears.

“Then if you don’t mind,” she agreed shyly. Brian shook his head and reached his hand up.

“Which one?”

“Keats, please,” the pretty woman asked, holding her hands out for Brian to place the large book of poetry into.

“You read a lot of poetry?” He asked, not wanting to stop talking to her.

“I study English Literature at the university,” she explained, a quiet smile on her face.

“That’s cool! I study Astrophysics there,” Brian said. The woman bit her lip and looked at Brian through her lashes.

“I have some other books to pick up,” she whispered and Brian nodded, feeling disheartened that the woman didn’t appear to want to spend more time with her. “Would you um...” she trailed off, looking away as she tried to collect herself. Brian’s heart picked up a little at how adorably confused she seemed.

“It’s okay, love,” Brian chuckled.

“Would you like to come with me?” She offered, closing her eyes as though preparing herself for rejection.

“I’d love to,” Brian agreed. “I’m Brian, by the way, your own personal step ladder,” she giggled at his words and shifted the book of poetry to rest in just one of her arms so that she could shake his hand.

“Y/N,”

“That’s... kind of really sweet,” Roger said uncomfortably, clearly not used to enjoying hearing romantic stories of his friends.

Roger never was the romantic type.

Brian looked down, shifting awkwardly.

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, clearly unsure of how to finish his sentence.

“So you two just hit it off from there?” Mary asked, clearly invested in the story. Brian shrugged, smiling a little at the memory.

“Pretty much,” he agreed.

“Did she stop being shy and awkward?” Roger asked and John elbowed him, causing both of them to start laughing. Brian shook his head at them rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

“On our first date she was still pretty shy at first but opened up a little more as it went on,”

Brian bounced on the balls of his feet, biting his lip as he stared down at his watch. He was stood outside of her home - it was a house that she shared with her roommates from university, Y/N had mentioned over the phone that there were six of them including herself living there.

It must be a completely different dynamic to that between him and Roger living together.

He didn’t want to be too early for there date - not wanting to come across as too eager or anything that may scare her off after she had agreed to it, which had taken a lot of convincing in itself.

It was safe to say that Y/N was probably the shyest person Brian had ever met.

It was fine, though. If anything he found it cute. Her shyness made him want to be more confident, to look after her.

“Are you Brian?” His head snapped up towards the door. A man stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he looked at the guitarrist.

“Uh - yeah,”

“Here for Y/N then?”

“Yeah,” the man stepped back, offering him entrance to the house.

“Come inside - it’s cold out,” Brian nodded and walked up to the door, entering into the hallway. “I’m James - one of her roommates,”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

“You too - Y/N/N hasn’t stopped talking about you,” James laughed before walking to the stairs. “Y/N/N! Your date’s here!” He shouted loudly and turned back to Brian. “Cat’s just helping her finish getting ready,” he informed the musician. Brian nodded, swallowing and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Well I’m quite early,”

“It’s fine - good, actually. Put Y/N’s mind at rest,” he laughed, shaking his head and then seemed to pick up on Brian’s confused expression. “She was fairly sure you were going to cancel on her or something,” Brian chuckled and shook his head quickly.

“Definitely not - I’ve been looking forward to this for the past two days - just ask my roommate, he’s sick to death of hearing about it,” James threw back his head and laughed just as there were light footsteps on the staircase.

“Hey Brian,” she said quietly. Brian struggled to keep his mouth closed as he stared at her in wonder.

She was dressed simply in a cute sundress, her hair done up properly and her make-up done to perfection and yet Brian had never been quite so awestruck by a woman before.

“I wasn’t sure how smart or casual you meant by smart-casual,” Y/N admitted, a shy smile on her face as she awaited Brian’s response. The curly-haired man cleared his throat and grinned at her.

“You look amazing,” Y/N giggled a little at his words and took his outstretched hand, grabbing her bag from the side as the two of them passed the table on their way out of her home. “Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” she grinned, squeezing his hand, sending Brian’s heart into a frenzy of out of time beats.

Every time that he looked at her Brian felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. When she laughed at his jokes, when she was telling anecdotes about her roommates, when she started speaking so passionately about English Literature and poetry. Everything she did made him want to kiss her.

But he didn’t.

He wasn’t about to mess this up.

“You didn’t kiss her?” John asked, eyes widening slightly. Brian shrugged and shook his head.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Brian explained. Roger scoffed.

“It’s always the right time,”

“And that, Roger, is why you have yet to be in a serious relationship,” Mary added, the comment taking all of them by surprise, the group of them busting up into laughter.

“I don’t know how you like this shit,” Y/N laughed, closing Brian’s heavy textbook and tossing it to the side, turning instead to face him. He pouted.

“You were meant to be testing me,”

“You know it all,” Y/N waved him off, the smile on her face wide and genuine, a far cry from the shy one that had seemed a near-permanent fixture on her face for the first two weeks of their relationship.

“Is that so?” Brian asked, rolling over on her bed so that he was hovering above her, eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her.

Y/N reached up and gently tucked one of his unruly curls behind his ear, out of his face and ran her hand tenderly down his jaw, her face softening.

“Definitely,” she agreed.

“Yeah?”

“You’re the smartest person I know, Bri - you’re going to ace the test,” she promised. Brian chuckle a little, his heart swelling with adoration and he ducked down to press his lips to one cheek, then the other.

Before he could pull away again, Y/N caught his face in her small hands, her palms resting on his cheeks.

“Kiss me?” She asked, her original shyness coming back as she spoke her words, though Brian grinned and nodded.

“I’d love to,”

The kiss was soft and innocent, a brushing of lips and a bumping of noses but it left the two of them grinning insanely widely as they stared at one another.

Finally Y/N moved her arms to wrap around his shoulders, tangling in his long curly hair and pulling him back down into a kiss.

“You guys are so cute,” Mary sighed, smiling at the stories as she relaxed back into Freddie’s arms.

“You guys study together?” John asked, raising his brows at him.

“Yeah, used to get quite a lot done,” Brian agreed. He picked up his guitar, just for something to do and moved his fingers back to the tuning pegs, despite knowing it was already tuned.

“You know nothing about English Literature,” Roger pointed out and Brian shrugged.

“I try to learn about it though - it doesn’t matter, she tests me on Astrophysics and she has no idea what half the words even mean,”

“How did your parents react when they met her,”

It was one of the few weekends that Y/N was spending at Brian’s home.

The couple rarely spent time at Brian’s apartment on account of Roger always being there.

Not that Y/N had anything against Roger, it was just that she wasn’t ready to meet all of Brian’s friends, particularly the most outgoing ones such as Roger and Freddie.

But this was one of the few weekends that Roger had gone back to his family to spend time there.

And Brian saw it as a good opportunity to invite his parents down to meet his girlfriend. By this point they had been dating for five months and had even managed to exchange “I love you”’s with one another and it was needless to say that Brian had talked his parents ears off about Y/N.

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” Y/N asked nervously as she bustled around the kitchen, preparing the meal for them to eat. Brian laughed, coming up behind her and kissing her cheek gently.

“Of course they will, love - they’re going to love you,” he promised. Y/N sighed and turned to face him properly.

“I’ve never really met my boyfriend’s parents before,” she admitted, playing with the necklace resting on his chest. Brian gave her an affectionate smile and shook his head.

“You’re going to do amazingly, my love. They already love you anyway,”

“Oh yeah?”

“I love you and that’s enough for them,” Brian promised, kissing her tenderly for a moment before breaking away. “Come on, I’ll set the table,”

When Brian’s parents did arrive, they were swift to pull Y/N into hugs, introducing themselves with their first names and complimenting her on both her appearance and how the food smelt delicious.

Brian held Y/N’s hand under the table all through the meal, squeezing it tightly whenever he could sense her nerves, though they seemed to quickly dissipitate once her and his father got onto the conversation of their favourite Shakespeare plays - arguing over who the best villain was (Harold thought Don John whereas Y/N insisted that Richard III was far more complex and misunderstood and was therefore a better villain as a result of his complex reasonings and lack of any other personality traits) and seeing her getting along so well with his family made his heart beat out of his chest.

When they left that night, Brian’s mum invited Y/N to come stay with them in a couple of weeks time when Brian was coming up, insisting that they had to get to know each other better.

“I told you they’d love you,” Y/N let out a sigh of relief and allowed herself to fall back into Brian’s embrace.

“That was the most stressful dinner of my entire adult life,” she informed him.

“Excuse me, Brian? There’s someone here who says they know you?” Brian frowned at the man and stood up, walking over to the door. “A Y/H/C woman, she was quite shy and said that she was your girlfriend?” Brian completely lit up at that and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah of course! I’ll be right there!” Brian grinned, before turning back to his band mates. “I’ll be ready to play I promise,” was all he said before moving out into the main area of the pub.

It didn’t take him long to locate Y/N because, a soon as he exited the backstage area, Y/N flew towards him and hugged him as tight as she could. Brian gave a laugh of delight and returned the affection, nestling his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“You came!”

“Of course I did, Bri,” Y/N laughed quietly, looking up at him and then moving to connect their lips together.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you too,” Y/N giggled. Brian looked behind him towards the door through which he had just arrived and bit his lip unsurely before turning back to Y/N.

“Do you want to meet some people?”

#Queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #Brian May #brian may fanfiction #brian may fluff #brian may fan #brian may fanfic #brian may fic #brian may imagine #brian may imagines #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #not a request

404 notes · View notes

yousayparty · 4 years

Text

The right place, the right time, and the right amount of exclamation marks

The history of Vancouver via Abbotsford British Columbia’s You Say Party is a storied one. Imagine this: trapped in a never ending nightmare of suburban dystopian hell, you form a band. With the simple adjective of having fun, spreading a message, making people dance - you leave the confines of a religiously stifling community. Within a few years you’re playing the world’s top festivals, winning awards, and wooing critics.

But now I find myself piecing foggy bits of memory fragments together with duct tape and hairspray. Like stickers on a dive bar bathroom stall, I know I was there. But why and for how long? I feel like I’m sifting through a shoebox of handbills and press clippings like some True Crime podcaster placing myself at the scene.

I’m not sure where I first heard the name You Say Party! We Say Die! but it caught my eye. It was an era of exuberant band names. !!!, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Shout Out Out Out Out, Hot Hot Heat, Fake Shark- Real Zombie! And my own band GoGoStop! It was also a time when bands out Vancouver’s sleepy conservative suburbs were starting to break out: Witness Protection Program, The Hand, Fun100.

It was exciting. There was a sense of community. Of people just wanting to have fun. Perhaps we were shaking off the anxieties of a post 9/11 world, or shrugging off the self seriousness that was emo and hardcore. We still made mix tapes and zines- scoured Terminal City and The Straight for new bands. There was this new social networking craze called MySpace that had yet to be a ubiquitous omnipresent corporate behemoth that dominated every corner of our lives. We were called Scenesters not Hipsters. Everyone was in an art collective.

Adorned with white belts and one-inch pins; asymmetrical hair cuts and red velvet blazers we set out to prove Vancouver wasn’t No Fun City at now long shuttered venues like the Marine Club, the Pic Pub, and Mesa Luna. I didn’t drink at the time so dancing, and by extension dance punk, had become my saviour- bands like The Rapture, Les Say Fav, Pretty Girls Make Graves to name a few. When Mp3 blogs became a thing, I immediately downloaded The Gap from their 2005 debut Hit The Floor! and loaded it on my 100 song iPod shuffle. I like so many others, became an instant fan.

I moved into what could only be described as a punk rock compound- 3 houses that were owned by a former Christian sect that we dubbed Triple Threat. Members of Bend Sinister, No Dice, Witness Protection Program, and Devon Clifford from You Say Party and Cadeaux (and Whiteloaf) all lived there. He drove an orange 1981 Camaro Berlinetta to match his bright red hair and big personality. We would walk to the greasy spoon Bon’s Off Broadway to get terrible but cheap breakfast and to watch The coffee Sheriff pour undrinkable refills of sludge. It was like living in the movie Withnail and I, but funner. We all wore pins that said Do You Party? on them.

It felt like Vancouver was blowing up and You Say Party was the hand-clapping drum majorette leading the pack. Ladyhawk, Black Mountain, Radio Berlin, New Pornographers, Destroyer, S.T.R.E.E.T.S., The Doers, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? And The Organ highlighted just how tight-knit and diverse our scene was. Relentless touring and glowing reviews for You Say Party’s sophomore Lose All Time ensured they were head of the class, despite being unable to tour the US due to a previous border snafu.

Lose All Time sat on top of the Earshot charts for what seemed like forever. Famous for their frenetic live shows, and aided by stunning videos, their sophomore effort was a clear progression from Hit The Floor! It still harnessed the visceral rawness of their origins, but hinted at a confidence and maturity that was to come. The title of Lose All Time was a reference to the discombobulation of constant touring and it too was a hint of what was to come.

