#3/4 band: Tuned Drinks

[song-linked-from-nine-verses]

The Mass Dreg Playlist

"Boonie, can we get a set of drums?" Pip asked, and per usual, I was supposed to say no.

I was going to say no.

I was a horrible big brother. Still am, but that's a different can of worms for another day.

Because otherwise our budget wouldn't allow it, he cracked open his own piggy bank, and bought himself all the things necessary. Pip got his set of drums, fit for a twelve year old, and put his own woobly cymbals on top (alongside some made by his grandpa.)

Then the kid brought friends. Turns out just buying drums wasn't bad enough, because nothing hurts more to hear three children barely able to play their instruments, all the while mixing together the most obnoxious things.

"Let him make memories," Grandpa assured me, but the only thing that would reassure me would be that the kid and his friends stop annoying me during my nap time. Not to mention neighbours' complaints.

Should have bought him electric drums.

But in the end, he reminds me of myself when I was still carefree.

— —

"And over here, we have another monster named Boons, a.k.a Pip's big brother," Ton whispers as if they're recording a wild animal, stepping on top of his friends so that he can properly point his camera to the window, "who's cleaning cups in a coffee shop, and he's also a Big Meanie. We are trying to steal the keys to his room because he never lets us play."

"He also didn't let me buy drums at first!" Pip says, who's on lookout duty, in case any of Boons' co-workers walk out. His green shirt, a hand-me-down too large for him, is covered in soot and dirt since he keeps being distracted with the grass to actually be on lookout duty.

"He also told me that my playing sucks!" Track chimes in. He's wearing a red hat, which is currently being squished by Ton from the top.

"Lan.. guage?" Ton lightly hits on Track's head, and as he does he almost loses his grip from sitting on Track's shoulders. "Hold on. Is 'suck' a bad word?"

"Don't lie Track! Big brother wouldn't say a bad word!"

"A. It's not a bad word but B. he did stare at me last time! It was scary!"

"But that doesn't mean my brother said that you suck!"

"Yes it does!" Track tries to throw his hands up in the air to show that he's right, but somehow that makes Ton lose balance.

".. My camera broke." Ton says. "It's your fault, Track."

"Why would it be my fault?"

"Your stupid hat made me slip!"

"Did not!"

"Hey, hey it's fine, it's fine." Pip tries to calm his friends down.

Despite being a horrible lookout, Pip has made sure the crew understands not to make any noise that would alert his brother. But arguing ensues right in front of the coffee shop. Regardless of his efforts, a wordsmithing battle quickly spirals. Before he successfully tunes his friends down, he hears a clunk of a cup then footsteps towards the door.

Knowing that Ton is trying his hardest to win an argument, and is too focused to care that their cover's about to be blown, Pip flips Track's hat off and starts running.

"PIP!"

"OI!"

Pip quickly runs as fast as he could, and when he finally stops to catch his breath, his brother is standing hands on hips at the coffee shop's door. He almost sees the face of disappointment coated with a smile on his brother's face. His friends are right behind him, confused and panting like crazy, but they follow Pip's gaze and quickly understand the problem.

"Now what? My camera's broken and your brother is probably on high alert." Ton says as he reviews the footage. The kids stuck their heads in to see a short video showing Pip making a crown out of grass, Track fixing the buttons on his navy blue shirt, and Ton's rubbing the dirt off the crustacean art on his cyan shirt after trying to use his Deku Leaf to catch up to Pip in a Roc's Cape. Not much footage of the person or thing that needs filming, but much footage of laughter and antics.

The kids sigh in defeat.

"Ground?"

"Ground." Pip nods. "Ton's house?"

— —

If it weren't for the fact that his drums aren't in his brother's room, Pip would love to practice at Ton's house. His grandma makes the best soup and his little sister is their biggest fan.

"This is the BEST thing I've ever heard!" Aryll says, as she always does after every single song.

"Thanks Aryll, but please. This is nothing. It would be even better with a bassist!" Ton says.

"I know a bassist! My brother-"

"Pip, your brother only counts if he'd actually play for us." Track rolls his eyes. "And I have tried to convince him to play twenty dindamned times!"

"Language!" Ton says. "Aryll, you're not allowed to say dindamn."

"You sound like my brother, why don't you be the bassist?

"I'm already the guitarist!"

"Just play both!"

"Track only uses his mouth, why can't he be the bassist?"

"We've been over this! I can't be the bassist because I can't play my flute and the bass at the same nayruined time!"

Despite all the bickering, no one actually tries to hurt the others' feelings, so Pip finds practice sessions to be quite fun and enjoyable. Aryll feels so as well, as she is smiling happily as the crew banters. However, someone has to make sure everyone is focused. 

Pip starts tapping his drumsticks on the ground, and once he gets his friends' attention, "what are we playing next?" 

Ton answers by moving his Wind Waker so the winds can play the bassline, and strums his guitar with a set of familiar chords - a fast, energetic beat - and Pip follows suit. Track continues the melody of, in the kids' words, "if a surfer'' by a band called Mass Dregs, not actually sure if a surfer could actually do something that warrants a song about them. The previously bickering children now play in harmony.

The only thing missing now is a real bassist.

— — —

It's late at night, or at the very least, later than when any sixteenager should be outside. Boons quietly tries to climb in through the window. He never told Grandpa Smith that he took up multiple jobs, and he's running out of excuses as to why he's always coming home late. He took one of Pip's caps earlier, and is currently using it to cover his multi-colored hair. It was dyed a while back, and for some reason it seems to be pretty noticeable even in the dark. To be extra safe, he changed into his mostly-green shirt before coming home, so no one can see him in his uniform.

He still fails to be detected, however. Pip, his little brother, sits cross-legged right beside the window.

Boons sends his worried-looking little brother a dry look, and mouths "shoo", but he was grateful that Pip was waiting for him. A cushion was placed where Boons will eventually make a "plunk" when he unceremoniously dives butt-first from the window. 

An exhale that almost turned into a chuckle left Pip's mouth, but he covers it and turns over to Grandpa's room. Both brothers let out a relieved exhale when they still hear snoring.

Boons puts a little pat on his little brother's head. It's really hard to be mad at a little brother going to bed late when said brother is helping you commit crimes. Pip returns with a bright smile, however, as sleepiness takes over, he falls asleep into his brother's arms. 

The house goes mostly quiet, save for the occasional snore, as Boons tip-toes to carry his brother to their room. A tender smile is shown on his face as he softly hums a lullaby. 

The song was one that was traditionally taught to brown hair (or brownish), left-handed and/or simply brave kids when they were young. Pip's a blondie, and as for Boons, underneath the rainbow colors, his hair roots are actually bright yellow. However, both brothers are born left-handed. The Song of the Connector (though, it goes by many names) is a simple melody, but as Boons hums, he incoporates his own bassline, quietly adding onto the song without noticing it.

"Sweet dreams Pip." Boons whispers when he tucks his brother into bed.

—     —     — CHAPTER BREAK

It's a beautiful summer afternoon, perfect day for three friends to take a very specific bus to a very specific place downtown.

"Just so we're clear, we are all going right?" Ton hurdles his friends inside his messy room. Pip nods and Track replies with an enthusiastic 'toot toot'.

"Pip, don't tell your brother we're going, or else he'll kick us out."

"Yes, captain!" Pip says loudly.

"Track, do not ask strangers to play bass for us, and do not blow your flute randomly at people."

Track answers by blowing loudly into his panflutes, which startles everyone in the room.

"Oi! What did I just say?"

"Yes, captain." Track laughs. "Promise."

"Aryll, you coming?" 

"Hmm… No- I want to play games today." Aryll says from the upper bunk bed.

"Okay! My Grandma closes the store at 5pm, and we can go then, but I have to ask first. Granny??"

His Grandma yells back an affirming "Hmm?"

"We're going to the coffee shop downtown later!"

Granny audibly nods, then yells using her granny chord, "Why are you going to the coffee shop?"

"Open mic! We're gonna play out!"

"Oh! Have fun! Be back before 8! And keep your phone on okay!"

— —

"Aren't you a little too old to be asking questions?" Boons squints with his bright blue eyes at the man towering over the coffee shop counter. 

"Look kiddo, you just seem like a liability."

"Well you seem like you're trying to steal money." Boons says, as he lifts the man's arm further from the cashier. "So how about this, I will do my job, and you tell me whether you want chocolate, or vanilla?"

The man squints back at him. 

"Chocolate."

Boons drops the previously aggressive face and gives the man one wide, over the top smile. "That is wonderful sir! Thank you for being our lovely patron!"

Once the man has turned away, Boons immediately drops the smile and points a rude gesture at him right behind the counter.

"My child, if that man turns around, I might have to fire you." says Mama, the manager of the cafe.

"It's not my fault- For some reason, this job brings out the worst in me." Boons says.

"He isn't wrong you know." she says, "you ARE a liability. You're working for who knows how long at a different place before coming here, then work another three hours here, the mayor will make me explain if she finds out, also, what would your father say-"

"Eughhhhhhhhhhh." 

"You're not supposed to be rude to me young man," Mama says calmly and gestures at Boons' backpack, "how about you go home early." 

"You're not going to slip in extra pay for me. Besides, you need me for the show later. I'm staying."

"You're going." Mama says, a bit more stern this time, and takes his backpack then pulls him out to the backdoor. "Shoo!"

"You're not my mom-" Boons says, but shakes his head from the thought. Walking out reluctantly, he checks what's in his bag. Everything is in there at least, his phone, pills, the charger, water bottle, his clothes... hold on-

Boons looks down and sees that he's still in his orange uniform. And his clothes aren't in his backpack.

"Mama! Can I at least-"

"No kid, go home."

"You don't understand! I-"

"Shoo!"

The door is locked. Boons tries to walk to the front but is met with Mama's angry eyes. A quiet sigh leaves his breath as he mentally groans. He does not want to go home in this set of clothes. 

– Pip? Where are you?

– y

– Hi Track. I need clothes.

– were at Tons house

– Can I come?

– need a bassidt

– For the last time, Track. No. 

– i can give you shirt if you help us play out for open mic 

– What?

– yes no its simple

– In exchange for a shirt??

– hiiiiiiiiiiiiii boonie!! please be our bassist! 

– Pip, no! It's a school night! Stay on the phone, I have multiple questions.

– pkease we will give you a shirt

– Track, hand the phone back to Pip.

(previous message deleted)

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– hi Boons, in case you don't know I am Ton - we are not going anywhere, nor are we doing anything that might worry you. ok bye

(pipsqueak is currently offline)

It's half past five. Standing under the bus stop roof, Boons looks up all the possible open mic shows in the area. 

"Why are these kids so.. courageous?" Boons mumbles. "The Two-M Bar is too far away, probably not that. Hateno F; wouldn't let these kids in. Mama's Cafe has a show in 30 minutes…"

Oh. No. Boons sprints back to his workplace.

— —

"Mama? Mama please let me in!" Boons yells as he knocks on the backdoor to no avail.  A quick look into the peephole shows that one of the delivery guys is within earshot.  Around his age, also a leftie AND has the same legal name as him, green uniform, and the guy's also currently wearing an old moon theme hoodie. He knows this particular delivery guy.

With his blue eyes Boons shots a death glare towards him. "Din-DAMMIT Snails you can *clearly* hear me from there!*

Snails, while putting food into his delivery bag, pretends to look up to the ceiling and loudly announces, "Huh, I heard someone call my not-name. Must've been the wind."

"Snails!!" 

"Oh hi Boons!" Snails turns to the door with the wildest grin.

"Let. Me. In. Please?"

"Uh.. I really can't. Mama says she doesn't want you to go in and tamper with her schedule again. I'd ask what happened but I'd rather not let you bite my head off right now."

Boons groans. "If I say this isn't work related would you let me in?"

Snails is this close to opening the door, but stops right before he touches the handle. "If it's not work related, why not use the front door?"

Three seconds of realization. Boons dashes towards the front door. Through the crowd, he sees Mama's sitting at the front desk, and the moment she sees him, she sends him a murderous look.

Boons runs back.

"Snails, I can't use the front door. What are you doing anyway?"

"Leftover cake. What about you?"

"My brother and his friends are trying to participate in the open mic show."

"And?"

"Well, I have to stop them!"

"Why?"

No one has asked him that before. Boons suddenly can't answer the simple question. He fidgets the purple strands of his hair, trying to find a logical answer to his actions. But the only thing that came out was jumbled up thoughts.

"Do they suck?" Snails asks, a bit more softly this time. 

"Well.. it's a school night!" Boons says, twirling the purple strands of his hair.

"Boons, it's currently summer vacation."

No. Really. Why did he react so strongly to them playing out? 

He keeps thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking. The purple strands get stuck to his hand as he keeps twirling them.

What is he feeling right now? Happy? Sad? Angry? No none of these are correct. Why can't they play? He played upstage at least a few times, so why can't the kids?

.

.

.

Why….?

.

.

.

Snails, after not hearing Boons for a while, opens the door to check on him. 

The sudden sound breaks his spiraling trail of thought, and Boons figures out what he was really feeling. "They remind me of myself when I still play out. I sucked. Th-The audience was mean. I don't want them to.."

Snails looks at Boons with eyes full of empathy. 

"I currently don't have the right words to describe my thoughts right now. But... I want them to play, but what if they fail, but it was my fault that *we* failed, but I also want to be there for them and…" Boons groans as tears pour down his face.  

"Backpat?" Snails shyly offers a hand.

Boons moves Snail's hand off. "Ew, no."

"Alright. But knowing the crowd that frequents this cafe, they wouldn't mind. Might even call it 'experimental' or something."

Boons wipes tears from his eyes and with that hand he rubs his head, making all the colors blend together. "Knowing that doesn't help. What am I going to do, Snails.. Just looking makes me nervous but not looking feels bad.." 

Boons turns and sees Snails shrugging. "Sorry I can't help you, Boons."

"Oh, sorry for crying in front of you." Boons tries his best to completely wipe his tears. "It's just that you happen to be here and-"

"No no- don't feel bad about it." Snails gives him a thumbs up. "I don't mind."

The moon shines bright, illuminating the dark dumpster alley behind the cafe. Music from the front echoes around them, as well as the muffled sounds from someone singing through a microphone. Boons can't hear any of the kid's voices, so it's probably not their turn yet.

Snails taps on Boons to draw his attention. "You know, there's a third option. Other than looking and not looking, why not just… play with them?"

Boons' heart skips a beat and his body feels like it's being squeezed. But… going out there means that he can help the kids, in a way… on the other hand-

"From that expression, I'm guessing stage fright." Snails offers out an arm so that Boons can steady himself. "Well, if you can't choose, can I  go out there and see? If anyone makes fun of your brother-"

"You said one time that you have a lot of instruments, right?" Boons asks as he combs back the green hair on his bangs. "Can I have your bass?"

— —

After clearing a few misunderstandings with Mama, Boons hides himself near the cashier which convieniently acts as a "backstage". He doesn't know what to say if he meets the kids directly. But once he catchest sight of them, they are having wide smiles, sitting near the stage, eagerly waiting for their turn.

It feels nostalgic, and part of him hates it, but another part of him misses it.

It took forever for the bass to come. Luckily, Snails gets back with the instrument right when the kids are introducing themselves. But he regrets asking for Snails' bass specifically.

"This is a left-handed bass." Boons says. "I can't-"

"Well, I only have one, and you're supposed to be left-handed anyways." Snails shrugs, wears the strap onto Boons, and before Boons could change which side the fretboard is, Snails pushes him onstage. "The bass is already tuned, do whatever! The world is yours."

"Bass!" Track cheers when the kid sees him. 

"Why?" Ton looks at him confused.

Boons awkwardly smiles, but he does not dare to face the crowd. He figures out where to plug the instrument in. "I.. come to help? What are you guys playing?" he mouths.

"Don't worry, you know this song." Pip whispers back. His little brother is barely reaching the drums.

Track yells into the microphone. "WE ARE TUNED DRINKS! WE'LL PLAY A COVER OF A SONG  FROM A BAND CALLED MASS OF THE FERMENTING DREGS." 

Pip hits the cymbals- 1! 2! 3! 4! - and Boons has to listen to what Ton plays to figure out what song it is.

Boons takes a second to realize that playing this bass is not that different from playing right-sided. No, it's actually better. Playing feels just like doing magic and you can write your own spells.

For once, plucking the strings doesn't feel like Boons is fighting his own fingers. Before that, playing the instrument wasn't necessarily hard, but it wasn't easy either. 

The left-handed bass is basically mirrored so the strings order stays the same, and has extra fret access if pressed with the right hand. He has to improvise a few parts since he isn't used to pressing the fretboard with his right. But as Boons plays, he thinks he's going to flip his own bass, and fret access be damned, he doesn't want to throw hands with his instrument any more.

Boons turns to look at his brother and the kid looks happy. His playing has improved since he was 12 years old and while occassionally he fumbles at the rhythm, his timekeeping is suprisingly well. Track plays the pan flute instead of singing at a few parts, and it gives the song a different flair than how other cover bands do it. Ton carries the melody perfectly, and just by listening to the kids Boons easily bounces off them to play the bassline. He used to be the best "bass guy, can play with any group"- person there was, after all.

Boons still isn't facing the general crowd, but he positioned himself just enough to see Snails behind the cashier. Boons gets distracted for a bit and muscle memory makes him move his left hand to press the notes, and he sees Snails chuckle.

Boons can't turn to the people watching him, but looking at the kids (and the new friend he probably just made), along with the freeing feeling the new bass feels, Boons forgets everything that made him nervous.

And like his hair, he's coloring the hopes he has for the future.

[rocking-in-tri-force]

目から鱗な事態

(translation: an eye-opening situation)

Featuring Tuned Drinks referencing tricot's あふれる (lit. overflowing)

/if i had a penny everytime track references tricot, id have two pennies, which isn't a lot but strange that it happened twice

<img d: a pencil sketch. they are referencing the part where most of the band (save the vocalist) is playing in the sea. Track is the vocalist, and is lying tummy down, looking like he's stranded on shore. Instead of clutching the cup of water, he is holding his panflute /end>

/playing in the sea... definitely Ton's idea. Not necessarily canon, though, as Boons will not let their bass get near sea water

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves. 

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified. 

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around. 

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?” 

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.” 

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on. 

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago. 

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove. 

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench. 

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth. 

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 3 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 17.4k

Warnings: Smut 

A/N: Well... It's been a minute. I can only apologise for how long this part has taken me to write but believe me this will be worth the wait because holy shit. Again a big thank you to @alovesreading and @kennedy-brooke for helping and listening to me complain about me having to write this chapter as I was getting more and more stuck (prepare yourself for me being the exact same with part 4&5 tho). Also a big thank you to @lottiecrabie for beta reading this and lottifying it for me, you're a genius. Thank you to everyone who has waited for this one, I wont keep you any longer, go enjoy it. Thanks a million for reading x

| My Masterlist | 

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Waking up beside Alex brought everything back to you and it hits you in the same way your hangover does your stomach. Sickeningly. 