The touring would take its toll. Fuelled by Chinese Red Bull; a well document public dustup between band members at a bar in Germany would throw everything into uncertainty. But it was that turbulence that would set the stage for XXXX and after a restorative tour to China, the stage was set for the penultimate You Say Party record.

Flash forward to 2009 and the city was on edge. Everything was about to change. Vancouver was preparing to host the world amidst the unfolding Great Recession. Anti-Olympic protests ramped up. A gang war raged in the streets and made international headlines, tucked behind Swine Flu hysteria and the ongoing imperialist war on Iraq.

It seemed like all the venues started closing and all our friends were moving to Berlin or Montreal. We starting looking in. Is this the city we want? Was it just growing pains? This kind of introspection is clearly reflected in XXXX. If Lose All Time was a record the band wanted to make, XXXX was a record for the people; a record for the city of Vancouver; a record for 2009.

"I finally feel like a singer, rather than a dancer who loves being in a band" said Becky Ninkovic at the time. It’s a perfect quote. One that succinctly captures the maturity and focus of the record. After a breakdown for Ninkovic, a year of rest and vocal lessons, Exclaim! announced XXXX to be a career resuscitation.

And it was. Going back now and rediscovering the record is such a magical thing. Opening for You Say Party with my band Taxes in 2008, I was impressed with the new material even if was a little jaded (I mean I was almost 30). But now with time and space I can see the songs they were working on were truly timeless. Laura Palmer’s Prom could so easily slot in with the latest 80s synthwave revival along alongside bands like Lust for Youth, Lower Dens, and Chromatics.

Overall, XXXX sounds like an exhale. A moment of stillness when you know you’ve made something extraordinary. When you know all those moments combined; moments of sheer terror, adrenalin, elation, boredom, and longing- culminate in a piece of art that once you let go of it- you just know in your gut that it’s right. It draws you in, wrestles with a brooding tension, then sends you into a churning whirlwind of tight drums and buzzing synths. It’s a remarkable achievement.

There’s plenty of vintage YSP sass throughout. “She’s Spoken For”, “Make XXXX”, and “Cosmic Wanship Avengers” are all classic synth punk gems, but the it’s in the subdued that the album really grips. “Dark Days”, “There is XXXX (Within My Heart)” and the sprawling Kate Bush like ballad “Heart of Gold” are the hallmark of a band that is comfortable exploring the limits of their genre. While lyrically quite positive, the melodies are daunting. Indeed, as Pitchfork put it, “the slower pace and more sentimental outlook of XXXX gives listeners the necessary space and encouragement to surrender to the band's emotional message”.

And it was a message they would finally return to the US with in 2009. The band was poised for mainstream breakout success. They were long listed for the Polaris and they won a Western Canadian Music Award for Best Rock Album of the year. Much has been written about what would happen next. I don’t want this article to be about the tragic onstage death of drummer and friend Devon Clifford, but it’s inexorably linked to the band’s story.

And I can only really tell it from my point of view. I wasn’t sure I would go to the funeral but a mutual friend told me that Devon would want me to go. Portland Hotel Society, a local housing provider which Devon had thrown the weight of his passion behind, rented a bus to drive out to Abbotsford. I held up pretty well until my friend Al Boyle got up to play. Then some yelled “Spagett”. Then Krista and Becky sang “Cloudbusting” and I lost it.

The band would try to carry on. Krista would leave the band and Bobby Siadat and Robert Andow of the band Gang Violence would fill in for touring. When that didn’t go as planned Al Boyle who had been in the punk band Hard Feelings with Devon would replace Bobby. They officially went on hiatus in 2011 only to reunite a year later with Krista back on keys and a drum machine in place of Devon.

And while the band’s self titled 2016 release would be their moment of closure, the reissue of XXXX is one of celebration. Celebration of what they made with Devon. Celebration of a near perfect moment in time. A capsule of a entire city at it’s peak. The band has changed. The scene has changed. And I’ve changed. But there will always be XXXX within in our hearts.

'Cause every time it rains

You're here in my head

Like the sun coming out

Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen

And I don't know when

But just saying it could even make it happen

Sean Orr Vancouver, BC January 2020

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

We are so excited to reissue a limited run of XXXX on clear vinyl through Paper Bag Records Vintage for Record Store Day on August 29th! Support your local stores & grab this album on vinyl for the first time in 10 years! https://recordstoredaycanada.ca #yousayparty #YSPWSD

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

About Sean Orr Sean Orr is a writer, musician, artist, activist, and dishwasher living and working in the unceded Coast Salish territories of Vancouver, B.C. Besides his twice weekly news column in Scout Magazine he writes for Beatroute and has written for Vice Magazine and Montecristo among others in the past. He’s the frontman in the punk band Needs and also has a pickle company called Brine Adams. Twitter | NEEDS | Tea & Two Slices | Flickr

#yousayparty #xxxx #vinyl #reissue #paperbagrecords #yousaypartywesaydie #dancepunk #seanorr

1 note · View note

xtrashmammalstefx · 5 years

Text

My Dr. Feelgood (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

Requested and Inspired by: @xcazzax

WARNINGS: Cursing, smut, it’s Motley Crue you get the gist.

Since Mick joined the band that would be Motley Crue Nikki and I had our own special thing. I remember Mick nailed his audition and was welcomed with open arms by Tommy (drummer and goofball extraordinaire) and Nikki (my very own Dr. Feelgood). I swear what Nikki and I had between us felt almost instant. I knew it and he sure as hell knew it too.

“You’re in on one condition,” he told Mick that first day.

“Name it,” Mick said curious.

Nikki then turned to me and smirked. “You join us too.”

I shook my head. “Mick is the only musically talented one of us unfortunately.”

“Yeah but you have talent elsewhere which I like,” Nikki said,

“To what talent are you referring to?”

“You, sweetheart, are a very talented enchantress,” Nikki said fingering a loose piece of my hair. “You’ve got me under your spell and now I need to be near you constantly or else it’ll quickly become a curse.”

“Ahem,” Mick cleared his throat looking at us disapprovingly.

After that Mick told me repeatedly that even though he agreed to join the band there was no fucking way I was going anywhere near them; especially Nikki. But the thing is even I was enchanted by Nikki. Not because he was inhumanly beautiful in his own way but because he was an enigma of sorts. He always kept everyone at arm's length but when anyone got close, especially me, he melted as though he were made of butter. He enjoyed comfort and affection yet wouldn’t give it himself. And a big part of me couldn’t help but wonder why.

So I went with Mick to every practice, recording session, and tour. He wasn’t very pleased but Nikki was. He’d always find a way or reason to be close to me, and truth be told I sort of did the same.

Tommy and Vince tried to get close to me but Nikki was quick to put them in their place. Like when Vince joined the band after we booted out this no talent hippie who got on everyone’s fucking nerves. He wasted no time in trying to lure me with his charm.

“So Y/N you seeing anybody?” he asked joining me on the couch at Nikki’s place. They’d just got done performing a new song for the first time, and not gonna lie Vince was pretty good.

Before I could answer Nikki sat down on the other side of me answered for me. “What’s it to ya?” He glared at Vince.

It wasn’t that fierce but Vince still backed off. “Sorry man I didn’t know she was with you.”

“Well now ya know,” Nikki said. Vince got up then and walked off towards the kitchen.

“Nikki,” I groaned.

“What?” he said smiling and draping his arm around me.

“You’re a fucking asshole you know that?”

“That hurts babe,” he said making a pouty face which with his full lips and big eyes weakened the absolute fuck out of me.

I looked over to make sure Mick wasn’t looking (sure enough he was occupied with his guitar). When I was sure the coast was clear I turned back and pecked Nikki on the lips.

Nikki jolted as though my lips gave him quite the shock. He then smiled, placed his hand on my cheek, and pulled me back in. He kissed me hungrily; almost as though he’d been aching to kiss me all day. I didn’t kiss back right away. I was dead scared Mick would see us and tear us a new one. But then my dumbass angel swooped in and saved our day.

“Hey Mick check out this new song I’m working on,” I could hear Tommy say in his loud, doesn’t-know-how-to-shut-the-fuck-up voice. With my brother distracted I smiled and kissed Nikki back.

For a while life was filled with moments like these. We weren’t sure what we were exactly. So until we could figure it out moments were all we had, and we were okay with that. We did our best to keep things PG around the guys since A) Mick was still not entirely okay with me being around Nikki all the time, and B) Tommy wouldn’t stop making gagging sounds at the slightest bit of flirting (which happened A LOT!).

Tour was no exception. And the fact that we each had our own curtained bunks on the bus was a godsend. Nikki and I did things in my bunk that would probably make Mick cry (and Mick doesn’t really cry for shit so…). Mostly hand stuff and...toy related things (my god did he know how to work a vibrator). We didn’t think it could be better than that.

Then at the end of the tour, the guys decided to throw a party at the hotel we were staying at. Of course, some of those invited were the groupies desperate to fuck the members of the band; including Nikki.

At first, I wasn’t really going to indulge too much but fuck… groupies were brutal.

“I heard he’s seeing that weird ass guitar’s player slutty sister,” said one groupie.

“Ew as if,” said another. “I doubt Nikki would waste time on that trash.”

I took a swig of whiskey. “Funny I thought she was talking about me and not you.”

“Excuse me?” said the one who called me trash.

“You’re excused,” I said pushing past them. “Cunt.”

After that, I sort of drowned my sorrows in whatever liquor I could find. When I started feeling a little more than buzzed I started to make my way back to my room. I had just reached the door and was slipping the key in when I heard a voice shout my name.

“Y/N!” Nikki made his way towards me. “Why’d you run?”

I shook my head. “I guess I just wanted to drown my sorrows in whiskey all on my own; spare everyone the upsetting imagery.”

“What? D-Did something happen?” he asked brushing my cheek with his fingers.

I sighed. “Just go back to the party, Nikki.”

“Oh fuck no. I ain’t going anywhere when you’re like this,” Nikki said bringing us both into my room and closing the door behind. “Yuh-you’re sad and that’s not okay. Now tell me wuh-what those cu-cunts said to you. I know it was the groupies and I promise not to do anything illegal to them. Just… tell me. PLease.”

I placed the pilfered whiskey down on the small table by the door and sighed. “They said you wouldn’t waste time on someone like me. The weird guitarist's slutty sister.”

Nikki’s eyes grew wide. “I change my mind about not doing anything illegal those cunts are fucking dead!”

“What? No!” I grabbed his hand to hold him back which, along with all the booze in his system, fucked up his balance and well… “OH FUCK!”

Nikki had tripped and fallen on top of me. Thankfully we had a grayish fur rug to soften the fall. Nikki laughed. “Yuh-You know if you wanted me to uh-hic-top you all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up,” I laughed. Next thing I knew Nikki was kissing me.

Not gonna lie parts of it are a little fuzzy to me. One minute Nikki and I were just making out and then in the next, we were both naked and Nikki was pushing himself inside me. I remember feeling a tingle at the feel of him. So much so that a few thrusts in I actually sobered up a little (just a little).

I remember being unable to keep my voice down when he hit a certain spot. I remember my back arching and screaming his name as I tightened around him. His thrusts became sloppy and… suddenly he was erupting inside me; a string of curses leaving his lips. His body trembled as he released every last drop he had.

I don’t remember anything else after that until I woke up the next morning with a motherfucker of a headache and sore cunt. I blinked open my eyes slowly and found Nikki laying beside me naked.

“Oh shit,” I muttered reaching over to nudge him awake.

“Mmm fuck off,” he muttered turning to lay on his side.

“Believe me we already did,” I said making his eyes snap open.

“Oh fuck,” he then cringed bringing his hand to his head. “FUCK!”

“Hey Y/N!” Tommy knocked on my door which felt like a fucking jackhammer drilling into my head.

“HEY DICKHEAD WE’RE HUNGOVER AS FUCK IN HERE! YA MIND KEEPING IT THE FUCK DOWN?! JESUS!” Nikki shouted at him.

“Nikki?!” Tommy exclaimed. “Dude what the fuck?!”

“Tell Mick about any of this and I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you, Tommy!” I snapped at him.

“Can I at least tell Vince? He sorta owes me a hundred bucks,” Tommy said.

“Of-fucking-course he does,” I groaned. “Discretely alright?”

“FUCK YEAH!”

Nikki groaned. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE TOMMY!”

Tommy laughed and walked away.

“I feel like someone bashed my fuckin’ head into a wall,” Nikki said. “Repeatedly with the fury of a thousand fucking suns.”