Repercussions of what it all could mean give you a worse headache than you already have. Your body aches more than it has in a very long while. It’s easy for you to tell that it's not just the lingering alcohol making your muscles seize, it’s all the cardio Alex was putting the both of you through a matter of hours ago. 

So after lying in complete discomfort for 10 minutes, only focusing on the way your stomach is flipping and the steady breathing of the man on the other side of the bed, you get up. You head to the bathroom and you immediately go for a drink of water from the tap, followed quickly by using some toothpaste and some mouthwash to try and freshen yourself up. 

After using his toilet, you don’t even feel any remorse about turning on his shower. Once it’s a decent temperature, you walk in. You can’t even deny that this might be the nicest shower of your life. You fully let the hot water relax your muscles and you don’t think twice about using Alex’s stuff. 

You’re surprised the man actually has both shampoo and conditioner instead of a 2 in 1. After all, his hair is only just growing back and it’s still shorter than what it was back when they first got famous. You’re grateful regardless because it's good quality and it smells amazing, hints of eucalyptus with a smokey wood scent. 

Taking your time washing your sore body down with his shower gel, you gently start to hum along to a tune that’s managed to stick in your head, and you’re glad the shower seems to rid you of your hangover symptoms. 

You end up in your own little world, reminiscing about last night's activities as you wash your body. Every brush of your fingers, you can feel Alex’s touch. If you close your eyes you can picture it all over again and the ghost of the feelings he stirred up in you. 

It’s like tingles are running through your bones. Just the memory alone throws you back into the moment, like you can feel him on you, inside you, his skin against yours, his lips on y- 

“How are you feeling?” Alex’s voice startles you. 

He walked in a few minutes ago after waking up needing to go to the toilet and he couldn’t hold it despite hearing the stream of the shower. He didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he knew the frosted glass that split the room would shield your body from him if you didn’t want him to see it. It would be silly after last night anyway. The image of you is seared into his retinas. 

So after using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he turned to see that you still hadn’t noticed his presence. He can only glimpse at a blur of a figure behind the steamed glass, the temperature in the room getting increasingly hotter as the moments pass. He can’t help but want to see you again, which is why he decides to open his mouth. 

You quickly whip yourself around and see him standing just near the end of the glass pane that divides the shower from the rest of the room. Alex’s gaze is on your face, staying respectful and not lingering down, even though he’d seen you a matter of hours ago. 

Him startling you when you least expected has your heart racing, not to mention his actual presence. The fact he is still very naked in front of you makes your blood pound in your chest faster. Flashes of last night come back to you and it’s like you can feel him touching you again. Feel him kiss your skin again. Feel him insid-

Not the time Y/N. He asked you a question. Oh shit yeah.

“A little better after a shower, thanks.” You say once the shock of his presence dwindles a little. Unsurprisingly, you start to panic ramble, “Sorry for not asking, I should have- but I- I just didn’t want to wake you up.”

“It’s fine Y/N/N,” Alex brushes your apology off, and after a beat he asks, “Mind if I jump in?”

Trying not to let the anxiety show on your face as it creeps up your spine, you just nod and shrug, “Your shower.”

You were just about done anyway. 

You enjoy the hot water for a second more before you mentally prepare to leave the warmth. Once you say a silent goodbye to the glorious shower, you turn and see Alex has just stepped in, heading for the water. You go to move past him, and trail off, “I’ll just let you…” 

“You don’t have to leave.” Alex says as he catches your wrist, his thumb caressing your skin. 

Your eyes go wide and you can feel yourself about to stutter as you start, “But I-”

Alex interrupts, “Stay.” He doesn’t want to give you time to overthink but he also won’t push you. Though he appears pleased when you gently nod. You let him guide you back to the water. 

Although you’ve agreed, he can see there's still hesitance there and a hint of awkwardness that he wants gone quickly. In the best way he can, he addresses it directly and with a soft smile on his lips. “You know we fucked last night, right?” He holds his grin when he sees your eyes go wide, clearly not expecting him to say that. 

But going through your head is, No shit! What a stupid fucking question! How the fuck could anyone forget a night like that?! Forget someone fucking you like that… What a fucking idiot to even ask.

As it turns out, your thoughts are a little hasty, because Alex’s gentle tone continues as he lathers himself up in shower gel, saying, “You don’t need to feel awkward. I’ve already seen you.” 

Before you even know it your worries spill from your lips, “When we were drunk and we lost all inhibitions and I don’t know if you were blackout drunk or not, I don’t know if-” 

“I still remember.” Alex interrupts you, looking into your eyes and he takes your hand again and moves you back under the shower with him. 

While that in itself makes you feel a little easier, the fact that you don’t know where to look makes your mind spin. It feels uncouth to look down, especially considering you haven’t seen him look down either. But like he just said, you saw each other last night and it shouldn’t be awkward.

Christ, you weren’t built for the stresses of one night stands. Or friends (if you can even call him that) with benefits, or whatever the fuck this is. 

“You’re still gorgeous,” Alex assures you, “Please don’t overthink, just stay.” 

You gently nod again, trying to just not think about the fact that you're standing naked beside a man you barely know. Instead you close your eyes and enjoy the water again, blocking out the man washing his body beside you and you let your body relax as you tilt your head up towards the huge shower head and let it rain over you. 

Having a shower was always relaxing for you, a brief escape from the hectic days you tend to have and if shit goes wrong, a shower can most of the time fix the mood the day has put you in. It’s your safe space to decompress: you just let yourself calm down again, and enjoy the way the hot water makes you relax. 

Alex doesn’t notice what you’re doing straight away, not until he turns to start washing his hair and he sees you standing beside him looking all stoic. Suddenly, he can’t take his eyes off you. 

You look so at peace, as if all your worries and overthinking had been washed away by the water you’re both standing under. You look gorgeous with the way the various lights in the room are hitting your skin, almost making you glow in the warm lighting. 

It’s almost like he's watching in slow motion, how he watches the water trickle down your pretty features. Bouncing from your eyelashes and running down your cheeks until it reaches your lips that still look plump from your activities last night. Alex feels the urge to kiss you again, but he manages to resist. He’s only just got you calm, the last thing he wants it to unnerve you. 

Little does Alex know that he already sort of is. Not through any fault of his own as you can’t expect to be in the shower with someone and for them to pay no attention to you, but you can feel his eyes on you. Not in a creepy way in the slightest, but you can feel his gaze and the awkwardness is threatening to bubble back up your spine. 

Trying your best to suppress it, you take another few deep breaths and roll your head and your shoulders a few times to encourage your muscles to loosen up again. You really hate not knowing where you stand with him, but suddenly your mouth that likes to nervously chat away can’t even open. The last thing you want to do now is annoy him and for him to tell you to leave and it makes things messier than they are already bound to be with Katie and Jamie.

Oh lord, how the fuck am I meant to tell Katie? She’s going to disown me. Jamie will never be able to look at me again. I’ll never be Forrest’s favourite auntie again when I inevitably can’t see him anymore. I- No, stop over thinking. Stop. It.

Alex can practically see you cogs spinning in your head again so he gently encourages you to get out of your head and hopes you start chatting to him again. He’s never been in your presence and you’ve been so silent. The last thing he wants is for you to overthink something as simple as a shower.

“Are you still feeling okay?” The singer can’t help but ask as softly as he can so he doesn’t make you jump by interrupting your quiet moment. 

“I-” You clear your throat, “Yeah, I’m okay thank you.”

“Sure?” Alex questions, wanting to keep your brain as clear as possible,

You nod, smiling a little at the endearing way he double checked. Who is this man and what has he done with the Alex Turner you’ve been used to for the past decade?

“How are you feeling?” You ask, wanting to reciprocate the manners he’s showing you. 

“Good thanks,” He nods and smiles at you, “Little headache but we both drank a lot so it makes sense.” You try not to watch the way the water runs down his neck and his chest as he talks to you, “Was good in that club though. I enjoyed it.” 

“Yeah it was good.” You agree, trying to keep your eyes on his but failing every now and again, “No one bothered you either so I guess that was a little better for you too. Makes a night easier I suppose... Did you have a fun night with Jamie?” 

“I had more fun with you.” Alex smirks a little, not missing the way your eyes have begun to wonder slightly. He’s still sincere when he asks, “Did you have fun?” 

You know that he’s not talking about your night out anymore, he’s talking about your night with him and you’d be a liar if you didn’t answer, “Yeah.” You flush, asking him shyly, “Did you?” 

“Most definitely.” Alex hums. His focus is solely on you now. He takes a step closer to you, as even he can feel the tension from last night stir back up between you. He watches your reactions closely and when he sees his proximity doesn’t alarm you, he lowers his voice a little to ask one more question, his finger coming to trace your jaw as he does, “Do you regret it?”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes on his. You’re not letting your nerves get the better of you. “No.”

“Good.” Alex smiles and his hand moves from tracing your jaw to your neck where he cups it again. Before you can really comprehend it, his lips dip down and take yours in a kiss. 

It’s not a simple kiss. There’s heavy meaning behind it, spinning in the back of your dizzy head, seeping through your panting breaths, gripping his rough hand as it caresses your cheek, flexed and clenched like he’s holding back doing more.

It’s a losing battle. As soon as a moan spills from your hot mouth, Alex grips your waist and pulls you flush against him. Your chests rise and fall in sync, and there’s something even more meaningful knocking at the back of your head. It feels dangerous, like another border you’re crossing without even looking back. At least you know now it wasn’t just the amarettos on rocks making his kisses feel like your stomach might flip. 

You reach up, one hand finding his nape, the other digging into his wet hair. There’s a sense of you trapping him, wrapping him in a deadly trap he, thankfully Alex, doesn’t seem to want to even try escaping. Instead, he moves the both of you back under the stream of water so you don’t get cold, as though that was possible with your temperature rising with every artful swipe of his tongue. His hand practically burns at your waist, strong and present and callused, and soon you’ll need an ice bath just to recover from him. 

Alex steals every breath from your mouth and you give them to him without a second thought. It’s pathetically quickly that you can feel yourself getting wet, and not just from the stream of water pouring on you. It’s everything. His mouth, his tongue, his hands; from the way he’s touching you now to the way you can still remember him fucking you yesterday, like a permanent branding iron on your body that burns, burns, burns. Your heart races in your chest. You’ve never felt more alive.

Alex snakes a hand around your back, firmly holding you against him like you’re his prized possession, like he fears losing you down the showerdrain if he doesn’t trap you in his arms. He gets needy whimpers out of you, muffled by his eager tongue. You pull away when his hand falls to your arse and squeezes tightly, moaning into the hot, heavy air, into his open mouth that’s fucking smirking. 

Cocky, he runs his gentle hand down your cheek, butterfly kisses across your jaw, to settle on your neck. His dark eyes dig into yours as he squeezes, ready to catch every microreaction. You release a pretty soft sound for him, whining. His hand’s heavy and meaningful around your throat, hanging from it like he owns you. 

It only makes you more desperate for him. Needing to get your claws into something, you pull harshly on his wet hair. He groans, mouth hanging open in pleasure, and you use that to your full advantage to catch his mouth again.

Alex is hard against you; the knowledge that it’s you causing this reaction in him boosts your confidence tenfold. Enough to make you want to drop to your knees for him here and now. You’re pretty certain the singer wouldn’t mind.

The idea transforms into a need, soaking your thighs further. Eager, you let your hand run down his wet chest, sweet and worshipping, making him shiver against you. You drop it to his cock, just two light fingers touching his length, teasing him. He pulls away from your lips, moaning. His face looks down to the beginning show in wonder. You smirk. No, he wouldn’t mind at all. Slowly, you wrap around him. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

The noises you pull from him have you pressing your thighs together. Noises that you wish you could record and play on loop when he’s not there to help you; pretty, pornographic moans that vibrate against your cheek. You fall into his neck to kiss and nip and lick at, letting his sounds bloom into your ear. His hips jump into your fist, making you that more determined to continue stroking him, wanting and needing him to unravel, to be entirely at your mercy. 

But you know your mouth is ten times better than your hand, so you climb back up to his lips, leaving a quick, hot kiss, then biting his lower one. You tug and release, smirking at his hitched breath. There's a moment then where you both look at each other, lust the only thing in either of your eyes, and it’s as though the steaming water runs cold compared to the heat between your greedy bodies. 

There's a fraction of a second where everything changes. Time slows for it to happen. Still, your brain can’t keep up. Just as your eyes fall and you back away to allow your knees to sink and hit the tiles below, Alex grabs you by your hair with both hands, bringing you back up and pulling you into another kiss. 

It’s hard and hungry, and it takes you enough by surprise that you stumble back, unsteady on your feet. Alex follows, greedily allowing himself an extra second of the torrid kiss before he spins you around and pushes you up against the glass. The bitter coldness of the glass against your scorching skin makes you gasp, a rush of pleasure spreading down your spine. You can feel Alex’s smirk as he presses himself against your back. 

His arm snakes around your waist as his lips find home where your shoulder meets the base of your neck. Your thin necklace does nothing to stop his mouth attacking the skin there, biting, then soothing it away with his tongue. His fingers trail down between your thighs. With a moan, your head falls to the glass, cool against your skin. You throb for him.

His fingers brush your clit, making you gasp and whine for him before he dips his fingers down further to feel just how wet he’s made you. He can’t help but smirk against your ear, as if he’s not already almost completely hard against your arse. Gathering a pool of your arousal, he finds your bundle of nerves again, gently rubbing it. 

Slow teases on your clit make your head fall back on his shoulder and you can’t help but moan. You clutch his wrist with one hand in a silent beg not to stop. Sweet whines of pleasure escape your lips, filling the hot room with more than just the stream from the shower.

Without fully realising, Alex finds himself rocking his aching cock against you, causing your body to shift. Dragging your nipples across the cold glass heightens your senses more than ever. You’ve never dealt with such different intensities of temperature before, never known such staggering opposites could make your body melt and drip with euphoria. 

“This what you want, sweet?” You can feel Alex’s hot breath against your ear, “Want me to make you feel good again?”

Your moans are answer enough for him, but it delights him how he has you begging, “Please.” 

“Good girl.” He smirks, nipping the skin just behind your ear before he adds more pressure to your clit. 

Your hand blindly reaches to grasp something, but the cool glass beneath your palms doesn’t help at all. It slides off the glass, entirely unable to catch any resistance with the way the scolding water is still raining down on the both of you. 

Alex could get used to this. The way you’re filling up his bathroom with those pretty sounds that keep falling from your lips, making it very obvious that you’re enjoying everything he’s doing to you. He fucking loves how vocal you are, he loves the fact that you can’t keep those swollen lips of yours shut for him, and he revels in the fact he’s the one bringing you so much pleasure.

“Alex,” You whine out after a minute of him concentrating on your swollen clit, circling and circling until your legs shake under you.

He kisses his way up your neck as he huskily asks, “Yeah?” He focuses back on the makings of a bruise he left there in the early hours of the morning, proud and possessive at the sight of it.

“More.” You just about get out.  

You can’t really think of what else other than more. You need more. 

The way you can feel just how hard he is against your arse and how his hips keep grinding into your own is making you clench around nothing, begging and pleading to be filled. It feels criminal to be this empty at this point. You’re aching to be fucked by him again. 

“You’re greedy, sweet,” he tsks as he kisses his way down your neck. You push your hips against his, rolling them, hoping for something. He’s unflappable, pressing you back up against the glass as he asks, “Can’t be happy with what I'm giving you? You want more?” You nod furiously, mind too hazy to hear the danger in his tone. “Little pet thinks she knows better than me?” 

“Please,” You whine, high-pitched and breathy.  

It seems you’ve fallen right into his trap. Alex bites down on your shoulder, pain and pleasure blooming inside of you. The dominance, the power, the possessiveness has you clenching around nothing again. With the way your lower stomach knots and tightens and coils, you know your orgasm is building steadily. You just need more. 

You bite your lip raw trying to hold back cries, but he tuts in your ear, dragging it out of your teeth. “None of that, sweet. I want to hear you.” As though to give you motivation, he pinches your clit meanly. 

“Oh fuck, Alex!” You gasp. He smiles against your cheek, rewards you with tight circles on your bud again. He has you mindlessly begging now, “Please, please. Alex.”

“What is it you need, then?” Your mouth hangs open, incapable of forming thoughts and sentences when euphoria drowns you like this. Alex helpfully provides, “You need my fingers, is that it?” His hot breath sends goosebumps over your skin. He knows you like the way he teases you in these situations after last night's dalliance. He hums against your ear, “Whining and panting like a brat, I wonder if they’ll shut you up?”

Without another second of torment, the singer drops his hand until he can dip two fingers inside you. With how slick he’s made you, they slip in easily, stretching and filling you up. You cry out a, “Yes!” You’re shaking between his arms, so close and ready you might burst into tears if he doesn’t give you what you need. 

When they finally sink fully inside, you have to abandon your useless attempts to hold the glass in front of you. Instead, you reach back and root your fingers into Alex’s hair. 

You wish it was longer again so you had more to pull on, but your hold on him is enough to ground you to the moment, to him. Finally, he thrusts in and out of you, quick and deep like you need it. It’s shocking to feel how much he knows you, has memorised that dark night to the very last detail. And here you thought he wouldn’t even remember. 

He curls his fingers and electricity zaps through you. He easily finds the sweet spot inside you and hits it with every slide, sopping sounds filling the room as he stretches you open. You’re trembling, gripping his hair so tight you might unroot them. Your brain is too gone to worry about hurting him, drunk on the taste of him and pleasure.

“This what you wanted?” Alex asks, and all he’s met with is incoherent whines from you and a slack, furious nod. There’s an edge to his voice when he breathes,“Well, then. Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” 

“Thank you, Alex,” You immediately scream, too scared he’ll pull his fingers away, too addicted to bother arguing. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

“What a good fucking girl, sweet.” You preen under his words. His hand caresses your hair, cooing, “So obedient, so fucking pretty.” He seems to itch to reward you for it when he asks, “Think you can take more?” Of course, you nod, wanting to be good for him and knowing you can handle whatever he has in mind for you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever released such a loud moan like the one that falls from your lips when he slips another finger. You’re stretched out, so full with three of his fingers inside of you. He’s fucking you open, determined and ruthless, pumping out all the sweet, fucked-out moans from you. Your cunt throbs around him, pleasure swooping low in your belly. God, you hope he never stops. This is everything you want and more. With every swipe of his digits, you feel yourself grow closer and closer 

“Taking it so well, sweet,” He breathes, choked from his own want. You grin at him, proud. “Doing so good for me, letting me fuck you like this. My favourite, little slut.” You clench around him at the name. He smirks, biting your cheek as he promises, “I got you.” 

You know he does, can feel it in the way he curls and fucks, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your lungs feel aflame, burning up in your chest. Your mind is languid from the ecstasy, melting and swirling in your skull. You can’t remember your own name, only his. 

“Are you close?” Alex teases, because he doesn’t need a response to know. “Christ, you’re practically squeezing my fingers to death.” You moan, your head falling on his shoulder, your hand holding him the tightest you ever have. 

Though he’s a little shit about it, Alex makes sure he does everything he can to give you your mindblowing orgasm. He cups your cunt, his palm hitting your clit. You have no shame, rutting against it, chasing that fatal end like it was your one true purpose.  

“Gonna cum for me like a good girl?” He breathes, looking down at the way your glistening body is reacting to him, chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves a hand to your tits, playing with the peaked nipples. Every sensation sends you a hit of true euphoria until you can’t tell where your body burns. 

He pinches your nipple and you whine pathetically. You’re so drunk on pleasure, you feel delirious, barely even able to get your words out. “Please, Al,” is all you seem to know.

“Yeah?” You can feel his smile against your neck. “Good. Cum on my fingers then, sweet. Show me what a whore you really are.” And when he bites your neck again, sheer desire just to make you feel him everywhere, you lose yourself. 

“Alex,” You cry out, and all of a sudden the pleasure is blinding, “Oh, fuck!” 

Your orgasm scorches your body in an overwhelming wave that buzzes to your bones. The singer works you through it, sickly sweet whispers of praise in your ear that intensify your pleasure tenfold. Alex has to practically stop himself from cumming as he feels you clenching around his fingers, along with the sharp tug on his hair as you clutch him tighter.

“That's it,” he whispers as you come back down from your staggering high. Before he slips his fingers out of you, he praises, “Good girl. Did so well for me, sweet. My best girl.”

Finally, he slides three soaked fingers out of you. The sudden feeling of emptiness has you feeling needy, and the haze of your orgasm lingering makes you dazed and unsteady on your feet. Thankfully, Alex has you tight in his grasp and he maintains that as you slowly turn towards him. 

You can’t even be angry at the shit eating grin on his face, you feel too cockdrunk to even care. He can let it feed his ego all he likes, in this moment you would do absolutely anything for him. 

So much so that you pull him in for a messy kiss, clashing teeth and swiping tongue. You’re still trembling slightly, from the orgasm and the intensity and the fact that it’s him. You press your body against his, feeling his hard cock against your belly. You moan. You need to rectify that right now. You pull away with the intent to drop to your knees again, but Alex’s hands holding your jaw clench, keeping you in place again, knowing exactly what you were planning.

Instead he shakes his head, “No.” 

You don’t understand why he won’t let you, especially when you want to make him feel good. So you demand the only other thing that you can think of. “Take me to bed.” 

But, again, Alex shakes his head. “We don't have to.”

He searches your eyes for some give, not wanting to make you do anything. He doesn’t care about his own release; he’s going to cum fast anyway with the show you just put on for him. He doesn’t need you to do anything for him, he just wanted to watch you unwind at his touch again.

“I don't believe I was asking,” You persist, looking at him sternly enough that you hope he doesn’t turn you down again. 

You want to make him feel good. You want him to cum as hard as you just have and you want to be the reason for it, the cause of his pleasure. You want it to be your doing. 

Thankfully whatever was stopping Alex from letting you sink to your knees for him, he seems to get over. “You want me buried deep inside you, sweet?” He coos, holding you impossibly close, looking at you like he can peer into your soul and pull out the most sinful parts of you, “Wanna cum again? Around my cock this time?”

It’s like there’s nothing else processing in your head other than the promise of him being inside you again. And, Christ, you do wanna cum around his cock, practically a need. Still, you whine, admitting, “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Alex believes you. You’re holding him so tightly and looking at him with those big eyes that are practically begging to let you do something for him. He smiles, rubbing the stress behind your jaw. “Okay, sweet. Whatever you want.”

Alex turns the stream of water off and pulls you from the shower by grabbing your hand to keep you close. Before you leave the bathroom, he plucks you from the ground and into his arms. You squeak, but he mutes that with a kiss.

When he gets the both of you back into his bedroom, the cool air is a striking contrast to the heat that radiates from both of your bodies thanks to the steaming shower. Somehow, it adds to everything, heightens every sense and every touch Alex stimulates you with. 

Before you get used to Alex’s kisses or being in his arms, you’re thrown down on his bed, bouncing on the mattress. It should be embarrassing how much that turns you on, the sheer strength he threw you with, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you open your eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed, looking at you like he wants to devour you. 

You lay across the bed for him, wet and pretty and ready, and his mouth waters. He knocks your knees apart to catch another glimpse of your glistening cunt. The cool air hitting you makes you gasp, but it’s music to Alex’s ears. All he wants is to lick and suck your swollen clit again, to dip his tongue back inside you, and have you mewling beneath him as he fucks you with it. 

But, of course, he likes to make a show of it. He can’t give you everything you desire at the drop of a hat. He likes to edge the both of you in that way. Instead, Alex takes his time to crawl up the bed between your thighs, getting acquainted and bruising the soft skin at the top of your legs. 

He can’t get enough of hearing you whining and moaning and the way you keep lifting your hips in search of relief faster. He just grasps them tightly and forces them back down on his mattress. Alex, not being strong enough to abstain from another taste of you, licks a bold stripe up from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a guttural moan from you as your hand flies to his wet hair. You tug on it, putty in his hands, as he starts devouring your already sensitive cunt. 

He’s licking and fucking into you, chin wet with your juices, you get a grip of his hair and tug him off you, desperately crying, “Too much.” You’re far too over sensitive after what happened in the shower. Another minute of him doing that and you would be cumming on his tongue again.

“Yeah?” He pouts at you, though you doubt there’s any real empathy in him. He’s far too pleased. “Can’t handle me eating you? Already too fucking fucked-out to survive it?” You nod, like you can’t hear the condescending tone in his voice. “What if I want a taste? You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?” 

Your lungs are burning. You might melt into his sheets if he doesn’t do something now. “Please, Alex.” 

“What is it, sweet? Use your words.” He pinches your thigh, making you look down at him. 

The visual of him between your thighs all wet from the shower and now with your slick on his lips and chin has you clenching around nothing. You beg him, “Need you.” and that makes the singer smirk as he starts crawling up your body, but not before leaving one last kiss on your clit. 

Those sinful lips of his trail kisses up your stomach and he makes sure to pay close attention to your breasts as he asks you, “Need me to fuck you dumb?” 

You swear you almost choke on your own tongue when he kisses up from your tits to your neck and you hear him say, “Have the only thing you can think about is how I fill you up? How good I fuck you? Make sure you can’t remember anything but my name?”

Murmurs of pleases come from you then, but for all you know you could be entirely incoherent as you just revel in the way Alex’s body presses against yours. Still, you must make somewhat sense, because he lines himself up and finally, finally, fills you with his cock again. 

“Fucking hell, sweet,” Alex can’t help but groan as he bottoms out, “Oh, shit.”

It takes everything in him not to cum there and then. But he won’t, he can’t, he has to make you cum first. With the way you look so cockdrunk beneath him, he doesn’t think that your release is too far away either.

Alex fucks you slow and hard first, making you feel every thrust of his cock as it buries inside of you over and over. Every drag of your nipples across his chest as he fucks into you. Every suck and nip and kiss on your neck, which he’s already abused more in the last 12 hours than your ex-husband ever did. Every single sensation is a perfect cocktail for a brain-wiping orgasm. You feel pleasure threatening the edges of you already.

He grunts each time he fucks into you, but it’s nothing compared to how loud you’re being for him. You’ve given up on holding back all the moans and screams, letting them fall down your chin and into his ears. He drinks them greedily, revelling in every way his name can come out of your mouth. 

His head flips to the other side, hand wrapping around your neck to tilt it and give him better access. While he kisses and licks at your collarbone, his fingers press into your throat. You gasp, a rush of pleasure striking through your body. Your body tingles, mouth hanging open. 

“You’re so fucking dirty for me,” he whipsers in your neck, then releases it. Oxygen rushes through you and adrenaline runs through your veins, doubling the ecstasy swimming through you. Your head feels hazy. 

Your skin is on fire. Both of your bodies are damp with a mix of the water from the shower and the new shine of sweat, but the contrast with the cool air and the way your chests are pressed together makes everything more intense. 

Your legs lock around his waist and your heels press into his lower back, needing him as close as possible. The feeling of him so deep inside you is everything you needed. You feel so full, so satisfied. You just need the split, the snap, the break.

“Alex!” He can’t help but fuck you faster, hitting your spot with every thrust. You can’t get used to the furious pace, digging your nails into his shoulders and scratching out your boiling pleasure. 

When you moan his name again, he can’t stop himself from teasing you, “So loud, sweet. Think I need to gag you, can’t stop that mouth of yours running.” You clench around him and he looks up at you gleefully. “Oh, you’d like that? Like being gagged and bound for me? Can’t move or talk as I get you off over, and over, and over, until you’re too dumb to even think?” Your cunt throbs and he laughs, so fucking pleased. “What a perfect, little slut.” 

With the way you scratch at his back, and pull his hair that your fingers are routed into, he assumes you enjoy his foul talking. “Just for me, right?” He fucks you harder and faster, punctuating his words and gripping your throat tighter as he grunts, “So loud, and All. For. Me.” 

Just like that, he has you cumming around him again. 

It's almost difficult for Alex to continue ploughing his hips into your own with how tight your cunt is gripping him, throbbing and clenching in waves that you don’t even notice because a white heat has taken over your body. 

You feel like you’re vibrating with the way the knot in your lower stomach snapped and you feel the wave of bliss tingle through your blood. It’s ecstasy at its finest, lighting you up and making you feel all gooey and dizzy and happy. 

Alex wishes he could continue fucking you, wanting desperately to fill you up with his cum, you haven’t discussed anything like that yet, and he didn’t put a condom on. It’s with massive reluctance that he pulls out of you and gets to his knees. He fucks his fist, arm flexed and strong, ready to cum on your stomach.

But again, you surprise the singer. Despite still being dazed, you push yourself up and before he can make himself finish, you stop him, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. When his eyes lock with yours, you tell him, teasing and filthy, “In my mouth.”

With a grunt, he scoops up to your chest, kneeling above you, hard cock over your head. You raise your head up to wrap your lips around him, smirking. Your mouth is warm and wet, enough to make him see stars. He knows there's no chance he will last. You suckle on his tip, before clutching the back of his thighs harder, pulling him closer and further into your mouth. 

You hollow your cheeks and make it messy for him, all spit and tongue and just focusing on him. But it lasts no more than twenty seconds because as soon as you take him down your throat maybe a grand total of five times, Alex shoots hot cum into your mouth and groans above you as he clenches a fistful of your hair. 

You swallow around him, making Alex choke out a gasp which has you smirking. Pulling off him, you make a show of it, head falling back into the sheets as you let him see what’s left of him in your mouth, before you swallow again. 

Alex's fingers are still rooted in your wet hair, and you look so pretty gazing up at him through your eyelashes, still all drunk on everything he’s given you. Christ, he would give you everything he has and more if he could have you like this all the time. 

“You’re filthy,” Alex grins down, entirely dazed and intoxicated with pleasure. “Where the fuck have you been, sweet?” 

~*~*~*~ One Day Later ~*~*~*~

“I’ll call you later today.” 

Famous last words. 

Because he has in fact not called you. 

Something which has made you question everything ever since he dropped you off about an hour after he came in your mouth on Sunday morning. The rest of Sunday was spent recovering, and today at work you’d been stressed, getting in your head about all the love bites that you had to hide, worrying over the fact you’ve yet to tell your best friend you’ve fucked one of her friends. 

Frankly, the consequences of your decision to go home with Alex were making you feel sick, worsened by the fact he has yet to call you. That’s why as soon as you finished work, you texted Katie asking if she was down for a wine night. Thankfully, she replied agreeing with a smiley face and wine emojis. 

That is how you’ve found yourself sitting in Katie’s lounge, chatting away to her, slowly putting off the inevitable.

You’ve already been here two hours. It’s 8pm and you’ve had more than enough wine to make your lips a little loose. You decide now is the time.

You take a deep breath before you commit to telling her. “Katie.” She hums in response as she takes a sip of her wine, focused on the label of the red bottle.

Here goes nothing.

“You’re going to hate me.” You let it sit in the air for a second. It falls heavily from your chest.

“I certainly doubt that.” She chuckles, but discards the bottle still, looking at you. She raises her eyebrows, prompting you to continue. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you ask, “You know the other night we went out?” 

“Yeah?” She nods, smiling at the memory of the fun night the both of you had. 

“I…” You elongate the word slightly before finally saying it out loud, “Had sex...” 

“Oh yeah?” Katie smirks, before leaning over to clink her glass of wine with yours, “So did I, check us out.” Clearly she remembers nothing about how you got home because she asks, “Who was your lucky fella?”

“Alex.” You drop the bomb before pressing your lips together.

“Stop.” Katie’s eyes go wide, letting her glass clink and swoosh on the table as she sits up. She leans closer to you and looks into your eyes, asking, “Are you fucking messing with me?”

Shaking your head, you moan, “I wish I was.” You feel your cheeks go hot when you pull down on your hoodie to reveal one of the huge bruises the singer left on you, “This cheap mark would not be here right now if I was messing about.” 

Katie’s jaw drops at the sight. The mark on your neck is so much darker than the rest of your skin tone, and if you didn’t have your hoodie on there was no way anyone would miss it. It’s fucking huge.

You think you’ve fucked your friendship as soon as the gasp leaves Katie’s mouth. When she starts laughing, you should be reassured that she’s okay with everything, but it unsettles you more, the sound entirely manic. A laugh that screams that she believes you’re playing the biggest practical joke on her of all time. 

In all honesty, it just shocked Katie to her soul. She can’t actually believe that you, the chatterbox that is her best friend, has shagged the grumpy rockstar singer that has never once uttered a word to her or Jamie about liking you in that way. She can see it though, she can imagine it was hot, but she is still so very shocked it’s difficult to stop the out of control laughter reaction. 

All you can do is rub your eyes for a second in an attempt to hide your face. After a few seconds, you rest your hands on your burning cheeks and gently drag them down as you ask in a pained voice, “Katie, have I made a huge mistake?”

“You’ve shagged Alex.” Your best friend's tone sounds entirely shocked with too much excitement still there to even answer your question. She has to say it out loud again, this time even louder, to even process it, “I can’t believe you shagged Alex!” But before you can even shush her, she turns and looks towards the stairs, yelling, “Jamie!”

“Katie! What the fuck, stop!” Your eyes go wide and you pray that Jamie’s selective hearing has come into play because you don’t want him here right now. You beg her, your hand even going out to hold her arm, “Please, I'm being serious. I'm freaking out.” 

“What are you freaking out about?” She still looks gagged, but now the excitement creeps in and she giggles, “This is brilliant.”

“How is this brilliant?” You ask, feeling your head whirring with every thought under the sun. You state the obvious, “It’s Alex.”

He’s one of her husband’s best friends. One of her close friends. You’re sure that this must cross some sort of unspoken friendship boundary. 

“Right?” She looks at you as if you’ve grown another head, clearly not understanding at all as to why you think this is an issue. “You’re surely not worried about me and Jamie having an issue with this, right?”

You think she’s losing it because of course that is a reason you’re freaking out. “Well, that is a part of my worry, yes.”

“Well, don't, because I'm buzzing for you.” Katie assures you, and she can practically see the way you let yourself take a breath. 

She wants to scorn you for being so worried about her reaction. It didn’t really matter if they were okay with it. As long as you and Alex were consenting adults and you were both happy with what was happening, then they wouldn’t stand in your way. But she can see your nervousness is deeper than just her blessing.

So your best friend asks, “What else are you worried about?”

“A lot of things.” You tell her as you press your lips against the rim of your wine glass. 

“Like what?” She asks, entirely calm again until her eyes go wide when she realises she needs to know more information, “Wait, how serious is this? Or is this a one time thing?”

If only you got a phone call, maybe you’d know. But alas.

So you just start from the beginning, “When he came to my house, he asked me if I was nervous around him because I wanted to fuck him. And when I stumbled on an answer he kept talking about it and we kissed. And t-” 

“Wait,” Katie’s jaw drops again and she almost shouts, “You kissed before we even got out?!” 

“Yeah,” You nod, trying not to think about the singer's lips on your own as you continue to ramble on, “And then I blurted out that I don’t do one night stands and he said he never said he wanted one. And then I said I’ve never done a friends with benefits thing. And then he kept flirting and teasing me all night and then the next thing I know, he’s going down on me on the stupid fucking orange settee in his lounge.”

Hearing that, your best friend desperately tries and ultimately fails to keep herself together. She wants to scream from the rooftops, but she can see your hand is over your mouth like you’re afraid to open it again. She's never seen you internally cringe so much since the first person you slept with after your divorce years ago. 

She’s trying to be the best friend she can to you, but ultimately she needs all the facts before she can give you her verdict, so she doesn’t really hesitate to ask, “How many times did he make you-”

“Five. I came five times.” You say through your fingers, as if you can’t believe it yourself. 

“Fuck off!” Katie gasps and slaps your arm. You’re in the middle of saying ‘ow’ as she shouts, “Five times! You’re joking?!”

“No.” You shake your head, rubbing the spot she hit. 

“Christ,” Your best friend looks at you a little jaw dropped again before she seems to regain some clarity when she tells you, “Hun, you are winning.”

“Yeah, well,” You mumble, shaking your head and taking a long sip of your wine, “That remains to be seen.”

“What do you mean?!” She hits you again then, and you frown at her as she groans, “I fucking wish-“

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding your finger up, “You and Jamie have it very good! Don’t say-“

“Hun.” She deadpans, “We have a three year old child, do you think we have time for a session like that?”

“It wasn’t- He didn-“ You stumble on your words, feeling your cheeks get hot again and your heart start thudding embarrassingly fast as you explain in a whisper, “Some of it was the morning after.”

You can’t look at your best friend when you say that. Instead, you swirl your wine around your glass like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. It’s lucky you do though, because your best friend just about manages to pick up her jaw from the ground.

She starts grinning. “I can't wait to ask you every question under the sun about him now. I’ve not had the courage to fully ask the others. You’re my open book.” She chuckles, leaning forward to grab the bottle of wine from the coffee table before going to tip more into your glass, “Here, have some more wine.”

“Katie no, no.” You push the wine away from you, putting it down, your anxiety peeking at her finding this so funny when you’re about to have a meltdown. “This really isn't funny. Not today.” Only when you hide your face into your hands again does she realise you’re really on the verge of having a meltdown. You mumble, “I’m going to spiral and die.”

Katie decides to be serious for a second and comfort you. This has clearly been plaguing you and she can tell that you need her to forget that she knows him for a minute to help you work out what to do. 

“Okay, then tell me, what are you so scared of?” Your best friend asks, looking at you sincerely when she says, “This could be so good for you, Y/N/N.” 

It would be easier to ask what I’m not scared of, you think. 

But you tell her the thoughts running through your mind, “I’m scared I'll be wasting my time. I’m scared he’s going to get bored of me. And I'm scared that I've not felt that good or that comfortable with anyone that quickly in a long time… Christ, we had barely had a full conversation before the other day and now look at me.” You gesture to your neck as you carry on, “Massive fucking lovebite on my neck that I can’t cover up for shit and-”

“Breathe, oh my god, take a minute.” Katie stops you before you can continue any further. Christ, you’ve really wound yourself up this time, so she promises you, “You’re okay. It's okay.”