“Well at least you’re not the one suffering pain on both ends,” I said. “God is your cock made out of steel or something?”

He looked over at me and smirked. “So I was THAT good eh?”

I lifted my middle finger as I shoved a pillow (from a nearby chair) onto my face.

After that night I figured we wouldn’t like mention it ever again, or at least forget it ever happened and move; go back to the way things used to be. Not that I didn’t want things to go in the direction that night sent us in it’s just… the groupie's words refused to leave my mind.

Maybe he shouldn’t waste his time on someone like me. He’s Nikki fucking Sixx. He’s a rockstar. He can have anything and anyone he wants. Why would he want me? A nobody who just so happens to share DNA with a somebody.

Four months later though I realized forgetting that night wasn’t an option.

I woke up one morning to my stomach churning. I ran to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet when all of the previous night’s dinner came out. It scared the shit out of me. Once my stomach was empty of food I thought about what in the hell could have caused it. Then I realized, while my mind was occupied with band matters and such, it was completely unpreoccupied with the fact that I was more than three months late.

Oh, fuck! I quickly got dressed and went down to the nearby drugstore. I had just gotten back when Mick startled me from inside our kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Jesus!”

“Sorry I didn’t know you’d be out so early,” Mick said handing me my mug. “What’s that?” He motioned at the small baggy in my hand.

“Oh-uh-it’s nothing. Just girl stuff,” I said. Even Mick knew not to ask questions when it comes to female relate things such as periods.

“Nikki called says he wants us over at his place in a few minutes,” Mick said. “Claims he and Tommy got a new song he wants us to try out.”

“Alright,” I said taking a swig of my coffee. I finished it as fast as I could and darted upstairs.

“DON’T TAKE TOO LONG OR ELSE I’M LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!” Mick called out after me.

Shit. In the bathroom, I quickly peed on the stick, capped it and shoved it in my pocket.

We didn’t say anything as we drove down to Nikki’s house; the fucking place that started it all. Once there I excused myself to go use the bathroom, without even looking at Nikki. I darted upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I took out the test and placed it on the counter (it still had a couple of minutes to go). I never cried so hard as I did when I saw that little pink plus sign.

I placed my hand on my stomach and felt the smallest bump had already formed. It was real… and it was happening to me. To Nikki… I wiped my eyes, shoved the test back in my pocket, and went back downstairs.

“Hey, you okay?” Nikki asked brushing his hand against my arm.

“Um yeah I’m fine,” I said.

“Okay,” he smiled. The guys performed the new song then… and god did it strike the right chord.

You know I'm a dreamer

But my heart's of gold

I had to run away high

So I wouldn't come home low

Just when things went right

It doesn't mean they were always wrong

Just take this song, and you'll never feel

Left all alone

Take me to your heart

Feel me in your bones

Just one more night

And I'm comin' off this

Long & winding road

I'm on my way

Home sweet home...

Tonight, tonight

I'm on my way

Home sweet home...

The song continued like that and so much more until it’s very end. By then I was crying again.

“Y/N?” Nikki looked at me concerned.

“Just… give me a moment alright,” I said escaping to the kitchen. The fridge was full of beer which was exactly what I needed but couldn’t have. So I settled for a coke. I sat down on the counter and tried to ease my breathing.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Nikki asked joining me a moment later.

“I can’t…” I shook my head.

“Hey,” Nikki said taking me into his arms. “Whatever it is I can handle it.”

“Even if it has to do with our night of drunken fucking?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that but sure,” he said. “Y-You don’t regret do you?”

“Do you?”

“Of course not,” Nikki said. “I love you Y/N.”

I pulled back, wiped a tear away and took out the test. I held it up for him to see. “Do you still love me now?”

Nikki’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit!”

“Is that a no then?”

“What? Fuck no...I mean yes I still love you,” Nikki said. “I’m always going to love you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Nikki asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean after what those groupies said… I figured you wouldn’t want to waste your life on something that happened because of a careless night of drunken sex.”

“Y/N,” Nikki lifted my chin with his thumb. “It wasn’t a night of drunken sex for me. That night… what we did… hell what we made,” he placed his hand on my belly. “It was way more than that. We made love as we will continue to for the rest of our lives.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “My old man. He was never there and I can guarantee that if I croaked right now he wouldn’t give two shits about it. I promised myself that when given the chance that I would be different. That my kid would know a father’s love; and that my wife would know her husband’s love.” He placed a small box in my hand. He lifted the lid revealing a small ring. “So will you?”

I cried and threw my arms around him.

“Is that a yes then?” he asked.

“Just put the ring on you idiot,” I said holding out my hand. He slipped the ring onto my finger.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said.

Nikki was my Dr. Feelgood and his drug of choice that he would always hook me up with was what our special thing was all about. It was love.

It would always be love.

#nikki sixx #The Dirt #Douglas Booth

95 notes · View notes

valentines-in-london · 5 years

Text

I Need Fire (Part 3)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Rayne gave Tommy a proposition at the Roxy four days ago and is doubting her decision to do so. Will the eager drummer find his girl? Authors Note: Wow! Thank you all for the great feedback on Part 2! Keep it coming I absolutely love to hear it. This chapter I don’t know what got into me, but I just kept writing. You’re in for a lot of stuff in this chapter.

Music Inspiration: All Motley this chapter! Merry Go Round, Take Me To The Top, Starry Eyes, Toast of The Town, Too Fast For Love, Tonight

Warning: This chapter starts to get a little hot and heavy with some dirty talk. Also I’m not good with writing about drugs so in general this story probably isn’t going to have a ton of detail about that, it’ll mostly be references… but we all know what Tommy was doing right?

Word Count: 5,475

Taglist: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples send me an ask if you want to be added!

Chapter 3

The alarm went off next to the bed jolting Rayne awake, fuck how was it already 5am? The California sun wasn’t even shining through the blinds yet when Rayne threw the covers off of herself and reached for her pack of cigarettes.

“Alright, get up, you can do it.” Rayne said quietly to herself trying to find the motivation to get up and go to work. She had never been a morning person ever since she was a little kid. Continuing to puff on her cigarette she grabbed her uniform throwing it over her shoulder as she silently made her way down the hall towards the bathroom. She made sure to be quiet in the mornings because Jo didn’t have to be up as early as she did, sometimes the bathroom door was in agreement with remaining quiet, other times not. Luckily for Rayne this morning the bathroom door closed quietly.

Even though she probably stayed in the shower for a little bit too long, eventually Rayne left the bathroom, a mass of steam following her as she walked to the kitchen for her not so healthy breakfast. She had gotten into a major routine since getting a job at the hospital as an x-ray tech. So much so that it didn’t even register to her to actually turn the coffee pot on in the morning anymore, she just did it instinctively. Rayne was lucky to have gotten a great paying Monday through Friday job so she always had her weekends free, but if she was being honest with herself she went out on a lot of weeknights too. The candle was burning at both ends but a girl was only 23 once in her life, and Rayne never wanted to look back on her life with regret.

While waiting for the coffee to finish Rayne lit up another cigarette and let her thoughts drift. It had been four days since the night at the Roxy and if she was being honest she had kicked herself every day since. She knew why she was playing so hard to get - it was a defense mechanism, and she hated that about herself. She knew she could be bitchy but it was definitely time to pump the breaks, Tommy seemed to genuinely be into her if for nothing else but her looks. “Oh god I’m an idiot, I should’ve just told him my name, he’s never gonna fuckin find me. Who do I think I am Farrah fucking Fawcett?”

The smell of coffee put a pause on Rayne’s hushed criticism of herself. Grabbing a travel mug from the cabinet she filled it to the top and headed out the door to start her day.

As she got into the rhythm of the day Rayne slowly but surely woke up. She greeted the girls in the office and said hello to the doctors as she made her way to the front desk to begin her day. Soon after that time started to fade away, patient after patient, room after room. Life in a medical office in a hospital was certainly never boring. Eventually Rayne walked out of one of the exam rooms slipping a file into the folder on the wall when she looked at her watch, it was almost time for her lunch. Time flies when you’re lookin at broken bones all day.

“Um, Rayne?” Her co-worker Jennifer approached her. Jennifer had been in the office the longest, she was an older slightly pudgy woman.

“Yeah Jenn?” Rayne asked leaning against the wall casually.

“There’s um-someone in the office for you.” Jennifer said cautiously slightly stammering over her words.

“Huh? Someone for me? Who is it?” Rayne questioned furrowing her brow, something she knew her mother would yell at her about if she were there to see it.

“Um, I think you should just go out and see, if for nothing else than to make him leave.” Jennifer seemed exceptionally off put so Rayne quickly walked out and opened the door to the waiting room stopping in her tracks as soon as she walked through the threshold.

Standing there in the middle of the room, mostly filled with older people was none other than Tommy in a leather jacket, ripped up jeans, his hair proudly feathered out, and in his hands a bouquet of roses. He smiled wide, holding his arms out at his sides proudly taking a few steps towards her. “Rayne Sykes.”

Holy shit. “You can’t be here.” Rayne quickly said to Tommy taking a step towards him to direct him out.

“You told me to find you,” Tommy said softly holding up the roses in front of Rayne stopping her in her tracks, “So I found you.”

Rayne let out a surprised exhale and took the roses from his hand. “I did, but you have to go I’m working.”

“It’s almost lunch time, don’t tech’s get lunch? And if you don’t I’ll just sit here until you’re done work.” Tommy took a step towards a chair in the room moving to sit down. She was fairly certain that if he somehow went through the trouble to find her and show up at her job he would certainly made good on that promise. Rayne quickly grabbed his arm to stop him from sitting down.

“Okay, okay.” She hushed closing her eyes and taking a breath. “I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.”

“Alright, see you in ten gorgeous.” Tommy smiled holding up her hand to glance at her watch. “Don’t be late.”

Tommy turned on his heel and strutted out of the room whistling. When he disappeared from view all eyes were on Rayne, both from her coworkers and patients in the waiting room. “Okay shows over!”

Everyone quickly got back to work and stopped looking at Rayne except for Jennifer. Rayne looked the slightly older woman dead in the eyes before saying “Don’t ask.”

It took her almost the full ten minutes to get the courage to go outside. Rayne exited the building and saw Tommy immediately in front of the doors sitting on the stairs, his back to her. “Well are you ready for lunch?”

He quickly jumped to his feet a goofy smile on his face. “Yes doctor.”

“Oh god, don’t even start. And I’m not a doctor!” Rayne playfully shoved him over as they made their way down the street.

“Well, you can play doctor with me whenever you want.” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Rayne couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips.

“Alright Romeo.” She shook her head. “Thanks for the flowers by the way, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did. You’re making me work for this, I gotta go full romance.” Tommy motioned with his hands how big he was planning to go with the romance. “Roses, sonnets, love songs, candle lit dinners…”

“Oh jesus christ.” Rayne chuckled at his statement before stopping in front of a restaurant motioning to the door, “This sandwich shop is really good.”

“After you,” Tommy opened the door for Rayne to walk through.

“Two please.” Rayne said to the hostess as she walked in. The two sat down and quickly looked over the menu, Rayne wasn’t sure why she did she always got the same thing. “So, how did you find me?”

“I may or may not have bribed the bartender from the other night.” Tommy said proudly, while Rayne shot daggers at him.

“Remind me to kill David next time I see him.” Rayne shook her head in disapproval. Who knew one of her best friends in the scene could be bought so easily. What if Tommy was a killer? “By the way I only have until 1:30, then I have to be back.”

Before Tommy could say anything the waitress approached the table, “Do we know what we want?”

Tommy motioned for Rayne to start, “Can I do the tomato soup, the roast beef and cheese and a water?” The waitress nodded, “And for you?” “I’ll have the turkey club with avocado and a coke please.”

“No Jack Daniels for you?” Rayne raised her left eyebrow as the waitress walked away.

“I could, but I want to remember this.” Tommy smiled.

“Oh my god you are so cheesy. You’re not actually like this.”

“Nikki might disagree with you, but I am trying to impress you a bit.” Tommy played with a ring on his finger.

“You know how you could impress me?” Rayne paused until he looked at her. She took that moment to put her hand over his to stop his fidgeting. “Just be you.”

Rayne saw Tommy exhale a bit when she said those words Rayne took her hand away from Tommy’s at the sight of him relaxing slightly. “You look really different by the way. Good, but different.”

She looked down at her scrubs running her fingers down to smooth them out. “Oh you mean no makeup, tame hair and no leather?”

“Yeah exactly. Is that frowned upon in the office?” Tommy asked reaching for Rayne’s hands taking them in his again. Rayne shook her head nodding down to her fingers, “You see my nails?”