“Is it though?” You inquire, “Because he said he was going to call and he hasn’t and I’m not sure I want him to because I feel like, I dont know, what the fuck- “

“Hun, listen to me, calm down.” Your best friend stops you from falling down the rabbit hole by grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze as she again promises you, “You’re fine, this is fine. You’ve just tried before you buyed and that can’t hurt. Like if he was shit you could bin him off, but now you know you’re at least going to have exciting sex.” 

“But is that enough?” You can’t help but wonder out loud, “I don’t even know if we’ve got anything in common, Kate.”

You’re not stupid. You know this thing doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship, but you can’t see yourself sleeping with someone for a long time if the only thing you have in common is liking to make each other climax. Christ, it’s too stressful, you’re really not cut out for this. 

“You have lots in common,” She assures you, and she smiles a little as she admits, “I’m surprised that this hasn’t happened sooner if I’m honest.” 

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You have to ask for your own peace of mind, “What if I make it awkward with Jamie and then you-”

“Y/N. Stop.” Your best friend interrupts, not letting you continue, “No spiralling allowed. Just let yourself enjoy it. God knows you deserve it.”

That, you can’t really disagree with. You’ve not been with anyone for a long while. You certainly deserve to have some fun, and considering she doesn’t seem to be fussed that the person you're having fun with is Alex, you guess that you’re willing to continue whatever this is if he wants to. 

“But he didn’t call,” you say, and your voice breaks at the end. 

Katie gives you a look. You don’t like that there’s a hint of pity in it. “I’m sure there’s a reason,” she assures you, then she thinks to ask the obvious question, “Did you give him your number?”

You blink at her. “Well, no,” You admit. You flush, looking away in embarrassment. “He said he’d call me like he already had my number. I just thought you or Jamie might have given it to him way before now. My number’s been the same for years.”

Katie can’t contain her small chuckle hearing that, “You’re stressed about this and you didn't even give him your number, Y/N.” 

You smile hearing how it sounds, but stress, “He said it like he had it already, Kate.”

“I just think that you’re best not to stress out until you know for a fact he has your number. I haven’t given it to him before, I don’t know if Jamie has.” Your best friend smiles at you before picking up your wine again to give it to you. “Can ask Jamie if he has though. Jamie!”

Your stomach drops again at the thought of Alex possibly already having told Jamie and still no phone call from you. It worsens when you hear Jamie start coming down the stairs and Katie turns to you quickly and asks, “Please can I tell him?”

You start to bargain, “You can see if he knows but don't just outrig-“

“Okay deal,” Katie interrupts excitedly before shouting, “Jamie, come here.”

You both see him walk leisurely down the stairs and when he makes it to the hall, Katie waves him over, “J.” When he turns around and walks in, you see he’s on the phone. 

“Yes if you still really want to. Kid is in bed so do not ring the doorbell. Right, bye.” The guitarist says before putting the phone down and back into his pocket as he gives Katie wide eyes and asks, “What darling, I’m trying to put your child to bed.”

Ignoring the ‘your’, Katie asks, “Jamie, did you know that Alex and Y/N shagged the other night?”

“Katie!” You shout, not believing she just told him like that.

“You’re joking!” Jamie’s eyes go wide in shock and he immediately looks from Katie to you asking, “Did you actually?!”

Katie teases and answers for you, “Yes, she did.” You want to curl up in a ball of embarrassment and die. 

“Stop,” You close your eyes for a second, so you can ignore the smug look both the Cooks are giving you. “I’m fucking mortified.”

Regaining his ability to function properly after a shock like that, Jamie shakes his head and thinks out loud, “That makes so much sense now.”

You’re thankful Katie asks, “What does?”

“He’s been asking after you all weekend.” Jamie grins looking at you. “I was wondering why he was asking for your number.”

“Did you give it him?” Your best friend asks expectantly, needing to know to answer your earlier question. 

And all is revealed when the guitarist admits, “Well, no.”

You breathe a little easier at the same time Katie scolds and slaps her husbands arm, yelling, “What the fuck Jamie, why?!”

“How was I meant to know they’d already fucked, Katie. Christ, that hurt.” He rubs his arm and backs away from the settee. “I didn’t think you’d want Alex trying to shag your best mate.”

The blonde shakes her head, “She’s been panicking all weekend because he’s not called her.”

“Wait, is this like a friends with b-” Jamie starts to question but his wife interrupts. 

Thankfully she answers for you, a lot harsher than you would have probably gone, but at least you don’t have to comment after she tells him, “She would know what they were if you gave him her phone number, you moron.” 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t know.” The guitarist apologises sincerely. 

You assure him, “It’s okay, J,” before finishing what's left in your wine glass.

It wasn’t like he was meant to know. And you’re very grateful that Alex hadn’t already told him. But your best friend isn’t so forgiving. 

“No it’s not.” Katie frowns at her husband, “You should have given it to him straight away. You know they’d be good together, we’ve talked about it before!”

“Three fucking years ago, Kate.” He reminds her, before once again apologising to you, “Sorry, Y/N.” 

But after hearing that, it’s your turn to be jaw dropped, “What?” 

Katie sighs, clearly hoping to never have to tell you this but she admits, “I was going to set you up with him before he got with Taylor, but then he went back to LA and next thing we knew he had a girlfriend.” 

The mention of Taylor and the memory of what happened there cracks open a whole other can of worries in your head, but thankfully you don’t have to deal with that today. You keep that buried as you hear the Cook’s front door open and a familiar voice rings out into their house, “Hello.”

Your eyes go wide as you ask, “Is that?”

“Alex, yes.” Your nightmare is confirmed by Jamie as tells you and his wife, “He’s calling round for his guitar that he left the other day.”

You try and hide yourself back into the settee, mumbling, “Fuck my life.”

“Sounds like he did.” Katie smirks, which makes Jamie laugh. You want to die. 

But unfortunately, you can’t call her out on it because Alex walks into the room. Of course, he looks fucking drool worthy and he’s not even trying, jeans, white top, and a mustard cardigan. His hair still at that awkward unruly length where he couldn’t yet style it so he just let it be and god you hate him for looking so good.

He’s smiling when he comes into the room clearly pleased to see his friends but when his eyes drop to you, there’s a certain look in his eye that has your skin erupting in goosebumps. A knowing look that for a brief moment, everything that happened over the weekend floods back to the forefront of both of your minds.

As you’re silently seething at him for looking like a wet dream come to life, your best friend gets up with a big grin on her face and she hugs the singer quickly. 

“Hey, youuu.” She draws out in a way that is so telling, you want the earth to swallow you whole. 

Never in your life did you think Katie Cook would be so fucking shit at being subtle. But apparently when it's best friends involved, subtlety doesn’t exist. 

“Katie.” Alex smiles at her, clearly realising why she was being so over the top. Regardless, he hugs her back before releasing her, and then his eyes land on you and he nods a silent hello and smiles, “Y/N.”

Your smile back at him, and it's clear for everyone to see that you’re a little embarrassed, but that's no surprise when gossip is in the air. If ever they thought you would be a little more reserved, it was certainly in a situation like this. 

“I’ll get you another glass of wine, Y/N.” Katie comes back towards you, which is a little ridiculous considering your glass is quite full from the hearty pour she gave you earlier. Still, she grabs it, then nods at Alex. “I’m assuming you’re driving, Al, so I’ll make you a brew.”

He nods and smiles, “Thanks love.” Katie grins back, before turning towards her husband.

“Jamie,” she demands, “Kitchen now.”

The guitarist isn’t one to go against his wife, so he stands up without a word and follows her into the kitchen. As soon as the door is closed, Alex looks down at you and states, “So… You told Katie then.”

Please God let the earth swallow me whole right this very second. Please… Please… Please… Fucking dick. 

“Couldn’t really keep it from her,” You shrug, defending yourself. After all, it’s entirely your decision who you tell or not. You can feel yourself get all hot and bothered at the subtle mention of it, “She’s my best friend and you work with her husband so I-”

“Don’t look so panicked,” Alex says as he takes the seat next to yours. He tells you, “It’s okay. It’s not a secret.”

As he passes by, you get hit with the now familiar scent of eucalyptus and it throws you right back to being in the shower, him pressing you up against the glass with his fingers inside of you. It hits you all at once making it difficult to think but ultimately you know you have to carry on and not give into what you can only describe as war flashbacks.

You’re about to carry on, “I-” But Alex cuts you off;

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” He tells you sincerely. He looks into your eyes as he softly admits, “I’ve been trying to get your number off Jamie for the last two days and he was being a stubborn piece of shit.”

“It’s okay…” You find yourself relaxing as you tell him, “I think he’s about to be ripped a new arsehole for that, so no need for you to go in on him.”

Alex snorts at that, expecting nothing less from Mrs Cook’s wrath. As his laughter subsides though, he takes his phone from his pocket and holds it out to you, “Can I get your number then, please?”

You’re almost shocked for a second, but instead of letting that show, you nod, “Yeah.” You take it from him. 

He lets you navigate your way around the phone until you’re typing the numbers into a new contact. It takes you less than 30 seconds to create your contact, save it and hand it back to him, but he surprises you when he then taps a button and puts the phone to his ear. 

Clearly, you know it’s your phone that’s about to ring, so you raise your eyebrows and ask, “Did you think I’d give you a fake one?” 

It’s no surprise at all that your phone starts buzzing away on the coffee table where you put it down earlier. You don’t even make an attempt to get it, you just watch as Alex smiles almost victoriously and tells you, “Just making sure.” 

Both of you share a smile then, but unfortunately, it only lasts a minute because the married couple comes back in with your drinks. Katie is still grinning like she's just won the lottery when she sees the two of you beside each other, “Took my seat, did you, Al?”

“Sorry,” He apologises and goes to stand up, “I can-”

“No, no,” Katie stops him, instead she heading to sit on the other side of the settee, “Stay sat next to your l-

“Do not finish that sentence,” you interrupt, but it’s too late.

She trails off singing, “Loverrr.”

Never before have you wished you could die but it looks like now's the time. Fucks sake. 

Alex presses his lips together, finding this a little too funny even though he shouldn’t. He doesn’t mind her taking the piss a little. It wasn’t like he ever told her he was interested in her best friend before, so he guesses this is to be expected. It’s something he needs to take on the chin. Your reaction however, he finds hilarious.

“I hate you,” You frown, rightfully demanding, “Give me my wine.” Your hand reaches out expectantly.

And thank Christ she’s poured you a large glass, because you definitely need it. As soon as it’s in your hand, you take a long sip of it, needing it as a coping mechanism at this point. 

You don’t care if they are all looking at you, you just need the wine. Who would have ever thought this would be a Monday night? You’re certainly going to regret this tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment. 

“So…” Katie trails off, still grinning. She's now sitting beside Jamie on the other side of the corner settee, so you can’t even kick her.

Alex repeats, “So…”

But you're still looking at your best friend and you hate the way she’s smiling like the Cheshire Cat. You warn her,  “Stop grinning, you’re making me so uncomfortable.” 

“But there’s much to smile about.” She teases, looking at you and Alex and getting even more excited. 

“Stop it.” You tell her, reaching across and managing to slightly kick her shin. She fakes a gasp as the lads laugh. 

“Who knew you were so feisty.”

Jamie smirks, adding to the jokes because he can’t help himself, “Alex might have some insight on that now.” Alex takes a sip of his brew that his mate previously handed him so he doesn’t give away any reaction to that.

You don’t have quite the same reaction. Instead, you threaten him, “Imma ram your guitar up your arse if you don’t close your mouth.”

Katie sees her opportunity to joke and takes it without a second thought, “Ooo, kinky.”

It makes Jamie laugh and Alex can’t hold his chuckle. You just end up closing your eyes, wishing they would just give you a break. This time, you choose not to respond to it, instead taking another long sip of your wine. 

The next five minutes are filled with subtle hints that you don't rise to, and thankfully a normal conversation ends up seeping back in. You don’t nearly speak up as often as you usually would. Although that could be down to the wine, you know it’s because you’re biting your tongue so you don’t accidentally get more jokes thrown your way. 

You’re happy slowly drinking your wine and people watching how the three of them play into their dynamic. It's clear they have been friends for so long, and it’s really endearing to see how comfortable they are together. It makes you all the more glad to have Katie in your life, someone who makes you feel so at ease and gently pushes your boundaries from time to time, but it ultimately makes you closer.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don’t really pay much attention to the conversation at all. In fact, you couldn’t tell any of them what it was about, but you didn’t exactly mind until Katie realises you’ve been mostly silent for a while now and she can’t help but tease you again. 

“Nothing to add, Y/N/N?” Your best friend asks you, and when you tune back in and realise you’ve got no clue what they are on about, you just press your lips together and gently shake your head. You would hope it’d get you off the hook for not listening, but you’re not so lucky. 

Instead it makes Katie’s smile grow, and she has the opportunity to lightheartedly tease again, “Cat got your tongue? Or is your throat sore?” 

It takes everything in you not to spontaneously combust, because you’re sure you could with how hot your cheeks immediately go. You make sure you avoid all eye contact with Alex so you can get your response out, “Ride on that, slut.” You accompany it with your middle finger.

“Come on, lighten up.” She laughs, “Jesus, who knew you could be this quiet with enough wine?” Your best friend jokes, and your lips tug up into a smile when she continues, “Is this a miracle?”

Jamie knows his wife is just trying to include you in the conversation again, so he chips in on the joke and adds, “Should I check if pigs are flying outside?”

“Nice to finally get a word in.” Alex chuckles in jest, looking from you with a smile and back to Katie and Jamie who are already giggling too. 

His comment feels like a bullet to the chest though and the smile instantly falls from your face. It makes you remember him telling you to be quiet in bed with him, and again now. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. It's not your fault you’re a chatty person or if you nervously ramble, it makes you feel so insecure and that’s not how you want to feel on top of everything tonight.

You release a short sigh and mumble under your breath, “Like you ever talked to me before you wanted to fuck me.” You take a sip of your wine and focus on the happy couple across from you. 

In your peripherals, you see the singer's head snap back to look at you, but you pay him no attention after that comment. You still just want to disappear into the settee though, especially after that comment. 

Thankfully the Cook’s have continued on with their little jokes and have paid you no attention. Jamie turns back from looking out of the window and tells you like it’s breaking news, “No flying pigs, must mean you’re okay?”

“Mmm,” You hum, taking another sip of your wine like you believe that’s the only reason you’re well. Playing up to it, you ask, “What was the topic of conversation?”

Now, when Katie sees an opportunity, she rarely doesn’t take it. So you’ve pretty much lined it up for her when she lies and says, “We were discussing if mirror sex, choking, or dirty talk is most advantageous to encourage a woman to climax? Care to share your view?”

And with that, you’re gone. 

“Right.” You down your wine then, feeling your cheeks go uncharted hot in embarrassment, and you stand up in protest, announcing, “I’m walking home.” 

Looking at the clock you see it’s almost 10 anyway and you have to be up early for work, so it’s best you head out of this mad house sooner rather than later. And it will give you a break from having fun poked at you.

Katie starts manically laughing at that, and Jamie chuckles. Alex does too, but he can’t help but offer, “I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine,” you brush him off, not needing the extra awkwardness that a journey home with him would entail. That, and you don’t want to be a burden to him. “I can walk.”

“I literally drive past your house.” Alex turns to you. He insists, “I’ll drive you.”

“Okay,” you give in, knowing you’ll feel safer and it’s fucking freezing out. “Thank you.”

He smiles at you then and you just about smile back, before you turn and go to get your coat

“Ever the gentleman, Alexander.” Katie smiles and just as you're about to leave the room, she stops you and stands up, “Y/N, a word please.”

You suppress your sigh, abandoning your mission to get your coat and get out to head into the kitchen with your best friend. As soon as the door is closed, you wish you never bothered though. 

“What are you wearing under here?” Katie grins, spinning you around so she can get her hands on the bottom of your hoodie. She tries to lift it up as she asks, “Do you need to change into something sexy real quick?” 

“I’m not shagging him tonight, Katie.” You say seriously, but you can’t stop laughing as you pull your hoodie back down, “Stop.” 

“Come onnnnn.” She whines, but giggles again when she starts trying to get at you again. 

“Katie,” You warn her again, pushing her off you and you can’t help but laugh and yell, “Jamie! Get your wife off me!”

Thankfully, your hero Jamie Cook comes to your rescue and when he’s in the room she lets you go. As you make your way out, you briefly brush past Alex who’s heading into the kitchen with the empty mugs he and Jamie had. 

You look at the ground, not daring to look at him after the shite your best friend has just been spouting. You head towards the front door with Jamie in tow behind you. Once the mugs are in the sink, Alex is about to head back towards the lounge to grab his jacket, but Katie gets his attention instead.

“Al, despite what you’ve just seen me do, don’t tease her.” Katie tells him quietly, being serious for a second when she says, “She doesn’t like to be teased.”

He raises his eyebrows and tells your best friend, “I beg to differ.” You definitely like to be teased, both verbally and physically. 

Katie has to mute the laugh that she wants to let out, because she needs to be serious when she tells him, “In this setting, dipshit. Don’t tease her. Don’t make her overthink it.”

“She’s overthinking what?” He frowns a little, not understanding what you could be worried about when everything was out in the open and it wasn’t a secret. 

“Nothing yet.” Katie doesn’t spill all your secrets. She thinks it's best to let you settle for a while now after knowing it wasn’t on purpose that he didn’t call. But she needs Alex to know, “But if you tease her, she will. Be gentle.”

Alex has to press his lips together for a second to try not to smile, because he knows all too well you don’t like it gentle either. He tells your best friend, “You’re making it difficult not to make jokes.” 

“Just give her an easy time of it. I can get away with stuff, but she still doesn’t know you or your humour very well.” She raises her eyebrows when she says, “And you certainly don’t know hers.” 

Alex begs to differ though, “I think we’re quite similar, are we not?”

“That’s something you should be finding out for yourself.” She pats his cheek a few times, and she grins when she says, “You picked a gooden, darling, you just got to not fuck whatever it is up.” But all of that means nothing without the threat of, “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

And Christ if that isn’t warning enough, Alex doesn’t know what is.

~*~*~*~

“You’re being weird.” Alex finally says. 

You’ve been alone in the car with him for two long awkwardly silent minutes. Looking out of the passenger window like the roads were the most interesting thing in the world in effort to not have to communicate with the singer. 

This time you’re singing a Sam Fender song in your head to bypass the time, trying and failing not to feel disgustingly awkward around him. But you can feel the tension in the air. You can feel the way his eyes keep lingering on you, the way he wants to initiate a conversation but is waiting for you to. Good luck to him. After that comment earlier, you certainly won’t be doing that. 

Clearly he feels the atmosphere between you as well. The ‘you’re being weird’ was entirely unprompted considering you’re just sitting in his car, rubbing your hands slightly in your lap because of the cold. 

“No, I’m not.” You glance at him a little shocked he even said anything. 