Tommy looked down as Rayne wiggled her fingers for him, they were painted blue and were an almond shape that stuck out past the very tips of her fingers. “Even those are frowned upon, the color and the length. So you could imagine the horror if I showed up looking like a dominatrix.”

“Mmm,” Tommy lifted her hand and began kissing her knuckles, “But I’d like it.”

“Tommy! Stop!” Rayne giggled pulling her hands away from his lips. As she did their waitress came back with their sandwiches. “Thank you. Tommy, can I ask you a very real question?”

“You can ask me anything you want.” He said taking a big bite of his turkey sandwich. Rayne took the opportunity of him being distracted by his food to take a look at him, this was the most well lit area she had ever been with Tommy. Out on the balcony of the shitty LA apartment was dim at best and the other night at the club, well it was your average night club, and everyone knew club lighting had a tendency to turn fives into eights or nines. Luckily for Rayne that wasn’t the case with Tommy, if she was being honest he was beautiful. He had hair that looked like ravens feathers which made his pale skin look even more snow white. He had prominent cheek bones, pouty lips and his eyes were a dark chocolate brown. As a matter of fact Rayne could see the remnants of black eyeliner outlining them making his eyes look even darker.

“Why are you going through all this trouble? You don’t even know me. And don’t give me the whole ‘have you looked at yourself’ bullshit.” Rayne questioned now taking a bite out of her sandwich.

Tommy took a moment to think, “Honestly, the only answer I can give is I’m just drawn to you. I feel like I have to get to know you.” Tommy mentally applauded himself for not saying “I feel like I have to have you” which is exactly how he felt.

“What if I don’t want to get to know you?” Rayne asked looking down at her sandwich.

“Then I will leave you alone and will consider you the one that got away for the rest of my life.” Tommy replied sincerely. “Is that what you want?”

“Lord help me, no. I don’t want that.” Rayne looked Tommy dead in the eye. “You know I didn’t expect this from the drummer of a band named Motley Crue.”

“Oh don’t worry I’m sure I’ll make a fool out of myself sooner rather than later. Mick always tells me if I was in Jonestown I would’ve drank the kool-aid.” Tommy shrugged, his casual delivery causing Rayne to let out a loud laugh receiving more than a few looks from other patrons.

“Oh, so you’re gullible. I’ll have to keep that in mind, you never know when I may be able to use that to my advantage.” Rayne winked at Tommy.

“I should warn you,” Tommy lowered his voice, “I may be gullible but don’t get too comfortable. I’m still a bad boy.”

“Oh, I’m so scared.” Rayne teased him deciding to play along. “And how bad exactly are you?”

“Well, you should consider yourself lucky that we were seated at a table and not a booth.” Tommy grinned, his bangs falling into his eyes making them almost appear black.

“And why is that Tommy?” Rayne leaned forward.

“Because if we were at a booth all I’d be able to think about is how I could get you off without anyone noticing.” He replied matter of factly. “And then I’d think about how to keep getting you off until you had to go back to work, soaking wet and thinking of nothing else but me.”

Holy sh-“Holy shit Tommy.” Rayne couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself. She could feel her breath picking up at his words. Tommy kept a devilish smile plastered on his face, “What you afraid you might like that Cherry?”

At that perfect moment the waitress came over, “You two doing okay over here?”

“Perfect, I just think the check when you get a chance.” Rayne spoke out nervously, which resulted in the waitress giving both of them a sideways look. Taking a breath Rayne locked eyes with Tommy. “No rock star, I know I would like it, that’s the fucking problem.”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem sweets.” He leaned forward, shaking his hair from his eyes. Rayne shot him a look to kill. “Mm, those eyes are something else. But they’re a little too telling.”

“What are they telling you?” Rayne took a chance and asked.

“That you want me to do all those things to you too. That you want to be wild but no one’s ever told you it’s okay.” Rayne went wide eyed. Of course the waitress chose that moment to bring the check, her timing was absolutely impeccable. Rayne was at least happy to have someone cut the tension between the two of them. Both she and Tommy reached for the check.

“Tommy, I get paid weekly and make a decent living, no offense but I’ve seen your apartment. Let me pay for it.” Rayne spoke.

“Not a chance in hell.” Tommy said slipping the check from her finger tips and walking to the front counter to pay. Rayne took a steadying breath. That was what Rayne expected talking to the drummer of Motley Crue would be like. His bluntness startled her to be honest, their interactions prior Rayne had been in control of the conversations, but with one statement Tommy took that control. Fuck. Rayne looked down at her watch and saw she had five minutes to get back to the office. She grabbed her black fuzzy purse opening it up to leave a tip on the table and got up to walk towards Tommy.

“I left a tip. I have to be back in five minutes.” Rayne said from his side as Tommy got his change back. The two of them walked out of the sandwich shop in silence, turning back towards the office Rayne worked.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting you.” Tommy broke the silence with a quiet declaration.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Rayne shook her head.

“You seriously want me to believe that no one has told you that you’re the sexiest thing they’ve ever seen? That no one has told you that they’d do anything you asked them to just so they could touch you?”

“God Tommy, when you say things like that. Fuck it makes me feel…” Rayne’s voice was hushed before she trailed off. “And yes I want you to believe that because ever since I’d been to LA the only guy that’s ever shown interest in me like that I found out took $200 from his friend because his friend wanted to fuck Jo. The guy said I was around the apartment too much, so his friends job was to keep me out of the apartment so him and Jo could go at it alone. I lost it when I found out, and so did Jo.”

“Holy shit.” Tommy lit up a cigarette, taking a deep breath in. “Babe that’s so fucked up. I’m not like that. I promise, I would never do that. I want you.”

They soon got to the steps outside the office. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait. You still have two minutes.” Tommy grabbed her hand turning Rayne towards him. “I’m serious Rayne. You know that’s not what’s going on here right? Don’t you feel this, when I touch you?”

“I do.” Rayne nodded her head looking up at him. They were electric, it seemed as though the air crackled and popped around them when they were together. Rayne knew Tommy was telling the truth, because it was her truth too. “Fuck it.”

Rayne stood on the tips of her toes, grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him down in a kiss. She could tell Tommy was caught off guard but quickly wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into him. They opened their mouths in unison, Tommy slipping his tongue into Rayne’s eager mouth where she returned the gesture letting out a moan of pleasure. Pulling away before things got even more heated Rayne gave Tommy one final peck before she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I really should get going.”

Tommy kept his hands on Rayne’s hips holding her in place. “We have a show every night this weekend at the Whiskey. Tell me I’ll see you there.”

“You’ll see me there.” Rayne whispered before finally pulling away from him and rushing off to get back to work on time. What Tommy didn’t see is Rayne steady herself against the wall as soon as she entered trying to calm her breathing down. She brought her finger tips to her lips still able to feel Tommy’s kiss on them. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh, I really like him!

What Rayne couldn’t see was Tommy’s smile and him throwing his fist in the air to shout an enthusiastic “YES” at anyone who was walking by and cared to listen to his joy. Before he headed home Tommy even went so far as to grab a doctor by the shoulders and happily exclaim “She kissed me dude!”

Two Days Later

Rayne was filled with anxiety as she and Jo walked up to The Whiskey arm in arm, the line wound around the street. “I didn’t think there would be this many people.” Rayne stated honestly looking at the length of the line.

“Well luckily for us we are not poseurs, we know every door man, bartender and security guard in this city.” Jo said confidently walking up to the tall man at the door. “Hello Harry!”

“Hi, gorgeous.” Harry smiled giving Jo a huge hug before wrapping up Rayne in an embrace. “You two ladies here for the show? Or just cruising the strip?”

“Oh we’re here for the show.” Rayne smiled wide before motioning to the line. “But it looks like we’ll have to wait in line.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to, it’s out of my hands.” Harry nodded before stepping to the side gesturing for the two of them to walk into the club, “Have a good night ladies.”

Jo lifted up on the tips of her toes and kissed Harry on the cheek, “You’re the best Harry.”

The two girls walked into the club, heading straight for the bar to grab some drinks. “Ray I can’t wait for you to see them, they are so kick ass! You should be happy your man is hidden behind a drum kit because the girls practically crawl all over each other to get a piece of the guys.”

“Thanks Jo,” Rayne said sarcastically, “That makes me feel great. Also he’s not my man, we just kissed.”

“Mmmhmm, not buying it.” Jo smiled before ordering two drinks from the bartender. Rayne took a moment to look around the crowd, it was packed wall to wall with people all here to see Motley Crue, they must have been great live. One thing she couldn’t help but notice was all the beautiful women in scantily clad outfits sauntering all over the club. Jo recognized the look on Rayne’s face immediately, “Hey! Tommy said it himself, he likes you. Don’t feel insecure because of these wannabe bitches.”

Rayne gave her friend a small smile before taking her glass of whisky from the bar. “Thanks Jo.”

“No problem, now stop sulking and lets find our guys.” Jo smiled pushing her way through the crowd. Rayne loved to watch Jo work the room, saying hello to everyone even people she didn’t know. “I see one of them over here!”

Rayne looked up and spotted Nikki’s unmistakable palm tree hair immediately, and standing next to him was Tommy. Both were dressed to the hilt in leather, studs and chains. Tommy even wore a pair of high heeled stiletto boots making him even taller than usual. As the girls approached the two men who were surrounded by people Rayne was happy to stand above most of them, as Tommy immediately looked in her general direction.

Tommy stepped past a blonde that was talking to him causing her to turn around with a sour look on his face. He made his way through the group of people to Rayne, “You came.”

“I told you I would.” Rayne smiled. “We were just looking for a good place to stand to see the show. I don’t want to take your time away from the people you were talking to though.”

Tommy stepped right into Rayne’s personal space, slipping his arms around her hips resting them on her ass. “Fuck them, I want to be with you.”

Rayne smiled feeling her cheeks get hot. “Well here I am.” This was the most made up she had seen Tommy since meeting him, his face was pale with foundation, eyes dusted with fuchsia shadow and dramatically lined. “Nice makeup, I think you’re wearing even more than me.”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to be nervous, “Yeah I don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing dude. We do it for the stage.”

“You’re missing something though.” Rayne raised an eyebrow, mustering all the confidence she had in her.

“Wha-“ was all Tommy could get out before Rayne kissed him, undoubtedly leaving some bright red lipstick behind. She was careful to not move too much, not wanting to wreck hers or Tommy’s makeup.

“Lipstick.” Rayne smiled while pulling away from his mouth, her eyes falling to his lips happy to see that they were indeed flushed with red now. Tommy smiled as he grabbed a handful of Rayne’s ass startling her. “I’m gonna get you back for that you know.”

“Looking forward to it.” Rayne winked.

“You look amazing tonight.” Tommy looked down appreciatively. Rayne decided to be a bit bolder tonight wearing a tight black leather mini skirt with black stockings with a line traveling from her high heeled ankle boots all the way up her legs disappearing under the skirt. The skirt sat high on Rayne’s waist and pulled her in creating an hourglass shape. For a top she wore a spiked bra, and an off the shoulder oversized fishnet shirt. For makeup she wore her signature red lip, a thin layer of foundation and smoky eyeliner.

“Thanks.” Rayne smiled, “I think you might be a bit prettier than me tonight though.”

“Not a chance baby.” Tommy said happily. “You’re the best looking girl in this room.”

“Uh huh.” Rayne said softly standing on the tips of her toes, “Nice cod piece by the way. I’m not sure it’s big enough.”

“You wanna find out?” Tommy teased giving her ass another squeeze.

“Hey T-Bone, we gotta go back we’re on in fifteen.” Nikki approached his drummer giving a nod of acknowledgement to Rayne and Jo.

“Answer my question.” Tommy pushed again.

“I do want to find out, but you have more important things to do. Get back there.” Rayne could only imagine what it would be like to be with Tommy. If he was this intense, this passionate just in conversation she couldn’t imagine what he would be like in bed. The thought certainly excited her.

“I don’t wanna leave you.” Tommy whispered leaning in for another kiss, bringing Rayne back from her x-rated thoughts.

“I’ll see you after, and Jo and I will be right here when you guys go on. Look we have a perfect view of the drums.” Rayne pulled back before he could kiss her. It was now Rayne’s turn to give him a little smack on his ass. “Have a great show.”

Reluctantly Tommy let go of Rayne and turned to walk backstage with Nikki. Jo turned to her friend grabbing her shoulder and playfully shaking. “Holy shit you two are fucking fire! I’m hot and bothered just watching the two of you.”

“Oh shut up Jo, you are not!” Rayne laughed looking down at the floor.

“I couldn’t believe you kissed him in front of everyone! Girl if looks could kill you’d have a hundred daggers in your back.” Jo said quietly in her friends ear so no prying eyes would hear. “He’s so into you Ray, my aunt always told me ‘you never have to question if a guy is into you’ and girl the way he looks at you, the way he grabbed your ass…”

“Jo! Oh my god stop!” Rayne laughed slightly embarrassed. “We’re just having fun.”

“I never would’ve guessed Tommy was into fat girls.” Rayne heard from behind her making her smile fall, it was obvious that was the intention of the blonde behind her who said it. It was the blonde that she saw talking to Tommy before she came over. To be honest the statement did hurt, but Rayne also knew that the woman was trying to get a rise out of her.

“What are you jealous that as soon as I walked over he left you?” Rayne questioned taking a sip of her whisky. As soon as Rayne replied Jo grabbed her arm, a non verbal cue not to get too hyped.

“Bitch I fucked him last week, so I don’t know who you are but there’s no way he’s gonna give this up for your fat ass.” The blonde spat her words at Rayne. Rayne could tell she obviously touched a nerve with her question.

“Well I hope it was good for you, because I don’t think he’s gonna be fucking you anymore.” Rayne said simply shrugging her shoulders. “He’s got his hands full.”

“Fuck you cunt. You’re gonna pay for this.” The blonde claimed before walking away.

“Holy shit.” Jo exclaimed looking over at Rayne. “I would ask if you were okay but I feel like I should be asking her instead. She’s got claw marks in her from those words.”

“I don’t get it, aren’t you fucking the lead singer? Shouldn’t you be the one dealing with catty girls?” Rayne questioned.

“Yeah well the lead singer didn’t publicly shun me for another girl.” Jo replied matter of factly and Rayne rolled her eyes at the remark.

“That’s ridiculous.” She exclaimed.

“I’m proud of you though, you stood up for yourself.” Jo smiled as the house lights dimmed and Motley Crue took the stage. Tommy was the first one to come out to raucous applause. He stood on his drum stool shouting as he raised his drum sticks above his head, which got an even bigger rise out of the crowd. He looked like a kid on Christmas, full of enthusiasm. Next out was Nikki who had since she saw him put on thigh high red leather boots with heels, almost matching Tommy’s black pair. Then Mick, who struck a power chord with his guitar that received a response from the crowd. And of course last was Vince who received a particularly high pitched scream from Jo.

The set lasted about forty-five minutes and it was pure bliss, unapologetic, in your face rock n fucking roll. Rayne had never seen a show like that in the clubs, they had mannequins dripping with blood, pyro, and Nikki even lit himself on fire (something he apparently does quite often). Jo was right, the band was gonna be big, it was only a matter of time until they got signed by a label. No one could ignore Motley Crue.

Some of the crowd began to leave after Motley played, but the vast majority hung around ordering drinks, listening to the DJ continue to play rock until closing time. Rayne and Jo were in the middle of a conversation when Rayne found her feet leaving the ground, and a pair of lanky arms wrapping around her waist. “Well, what did you think babe?”

“Tommy!” Rayne squealed, “Put me down.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Tommy replied putting Rayne’s heels back down on the floor. He pushed Rayne’s red hair over her shoulder exposing her neck. Tommy was quick to nuzzle his head into Rayne’s neck, peppering kisses up and down her exposed skin. “Well?”

“You guys kicked ass!” Rayne enthusiastically replied trying to turn her head to look at Tommy. “Tommy you’re tickling me!”

Rayne turned in his arms, looking up at him. His hair was covered in sweat, bangs stuck to his forehead, his makeup had smeared but surprisingly stayed in place really well. One thing she couldn’t help but notice was a white powder that was easily seen on Tommy’s nose, that could explain his enthusiasm and endless energy. Rayne reached up and tenderly brushed the powder away.

“I don’t have a problem or anything.” Tommy quickly said.

“I didn’t say you did. I’m not your mother, I’ll never tell you what to do.” Rayne said simply. “You know I can’t do that stuff with you right? I’d lose my job.”

“I’d never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to.” Tommy promised and Rayne nodded. She felt a bit torn to be honest, she didn’t love the idea of Tommy snorting god knows what up his nose. She’d spent enough time in hospitals and even in school to know the results were usually never good. But this is also something she knew she’d be getting into if she were to pursue anything with a musician. Drugs were rampant on the strip and you were in the minority if you didn’t partake which Rayne never did. With a band name like Motley Crue she had to acknowledge what she signed up for with Tommy.

“Not to change the subject but something interesting happened to me after you left before.” Rayne played with Tommy’s hair as she spoke.

“What happened?” Tommy asked concerned.

“Some cunt called her fat.” Jo inserted herself into the conversation obviously still angry. “I wanted to beat the shit out of her but Rayne held her own.”

“Someone called you what?” Tommy’s voice raised obviously upset. “Who?”

“Some bitch you apparently fucked last week.” Jo answered before Rayne could.

“Thank you Jo!” Rayne shouted before grabbing Tommy’s chin to force him to look at her. “Hey, eyes here. It’s no big deal. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve heard it, and it won’t be the last. Especially if you’re always so god damn affectionate in public.”

“It still doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders upwards. “And I’ll never stop being affectionate. If I’m close to you and not touching you it’s like a poet not having pain.”

“Oh my god stop it!” Rayne laughed at Tommy. “I know you said you have to go full romance, but that’s too much even for me. Plus that wasn’t very good.”

“What? Come on! That was beautiful.” Tommy put a hand over his heart feigning hurt.

“Read some Shakespeare or Jane Austen and get back to me.” Rayne winked at him looking over to Jo.

“Yeah Tommy, she’s obsessed with Jane Austen. I’m actually a bit concerned for her.” Jo smiled at her best friend.

“What can I say literary men are just better.” Rayne shrugged her shoulders looking up at Tommy. “At least they were… jury’s still out on my final verdict.”

That caused Tommy flash a beautiful bright smile. “Alright enough of you two love birds where’s the party going to now?” Jo questioned causing Tommy to laugh.

“No party tonight, me and the boys are going to the Rainbow for some post show drinks and food. You ladies want to join? Jo I’m sure Vince wouldn’t mind your presence.”

“Fuck yeah.” “Of course.” The girls said at the same time.

That was the night Motley Crue got signed to Elektra Records. And things were about to change drastically…

**** Well there you have it! Like I said I don’t know what came over me, this chapter was way longer than I expected. What do we think of the banter between the two now that the devil on Tommy’s shoulder has come out to play?? What do you think is gonna happen next? Let me know! xo

#the dirt fanfic #motley crue #motley crue imagine #tommy lee #i need fire #the dirt

64 notes · View notes

a-second-hand-sorrow · 6 years

Text

You’re On (Brian May X Reader)

WC: 2352

Warnings: A bit of language, sexual references, it’s real cute lads

Summary: Y/N is Miami’s daughter and decides to spend some time with Queen whilst they’re recording A Night At The Opera and she grows close with the band, particularly their guitarist.

A/N: This wasn't requested but I love BoRhap so here we are! This is the Fictional Brian from the film, just so everyone knows.

BORHAP MASTERLIST

There was never a dull moment in the studio with Queen. People were always arguing, occasionally things would be thrown depending on Roger’s mood, but the studio was a constantly noisy place.

However, there was one moment where there was some semblance of silence in the studio. This was when Miami decided he would bring his daughter, Y/N, to the studio with him.

“Boys, I have a special guest with me today.” He announced, walking into the room and watching the boys perk up slightly.

“Who is it, Miami? You haven’t got Bowie, have you?” Freddie asked, leaning forward as he sat on the arm of the couch he shared with Brian.

“Unfortunately, not right now. Our guest is someone else.” Miami said, and Freddie furrowed his brows, glancing around the room to see the confused looks on everyone’s faces.

“Who is it then?” John asked, and Miami smirked before stepping to the side to reveal a girl who looked around their age.

“Surprise! This is my daughter, Y/N. She’s a real music lover and she wanted to watch an actual recording session in process. Now, I’m going to get you all some coffees so please behave around her.” Miami said, as Y/N waved sheepishly at the band from where she stood.

“Thanks dad.” Y/N said, smiling at him as he left. An uneasy silence settled over the room as Y/N rocked awkwardly on her heels, unsure of what to say. No one dared break the silence until Freddie cleared his throat.

“If you’re Miami’s daughter I take it your last name is Beach, yes?” He said, and Y/N froze for a second before nodding, and Freddie paused thoughtfully for a second.

“It’s only fitting you get a nickname to match your father’s. I hereby dub thee Venice Beach, Venice for short.” Freddie said, and Y/N smiled at the new name.

“It’s a bit out there but I can live with Venice. It’s cooler than Y/N, anyway.” She said, and Freddie looked at the rest of the band with a smirk.

“She’ll fit right in. Now, I feel like it’s time for formal introductions. Freddie Mercury.” He said, shaking Y/N’s hand. She returned the shake enthusiastically, smiling at him.

“That’s Roger, our drummer.” Freddie said, pointing at the blond with the dark sunglasses. He gave Y/N a wave which she returned, the sleeves of her blouse moving along with it.

“John Deacon, our bassist. We call him Deacy.” John looked up from his bass and smiled at Y/N, earning a wide smile back.

“And this is.” Freddie began, but the remaining member stood up abruptly, cutting Freddie off.

“I’m Brian May, but you can just call me Brian. I play guitar.” He said, awkwardly sticking out his hand. Y/N giggled a little and took his hand, shaking it warmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brian.” Y/N said, dropping his hand reluctantly. He smiled at her, sitting back down in his chair. Y/N turned around and began asking Roger some questions about the album and other musical stuff.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Freddie shot Brian a look that screamed ‘what was that about?’ Brian simply shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “She’s cute, Fred.” Brian responded, whispering so the others didn’t hear what he said.

Freddie was going to respond but suddenly Y/N began talking. “So, my dad has said that due to the limited space I have to share a room with one of you guys if I’m to stay here. He also wanted me to say that if there’s any funny business he will chop off your balls.” Y/N said, and an evil smirk crossed Freddie’s face.

“You can room with Brian. I’m sure he’d be ok with that.” Freddie said, and Y/N looked hopefully at him.

“Would that be ok? I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Y/N said, and Brian waved his hand dismissively, despite knowing that he had one of the house’s smaller rooms.

“It’s fine. If you want, we can head up now and get your things ready.” Brian said, and Y/N smiled brightly, kissing his cheek before going off to grab her bags.

Brian looked at the other boys wide eyed, his hands resting lightly against the place where Y/N had just kissed. “10 quid says they’re together by the time the album’s done.” John said, and Brian scowled at him.

“Seriously guys? Making bets? That is so.” Brian was interrupted by Roger who was crossing his arms over his chest.

“15 quid by the end of the week.” He said, and Brian let out a sigh of frustration, burying his head in his hands.

“You’re on, Taylor.” John said, stretching across the couch to shake Roger’s hand.

“The lot of you can piss off, I’m going to my room.” Brian said, storming out of the studio and leaving behind a bunch of laughing boys.

Y/N was admiring the room, putting her clothes away in some of the empty drawers that were left. She heard someone coming up the stairs and looked up, smiling when she saw it was Brian.

“Hey. I’ve almost finished putting my clothes away so that’s good. How are you?” She asked cheerily, and Brian shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m alright. The guys were being twats but that’s no different from usual.” He said, sitting down on the bed. Y/N chuckled and sat down next to him, pulling a face at the bounce in the mattress when she sat down.

“Yeah you get used to that.” Brian said, looking around the room. Y/N leaned back on her hands, relaxing slightly after the tedious drive up to the farm.

“What’s your favourite part about being in Queen?” She asked after a brief stretch of silence, and Brian laughed gently at her question.

“As irritating as they can be, I have to say the guys. We’re a family and I wouldn’t trade them in for the world.” Brian said, and Y/N smiled at his response.

“That’s so sweet. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys record, I’m sure it’ll be out of this world. However, we need to sort out the whole bed situation. I’m more than happy to sleep on the floor on a mattress or something.” Y/N said, and Brian furrowed his eyebrows.

“You don’t have to do that. We can just… share the bed.” Brian said, realising what he had proposed as soon as the words left his mouth. Y/N froze, trying to process the fact that the incredibly cute lead guitarist from Queen just offered to share his bed with her for a while.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything.” Y/N said, and Brian nodded his head.

“It’s fine, trust me. It’s a decent sized bed so if either one of us needs space it should be all good.” Brian said, trying to combat the images of him and Y/N sharing a bed that were flooding into his mind.

“Ok, well just let me know if you’re uncomfortable or anything.” Y/N said, fiddling with the sleeves of her blouse. Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door and the two of them jumped, put off by the noise.

“We’re rehearsing now, and we need our guitarist.” Roger said, and Brian shot Y/N an apologetic look as he stood up.