“You are,” Alex tells you, glancing at you and when his eyes find yours, you can see they are knowing ones. After you look away from him, he asks, “Do you regret it?”

“No, I-” You pause before deciding to be entirely honest, but it makes your cheeks hot when you admit, “I really don’t.”

It makes Alex very happy hearing that, but it doesn’t explain your behaviour, so he presses on, “Then why are you being quiet?” 

“Because I don’t want to annoy you.” You say quietly, still not really wanting to look at him again. 

“You don’t annoy me, Y/N.” Alex assures you as he looks over at you again before turning the corner at the junction. 

You frown at that, your head snapping back to look at him when you begin to argue, “But you said-”

“I was joking, sweet,” Alex interrupts, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable around him at all. He manages to look at you as he says with a cheeky smile, “It’s endearing when you run your mouth, even more so when you can't keep quiet in bed.”

The mention of it has your body flashing with heat. You have to stop yourself from shuddering at the thought. You warn him, looking away embarrassed, “Not helping.” 

Alex laughs a little at that, but he wants you to open up with him, so he asks again in a chirpy tone, “What’s up? Come on, tell me.” 

“I just- I’m in my head about it a bit.” Trying to explain as best you can, you continue, “Thought I’d really fucked things between me and Katie when you didn’t call… And I know it’s not your fault, I should have just given you my number, but the way you said it made it sound like you already had it. I was panicking thinking I can never be in same room as you and t-” You catch yourself, hearing how you must sound so you stop and sigh, “I'm rambling again.” 

“It’s cute.” Alex smiles almost wishing he wasn’t driving so he could study your reactions.

“It’s not cute,” You shake your head, smiling a little when you admit, “I was ready to bin your albums.” 

Alex’s jaw drops hearing that, and he sees you already looking at him when he asks, “You were going to bin my music?” 

You nod, confirming it’s the truth, “Puppets albums, too. Maybe even Miles’ from the association.” 

“Terrible.” He chuckles, unable to stop smiling as he turns the corner onto your road. 

Thankfully after that, the last 30 seconds of the journey to yours is a silent but comfortable one. You’re a little surprised he remembers your house number as he pulls up exactly outside it, but as you’re taking your seatbelt off and Alex pulls the handbrake up, there’s an expectant air between you where you both clearly want to say what’s whirring around your minds. 

You’re silently talking yourself up. Just do it, Y/N. Ask him. Ask what he wants. Ask if he wants you again. Tell him your conditions. Come on, do it. Don’t be a pussy and do it. 

Do. It.

Before you scare yourself out of saying it, you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me again?” But at the same time Alex asks, “Can I take you out?”

Alex answers you before you can even really process what he asked, “Yes.”

“Well you’re not going to until you get to know me better.” You give your ultimatum, “I need to feel comfortable around you so if you want this,” You gesture between the two of you, “To continue for a while, we need to get to know each other.”

You don’t want it to seem like you’re asking for a relationship out of him, because you’re really not. All you want is to not act so awkwardly around him all the time. You don’t want to be the nervous rambling girl he fucked once upon a time, you want to be entirely yourself. You want him to know you properly. Experience you at your very best. 

“So I’ll ask again,” Alex smiles, not having an issue with your proposal at all, “Can I take you out?” 

You grin back, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt. You agree, “Yeah, when and where?” 

“Tomorrow night?” Alex suggests, “Could just come to mine and we can talk? Start off small and go from there?” 

“I think we’d both just fuck again if we did that.” You say honestly, “Need to go out somewhere to start with.” 

You just know you’d cave if he started teasing you again. You feel all gooey at the thought of it now, and it’s not like you don’t want him to touch you again, but you need to set that boundary for yourself. And you’re thankful Alex seems to be willing to work with you. But not without making your squirm somehow. 

“Is it the worst thing if we fucked again?” Alex grins, and it’s a cheeky one. A smile that makes your heart race.  

“No,” You admit, “But I’d like to feel comfortable enough around you to not be nervous all the time.” 

Alex nods understanding entirely. He didn’t really expect you to be okay with just fucking him and then leaving it until the next time. He knew some work would have to be done in between and getting to know you really isn’t a hardship for him. That would be trying to let himself open up to you. 

“Okay well, what about the cinema?” Alex thinks out loud. 

“I’m not one to not watch a film so if you’re suggesting that so we can just get off with each other in the back like teenagers in American films, that won’t work for you either.” You prewarn him.

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” the singer starts, incapable of not grinning. Of course you would think he’d try to start something in a cinema. He assures you, “I really like watching films, so I’d be sharing popcorn with you and that’s about it.” 

You smile, liking the sound of that, but curiosity gets the better of you, “Sweet or salted?”

“Salted.” Alex tells you.

And that makes you gasp. No one else you know likes salted popcorn. You’re always forced to eat sweet all the time when you’re out with your friends or family.  

“Thank god someone else likes salted popcorn!” You say rather excitedly, already practically tasting it on your tongue. It makes you all the more excited for tomorrow now. 

It makes Alex all the more enamoured by you. And he can’t help but think it's rather funny that you seem very excited by the thought of salted popcorn when he now associates you with sweet. 

“When do you want to go?” Alex inquires. 

You think about it for a second before you realise it doesn’t matter too much, “I finish work at half four, so anytime after five.”

Alex nods, knowing that works for him completely fine. It’s not that he has any work to do considering he’s not due back out on tour until way into the new year. He can work around you entirely, and he hopes that you can make the most of each other's company until then. 

But then he realises he doesn’t know maybe one of the most obvious things he should know about you. He asks curiously, “Where do you work?”

“At the high school that’s like ten minutes away.” You tell him and you can see the surprise fill his features.

“You’re a teacher?” Alex asks with clearly shocked eyes, and when you nod, he looks even more shocked, following up with, “What do you teach?”

You shake your head, finding this a little too funny. He knows how to make you cum but he doesn’t know what you teach. This is so backwards it’s difficult not to laugh, “This is why I need you to get to know me.” 

“You’re letting me take you out on a school night,” Alex realises, sarcastically adding, “Scandalous.”

“Shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes, before you tell him off in true teacher fashion, “And I’m not impressed with you anyway.”

The singer smiles, “Why, sweet?” 

Trying not to get all flushed at the nickname, you scorn him, “You gave me a massive fucking love bite on my neck, and now I’ve got to wear a fucking scarf whilst I’m teaching.” 

Alex chuckles, but he stops himself to say a quick, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You narrow your eyes.

“You’re right,” He lets his smile shine straight through now, admitting, “I’m not.”

You tut at that, still trying to be serious when you truthfully tell him, “I had to go out and buy turtlenecks earlier.” 

“It’s the weather for it at least.” Alex smiles, not finding a bone in his body that makes him regret ever leaving a mark on you. He would make them all again given the chance. “I’m sure no one would notice” 

“In what world.” You ask, moving the collar of your hoodie so he can see the mark he gave you. 

And Alex’s lips tingle and his dick twitches at the sight of it. It’s so prominent on your skin, easy for anyone to see that someone had claimed you as their own in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t blame you for covering it, but Christ he wants to make more of them. 

Despite him seeing how bad his mark is, he plays it off like you could have gotten away with it, “I’m sure the kids wouldn’t have noticed.” 

“I teach sixth formers.” You tell him, “They definitely would have and they’d have called me out on it, too.”

“Oh dear.” Alex chuckles, and he promises you with a playful smirk, “Scouts honour I’ll leave one you can hide next time.” 

“One track mind.” You chuckle and shake your head before opening the door and getting out of the car, “Good night, Alex.” 

“Wait a second.” Alex laughs, winding his window down so he can catch your attention again.

“What?” You ask as you step onto the pavement and lean down so you can continue to speak to him. 

“You never told me what you teach.” Alex says as you lower yourself to his height again.

You smile at the fact he even wanted to know. But you don’t hesitate to tell him, “I teach economics.”

“That’s interesting.” Alex hums, his gaze subtly falling to your lips with you being back in such close proximity to him. 

You hum in agreement, “It is.” knowing what he’s doing but choosing not to pursue that right now. 

When his brown eyes look back up and meet your pretty ones, Alex smiles when you say, “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.” The singer grins, “Night, Y/N/N.” 

You smile and maybe it’s liquid courage that makes you lean in to kiss his cheek, but you don’t regret it for a second, “Night, tax evader. See you tomorrow.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the past fortnight, you and Alex saw each other a handful of times. Two of which you were out with your friends and three times it was just you and him. The first was the cinema like you agreed on which went very well. 

The two of you stopped at a nearby restaurant to get some food before the showing where you found out a fair amount about each other. Thankfully, nothing put you off him in the slightest and with the way you were both quietly giggling and chatting at the comedic moments the film had and still after it finished when he drove you home, you like to think that he had a good time with you as well. 

Nothing happened that night, nor did it on Friday night when he took you out again. This time it was a stand up open mic night he took you to and it was a lot of fun. Again, you felt a lot more comfortable with him, so many less awkward moments than there were when he first picked you up earlier in the week.

Alex couldn’t help but find your nervous rambling endearing though, but with them you always had something interesting to say which sparked up more conversation between you. The singer kept making mental notes of your likes and dislikes and you found that you got on incredibly well and you had a lot in common, just like he previously guessed you would. 

Saturday night followed and per tradition, you and Katie had your wine night at hers, this time joined by Kelly and Kirsten. Yes, you were teased quite a bit by them when they found out, but thankfully when the boys came back from their night at the pub slightly earlier than expected, you weren’t teased when they joined you. 

Instead, the alcohol had loosened your lips and you were very engaged in the conversations going on. There were brief moments when you lost yourself though and they were down to Alex. 

You would catch him looking at you, and the looks were nowhere near friendly like he would glance at the other girls. There was something behind them and he made that clear with the way his eyes would fall to your tits or to your lips. Subtle clearly wasn’t his forte when he was horny and tipsy. 

All of that just increased the sexual tension between you though, which you guess couldn’t hurt if you were to eventually use each other again. Something that as the days went on, you silently prayed for. 

Wednesday ended up being a random night out for you all. It was Kelly’s night with the kids and she invited the Cooks out to go bowling after school, something which you and Alex ended up being invited to so you could fill up the extra spots they were paying for. 

It turned out to be a good game, the kids enjoying themselves which was the most important thing, but it was also fun because you and Alex had a little competition going. When Alex guttered his second ball and he caught you snorting at his mistake, you ended up playing to try and beat no one else but him. 

It was fun, the way you could feel his eyes on you as you threw the ball. And when you’d turn back after each shot, whether it was a good one or not, he would always be looking at you with a smirk. You think he liked that you gave him pretty much all of your attention, but you didn’t even try to hide how happy it makes you in the moment. 

Unfortunately, you ended up losing your little rivalry by a measly 5 points. Alex acted like it’s a 50 points defeat, rubbing it in. You poked his side which made him jump to try and teach him a lesson, but it just made him chuckle. He threw his arm over your shoulder as all of you walked out of the bowling alley. 

Friday night rolled around again and the big group of you went out to a bar together. The way you and Alex were around each other that night made it difficult to keep to your ultimatum. 

Despite knowing him a lot better, you still hadn’t touched each other since your first night together. Yes there were lingering touches, the brush of his fingers on your skin that lit a fire inside you, but nothing more. That night, however, was more than just lust-filled longing glances at each other. 

As soon as there was a hint of alcohol in both of your systems, Alex barely left your side. You always had his hand either lingering around your back in an effort to keep you close or resting his palm over your jeans-covered thigh. Sometimes, he would squeeze you to keep you on your toes. He certainly had your heart racing.

It was difficult to keep your mind from wandering, but you’re only human. You allowed yourself to ever so slightly lean into his touch on occasion, let him press you against his body and subtly flirt back with him both physically and verbally. But even when you bid each other goodbye that night, you didn’t even get a kiss, which left you needy and wanting him after he’d been such a tease all evening. 

Wine night was again the following day, this time it was just you and Katie. You couldn’t get the feelings from the previous night out of your head still. He felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch as you weren’t really aware of the protocol between you, especially since Alex had been the one to arrange your previous encounters. 

Thankfully, tonight Alex had messaged you on the off chance you were free. Since you were doing nothing but spinning your LPs, you agreed to let him whisk you away to an impromptu dinner. It was nice, nothing out of the ordinary now, just the both of you sharing more stories about your lives over a few drinks before you suggested finishing the bottle of wine that you bought for the table back at your house. 

The energy between you tonight was nothing short of electric. Every longing glance between you felt like a bullet striking you. God, was he good at looking at you like he wanted to devour you. He was able to flick the switch between friendly to flirty in such a natural and smooth way that he always took you by surprise. Forever giving you goosebumps, making you press your thighs together, and heating your cheeks. 

You’d been back at yours for about half an hour when Alex got up to search for another record to put on. He settled for an old French album he hadn’t long since discovered which he was surprised to find stacked on your shelf. Again, he complimented your taste and collection. 

His praise still made you feel all gooey inside which mixed with the alcohol was stirring up more sinful desires in you. It only got worse when he spotted tarot cards on your shelf beside a few of your ornaments. It made Alex tease you a little more before he fully realised that you found that sort of stuff quite interesting.  

The singer came and sat beside you, even closer than before, as you explained it to him. And despite you knowing he wasn’t retaining any information, the smile he had on that pretty face of his kept you talking at him. He couldn’t help but grin a little more when you mentioned that you can read palms too. 

“You can read palms?” He asks, all wide-eyed and disbelieved.

“Yeah, it’s really easy.” You grab his hand that’s closest to you to show him what you mean. “See, you have five main lines on your palm: Life, Head, Heart, Fate, and Sun.” You trace each one as you go. 

“The life line, despite what you may already think, doesn't mean how long you’re gonna live. It can mean a bunch of different things like big changes in your life or good genes. People also think that if it’s a bit straighter on some people's hands it can mean you’re more cautious when it comes to relationships.” You say as you let your finger trail up the line that starts from the base of his palm up and around the ball of his thumb.

“The head line is about your knowledge and creativity, so if it's straighter on some people it means they tend to think more realistically. A curved line can mean you're more artsy and creative too.” You smile, seeing that his head line is a little curved, matching what he’s like in life. After that you move on to the line that runs just under the bottom of his fingers, “The heart line is to do with romance and emotional stability, so like yours is short and curved so that tends to mean someone is more private about relationships and stuff which makes sense considering you’re a private person.”

Alex can’t help but mostly watch you as he listens to you tell him about your little hobby. He finds it funny that you know all of this stuff, but he finds himself entranced as he can’t stop looking at your lips as you’re sitting so close to him. He wants them on his own again, the kisses on the cheek when you were saying goodbye to each other the last few times he’d seen you weren’t enough. He’s so enamoured he almost forgets to look at the lines you’re showing him.

“Fate line is how likely you are to follow certain paths in your life. And the sun line means different things for everyone, depending on how prominent it is.” You explain, glancing at him still smiling away as you continue, “Yours is deep and that means you’re successful and it's theorised that you can get famous from it which I guess is right in your case. Mine is quite clear and that means I have good taste in literature and art.”

Alex can’t help but quietly tease, “And you’ve only got good taste in that because it’s written on your palm then, not because you actually have a fully functioning brain and can appreciate masterpieces for what they are?”

“It’s all just a bit of fun, Al. It’s interesting!” You laugh but you have to defend yourself. 

“Very interesting how you know all about it.” Alex grins, loving the way he has all of your attention when he jokes, “Is there a delusional line that I should look out for?”

“Okay,” You fake a pout, but then you remember what you found in his car on the way home from the cinema, “I don’t tease you because you still have Match Attack cards from when you were a teenager.”

“Hey,” He gasps, ready to defend himself in an instant, “My Mum gave me them back, it's not something I still do.”

And you know this. When you saw the files of them on the backseat of his car, you questioned him on them and he told you his Mum found them and gave them back to him. But that’s currently your only leverage so you use it against him. 

“Regardless,” You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing on your lips, “Still just as nerdy.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Alex rolls his eyes and holds his hand out to you, “Let me see your palm then. Let me try and read you.”

You try and fail not to let your smile show as big as you want as you hold your palm out to him. The singer shuffles even closer to you, so your thighs and shoulders are pressed together and you're cosy beside each other. 

He lets a finger trail down your palm as he asks, “Remind me where the delusional line is?” 

You scoff, pulling your hand from his and flipping two fingers up at him, “It's here.” 

The singer laughs loudly at that then before gently grabbing your hand and opening it back up to focus on your palm. He traces the lines there gently and it sets your skin ablaze, tingles running though your skin. 

He looks at your hand so intently for about 10 seconds before gently humming, “Hmmm, interesting.”

“Why?” You ask, a smile growing on your lips as you ask, “What are you thinking?”

He tells you, “I’m seeing quite a lot.”

“Oh, you’re seeing it?” You grin, playing along.  

“Of course,” The singer looks at you, his eyes full of playfulness, “I’m a professional.”

You nod, trying not to laugh, “Of course.”

Eyes back on your palm, you try not to think about the way his touch makes you almost shiver. But then you start focusing on his hands. 

Those hands that made you come undone so easily. Those fingers that had been inside you and made you feel things you hadn’t felt from anyone other than yourself for the longest time. The thought makes your breath shallow and your thighs press that little bit closer together. 

“Wow,” Alex continues, “I can see this really clear.”

You ask, your cheeks starting to hurt from grinning for so long, “Really?

“What?” Alex looks at you again, he makes you feel hot under his gaze when he asks, “You don't believe me?”

“No, I do,” You lie without hesitation, loving how playful this feels, “I’m just curious about your professional opinion.”

“Well,” Alex smirks and then glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “You're in luck because I can see it all right now.”

“Right.” You nod, a little giggle falling from your lips too. 

Alex loves hearing it and knowing he’s the cause of it. Even the way you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing so you can carry on playing along, he finds it adorable. But he doesn’t stop; he carries on, loving the way you react to him. 

“Wow, oh wow.” Alex drops his jaw, pretending to be completely enthralled in reading your palm. Now he nods, “Yeah, that's really clear.”

You smile, full of curiosity, “What is?”

“I’m seeing,” Alex looks up from your palm with a smile playing on his lips, and tells you confidently, “That you’re going to fuck a rockstar.” 

It takes everything in you not to laugh. All you can do is tilt your head and ask him with your lips twitching up, “Is that so?” 

“Yeah…” Alex nods, intertwining your fingers with his now and he gives you a little tug to encourage you closer, “I’m happy to oblige, if you’d like that?”

You don’t hesitate to move where he wants you, even closer when you move so you’re straddling his lap and Alex’s free hand finds your hip and he pulls you that bit closer before letting his thumb run over your skin that's showing from the way your top has ridden up. 

You’re smirking at each other, knowing exactly where this is headed now. The tension of the night building has hit its peak and this is it.

“You seem very confident about this reading.” You grin.

Alex’s smirk only grows at that, but this time he leans in so he can whisper as his lips brush up your neck towards your ear, “It’s written on your palm, I’m just offering you my body here.”