“Y/N is coming with. Let’s go!” Roger said, slamming the doorframe once more before leaving. Y/N perked up and a smile settled on her face.

“Off we go, then.”

“God I’m exhausted.” Brian said, throwing back the covers and settling himself into the left side of the bed.

“I can only imagine. You guys went hard today, but I will say it was incredibly fun to watch.” Y/N said, taking her hair out of the ponytail she had been wearing all day.

She made her way over to the bed, gingerly sitting down and pulling the covers up. Brian gave her a reassuring smile, and she sighed contentedly. “Say what you will but this bed is surprisingly comfy.” Y/N said, resting her head against the pillow.

Brian glanced over at her, cursing internally at how beautiful she looked. Her hair fanned around her head like a halo, and she looked relaxed and calm. He was hoping he wouldn’t be responsible for Deacy owing Rog 15 quid by Sunday, but he wasn’t sure he’d last that long.

“Do you mind if I turn the lights off?” Brian asked, finally snapping himself out of his little fantasy.

“Of course. I’m probably going to hit the hay anyway.” Y/N said, smiling at Brian as he moved to flick off the light switch.

“Goodnight Y/N.” Brian said, rolling over so he was facing her.

“Goodnight Brian.”

Y/N winced as the rooster crowed, causing her to wake up suddenly. She groaned and went to roll over but froze when she felt a pair of arms around her waist.

She opened her eyes wider and saw Brian’s head buried in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Her cheeks went red at the sight, knowing that this must’ve happened sometime during the night.

As strange as it was, Y/N loved the feeling of being in Brian’s arms. Sure, his hair was tickling her, but it was a cross she was more than willing to bear. She shifted slightly so she could get a better look at Brian.

His hair was an absolute mess, but he looked peaceful and content. Suddenly he began stirring and Y/N panicked. His eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at the light flooding the room.

“Y/N?” Brian mumbled, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. His eyes widened once he realised what position they were in and he went to move away but Y/N stopped him.

“It’s ok, Bri. I don’t hate it.” She said, and Brian paused, cheeks a scarlet colour.

“You don’t, uh, ok. Cool, cool.” He said, his voice rising an octave or two. Y/N chuckled and felt herself melting into Brian’s embrace. He lightly traced his fingers along Y/N’s stomach and she shivered slightly at his touch.

“Sorry was that too much?” Brian asked, and Y/N shook her head, rolling over so she was facing Brian.

“I liked it.” She said, resting her head on Brian’s shoulder as they lay together in bed, comfortable and happy.

The next morning Y/N made her way down to breakfast in a shirt that she couldn’t quite remember packing. It was a green button up shirt with silvery white pinstripes and it was slightly too big on her, so she tucked it into her jeans.

She could hear an absolute ruckus from downstairs and she knew the boys were at it again.

“It’s a metaphor, Brian!” Roger yelled, and Y/N rolled her eyes as she entered the kitchen. Brian went to retaliate but suddenly the entire room went silent as all eyes were on Y/N.

“What’s finally shut you lot up?” Y/N asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee with milk and two sugars. Roger and John had dropped their jaws, Freddie was smiling slightly, and Brian’s eyes were wider than saucers.

“Venice, darling, I hate to pry but did you sleep with Brian?” Freddie asked after a lengthy pause. Brian sent him a dirty look, and Y/N went red.

“What the fuck, no! Why would you ask that?” Y/N said, nearly choking on her coffee.

“That’s Brian’s shirt, Y/N. So naturally, Fred leapt to a few conclusions.” John said, and Y/N felt her cheeks burning up.

“Oh my god, Brian. I can go put on one of my shirts now, sorry.” Y/N said, but Brian shook his head.

“You can keep it. Trust me, it looks better on you than it does on me.” Brian said, and Y/N felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Really?” She said, and Brian nodded, a smile wide on his face.

“Really.”

Y/N was leaning against the fence outside the barn, taking in the beautiful countryside. She let out a relaxed sigh, and the quiet was suddenly interrupted by the voice of Brian May.

“Sorry to disrupt your peace and quiet but you looked a bit cold, so I thought I’d bring you a drink. Coffee, with milk and two sugars.” Brian said, passing her a mug.

Y/N accepted it graciously, a sweet smile on her face. “You remember how I like my coffee.” She said quietly, and Brian’s cheeks went a soft shade of pink.

“Yeah. You’re worth paying attention to, Miss Beach.” Brian said, and Y/N tried to hide her blush behind the mug of coffee.

“I’m glad you think so, Mr May.” Y/N said, and Brian chuckled to himself.

“I feel sorry for Deacy.” Brian said suddenly, and Y/N arched an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why? Did one of his songs not make the album or something?” Y/N said, and Brian laughed, shaking his head.

“No, it’s cause he’s about to owe Rog 15 quid.” Brian said, and Y/N cocked her head to the side, eyes squinted.

“And why is that?” She asked, setting her mug of coffee down on a sturdy looking fence post.

Brian took in a deep breath and kissed Y/N, his hands settling on her waist almost immediately. Y/N took a moment to react, but once she did her hands ended up in Brian’s hair, tugging lightly.

Y/N’s stomach was doing flips as they kissed, and when she pulled away she was sure there was a dumb smile on her face. She rested her forehead against Brian’s and took in a deep breath.

“That was better than I could have ever imagined.” Y/N said, and Brian chuckled at her statement, quickly pecking her lips.

“I could definitely say the same.” Brian said, pulling Y/N into a loving hug.

“COUGH UP DEACY! THEY JUST KISSED, AND I WANT MY REWARD MONEY!” Brian and Y/N jumped apart at the sound of Roger screaming from the barn.

“They had bets on when we’d get together. Childish, I know.” Brian said, and Y/N took in a deep breath. She kissed Brian on the cheek and began to walk away.

“I’ll be right back. YOU’RE DEAD, ROGER!”

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #brian may #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #gwilym lee

689 notes · View notes

megalony · 5 years

Text

You have me!

A Roger Taylor imagine I had an idea for a while ago.

(Talks about domestic abuse).

@rogertaylorsbitontheside

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking around the room (Y/N) tried to find the door that would lead to the corridor in the direction of the lobby. For once the afterparty of the latest concert was being held in the hotel they were staying at, meaning that she didn't have to call a cab to get back to the hotel at an ungodly hour. Also meaning that she could try and get out of the party and go to her room and escape the prying eyes and now hands of Roger who was trying desperately to talk to her.

Ending things with him hadn't gone as smoothly as she thought it would have. The drummer wasn't taking no for an answer because he wasn't ready to let her go but still didn't want to give up his wife either which caused more problems than it was worth. (Y/N) couldn't carry on like this, everything seemed to be caving in around her and she didn't know what else she was meant to do to stop it. Just as she scuttled out of the vast room and into the corridor a hand grasped her wrist stopping her from running off.

"Stop running from me we need to talk." He hissed, pulling her back into his chest before taking a few steps away from the room so they could talk without people hearing through the noise of the music.

"Why do you insist on being with me?" Her question caught Roger off guard as he almost choked. His eyes narrowing in on her as he pushed her against the wall, hands resting either side of her penning her in as if to secure her so she couldn't try and make an escape from him. He didn't think they would turn out like this, he thought she would either dump him after a while or they would just fizzle out because he knew being the other woman to a married man was never something any girl wanted and it didn't have an upside and he knew (Y/N) was already in a relationship too. But she didn't, and he couldn't break off what they had because it wasn't simply a fling to Roger, it was special.

"What kind of a question is that?" His question gained no response except her eyes locking with his own, silently pleading for him to give her an answer. "You're special to me, I can't not be with you; that's a life I don't want to live." She saw it in his eyes, the hesitation to say something that would lead to a whole different conversation. Roger always told Sarah love didn't mean to him what it did to everyone else and that was true. Everyone thought of love as some kind of fairytale feeling and thus it had lost its meaning. For Roger to say I love you meant the attraction was one he felt for more than just a day, it meant their relationship gave him a feeling he hadn't felt before because saying he loves his family was different to loving someone else. But (Y/N) had seen the look in his eyes as the words built in his throat but inevitably became swallowed.

Roger hardly ever told Sarah he loved her because he couldn't bring himself to say the words he knew held little meaning in his mind and heart. She knew this although she wasn't too happy about it, he expressed his feelings in other words and ways because he just couldn't say those words. Marriage was something he couldn't take seriously either because it was a sheet of paper and a ring binding you to someone else. He didn't see it as a big event that made his life worth living like a lot of others he knew did.

"But your married Rog, you have a family. Doesn't that mean something to you, because it does to me. Besides, you always said this was a 'bit of fun' and that usually means it isn't gonna last long." In her mind, the ring on his finger should be like some kind of sensor or reminder for if Roger looks at someone else like it would give him a signal to remind him of the person he was meant to be with and not cheat on. The pair of them had significant others and yet here they both are carrying on with each other behind people's backs but in broad daylight in front of close friends. They both knew it was wrong, but it felt like an addiction that neither of them could give up.

"You think I just planned to cheat on my wife? Your no angel yourself you go home to him every night after fucking with me at the flat so don't give me a lecture just cause you’re not married!" Roger snapped, eyes blazing into her own as he saw he touched a nerve.

(Y/N) took over as the band's new photographer and working with them on their tours meaning she was around them nearly every day. Roger found her intoxicating but not just for the sex, she was a genuinely kind person and he loved everything about her. But the both of them had people to go home to that they didn't seem to want to give up and had agreed it was a bit of fun as Roger classed it as because they were never meant to carry on this long or become something serious. Their fling turned into an affair that had spanned over a year now and they had become so close in that time Roger simply gave her a key to the flat he had on the outskirts of London. He bought the flat initially to have somewhere to practice music where he wouldn't have distractions or somewhere to go if he needed headspace which had happened a lot. Then it turned into where he and (Y/N) would meet and he couldn't help but think of it as their flat and not just his own.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if she had been there photographer from the start. All of the band got along well with her like she was another member of the band, she was always around but in the best way none of them felt right when she wasn't there. If they had met when the band first started maybe they would have gotten together at the right time, but then again Roger wouldn't have had Felix if that was the case and he absolutely loved the bones of his son. It just sometimes played on his mind that they were together at such wrong timing.

Roger was always confused at the fact that (Y/N) could leave her partner. Well, he could always leave Sarah but there was a lot of mess involved with that, they had a son together and they were married meaning having to file for a divorce and settling different places and then times where they would have shared custody of Felix. (Y/N) could simply leave her boyfriend at any one time without having too much mess, she could always stay in the flat until she found somewhere or just stay there. She didn't have to file for divorce, go through the press hassling her about it and she wouldn't be splitting a child's parents up and leaving them to live with one parent not the other. Yet she always went back home to him and Roger wondered why when she never spoke about him at all or made references to him.

"I never said I was perfect." She responded, eyes glancing to the floor as she bit back tears. "I just.. I don't want to be a mistake your making." Reaching out Roger placed his finger under her chin tilting her head so she was looking up at him, seeing tears falling from her eyes making his heart break.

"You are not a mistake to me." He stated earnestly, willing her to believe his words that were the truth. "And I'm not gonna dump you if someone finds out because I care about you way too much to do anything like th-" (Y/N) was half tempted to look around them wondering if there was someone who had walked down the corridor and heard his speech. But she knew there wasn't because Roger wouldn't have seen them if there was, his eyes never left her frame making her wonder what was suddenly wrong with him. Her eyes narrowing, a prickle of fear bolting through her when she saw his expression darken which wasn't something she was use to like this. Seeing him get angry and throw something was rather natural even if she didn't like seeing him like that, but this was different and very worrying.

"What the fuck is that?" His tone made her jump, her eyes looking down following his own gaze as he was no longer looking at her face. Her body pulled inwards as the feeling of breathlessness took over her lungs causing them to deflate like balloons. (Y/N)'s eyes glanced at the fading concealer on her upper chest before closing her eyes keeping her head down from Roger's intense gaze that was burning holes into her. "Has someone hit you?"

Taking her chin between his thumb and index finger Roger gently turned her head to look at him again, his head leaning to the side slightly as he waited impatiently for an answer he already seemed to know. The concealer she had rubbed into her chest just under her collar bone had started to wear away from the intense lights and sweating from the excessive heat of the party. Revealing part of the vast purple and yellow bruise tinting her skin like a badly painted work of art.

"Did he hit you?" Roger felt his heart physically breaking when he watched her frame tremble, eyes staring at his chin refusing to look up because the answer was hidden in her emerald orbs that made Roger want to cry. Sometimes he really did forget her boyfriend's name, other times he didn't care what his name was because Roger didn't know him and (Y/N) never mentioned him so it didn't seem to matter. Now Roger wanted to know everything about him so he could teach this person a lesson for daring to raise a hand to her.