You hum at that, letting your free hand move to the back of his neck and up so your fingers could root through his hair. What you don’t expect is that when you give it a small tug so you could see him as you spoke to him, it causes the man that's under you to grip your hip tighter and buck up into you. You gasp at the friction. 

Alex moves back from your neck after leaving a gentle kiss there, and he’s smirking when you say breathlessly, “I’m getting the sense that you only wanted me to read your palm so you could tell me that really shit pick up line.”

“Can’t be that shit if you’re in my lap, sweet.” Alex raises his eyebrows cockily at you, a devilish grin playing on his lips.

And God, you want to kiss it off. So much so that you narrow your eyes and say, “Oh, shut up,” before your lips hungrily find his.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A/N: Really hope you enjoyed this one! I know I did!!! How do we fancy a lil jealousy from both of them thrown into the next one. Let me know what you want to see and I'll see if i can make it happen! Thanks so much for reading and again while you wait for me, please go and read my other Alex fic @nriacc or @alovesreadings fic Constant Repeat. Enjoyyyyy x

Taglist: @alovesreading @kennedy-brooke @red---moon @ladydraculasthings @mrsschw4rtz @quicksilvers3000 @indierockgirrl @heartachenurse @bellaturner @am-monkey @alexturnersmommy @anxiousbeech @cassettecarter @malina-33 @yourorganiccigarette @clownrrai @harleyql @jeonxjinxed @andrews-lovr @justacaliforniandreamer @missbabyjay @hdebay @mirrorbvii​ @olliemybeloved777 @kaybee87​ @simpfortoomanymen​ @inmyownfantasywrld​ @ohladymoon​ @findmeincorneliastreet​ @faveficz​ @parkerizzy​ @thereisaplaceintheheart​ @hazskillerqueen​ @bai-wuxiangs-mask​ @froileinuhrwerk @turnerxtuned @inmyownfantasywrld @missbabyjay @regenerationlottery @heartachenurse @cassettecarter @cylodja @aghsed @harleyql @littlemissthunderstorms

 Let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist x

[cherrygirlystuff]

Welcome to Messy Mornings: A Chronicle of the Chaotic, Carefree Lifestyle of the Indie Sleaze Scene

Hey babe! 🌸 If you’ve ever woken up with yesterday’s eyeliner still smudged under your eyes, your hair in a perfectly imperfect mess, and the vibe of last night’s music still echoing in your head, then you’re in the right place. Welcome to Messy Mornings, where we celebrate the beautifully chaotic and effortlessly cool lifestyle that defined the indie sleaze scene. This isn’t about being polished or perfect – it’s about embracing the wild, carefree energy that made the indie sleaze era so unforgettable. So, grab your coffee (or let’s be real, your morning-after drink of choice), and let’s dive into the messy, magical world of indie mornings! 🎧✨

The Chaotic Charm of Indie Sleaze Mornings 🌟

Let’s be honest – mornings during the indie sleaze era weren’t about green juices and yoga mats. They were more like stumbling out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes were on the floor, and somehow managing to look effortlessly cool despite the chaos. The indie sleaze lifestyle was all about embracing that “I just rolled out of bed” look – because, honestly, you probably did. And guess what? That’s what made it so iconic.

1. The Art of the Perfectly Imperfect Morning 🕶️

Indie sleaze mornings were anything but ordinary. Maybe you were crashing on a friend’s couch after a night out, or maybe you woke up with the sun streaming through your bedroom window, surrounded by vinyl records and band posters. The key to capturing that indie vibe? Don’t overthink it. Messy hair, smudged eyeliner, and yesterday’s outfit are all part of the charm. It’s about capturing the moment – the vibe – rather than worrying about looking picture-perfect.

2. The Morning After: A Photo Series 📸

If you’re looking for some visual inspo, Messy Mornings has got you covered with a curated photo series that captures the essence of those chaotic indie mornings. Think candid shots of tangled bed sheets, half-empty coffee cups, and sun-drenched rooms filled with the remnants of the night before. These images aren’t staged or filtered – they’re raw, real, and totally unfiltered, just like the indie sleaze scene itself. Whether it’s a Polaroid snapped at sunrise or a grainy digital photo that captures the morning light just right, these photos are all about telling the story of the morning after.

Morning Routines: The Indie Sleaze Way 🌅

Forget about strict schedules and to-do lists – the indie sleaze morning routine was all about going with the flow and embracing whatever the day threw your way. Here’s a little glimpse into what a typical indie sleaze morning might have looked like:

1. Wake Up Whenever ��

There’s no alarm clock here – you wake up when your body (or the sunlight streaming through the curtains) tells you to. Whether it’s 7 AM or noon, it doesn’t really matter. The vibe is all about taking your time and easing into the day.

2. Coffee, Please (But Make It Strong) ☕

The first order of business? Coffee. Strong, black, and preferably served in a chipped mug that’s seen better days. This isn’t about fancy lattes or frappuccinos – it’s about the kind of coffee that gets you going after a long night out. Bonus points if you’re drinking it while listening to last night’s playlist on repeat.

3. Throw on Yesterday’s Clothes (Or Something Close) 👗

Forget about planning your outfit – just grab whatever’s on the floor or hanging on the back of a chair. Mismatched? Perfect. Wrinkled? Even better. The indie sleaze aesthetic is all about looking like you didn’t try too hard, even if you secretly did. Add some chunky boots or sneakers, and you’re good to go.

4. Playlist on Repeat 🎧

Music is the soundtrack to your life, so naturally, it’s playing in the background as you get ready. Whether it’s The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or a grungy mixtape you made last night, the right tunes set the tone for your day. Bonus points if you’re still humming a song from the concert or party you went to the night before.

Aesthetic Inspo: Capturing the Messy Morning Vibe 🖼️

If you’re looking to channel that indie sleaze morning vibe into your own life, here’s some aesthetic inspo to get you started:

1. Polaroids and Disposable Cameras 📷

Capture those unfiltered morning moments with a Polaroid camera or a disposable one. The beauty of these photos is in their imperfections – the overexposure, the grain, the unexpected moments that only a film camera can capture. Stick them on your wall or tuck them into a journal for the ultimate indie sleaze photo album.

2. Vintage Decor Vibes 🕯️

Your space should feel as effortlessly cool as you do. Think mismatched furniture, vintage band posters, string lights, and a record player spinning in the corner. Add a few plants that may or may not need watering, and you’ve got the perfect indie sleaze morning setting.

3. The Playlist You Need 🎶

No indie sleaze morning is complete without the right playlist. Curate a mix of your favorite indie tracks, throw in some lo-fi beats, and don’t forget those nostalgic hits that take you back to the mid-2000s. It’s all about setting the mood and getting lost in the music as you go about your day.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Embrace the Chaos, Live the Vibe 🌟

So, there you have it – a peek into the chaotic, carefree world of Messy Mornings, where the indie sleaze aesthetic is alive and well. Whether you’re reminiscing about your wild nights and lazy mornings or just looking to channel that vibe into your everyday life, remember: it’s all about embracing the mess, living in the moment, and not worrying too much about the details.

In the world of indie sleaze, perfection is overrated. It’s the imperfections, the spontaneity, and the unexpected moments that make life so much more interesting. So next time you wake up with your hair a mess and your eyeliner smudged, don’t stress – just grab your coffee, throw on some tunes, and let the day unfold however it wants to.

Ready to embrace the messy morning vibes? Let’s chat in the comments about your favorite indie sleaze moments, morning routines, and everything else that makes this chaotic, carefree lifestyle so irresistible! 💕

[icycoldninja]

Perhaps writing the DMC men catching the reader singing to herself when she thought that she was alone while hanging clothes out to dry

She’s not exactly shy but she’s not exactly bold either, just somewhere in between but for singing…deadass not wanting to sing anywhere publicly, which results in her awkwardly sitting in a karaoke booth with her frunk friends hyping her up and she’s just “-_-“

So when they said they’ll be out to get groceries or go on a mission, she takes this time to sing to herself:

1/ Dante: Would That I - Hozier

2/ Vergil: Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey

3/ Nero: La Vie En Rose - Edith Paif

4/ V: I’m a fool to want you - Frank Sinatra

Yeah, OK. Here ya go.

Sparda boys + V x Singing!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante knew you were pretty closed off in terms of singing, as whenever he took you out for karaoke nights with the rest of the DMC crew, you would just sit in the booth, watching as he and probably Nero screamed their drunken heads off.

-He assured you just couldn't sing or were just too nervous to do it in front of others, and he respected that.

Then he happened to walk out on you singing to yourself while hanging up your laundry.

-"And it's not tonight Where I'm set alight And I blink in sight Of your blinding light Oh, it's not tonight Where you hold me tight Light the fire bright Oh, let it blaze, alright

Oh, but you're good to me Oh, you're good to me Oh, but you're good to me, baby"

-Dante was stunned to hear you could sing like this, and ended up stealthily following you outside when you did your laundry, just to hear you sing.

-At some point he couldn't control himself any longer and decided to sing along with you, nearly giving you a heart attack.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was never one to be nosy, so if you choose not to sing around others, then that's your problem, and not his.

-He doesn't make any assumptions or anything about why you choose not to sing in public, because he genuinely doesn't care.

-He can't sing to save his life, but would sooner die than have you know that, so he'll keep his mouth shut.

-At one point he walked outside, where you were hanging up laundry, only to find you belting out some tunes.

-"Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby I'm a Brooklyn baby

Ta-da-da-da-da-da-da Ta-da-da-da-da-da-da Pa-ta-da-da-da-da"

-Vergil has to admit, he's impressed. He's not gonna follow you around to hear your singing, but he will leave the window open so he can quietly listen in without fear of getting caught.

□ Nero □

-Nero enjoyed singing himself, though he only ever showcased this ability when Dante dragged him out for a get-together with the others, where he would inevitably drink too much beer and lose his self control.

-He won't pressure you into doing something so potentially embarrassing, so whether you want to sing in front of him or not is entirely up to you.

-He is a little bit curious, however. Do you have a hidden talent that you're too nervous to show, or do you suck really bad?

-He happened to be taking a stroll outside when he caught wind of singing that wasn't coming from a pair of speakers. It was coming from a person, and that person was you, singing Edith Paif.

-"Des nuits d'amour à plus finir Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent Heureux, heureux à en mourir"

(Translation from Google: Nights of endless love, a great happiness that takes its place. Troubles, sorrows fade away. Happy, happy to die)

-Nero didn't understand a word of what you were saying, but that didn't matter cause your voice was epic as hell.

● V ●

-V doesn't sing, since his voice isn't exactly made for that, but he would love to hear you sing.

-He is a tad bit disappointed that you don't want to sing, but everyone has their aversions and such, so he let it go.

-He happened to be passing by the open kitchen window, outside of which you were hanging up the laundry, and heard your singing for the first time.

-"I'm a fool to want you I'm a fool to want you To want a love that can't be true A love that's there for others too"

-V was pleasantly surprised that you'd decide to sing outside, doing such a mundane task, and was also quite happy since his wish had finally been granted.

-Since he happened to love the song you were singing, he couldn't help himself and began singing along, startling you with his raspy, mummy-with-a-sore-throat singing.

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 6

Eddie’s not there yet. But the turn is just around the corner. He’s going to be hit with some really harsh truths that he’s going to have to overcome.

And I hope you’ll excuse the weird POV shift in the middle of the first part.

Open mic night and not judging a book by its cover.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*

Steve was waiting in line at his favorite coffee shop when the door rang out it’s little bell announcing the arrival of a new customer. He turned to see who the poor schmuck was that braved the cold blustery day to get their caffeine fix like he did.

And groaned.

Eddie Munson. Again.

Eddie spotted him and his grin was positively feral. “Harrington,” he greeted. “I didn’t think this place would be good enough for the likes of you. I would have expected you to go to one of those fancy pants places with smoked beans and expensive shit like that.”

Steve tilted his head back and shuffled forward as the line moved. “Look, man. I get it. You think I’m some rich snob with no discerning taste in anything. But can you just let me have my one luxury on my one day off a week in peace. Please!”

Eddie’s tongue dragged over his teeth and he shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He watched as the line moved slowly in front of him, keeping an eye on Steve as it did so.

When Steve spotted him, his shoulders hunched and ducked his head down as if he was expecting a blow instead of verbal sparring. Now where had that instinct came from? Eddie pondered as he shuffled forward with the rest of the Sunday zombies in search of their caffeine fix.

Steve got the front of the line and rattled off his order. “One doppio and one caramel frappuccino, to go.” And then he sat down to wait for his order.

Eddie looked over at him wondering if the other cup was for Buckley. He got to order his large black coffee and sat down close to where Steve sat.

Just then Robin came bursting in. She scanned the room and spotted them both. She scowled at Eddie but flashed Steve the biggest grin. And she inserted herself between them.

Steve looked up at her with a blinding smile. “Hey, Robs.”

“Hey, dingus,” she said, bumping his shoulder. “How long you’ve been waiting?”

Steve looked at his watch. “About ten minutes.”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I wish they would put a second person on the coffee making on Sundays. They know how busy it gets.”

Steve shrugged. “Capitalism.”

“Well it sucks,” she grumbled, settling in for the wait.

About five minutes later the barista came hurrying over to them. She handed Robin the frappuccino and Steve the doppio.

They rolled their eyes and when the barista’s back was turned they swapped drinks.

“I don’t know why they think you’re the sweet fan,” Steve groused as they got up to leave.

“I know, right?” Robin said as they made their way out of the shop.

Eddie blinked and furrowed his brow in confusion. Steve liked froo-froo drinks? Huh.

Curiouser and curiouser.

He was going to have to come here on Sundays more often.

*

To say Eddie was nervous would be an understatement. Him and the Corroded Coffin boys had been playing together for ten years and knew how to rock it. But this was different. This was a chance they could make it big.

He helped his friends get their equipment on the stage. And he had to admit that maybe he had pre-judged the place. The stage was well lit and clean. The equipment was in good shape or even new. The bar itself was a little too new-agey for him, but it was nice.

He tuned his baby as Jeff and Brian tuned their instruments as well. Gareth tapped one of his drumsticks nervously on the e-snare.

Diamond came over to them just as they were finishing setting up. “Hey, guys, you about ready?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, five minutes?”

Diamond nodded back, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “This is just so great. I’ve never had a metal band in here before. Which is damn shame. They just don’t make them like Metallica and Mercyful Fate anymore.”

Eddie and this bandmates shared a glance.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a metal fan,” Jeff said honestly, gripping his guitar.

Diamond grinned. “Never judge a book by it’s cover boys.” He lifted his sleeve and showed them his Iron Maiden tattoo.

Eddie chuckled. “I’ve got one of those too.” And he pulled down his shirt to reveal the demon on his chest.

“Nice,” Diamond said with a grin. “I’ll let you buys finish up.” He pointed above them. “There’ll be a light above that will be red and then when it’s time for you to start, it’ll go green.”

Eddie looked up and saw what he meant. “Got it!”

Diamond scurried back to the bar to talk to the bartenders. He could see Chrissy chatting excitedly to him, bouncing up and down. She moved to go sit down at table near the front. Eddie smiled when he saw that his uncle was out there too.

He stepped up to the microphone and watched as the light changed from red to green. “Hey, Queen’s Crown! Thank you so much for having us. I’m Eddie and we are Corroded Coffin. We’ve got three great songs we hope you’ll love. The first is Boys Run, then Silent Killer, and our final number will be The Jester and the King.”

Just then Diamond moved behind the bar to reveal the other bartender, Garnet. Eddie and Garnet locked eyes and he knew he was fucked.

Steve fucking Harrington was Garnet.

*

Opal had come in and begged both Diamond and Steve to have her break around the time Corroded Coffin performed so she could properly listen to them play.

Steve and Diamond shared a glance and immediately agreed. Of course they’d let her watch her friends. They would be assholes to not to.

So they arranged for Diamond to take over during the fifteen minutes Corroded Coffin took the stage.

Things were going well, the bar was filled, booze was flowing freely, and the previous acts had been good.

And then Steve spotted the lead singer when he stepped up to the mic. But he couldn’t look away. Standing on the stage looking like some kind of rock god, was Eddie.

Eddie looked away first and Steve closed his eyes. He just prayed that Robin kept her cool long enough not to fuck this up.

She came bounding up the bar, just as Boys Run began. “Fucking hell. Did you know he was in a band?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope, first time hearing about it myself.”

She listed off table two’s orders and he got to work. He listened to them with a half an ear as people would come up and shout their orders in his face. But he got the gist of the songs. Boys Run was about growing up poor and living on the wrong side of town. Being expected to become a criminal just like his daddy and making it out anyway.

Silent Killer was about being queer in a small town. About how just looking at the same sex could get you killed. Steve related to that one so hard.

But the last one he only caught the vaguest impression of the song. It was the loudest and as far as Steve could tell the angriest. It was about an adoring jester who fell in love with a cruel and bitter king.

He didn’t like that one.

*

After their set, Chrissy came bounding up to them. “You guys were amazing!”

Eddie picked her up and swung her around, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Thanks to you!”

Chrissy laughed and swatted at him playfully. “The talent is all you guys, I just put you front and center where you deserve to be.”

Diamond came over to them as they packed up. “That was fucking fantastic. You boys got enough material for a two hour set?”

Eddie looked at his bandmates in shock. They all wore similar expressions of amazement.

“Yes, sir,” Gareth said with the biggest grin on his face. “Yes we do.”

Diamond clapped him and Eddie on the shoulders. “Brilliant! You boys free in two weeks?”

“Nothing we couldn’t heartlessly cancel,” Eddie replied with a cheeky grin.

Diamond winked and said, “I’ll see you boys then.” And then he walked off with a little wave of his hand over his shoulder.

Eddie looked back at Chrissy. “Did that just happen?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Come on I want to introduce you to my co-workers before I have to go back to bar-tending.”

Eddie followed her, figuring that he could at least suck up playing nice to Steve for Chrissy.

They got five feet from the bar and he started backing up. “You know, I’ll meet them later, I really should get back to helping the guys.”

Chrissy looked over at the bar in confusion. All she could see was Topaz, Garnet, and Pearl chatting together.

Eddie on the other hand saw Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and holy fuck, Jonathan Byers, no doubt talking shit about his music and his band.

“I’ll grab us some beers,” she said instead of voicing her concern.

Eddie grinned. “Sounds good.”

Chrissy walked up to the bar with a small frown on her face. “My friend, Eddie didn’t want to meet you guys. It’s so weird. He was excited to meet before tonight.”

Jonathan coughed discreetly into his fist. “We’ve met.”

Chrissy furrowed her brow in confusion.

Robin rolled her eyes. “We all went to high school together. Eddie originally was the year above Garnet, and then he finally graduated with Topaz and me.”

Chrissy nodded. She knew it had taken him a bit to graduate from high school. “But shouldn’t he be at least a little interested in seeing how you’ve guys have been since you all graduated?”

Steve and Robin shared a glance.

“Um...” he hedged, “I don’t know how to say this without being a dick, so...Eddie hates my guts.”

Chrissy frowned and looked over at Eddie. “That doesn’t sound like him at all. Why?”