Roger leaned forward, ever so gently pressing his lips to her temple as if applying pressure would cause her to break like glass. His hands enveloping around her frame and pulling her into his chest feeling her body quaking against his own. Saying nothing Roger held her to his side as he began walking down the rest of the corridor, aiming towards the elevator, needing to go somewhere private to have this conversation the pair of them were dreading.

Neither of them said anything in the elevator leaving Roger to stew in his thoughts that were quickly becoming overwhelming. How hadn't he seen this happening before?

(Y/N) had turned up at the flat unannounced a few times but he thought nothing of it, now realising it might have been to escape. He had seen bruises on her neck, and the odd ones on her legs or torso but Roger didn't think anything of it.

The ones on her neck were hard to distinguish from the love bites he often left there and his own body was littered with bruises every week. He often found himself walking into the amp equipment in the studio or falling into his drum kit or doing something when he was plastered and didn't notice half of the marks left on his limbs. (Y/N) was known for being a clutz, he had seen her trip over nothing and that always clicked in his mind for the reason she had little marks. But he had never noticed vast bruises like this on her skin before, now realising she may have had to learn how to hide them from him making his heart clench.

She should have told him, even if this was a one off which he seriously doubted. Roger had the flat, she could stay there if she needed to leave and he would protect her from anyone or anything, she knew this he had expressed this on many occasion.

"Did he hit you?" Roger repeated once they entered his room, gently sitting (Y/N) down on the bed before kneeling in front of her, licking his fingers before rubbing at her chest carefully to remove the concealer. His breath catching in his throat at seeing the bruise was larger than he first thought. Eyes looking up to lock with her own as she nodded.

(Y/N) knew there was no point in trying to hide this from Roger, she was so sick of hiding from everyone and saying she was fine because she wasn't. It was overwhelming the number of people she had to lie to and Roger was the one she hated having to tell lies to. Sometimes she didn't have to, he was busy and his mind was occupied and the little signs of pain or marks he didn't create washed over his head and she was so relieved when she didn't have to make up a story of falling down the stairs or slipping on the tiled floor.

"I tried to leave a few months back, w-when I stayed at the flat for a week... he knows how to pull me back." Roger rested his head on her knees, feeling her hand knotting in his hair. He remembered that, getting a phone call asking if it was alright for her to stay at the flat for a while when he had been at a concert up north. She'd said they had had some kind of argument and wanted somewhere to cool down and crash for a while and he couldn't say no to that. Now wishing he had pushed her just a little more for information until she had cracked and told him everything then.

"If something's wrong you tell me!" His tone was sharp as he pulled his head up so he was looking at her, raw hurt on his face at not realising someone he had fallen very hard for had been subjected to some kind of abuse that he still hadn't fully worked out yet. Only knowing it had been going on for far too long and right under his nose. If Roger hadn't been so preoccupied with his work he may have noticed the little hints throwing themselves at him begging for his attention to help. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to be a burden." Tears fell from her eyes as Roger let out a sharp breath, his hands sliding up her sides to rest on her hips, thumbs brushing delicately over her hip bones.

"Why the fuck would you t- oh my God, is that what he tells you?" A darkness pooled in his eyes before he closed them, resting his head on her thighs again as he hugged her tighter. (Y/N) had always been anxious and rather fragile since they had met, but Roger seemed to find himself able to sink beneath that exterior and find the real (Y/N) locked inside. He was the key to make her feel worry free and bring out the best in her and he knew it but Roger didn't think her worry was because of something like this. "You need to tell me what's been going on." Gently pushing her knees apart Roger pulled up, moving between them so they were face to face as he moved his hand brushing his thumb over her cheek as she leaned into the touch. Feeling him swiping her tears away but more kept replacing them.

"I'm stuck." She sniffed, her words confusing him but he made no attempt to speak, only nodding in confirmation prompting her to carry on because he needed to understand and he couldn't do that if she didn't explain everything. "Y-you've got Sarah and Felix, that's your life and I-I'm on the outskirts I couldn't tell you o-or ask for help in case we broke up. He owns our flat, h-he controls the money he knows where I work Rog I can't leave!"

Roger felt a knife plunging into his chest. He hadn't told her how much he valued and loved her enough and that caused her to feel unsure if they were going to be together in a month or so. She couldn't ask him if she could stay at the flat or ask for money because if they split she couldn't just stay at his place and take his money. It was either take that big risk or stay in the situation she had become accustomed to and allow him to be in control of her life. She wasn't the main woman in Roger's life and so thought he wouldn't have an obligation to help her or have that need to try and help her out. He could easily have ended their affair as soon as he found out and be done with her.

"Don't ever think I won't help you because that isn't true, if you need help you come to me and you tell me. Sarah and Felix may be in my life but that doesn't mean your not, okay? You mean just as much to me." Roger couldn't have her carry on thinking he wouldn't care if something happened and deep down she knew he cared, but she needed that reassurance to tell her it was okay to share her darkest secrets with him. "Does he... hurt you often?" He didn't know how to word that in a nice or smoother way.

"When he knows his words aren't enough. I tried so hard to leave 'cause I feel numb w-when I'm with him but he drags me back... he knows what I do and where I am, a-and if I try to leave... with him t-that's, I can't-"

"I know." Roger croaked in response, knowing what she was trying to say. If she tried to leave there would always be some way for him to find her especially with Queen being advertised everywhere almost every day by paparazzi. He could easily use his words against her to guilt-trip her into staying with him, and Roger saw how she had to depend on him. If he controlled the money she wouldn't have any income to support herself on her own if she tried to leave, and she wouldn't have anywhere to go due to her parents being way up north meaning she wouldn't be able to work either. She was trapped.

"I know I should leave, I'm not there because I love him- I don't. You have a family a-and a job that takes you around the world, everyone has someone and something to do and I just exist."

"You have me!" There was slight desperation in Roger's voice as he cupped her face in both his hands, resting his forehead against her own as a small sob left her lips. "You are so special to me and I know I don't treat you fair, I hide you behind closed doors and that's so wrong of me but you are invaluable to me. No one has the right to make you feel any less than anyone else and he has no right to lay a finger on you. I'm gonna help you I swear to God you're not alone in this, I'll change this, everything will be okay."

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #queen band #roger x reader

95 notes · View notes

rogersdrumkit · 5 years

Text

i’m with the drummer - part 9

a/n: sorry this took FOREVER! hope it was worth it.

warnings: a little language, references to sex, miscarriage.

previous parts:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

You woke up to Roger mumbling softly in his sleep, “Don’t you hear me...calling you...” You smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, then attempted to slip out of bed, careful not to wake him up, but he pulled you back on top of him. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Stay with me.” Roger knew what he was doing. He wanted you to stay in bed all day, and whether he wanted to just cuddle or if he wanted more was unbeknownst to you.

But ever since the miscarriage you hadn’t been too physical with each other. “Rog,” you warned. He was trying to get you to miss work, but now that you had graduated and started a job as a real nurse, you couldn’t be late.

“Come on, doll, we don’t ever get time anymore,” he protested. And he was right. If you weren’t sleeping or working, you were in the nursery sulking, even though he hated you being in there (he saw what it did to you).

If you were feeling alright, then typically he wasn’t. It was a vicious cycle of playing babysitter for each other; you made sure that the other was eating, sleeping, and showering when they were too sad to want to do anything

You thought about staying, but got out of bed and made your way into the bathroom to get a quick shower before work.

You stripped as the room filled with steam, then got in when the temperature was right. A few moments later, you heard the curtain open, and Roger stepped in. “I don’t have time to-” you started.

He cupped your face, “Can’t I just take a morning shower with the love of my life?”

You blushed, and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “No funny business,” you said, and he saluted, mocking your serious tone. You turned away from him to grab the shampoo, and you felt him slap your ass. “Rog!” You yelped and turned back around to face him.

He was looking around with a cheeky grin plastered on his face, as if you were talking to someone else. “Who, me?” He asked in faux confusion. You giggled and playfully swatted his chest.

Roger helped you wash your hair, and when he wasn’t doing that, he had his arms around your waist and was whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “I love you...you’re so beautiful, love...you’re my world...I love you so much y/n...” he mumbled into your ear, your back pressed against his chest. This was one of the first truly intimate moments you two had shared since returning from the hospital. You were hardly sharing deep kisses, and when you slept you rarely even faced each other. Neither of you were mad at the other, it’s just that you were both hurting.

Roger wanted to see the old you. He missed your smile, your laugh, and you cracking dirty jokes with him no matter who else was around. He wanted to hold you, but not just when you were crying. He wanted to feel you, not just your presence from the other room. Roger missed you.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute too. You wanted to be happy with him again, but it was so hard. You had always said that Roger had your entire heart, but now there was a hole that was supposed to be reserved for Oliver. You reassured yourself that Roger would be there for you the whole time, just like he always was. You felt awful that you hadn’t been communicating with him a lot recently, but you just didn’t know how. The only times you really expressed emotions anymore was when you sobbed into his chest, crying about your baby. You also felt guilty, because you didn’t want to make it all about you. Roger had lost a child too, but here he was trying to put on a smile just to make you feel a little better.

You turned around so you were facing him, but kept your vision locked on his chest, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry for not talking to you,” you said quietly. You couldn’t imagine how lost he must be feeling. Up until about two weeks, you had hardly uttered a word, except for a few ‘I love you’s’ before work and bed.

He sighed. “You don’t have to apologize y/n. It’s going to be hard, but I know we can get through it together, okay?” You nodded and Rog pulled you to his chest, swaying ever so slightly. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he continued, “But please, baby girl, don’t shut me out. I’m here for you, yeah? You know I’d drop everything in an instant if you needed me. It’s always you.”

He pulled away from the embrace to lift your chin up, so you were looking in his eyes. “I love you,” you whispered. And he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I love you too, but I’m afraid I’ve made you late again, Miss May,” he said, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

Your eyes widened as you realized how much time had passed since you got in the shower; you had been so caught up in your thoughts to notice earlier. You hurried out of the shower to get dressed and dry your hair, and Roger had even made you a coffee and grabbed a muffin for you. “But it was worth it, right? You got to see me, naked, in the shower,” he said with a smirk as he handed you your keys.

“You think I’d rather take a hot shower with you than be on time to work?” You joked. “Uh huh, in your dreams, Taylor,” you said with a smile, then kissed him on the cheek, and you were on your way.

+++

Work was dreadful, as always. You were currently working on the pediatric floor, which didn’t make your day any easier, but thankfully the head nurse on your floor knew about your situation and would let you take a break if she noticed you weren’t doing too well.

Right now was one of those times. You were in a supply room, wiping a few stray tears off of your face and trying to focus yourself enough to get back out to work. You took a deep breath, redid your ponytail, and opened the door, only to hear a familiar voice.

“Yes, that is me,” you heard the person say, and you turned to see Roger standing down at the end of the hall, talking to one of your coworkers. She put a hand on his arm, but he quickly brushed it off and said in an impatient voice, “Actually, I was looking for my girlfriend, y/n. Would you-?”

He caught sight of you walking towards him and smiled happily. He greeted you with a quick kiss and pulled a bouquet of sunflowers and red roses from behind his back.

You gasped and took the flowers. “Rog...you really didn’t have to,” you said, but you couldn’t hide the big grin on your face.

“Of course I did! I’m taking you out to lunch!” He took your hand and led you to the nurses station.

“Press the call button in your room if you need assist-” Susan, the head nurse started in a monotone voice, still looking down at the chart in her hand. “Oh, y/n...and Roger Taylor?” she asked, blushing slightly (something that happened a lot when people saw Roger). A few of the other nurses’ ears perked up when they heard Rog’s name.

“Ah, wonderful, you know me!” He said with a fake smile plastered on his face. “So I don’t have to explain the whole...dentist turned rockstar thing!”

Susan laughed, even though it was an awful joke. You knew what he was doing now. He was trying to use his status as Queen’s drummer to get what he wanted. And you knew exactly how to play along.

He continued, “Well you know I’m very busy with the band, and y/n here is actually helping a lot right now with our new album! There’s a big meeting at the record company today,” he lied through his teeth. “so would you mind if I borrowed her for the day?”

Susan looked at you, then Roger. You spoke up, a sweet smile on your face. “The boys are just under so much stress right now, trying to get out another album. And I want to do everything I can to make sure they aren’t worried about meetings, but much rather focused on talking to fans like yourself. I’m going today with them to answer any questions that they don’t want to.”

You saw him wink at her out of the corner of your eye, and you were going to tease him for it later, but for now, it was definitely helping your case.

Susan looked awestruck as she said, “Yes, yes, of course...you can even have tomorrow off if you need it too, y/n. I wouldn’t want to keep Queen waiting.”

You thanked her, then headed towards the lift, still holding Roger’s hand. As soon as you got on and the doors closed, you started laughing. “Are you kidding me? Dentist turned rockstar? Says the man who doesn’t let anyone call him a dentist!” You mimicked him.

He grinned cheekily at you, then said, “That was better than ‘much rather focused on talking to fans like yourself’’! You don’t even talk like that!”

“Oh yeah...what about that wink I saw?” you nudged him. “Are you gonna leave me for Susan? You might have to settle for grandpa instead of dad in that case!” You laughed, then realized what you said.

“Y/n/n...”

“No, Rog, it’s okay. You said we’re going to get through it together. And we are. We’re going to have kids one day,” you said, smiling as the doors opened to the main floor of the hospital.

You walked off, then turned back around to see Roger not moving. “Are you coming or what? I don’t even know where we’re going!” you said, watching him stare back at you with an unfamiliar expression on his face. It almost looked like he was relieved.

Roger walked towards you and snaked an arm around your waist. You looked up at him and he looked back with a toothy grin. “It’s so nice to hear you say that out loud,” he said softly, then kissed your forehead and led you out to his car.

+++

He was bringing you to the studio, where the boys really were recording another album, A Day At The Races. Brian had told the other boys at another meeting about the miscarriage, and Roger was going to first, but couldn’t finish his sentence without breaking down, he had told you later.

Roger was the last to arrive to the meeting that day, something unusual for him, but he had stayed at home late to make sure you had eaten your food instead of just throwing it out because you ‘didn’t feel well enough’.

He sulked into the studio, lots of thoughts running through his mind. Of course he was distraught about Oliver, but he was worried about you the most. You could make more babies, but he didn’t know what he was going to do if he lost you too. When he opened the door, Freddie had greeted him with a hug, much to Brian’s dismay (he knew why Roger had called the meeting and what he was about to tell the other boys).

Roger had pushed Fred away and sat down on the couch, tears still in his eyes from the car ride.

“Roger...what is it? Come on, you and y/n get into a fight?” Fred asked jokingly. You and Roger hardly ever really fought, but mostly bickered like an old married couple.

Brian shot him a death glare.

“Y/n and I...um...we...” his voice broke and tears started rolling down his face. “We...” He looked up from his lap and up at Brian.

“It’s alright Rog, I’ve got it,” your brother had said in a gentle voice. “About a week ago, y/n and Rog had to go to the hospital in the middle of the night, and they...they found out that they lost the baby.”

John and Freddie turned to Roger, but he was staring blankly at the wall. “I just, I don’t know what I did wrong,” he said, almost sobbing.

Deaky had spoke up, “No, Roger. You can’t blame this on yourself. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“You weren’t there! She was screaming in pain, and, and throwing up because of the pain too! Then they took him out of her, and she got to hold him...and I saw her heart shatter into a million pieces! She’s never going to be the same again!” He said, his eyes bloodshot. “It might not have been my fault!” He stood up and started pacing. “But...but all I could do was watch! I watched as she laid in bed in agony days after that, refusing to eat. She doesn’t even look at me anymore.”

He stopped, then turned towards the boys again. “You know what she told me? She said that she was sorry and that she should have done better...she thinks that she did this...”

Freddie had wrapped Rog in a hug, and the blonde had stopped yelling and was now crying into his friend’s chest.

Roger hadn’t told you all of that, of course. “Ready, y/n?” he asked before you two walked into the booth.

You squeezed his hand, nodded, and stepped inside, drawing the attention of the others.

“Y/n! Come in, darling! So nice to see you again!” Fred said as he hugged you.

You chuckled and hugged him back. “Hi, Fred!”

John stood up from where he was sitting with Veronica, who had her hand on her ever-growing belly. You looked at John, then Ronnie, then back at the bassist. You put a smile on your face, and Roger noticed your grip on his hand had tightened.

“Deaky! How are you?” Rog said, breaking the small silence.

“We’re great! Bri’s in there getting ready to do the solo for ‘Somebody to Love’, then you can get in there and do your part for ‘Drowse’, if you want,” John suggested.

You looked into the box and Bri waved at you.

While he recorded, you sat on the couch, Rog in between you and Ronnie. He saw the look you gave her earlier and was afraid you were going to rip her hair out if she said one thing about her kids. You two made small talk about your work and Rog had his hand on your thigh to comfort you.

Then it was his turn to go in the box, and him and Bri traded spots. You chatted with your brother about the album, and even though you had your brother next to you, it was better when Rog was there.

You tried to steady yourself by taking a few deep breaths, but it was too much when Ronnie said, “Robert misses you y/n! He keeps asking when you’re going to babysit again.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did. You swallowed and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Y/n...” Brian said. He knew Veronica didn’t mean anything by it, but babysitting was your and Roger’s thing to do together, and it made you feel like you already had a kid.

Roger saw you leave mid-drum solo and he stopped playing. He rushed out of the box and asked, “What happened?” No one answered, so he followed you down the hall and into the women’s bathroom, where you were standing in front of a mirror.

You turned around to face him, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out.”

He held your face in his hands and wiped the few tears off of your face. “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize love.”

Back in the booth, Veronica said dumfounded, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know, it’s just going to be hard for her at first I think,” Bri said softly. “I’ll go see where her and Rog are.” Bri left the room and roamed around the studio, followed by the other boys (against his will) until he heard your voice in the bathroom. He motioned for the others to be quiet as they listened.

“It’s just, Ronnie and John are gonna have two perfectly healthy babies, and we’re struggling to even have one!”

Roger sat you down on the counter and brushed your hair away from your face. “It’s gonna happen for us, y/n. It will. We can try again, if you want.”

Outside, Bri’s eyes went wide.

You tilted your head up to lock eyes with Roger.

“I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want...and I know we said we were going to wait until we got married for another baby, but if you-” he rambled.

You cut him off by kissing him, and when you pulled away, he was a bright shade of red.

“We can try again, Roggie.”

He scratched the back of his head, smiling, as you hopped down from the counter. “I just want a family with you, y/n. And we can try for however long it takes, I promise.”

You stuck out your pinkie and he shook it with his. “You think we can get of here to go get a head start?” you asked with a smirk, and Rog snickered as he put his arm around you.

“We can most definitely try, baby.”

Bri was standing there with crossed arms as you opened the door. “You promised you’d wait until you had a ring-”

You and Rog kept smiling as you jokingly poked you brother’s chest. “’Scuse me, Bri.”

“But you said you’re going to try for another baby!”

You and Rog looked at each other and shook your heads. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” the drummer said.

“Roger...” Bri warned.

“Hmm?” He asked in a confused tone as him and you stepped around Brian.

“I don’t see a ring on her finger!”

You giggled as Roger picked you up bridal style. “Sorry, Bri!” You said as you waved goodbye.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your brother asked.

“I’m going to put a baby in your sister!” Rog said, and Bri stood there grumbling as Fred and John tried to get him back in the booth.

+++

Four hours later, and you and Roger were tangled up on the bed, exhausted.

You traced his jawline gently as you looked at him with soft eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

You kissed his cheek and hopped up from the bed, wrapping a blanket around you. You walked over to your dresser, where your record player and records were displayed.

Roger sat up and watched as you put a Beatles record on and set it to the song “Til There Was You’.

There were bells on a hill. But I never heard them ringing, no I never heard them at all, til there was you.

You hummed to the song as you pulled out one of Rog’s t-shirts from the top drawer and put it on.

“You’re beautiful.”

You turned around and blushed, then held out your hand to Roger. “Come dance with me.”

He got out of bed and put his boxers on, then embraced you. He sang along to the words quietly. “There was love all around, but I never heard it singing. No I never heard them at all, til there was you.”

He held you as you danced for the remainder of the song. Your head rested on his chest and you listened to his heartbeat.

After the song, you let the record continue playing and led Roger into the kitchen. He watched, confused, until he realized what you were doing. When he saw you open the liquor cabinet, he opened a drawer and pulled out the corkscrew.

One of your favorite things to do with Roger was drink. Just you two together at home, dancing around the house and jumping on the bed. And it always made your night. Roger opened the bottle of wine and took a swig, then passed it to you.

An hour later, and you and Rog had already drank a full bottle together. ‘Twist and Shout’ was playing and you were jumping around the kitchen. Roger was using spatulas as drum sticks.

“Twist and shout!” You sang into the whisk, which you were using as your microphone.

“You know you twist so good!” Roger sang, smirking at you.

“You know you twist so fine!” You sang, pointing at him and winking.

“Come on and twist a little closer, yeah!” You shouted as you jumped around, then shrieked as you felt Roger pick you up.

“And show the world that you’re mine!” He said, laughing.

“Roger!” You said playfully as he carried you into the bedroom. “Bring the wine!”

He snickered and turned back around to grab the second bottle. In your room, he sat it down on the nightstand and put you down on the bed, then disappeared out of your room.

You took a few more swigs as you waited for him. When he came back in the room, he was wearing his iconic colorful wig. He posed and motioned to his hair. “You like it?”

You stood up on the bed, stumbling and laughing. “Yes! You’re very pretty Rog!”

As the rest of the record played out, Roger joined you on the bed, laughing.

+++

Freddie and Deaky finally complied and let Brian storm over to your house (only accompanied by them) to try to talk you and Roger out of any more baby making, regardless of the fact that it was too late.

He stomped up to the door to your flat and didn’t even hesitate to walk straight in, followed by the others.

Brian expected to see you curled up on Roger on the couch or on the bed, but instead he heard you squeal from the corner of the room when he walked in.

“Brian!” you giggled. You were still wearing Rog’s t-shirt, but now you were also wearing the wig, and you were sitting on Roger’s lap behind the drum kit, trying to play.

Roger’s chin was resting on your shoulder and his arms were wrapped around your waist as he greeted your brother. “Hello Bri!” he said cheerily and completely shitfaced.

“I need to talk to you two,” Brian uttered.

You motioned to the couch. “Well go ahead and sit down! We’ll talk!”

He remained standing as he said, “You guys can’t try again for another baby. You’re not ready.”

“Brian,” Freddie warned.

“Oh, yes we are,” Roger said, and you nodded.

“Brian, the miscarriage was almost five months ago! You should be happy. Me and Rog are now! And we’re learning how to feel better and, and he makes me happier. And he’s helping me be better,” you said, slurring your words.

Brian mumbled something to himself that no one else could hear, and then said softly to you, “I don’t want to see you go through the same thing that happened with Oliver. I can’t see you shut down for months at a time, y/n, and I just want what’s best for you.”

You smiled as you stumbled out from behind the drums while tossing the wig to the ground and lazily hugged your brother. He could smell the alcohol on you. “Christ, how much did you two drink?”

“Enough,” Roger said with a smirk as he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you back from Brian. “Bri, I’m gonna marry her. We’re gonna have lots of babies. We just don’t want to wait any longer, yeah?”

Brian pursed his lips.

“Aw, come on,” you pouted. “You’ll be an uncle! It’s gonna work out, I promise.”

He looked down as you stuck out your pinkie.

“Hey! That’s our thing!” Roger complained.

Brian shook his pinkie with yours and ruffled your hair. “Hey!” you said as you swatted his hand away.

You turned to Fred and John, who had taken a seat on the couch, exasperated from trying to calm your brother down. “Would you guys like to stay for dinner?”

“I think if either of you tried to cook right now, this building would end up in flames,” Freddie teased.

“Come on, don’t be a bore!”

“How about this: you and Roger sober up while we cook for you?” John suggested.

You thanked him on your way to the bedroom to get dressed, Roger trailing closely behind. He slapped your ass, much to the horrification of Brian, before cheekily saying, “I know the perfect way to do that...”

“Roger! Not right now!” you scolded.

“Oh, you can be quiet.”

“Taylor!” Brian shouted from the kitchen, leaving you and the drummer a giggling mess.

a/n: do I like this? idk. some parts of it yes, and some parts no. I've just been super stressed with school lately, but now I've developed a schedule for writing so there should hopefully be one or two parts out each week! hope you’re buckled in because this is a long story.

tag list: (let me know if I accidentally forgot you!)

@16wiishes @cheyismaxi @ohfxxkitsme @excusememecouldyoupleaseleave @laubluered @simplyvictoria-93 @wowicantbelieveitsnotgay @mrsmazzello @fsociety00da1 @jamespottev @bitemerog

psa: I would like to thank all you fools who have stuck around through my non-edited chapters, the chapters that literally take me a month to write, and the chapters that I don’t feel confident in. thank you for being patient with me and supporting me. you guys are why I keep doing this. I love you all! :)) let me know what you think of this part!

99 notes · View notes