Steve just shrugged. “No fucking clue.”

“How did you meet Eddie?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, we met at my last job,” Chrissy said, cheerfully. “He was fixing the owner’s line of catering trucks and we hit it off and dated for a while.”

Robin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You dated Eddie Munson?”

Chrissy grinned. “Sure. Until I realized I was lesbian and then it got a little awkward. But he got over it, and now we’re best friends.” She winked at Robin who turned a dark shade of red.

Steve cleared his throat. “Here are the beers. Go have fun. Diamond gave you the rest of the night off. Something about owing you one for bringing on the best bands that have ever graced his stage to his attention.”

Chrissy grinned. “Thanks!”

Steve just shook his head as she went bouncing back to the Corroded Coffin boys.

Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[cookie-crumblr]

The Ghost of New Burrows

Part 4

F! PI Reader X Masked Yandere OC

His Info, 📂☕️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: Fem! Reader, Reader has a vagina, reader referred to as SHE/HER, knife play, alcohol drinking and smoking reader, reader can sing, use of pet names (good girl)

“You’re too good for this underworld, Detective”

He pressed the knife blade harder, creasing your flesh, and you inhale sharply. The scent of him infects your senses, even over the horrid aroma of the now wet, city.

He had spoke so smoothly on that rooftop, but his words burned on the way down like the synth brandy you’re sipping on now.

What does he even want? What does he mean?

22:50 Devon’s Lounge, New Burrows

Your glass clinks as you set it back onto the table. Slow Jazz emanates from the only lit corner of the bar with a solemn piano, some drums keeping the tempo, and a saxophone to sing the wordless melody.

The air buzzes with the chords all around you.

Your mind drifts back to his hand raking through your hair, and how he used that grip to expose your neck. The blade pushed up against your skin. Again, and again that memory won’t stop pestering you.

Blood throughout your body lights up intensely heating from your face down to your core.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you are in public. Not like anyone would notice in this dimly lit place, but you’d rather not show anymore weakness today.

A woman that you know as “Babydoll” sways gracefully onto the stage. Her shimmering, skintight dress perfectly hugs her plump, curvaceous body.

She scans the crowd -though you aren’t sure she can actually see anybody, that is, until she extends her arm out directly to you.

“Is that New Burrow’s favorite PI?” Her smile isn’t malicious, but you know she wants to create a scene for some entertainment. “Let’s give them a show darling.” Her elegance exudes in her every atom, even the words she speaks.

You sigh, trying to un-furrow your brow, and get up, hoping to make it to her in one piece.

Now the once peacefully buzzing air is hushed and filled to almost bursting with anticipation.

Anticipation of your next failure.

You hold your head high, as you reach the stage that felt miles away a second ago, she hands you a mic.

She signals to the band, and they play something you all know in new burrows.

At least she gave you that. You almost let out a relieved laugh, but manage to simply smile at her instead.

“In New Burrows,” She starts singing in tune.

You join in quietly at first to harmonize, “In New Burrows…”

A few lines later and the song picks up into something more, seductive, “So drink up now darlin’” you give the crowd a little shimmy, and hear a patron hoot.

The words flow out easily now, but you’re getting too hot and uncomfortable… When you suddenly have an entertaining idea.

Slowly shrugging off your trench coat with as much grace as you can muster, You keep singing along with her, you throw it into the crowd. You see someone catch it, and whistles ring against your ear drums over the music.

Oh the music,

His hand in your hair…

You can’t help but be set ablaze, imagining your ghost in that crowd. What would he be thinking?

Are you still…

“Too good”?

They like what you’re doing, and that thrills you, you loose a couple buttons of your blouse, and roll your neck.

“What a Good girl… Detective…”

Babydoll claps for you, along with the hungry, and now growing crowd. Your hips sway effortlessly along to the smooth rhythm.

When your song finally ends you bow, hair tousled and your blouse is gone.

Main just an undershirt, skirt, and pumps left you dash backstage, hyperventilating.

All the nerves you set aside for that caught up to you, along with the unsettling thrill of what you just did.

You allow a smile to crease your cheeks.

Though the applause is thunderous, an even louder, single clap startles you back into your body.

With a spin, you now stand face to face with the infamous, Fiorentino, “You…” You all but snarl.

Name: Giovani Marcello Fiorentino,

New Burrows most exalted criminal.

Nobody’s been able to put a stop to him, even though everyone knows the atrocities he orders out.

“I’m hurt, detective.” He places a hand over his heart. “I am here offering a sort of… peace…” He leans closer, without actually touching you, he smells of real cigars, just proving his wealth more, “Come with me to the Mesosphere tomorrow,”

Babydoll returns just in time with your trench coat in her hands. “Fiorentino.” She greets with the perfect grace only she could pull off toward this scum. “She’s already my date for the event at the Mesoshpere, and duet partner that night.” She places her cute hand onto your shoulder.

A/N: I know this part doesn’t actually have geist in it, but i hope it’s still fun to read! ☺️✨ i had fun writing it!

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

I'll Follow Your Lead - My Hero

~Also on my Ao3 and Wattpad~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

College has been kicking my ass but I recently got n influx of Jack Dawson edits on the TikTok fyp and I felt ✨inspired✨ So here you go! Also, Trigger warning!!! Sexual assault is not explicitly depicted but is heavily implied

Jack had just finished his first shift at Rinaldi’s - helping Elmer haul supplies from the delivery truck to the pantry – and he was sitting at the back of the dining room smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. A few performers had already come and gone as the curtains opened on the stage once again. The band was playing the beginning of a jazzy tune and the curtains revealed something Jack had not expected. Dorothea stood in the middle of the stage. She was adorned in a beautiful pale blue dress the bottom of it trailed a bit behind her and every inch of the dress sparkled in the stage lights. She sparkled in the stage lights. Jack was speechless. He set his drink down and leaned forward in his chair as Dorothea began singing. Her voice was rich and clear as it rang through the dining room. Jack hung on her every word.

     “Isn’t she a star,” Margarette sighed as she brought Jack his dinner – free of charge by request of Dorothea. “She’s such a rare talent, that girl.”

     “Yeah, she is. I didn’t know she sang,” He said.

     “She’s a shy girl. She’s been that way since she turned up on our doorstep,” Margarette chuckled and gave Jack a fond smile before going back to the kitchen.

     Jack fumbled for his sketchbook, desperate to capture this version of Dorothea on paper. He sketched quickly and loosely. He would return to the drawing later with details but for now, he mostly focused on actually looking at her. He knew that he would not soon forget her like this.

She had seen him in the crowd. How could she not have he was basically the only person there; well she certainly felt that way. As she hurried back to her dressing room to change back into her regular clothes, she was unaware that another man had watched her perform. The man from the café.

     “Dorothea, dear, you’re food will be ready in the kitchen when you’re done!” Margarette called through the door of the small dressing room.

     “Alright!” Dorothea responded. She carefully removed the gems that glittered in her hair and watched in the mirror as her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back.  

     “beautiful, is what I was gonna say.”

Jack’s compliments from the day of the party rang in her ears and caused warmth to bloom over her face and neck. A girlish smile stretched across her lips as she continued to undress. Just as she had managed to unlace the corset of her dress, someone knocked on the door. Dorothea thought nothing of it, believing it to be the old seamstress who usually helps her in and out of costumes - foolish

     “Come in!” The door slowly creaked open, “You’re a little too late, Inez, I’ve already got the corset off,” She laughed.

     “Then I suppose I have impeccable timing.”

     After quickly finishing his preliminary sketch, Jack rushed off to find out where he could see Dorothea. Finding his way back to the kitchen he met Elmer and Margarette chatting by the stove. Elmer was the first to notice the young man enter.

     “Jack, my boy! Come back for seconds?” Elmer’s deep voice broke into a rumbling chuckle. Jack smiled,

     “Not this time. I wanted to know where I could find Dorothea. I want to tell her how well she did tonight,” Jack sat his sketchbook on the kitchen counter before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Elmer and Margarette shared a look that can only be described as knowing.

     “Of course! I was just heading that way to fetch her for dinner. Come with me.” Elmer held an arm out to beckon Jack over. As they walked toward a hallway at the back of the room, the older man clapped Jack on the back. “Was this the first performance you’ve seen?”

     Jack nodded. “She never even told me she performed here.”

Elmer barked out a laugh and shook his head, “That doesn’t surprise me-“ He paused to say hello to one of the musicians as they entered the part of the hallway lined with dressing rooms, “That girl seems to be allergic to giving herself any praise.”

     “Well, I-“

A scream cut Jack off from down the hallway. His eyebrows furrowed and looked at Elmer who had a similar facial expression.

     “That sounded like it came from her dressing room-“

     “Help!”

Both men took off down the hallway. Jack was much faster than Elmer and quickly came to a wooden door with Dorothea’s name on it. He swung the door open and was temporarily stunned by the sight in front of him. It was him. The man from that one day in the café who had come looking for Dorothea. He had her with a harsh grip on her shoulders and was attempting to push her to the floor. Dorothea held one hand against the man’s chest, trying to push him off, while her other hand clawed at the loose fabric of her dress trying to keep it from falling. Dorothea’s wild, frightened eyes met Jack’s, and a fleeting look of relief flitted across her face.

     “Jack!” She shrieked out his name and that called him to action. He rushed forward and grasped the man by his collar yanking him backward. The man stumbled in surprise and let go of Dorothea, who dropped to the floor from the sudden loss of opposing force. Just as the man turned to face the new presence in the room, Jack met his face with one of the hardest punches he’s ever thrown. A fleshy smack sounded through the room before the man fell to the ground. However, he wasn’t down long before Jack hauled him up by his jacket and tossed him out through the open door where Elmer and a few of his men happened to be coming in. The man fell pathetically at their feet, dazed.

     “Haul ‘im up, boys, and get him outta here,” Elmer demanded. “I’ll be right back,” He told Jack before following his boys out of the hall. Jack whirled on his heel and knelt down beside Dorothea who had yet to get up from the floor.

     Dorothea had never felt so afraid in her life. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The hand that wasn’t holding her in a sitting position felt paralyzed in its unwavering grip on her dress. Her gaze immediately went to Jack as he knelt down beside her. His eyes searched over her with a worried expression making sure she hadn’t been hurt.

     “Are you okay?” He asked as he just barely let his hand graze the skin of her arm. He quickly shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, “What a dumb question, Jack” he murmured to himself before opening his eyes again. This time his gaze was locked on Dorothea’s face. Even in this frazzled state, she fought the urge to right her appearance, knowing that she probably looked awful with her tear-stained face and mussed-up hair.  Her mouth opened and closed but the sound eluded her. Her breathing quickened as it started to feel like air wasn’t even passing through her lips.

     “Okay, okay, Dory, you need to take a deep breath, alright? Can you try that?” Jack asked. Dorothea blinked in surprise before shaking her head. She couldn’t do it.

     “Come on, yeah you can. Let me show you,” Jack took a gentle hold of the hand that was holding her up and pulled her to sit up further. He supported her back with his other hand while placing her hand on his chest. He knew she could feel his own racing heart just as she knew he could feel her shoulders rising up and down from her rapid breaths. Jack took a deep breath and Dorothea watched as her hand rose and fell with him. She struggled for a moment to copy his breaths and squeezed her eyes shut in concentration.

     Elmer made his way back down the hallway, adjusting the rings on his hand as he walked. As he came upon Dorothea’s dressing room he paused. Jack and Dorothea were still on the floor and Jack was still helping Dorothea with her breathing. Elmer watched as Dorothea’s breathing slowly became more even to match Jack’s and watched as Jack’s eyes watched Dorothea as if she’d disappear. The older man smiled with a twinkle in his eye as he decided to go straight to the kitchen to inform his wife of the incident but - more importantly - to leave the two alone for a while longer.

     Dorothea opened her eyes and was caught off guard by immediately meeting Jack’s gaze. Even though her breathing had evened out several moments ago, they were still in the same place: Jack holding Dorothea’s hand to his chest while also supporting her seated position. She sniffed and mustered up a weak smile. He returned it with a crooked one of his own.

     “You-“ She paused to clear her throat, “You called me Dory.”

     “Huh?” Jack couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. That’s what she chooses to talk about?  

     Dorothea swallowed hard, “Just a few minutes ago. You called me Dory. Only Angeline calls me that.”

     “Oh,” Jack frowned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t-“

     “I liked it.”

     Jack gave another small smile before moving to stand. Dorothea’s hand quickly tightened, grabbing a fistful of Jack’s shirt to stop him from moving. “What are you doing?” The wild look in her eye from before was resurfacing but Jack was quick to reassure her.

     “We gotta get you standing so you can change, right?”

     “Oh, yes.” Dorothea’s hand relaxed and Jack grasped it to help her stand up, still keeping his other hand on her back. Dorothea looks at Jack’s hand and her eyes widen. “Jack! Your hand, it’s bleeding!”

     “Yeah, that usually happens after punching someone in the face.” He laughed when Dorothea sent him a disapproving glare.

     “We have to get this cleaned up before it gets infected!”

     “No, you have to get dressed.”

Dorothea suddenly became very aware that her dress had barely stayed up this entire time, still only held by her hand. This time there was no way to hide the redness in her cheeks.

     “Right.” Dorothea let go of Jack’s hand to further cover herself even though nothing was actually exposed. Jack took a step back to give her some space. He vaguely gestured toward the door,

     “I’ll be right outside.”

     As Dorothea dressed, she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror. The man had left bruises. His handprints were seared into the skin of her arm in the form of yellowish outlines. She almost started to cry again. The idea that those handprints would remain there for days after he touched her made her feel sick to the stomach. She didn’t know if she could stand to even look at food right now. Luckily, her blouse sleeves covered up the bruises and she wouldn’t have to look at them – at least for now. She felt too tired to bother putting her hair up again and decided to let the curls have their way and fall around her shoulders and face. She finally opened the door and poked her head out, only fully emerging when her eyes landed on Jack who was leaning against the opposite was with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening and he gave Dorothea a smile.

     “Come on, I’m sure Elmer and Margarette are waiting for you.” He said. He held his hand out for her to take but she declined by hugging herself tightly. She did not want to be touched right now. She felt disgusting. If Jack was offended by her rejection, Dorothea noted that he didn’t show it and instead put his hand in his pocket and smiled once again. Dorothea appreciated that more than he would ever know. She kept her arms wrapped around herself even as they walked silently down the hallway toward the kitchen. Everyone had left at this point so the only sound heard was their footsteps against the stone floor.

     Elmer and Margarette ceased their conversation at the sound of footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Margarette quickly removed her apron and rushed to meet Dorothea at the door before ushering her toward the table in the middle of the room.

     “Sit, miei cari, sit.”

     “Margarette, I-I’m fine, really I am. You needn’t fuss over me,” Dorothea’s voice was soft as if she had lost it.

     “I won’t hear any of that! You sit down and let me take care of you.” Margarette’s voice broke a little at the end of her sentence. She knew what Dorothea was feeling. She had never wanted Dorothea to feel that way.

     Elmer turned to Jack who had stayed in the doorway and gestured for him to come closer. When Jack was close enough, Elmer laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

     “You did good, boy. You did good. Now, let’s see that hand.”

     “Oh, no, sir I don’t need-“

     “That was a mean hook you laid on him and I know a thing or two about splittin’ knuckles. Let’s see ‘em.” Elmer left no room for argument. Jack raised his right hand so that Elmer could see. His knuckles were red and swollen – they’d be bruised tomorrow – and there was dried blood on the webbing of his fingers. “Not too bad. Go wash your hands and I’ll show you how to bandage them up nice and tight.”

     After the two adults had sufficiently fixed up Jack and Dorothea, they sent them off. Margarette, Elmer, and Jack insisted that Jack walk Dorothea back to the lodging house despite her protests that it wasn’t necessary.

     “Miei cari, He could be waiting for you to leave.”

And that was all it took for Dorothea to agree. The pair walked for a long time in silence. As they walked, Dorothea kept her arms firmly wrapped around herself. She stared down at the ground and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Jack split his time between looking at Dorothea and looking around to make sure that guy wasn’t lurking around anywhere. He was worried about Dorothea and even more about having to leave her alone.

     “Will you be alright once you get home?” He asked.

     “Yes.”

     “What about tomorrow morning? Don’t you work?”

     “Yes. I’m sure it will be fine.” Dorothea looked up at Jack and smiled. She was flattered that Jack was worrying this much about her. She had been thinking about how quickly he had come into the dressing room to help her. Dorothea had never been so grateful for anyone in her whole life. She furrowed her eyebrows,

     “How did you know I needed help?”

     “I heard you scream from down the hall. I was coming with Elmer to tell you how great you were tonight but I never got the chance.”

Dorothea hummed in understanding as she returned her gaze to the ground.

     “You did great tonight, by the way.” He said with a grin. Dorothea couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped her lips. She didn’t even realize she had started to cry again.

     “Thank you, Jack.” She said just as they neared the steps of the house. They stopped on the landing and turned to face each other.

     “Of course! I mean why didn’t you ever tell me you could sing like that-“

     “I meant for saving me, you daft boy!” She rolled her eyes and smiled lightly.

     “Oh, yeah, that,” Jack scratched the back of his neck with his bandaged hand and tried to suppress the warmth climbing his neck. “I just did what anyone would have done.”

     “But anybody didn’t. You did.” Dorothea said in a very serious tone. “For that, I owe you more than you could possibly imagine. You were my hero tonight.” Dorothea smiled, this time a real one as if she had no control.

     Jack couldn’t stop his face from flushing so he quickly looked away. “You don’t owe me anything, Dory.” He said, finally looking back down at her. She nodded, though they both knew she didn’t believe him, before turning to head inside. “But if you wanted to keep calling me that,” She paused to look back at him and he swallowed, “I, um, I wouldn’t complain.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to be casual as he pointedly looked everywhere but at Dorothea.

     Dorothea hummed again. Just before she closed the door she said, “My hero.”

     As the door clicked shut and Jack let out a puff of air, he knew he looked like an idiot standing on her doorstep with the widest grin known to man, and he couldn’t care less.

[stupidtowrite]

We are Women's on Fire (1) - I want know what love is

Ingrid always turned into a teenager when it came to romance, and the Women's on Fire guitarist finds herself head over heels with music store saleswoman Mapi leon.

1, 2, 3, 4 — Ingrid shouted before playing her guitar in her garage. A completely teenage scenario when it doesn't mention the fact that:

1. The house belongs to Ingrid herself, meaning no parents can get in the way of rehearsals, but also no snacks to be offered.

2. She works full-time in marketing for a company, is a photographer in her spare time and also has a cover band that plays at bars on the weekends.

3. She's really good at playing the guitar, that's what she always says.

Right after the song ends, Ingrid places the guitar on its stand and drinks a glass of water that was on the old coffee table that was greased in that garage.

— Can we play One Way or Another later? — Asked the Norwegian, tying her hair after putting the glass of water back on the table.

— We rehearsed this one 3 times today, isn't that good enough? — Asked Frido jokingly. — I swear if I sing any more I won't have the voice for anything else next week.

— I think we can stop for today, huh? — Asked Patri, the drummer.

— Okay, you won, so what are you doing tonight? — Asked Ingrid while tuning her guitar.

The friends' band was called Women's on Fire, in Ingrid and Aitana's minds it was a reference to the band The Runaways, which they both listened to a lot when they met, where It all started in college. At first, they would just meet up in each other's dorms, Ingrid with her guitar and Aitana with the bass. Ingrid would sometimes play a little, but even though she had a very beautiful voice, she didn't dare to sing in public. It was the search for a vocalist that led them both to Frido, who was studying art history at the time.

Later, they met Patri, who became their drummer, and sometimes his girlfriend, Pina, would participate in rehearsals and shows using a keyboard or a synthesizer when bands that used that sound played.

All five women were together in that garage, they all left work and went straight to rehearsal, stopping only for a sandwich in between.

Now, at five o'clock, we were sitting on the couches that Ingrid had spread around the garage. She didn't have a car at the moment, so the garage served as a storage area for her stuff and a rehearsal space.

— What's our schedule like, Aitana? — The vocalist asked.

— We're free tonight. Next Friday, we have a show at Sex O'Bomb, next Saturday, we also have a show at Shine, and Sunday, we have nothing.

— Shall we go out for drinks today? Who's with me? — Frido picked up the glass of water from the table and all the girls got up soon after.

After her friends left, Ingrid took the opportunity to practice the arrangement of Paramore's The Only Exception on her guitar.

Ingrid was a very musical person. She learned to play the guitar at the age of 8, then switched to the bass, and perfected her guitar playing. Despite her talent, she never had any interest in pursuing a career in music, but rehearsing and playing with her band is what really keeps her going.

While she was tiring herself out with the chorus, leaning against one of the sofas in her garage, the thinnest string on her guitar broke.

— Shit — She whispered to herself.

Ingrid left the guitar on the sofa and went to the built-in closet in the garage to look for new strings to replace the ones on her guitar. However, despite having opened all the drawers and doors of the closet, the most she found was an empty package.

The clock on her cell phone read 4:50 p.m., Ingrid she wasn't sure what time the music store near her house closed, but she grabbed the package she found in the cupboard and went for a quick walk to the music store on the next avenue.

The Norwegian took 5 minutes less than the time it usually took to get to the establishment, put her forehead to the window and saw a girl she had never seen before at the store's counter. She had lived in that basement for 2 years, and had been going to the same store ever since, and it was always the same short, awkward clerk who helped her when she needed to buy some equipment.

However, when she adjusted her face a little more in the window, she realized that the person behind the counter was a girl with wavy brown hair and some tattoos on her arms.

Ingrid snapped out of her thoughts when she saw the woman put her backpack on her back and close the cash register. She quickly straightened up and walked through the front door, accidentally bumping her forehead with the clerk.

— Ouch. — The two shouted in unison. Ingrid opened her eyes first and noticed the woman in front of her massaging her forehead with her hand.

— Sorry, did I hurt you? — the Norwegian asked.

— It's okay, I just wasn't looking where I was going. — The girl replied, who had already taken her hand off her forehead and opened her eyes to look at Ingrid.

She had the most beautiful eyes Ingrid had ever seen in her life.

— Do you need anything? I was just about to close the store. — The unknown woman took Ingrid out of her thoughts.

— Oh yes, sorry about that. — Ingrid took the crumpled plastic from her pocket and handed it to the brown-eyed woman. — I need these steel strings for my guitar, I'm out of stock.

The brown-haired woman took the package and examined it closely. — I'll check if they have any for you. — She walked towards the wall next to the counter. Ingrid followed her.

— How many packages can that be?

— Five.

— You're going to finish my stock like this. — The woman said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

— Well, I wasn't going to keep you stuck at work because of a small purchase. — Said the Norwegian woman, trying to be a little adventurous.

— It came to 70 euros in total.

— Sorry, that was way below what I expected. — The Norwegian woman smiled, trying to make the woman laugh, who smiled back.

Ingrid said goodbye to the woman, who was closing the store's cash register, but before she could put her hand on the door handle, Ingrid ran back as if she had forgotten something extremely important.

— Sorry, what's your name? — Ingrid approached, breaking the woman's concentration.

— You can call me Mapi. — She replied smiling.

— Hello Mapi, I'm Ingrid. — The Norwegian said, extending her hand.

— Hello Ingrid. — Mapi greeted her.

Right after leaving the store, Ingrid was in ecstasy, as if she were a teenager experiencing the first love of her life. Well, part of that wouldn't be a lie, Ingrid has total 0 experience with relationships, so she always acts like a teenager when she sees one.

[song-linked-from-nine-verses]

/opening for a chapter I am writing: What genre is this (Tuned Drinks introduction). Boons = FS/FSA/Hero of Men, Pip = MC, Ton = WW, Track = ST

"Boonie, can we get a set of drums?" Pip asked, and per usual, I was supposed to say no.

I was going to say no.

I was a horrible big brother. Still am, but that's a different can of worms for another day.

Because otherwise our budget wouldn't allow it, he cracked open his own piggy bank, and bought himself all the things necessary. Pip got his set of drums, fit for a twelve year old, and put his own wobbly cymbals on top (alongside some made by his grandpa.)

Then the kid brought friends. Turns out just buying drums wasn't bad enough, because nothing hurts more to hear three children barely able to play their instruments, all the while mixing together the most obnoxious things.

"Let him make memories," Grandpa assured me, but the only thing that would reassure me would be that the kid and his friends stop annoying me during my nap time. 

Should have bought him electric drums.

— —

"And over here, we have another monster named Pip's Big Brother," Ton whispers as if they're recording a wild animal, stepping on top of his friends so that he can properly point his camera to the window, "who's also a Big Meanie. He never lets us play."

"He also didn't let me buy drums at first!"

"He also told me that my playing sucks!" Track chimes in.

"Lan.. guage? Is 'suck' a bad word?" Ton says from the top.

"Don't lie! Big Brother wouldn't go that far!"

"But he did stare at me last time! It was scary!"

"But that doesn't mean he said that you suck!"

"Yes it does!" Track tries to throw his hands up in the air to show that he's right, but somehow that makes Ton lose balance.

".. The camera broke." Ton says. "It's your fault, Track."

"Why would it be my fault?"

"Hey, hey it's fine, it's fine." 

According to Ton, it was in fact, not fine. Despite Pip's efforts, arguing ensues right in front of his Big Brother's bar.

[rocking-in-tri-force]

(snippet,idk if i'll continue it)

These.. these kids! They haven't heard of a cassette player?

Nelson looks over to Boons. This kid is oldest of the bunch, maybe there is some hope left. Surely, surely he knows-

To his horror, Boons just shrugs when his brother asks what a cassette player is.

Good Gods, Nelson feels old.

[evesaintyves]

for @remadoramicrofics 10/5 prompt, "Midnight." Nine 100-ish word drabbles. Read below or on AO3 🍻

 

1

The streets are shiny with all-day drizzle and they double the colour of the neons and the traffic lights and and the creature-eyes of cars. Young girls flocking down the avenue like calling birds. The fuzz and whine of a band tuning. And Tonks's eyes are smokey dark—Remus can't tell if she leaned into a mirror to line them with kohl, or simply squeezed them shut and changed them from within—and her lips are like glossy red lacquer. She's smiling, pulling his lapels to make him stumble into her. He's stumbling. He's letting it happen.

 

2

It's already midnight and he's due at work by four. He's just started, hasn't been paid yet, so Sirius is buying drinks. If she knows, she's been nice enough not to mention it. It's been months of this uncomfortable charity and Remus has been lying awake thinking of what happens when it dries up. The plan is to squirrel some cash into the bag he keeps always-packed out of habit for whenever things fall apart; the reality is, he's never been good at that. There's always some crisis or some hundred small exigencies eating his savings until they're gone.

3

He's thought about telling her. Not just tonight because he needs to get some sleep, but because he entertains a silly fantasy of her dropping by when it's slow, of slipping her an espresso and one of his chelsea buns, and her delighted face: Lupin, you made this? Leaning over the counter, playing with his apron strings. It's idiotic, and it's not how that would go. There'd be questions ( working for muggles? Do you need the money that much? ) and there'd be the tacit admission that this, baking rolls and tweezing biscotti into piles, really is about the best he can do.

4

She mentioned, once, that she worked at Madame Malkins' for four days before being sacked.

Well, she said, cracking a licorice snap, it was partly because I altered the uniform—horrible long frumpy thing. I made it shorter, nipped in the waist. I also made it lime green.

And... the other part?

Told a customer to suck my dick.

She played the line completely straight, which made him laugh so hard he inhaled a mouthful of the crisps she'd brought him, and the two of them had sat chuckling, in the dead of night on a surveillance mission, for an absurdly long time.

 

5

But when he thought later about the various reasons he'd been sacked—too ill to work, or worse, too ill and showed up anyway, bosses thinking he was dopesick or high, bony arms and knackered clothes making it hard to argue—it left a sour taste in his mouth. He has smiled through rudeness, through undisguised smouldering contempt, to keep a paychecque coming in. Dignity is a luxury.

When they stop for pizza the place is slammed, the slices take an age to reheat, and Tonks rolls her eyes and mutters unbelievable when the kid hands over their greasy paper plates.

 

6

There was a girl at a bar, long ago when he was twentyoneish and still trying, who pulled at his clothes quite like Tonks is and let him kiss her in the fog of last-orders cigarettes outside. He was drunk, absolutely trollied, and when she yanked back from kissing him to look him in the face he could see that she was too.

You reek of chips, she told him, and hailed a cab.

He'd lost his job at the chippie moping about it in bed all week. Fifteen years later, he still worries that he has that stench on him—not just of shit work, but of desperation. Loneliness.

 

7

She buys an entire packet of fags to smoke one and throw the rest away.

I'll smoke them all if I don't, she shrugs. Three hours until work. He's sobering up, but she still has this glow about her, luminous and hazy as the bar-lights reflected on the street.

I ought to get you home.

Out of money?

Er—

She presses up against him. Her smoke gets in his eyes. There's no lipstick on the cigarette butt; it must just be her.

I don't want to go home, she says. I'm having fun. I could kick around on the street with you for hours.

 

8

He almost tells her, then, standing by the rubbish bin on the corner, bass vibrating the pavement, being jostled by hen-nights and lads in packs walking four-and-five-abreast. But tonight has been so lovely he'd like to preserve it under glass, keep it on a shelf, look down into the electric colour of it forever. If he told her, there'd be fumbling explanations, she'd muster herself to seem excited for him, the way she does. Not tonight. Not this one night.

So he bends to kiss her cherry lips instead.

He hates the taste of cigarettes. Still, it's heavenly. She slides her hands under his jacket and around his back.

 

9

Four-sixteen. He flips the switches. Fluorescents buzz like a headache. He's late because he indulged himself to brush his teeth and shave. Buns out to proof, then into the oven. Coffee grinding, that head-clearing smell. Closing shift left the milk out. Down the sink.

Before he flips the OPEN sign, when it's dark outside the windows and the café is just a bright box in a black void, it's easy to imagine: the bun fresh and steaming, her blue fingernails clinking on the little espresso cup. She takes a bite, makes a tiny wordless sound. Closes her eyes, lost in pleasure.

image by me

[sailor-artemis]

5 Songs I'm Into Right Now

Thanks to @riftdancing for the tag! I love talking about music so this was perfect :)

1. acloudyskye - Surface

I decided to check out this album after seeing it pop up in RYM's new music since I'd heard one of acloudyskye's previous albums, and this song just sunk its hooks into me and won't let go. That guitar line. The piano chords backing it up. The production. The lyrics. The vocal delivery. The vibes. The main guitar riff and the chorus ("If you're there, can you hear it?/They're shooting flares in the distance/They won't find a trace of us/We'll be gone when morning comes") both live in my head rent free. This is a song that ends a character playlist I'm working on, and that spot is well earned.

2. 2hollis - all 2s

Fitting to go at number 2, I stumbled on this while trying to find more electroclash in the vein of Justice and decided to give it a spin. That first 30 seconds or so is what grabbed me: the simple synth line & choppy vocals that becomes a Wall of Noise after 16 bars. Don't know what it is about it, but that kinda noise just scratches some part of my brain the right way, and this song does it like few else. The synths in this are also fun, and I love the hype energy this has. Just a banger.

3. Fever Dolls - Gennifer Flowers

You can blame @reversalsun for this one, I got it from their playlist for one of their OCs (Anja, the one I made a drink for, as it happens), and it's wormed its way right into my brain. I love the very "theatrical" delivery of the verses with a lot of meat to unpack in the lyrics that's counterbalanced by the shouted chorus: "And if I've got the power to take it (got the power to fake it)/Gennifer Flowers got the power to shake her debasement". Basically, I wanna see the musical this is from, and the fact this band has only a handful of singles is a crime. Thanks Sam!

4. The Hives - Tick Tick Boom

A classic garage rock tune that made its way onto a playlist I put together for Lehon'a's time in Shadowbringers. In my head this soundtracks the final fight with Emet-Selch, with Lehon'a lording her superiority over Emet in the lyrics: "Yeah, I was right all along/Yeah, you were tagging along/Exhibit A: on a tray, what you say as I throw it in your face/Exhibit B: what you see, well it's me I put you back in your place". And that main guitar riff and the iconic "tick tick tick tick tick tick tick BOOM" where everything cuts out just make this song.

5. The 8-Bit Big Band - Can You Feel The Sunshine? (originally from Sonic R)

This one is YouTuber Adam Neely's fault. I decided to rewatch his video on how Video Game Music has spawned its own jazz scene and how it fits into the culture of jazz at large, and this is one of the songs that he helps perform. Just from the snippets in the video, the main hook managed to get trapped in my brain, and now I'm obsessed. The original song is a fantastic eurobeat adjacent track, but this jazz version just adds some extra spice. I especially love the vocalist really showing off towards the end of the number. Highly recommend watching the YouTube video which shows all the performers in the studio playing (and the Adam Neely video too), it's super cool!

Tagging (though no pressure to do it if you're busy or otherwise don't wanna): @reversalsun @zylphiacrowley @ga-keaton @ferrocyan @gatheredfates and any other passers-by who wanna share some cool tunes!

[redlegumes]

Dec 1st: Open Mic Night

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Open Mic Night | AO3: link | wc: 474 | rating: T | cw: none | tags: open mic, karaoke, queer bar, holiday season, Christmas

Summary: Eddie is captivated by an singer on a holiday themed karaoke night at his favorite bar.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Eddie had bundled up and headed to his regular, small, queer friendly spot that evening. The place mostly did open mics and community anchored birthdays. It didn't have a huge presence in the city which was fine by Eddie, just dingy and dark enough that it felt home-y. Even on karaoke night.

He chatted with his buddy Gareth who was also there to take in the holiday singing spectacle. Neither of them were going to perform, they did that enough part time with their band, but Eddie watched a spirited Mariah and then some Wham!

Just as the bar was at it's fullest (for this kind of event anyway), a gorgeous boy in a dark green sweater and light wash jeans stepped up on stage. The sound booth guy announced him as Steve, and the lights on the back half of the shallow stage flicked on. Eddie recognized the piano that lived back there even if he didn't recognize the performer. Visiting one of the locals maybe?

More after the cut

Steve had voluminous hair, styled to look like effortless. His cheeks were pink, and Eddie couldn't help but imagine that blush that spread over his skin probably sported a deeper tan in the summer months. Steve began picking out a tune on the piano, and Eddie's eyes shot to Steve's even sweeter pink lips as he began to sing.

♫ Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles, will be out of sight ♫

The bar had slowly quieted; the live piano drew in everyone's attention.

♫ Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the Yuletide gay ♫

Steve winked at the brazenly at the audience, drawing laughs and a smattering of cheers. Shit. He knows he's cute.

♫ Next year all our troubles, will be miles away ♫

As quickly as he'd smiled, Steve's lips pressed tightly there. No troubles next year? Wouldn't that be something, Eddie thought in sarcastic agreement with the sentiment on Steve's face.

The crowd began to sing along with the last two verses, a sway settling over the mismatched queers gathered their to celebrate the season with cheap drinks and other outcasts. Steve sang the last lines wistfully. Eddie supposed they all did.

♫ Someday soon we all will be together If the fates allow Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas now ♫

His chest ached when Steve finished while the whole bar seemed to applaud. Eddie wasn't ready for Steve's voice to stop filling his ears. He worked his way toward the edge of the stage without a plan, and waited for Steve, holding out hand to help him down. Steve took it and met Eddie's gaze with the warm eyes of a man Eddie wanted nothing more than to muddle through with.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

[thefrontofmymind]

all the things "She" says in songs by The 1975

(and some of their old stuff pre-signing too)

1. "It's your birthday, you feeling alright?" (The City)

2. "How can I relate to somebody who doesn't speak?" (Antichrist)

3. "My name is Eileen, boy that's all you need. And this one's on the house, I don't mind" (Woman)

4. "I could hear you giving her head" (Undo)

5. "Use your hands and my spare time. We've got one thing in common, it's this tounge of mine" (Sex)

6. "Now you're never gonna quit it if you don't stop smoking it" (Chocolate)

7. "We're dressed in black from head to toe, we've got guns hidden under our petticoats" (Chocolate)

8. "We're coming to the end of 23, [she said] is that alright? It's coming to the end of you and me, [she said] is that alright?" (So Far (It's Alright))

9. "It's nice to have your friends round, we're watching the television with no sound" (Heart Out)

10. "It's not about your body it's just social implications are brought upon by this party that we're sitting in" (She Way Out)

11. "I've been so worried 'bout you lately, you look shit and you smell a bit. You're mad thinking you could ever save me, not looking like that." (A Change Of Heart)

12. "I've been so worried 'bout you lately, you were fit but you're losing it" (A Change Of Heart)

13. "[You've] got a lot to learn" (She's American)

14. "I've got a problem with your shoes and your tunes but I night move in" (The Sound)

15. "I thought that you were straight, now I'm wondering" (The Sound)

16. "Hello" (Paris)

17. "[You've] been romanticising heroin" (Paris)

18. "[You] should have liked it" (TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME)

19. "I gave you four years of my life" (I Couldn't Be More In Love)

20. "[You're] references were spot on" (Me & You Together Song)

21. "Oh God, I'll have to think because we're mates it doesn't feel right" (Me & You Together Song)

23. "They should take this pain and give it a name" (Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy))

24. "I guess I'll take this pain instead of your name" (Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy))

25. "Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes" (If You're Too Shy (Let Me Know))

26. "Well I take care of my kids" (Part Of The Band)

27. "I should take you with me when I leave" (When We Are Together)

28. "Central Park is SeaWorld for trees" (When We Are Together)

~~~

29. "All the drinks are all on me" (Au Bord de la Mer)

30. "You're living in a cellophane house you're never leaving" (Lost Boys)

31. "Use your fangs and my spare time, come on in the car you'll have a great time" (Lost Boys)

32. "You don't look frightened at all" (Scary Monsters)