#Mötley Crüe angst

[urnothere12]

hii

could you write a nikki x femreader morning sex smut/fluff.

they’ve been in a relationship for just over a year and they’re so in love. (nikki especially). the smut is just pure love for each other, nothing rough or anything yk? praise, compliments etc.

and then aftercare/fluff at the end?

sorry if this is weirdly specific but thank you if you write this for me 🫶🏻

heyyyy so sorry it’s late I was doing fics on my other account but here it is I hope you enjoy it!!!

Morning Love

words: 539

warnings: *smut* *fluff* *praise kink* *p in v* *aftercare*

Nikki and you have been in a relationship for over a year and you both are just so in love with each other that sometimes you feel that Nikki loves you way more than you love him. He always talks to you sweetly and kindly even when he is under a tremendous amount of stress. Nikki has never hurt you physically or mentally. Nikki never raises his voice at you. You both trust each other a lot and can count on each other during difficult times. 

You and Nikki just woke up from a deep night's sleep. You and Nikki both feel so refreshed and so energetic. Nikki starts to caress your thigh. He is trying to signal that he wants sex. Nikki swiftly gets out of bed and he needs to get fresh because he likes doing that before sex. After he exits the bathroom he has an urgent look in his eyes. You get out of bed to get fresh too. Nikki sits on the bed waiting patiently for you. You immediately go over to Nikki and get on his lap. Nikki is so sweet when it comes to a lot of things like when you need help but he is very sweet when he is making love to you. 

“Baby you look so beautiful as you always do” Nikki purrs.

“You look so handsome Nikki,” you say in a melodic tone.

You get on the bed and climb into Nikki's lap. Your lips start to connect and your tongues connect. You both let out small moans and grunts. 

Nikki starts to take your clothes off asking for your consent.

“Can I take your clothes off?” 

You start to nod. He takes your clothes off and throws them somewhere on the floor and he picks you up and removes his belt, his pants, and shirt while your legs and arms are wrapped around him. He discards his clothes on the ground.

“You're so gorgeous you know that?” Nikki asks gently 

You start to blush.

“You're so good to me Nikki you're perfect” you moan

You both start to feel even more aroused. Nikki puts his cock at your entrance and you immediately feel like you're about to come with just his tip inside of you. Nikki wants to do whatever you're comfortable with.

“Is this okay, Princess?" he asks.

“Nikki, can you go faster?” you whine.

Nikki starts to go faster and his hips grind against yours. It takes very little time but you feel your legs shaking and your head going back.

“Oh, Nikki” you moan. 

“You're doing great baby” Nikki groans.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, it's pulsing with passion. 

“Oh, Nikki fuck fuck” you moan. 

“You feel so good, Nikki” you cry out 

"You're so tight” Nikki responds. 

Nikki finally feels he is about to come inside of you. He releases his warm seed in your pussy that was throbbing for him in the morning. 

You both decide that you're done and he takes himself out of you. 

“You want to take a nice warm shower together hon?” Nikki asks 

You immediately accept the offer and don't waste another second. You start the warm water in the shower and you both hop in.

[unknownperson246]

okayokayokay if you do angst i have a really juicy angst idea

imagine 90s or 2000s Nikki Sixx x reader where Nikki finds out reader has a drug or alcohol issue

Heyyy sorry its late but I hope you enjoy it (disclaimer: I am not trying to romanticize drugs or alcohol in any way people go through so much stuff with it and its very dangerous it’s not romantic it’s hell). I might also make a part two if anyone wants one

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

words: 1,361

warnings: *angst* *mentions of drugs* *mentions of alcohol* *rehab* *usage of drugs* *pregnancy*

You have a heavy addiction to alcohol and drugs and you can’t help but use them to comfort you in all your moments. You are afraid if Nikki finds out he will not want to be around you and he will break up with you. One morning Nikki is looking around all your hiding spaces like under your bed and behind the vanity because of this one used syringe you forgot to throw away and he finds half-empty bottles of Vodka he also finds used syringes that you forgot to dispose of. You see him rummaging through your things as you wake up and he looks at you with a concerned look.

“Babe why? Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you.” Nikki sounds very upset and disappointed with you.

“Look babe I've been through this before I'm taking you to rehab,” He says gently as he walks over to you as you lay on the bed. 

“No I'm not going Nikki I need more” you cry out.

“No, you don't You've had enough I'm only trying to help you, babe,” he says softly

You get up in your silky red nightgown and run to the places where you hide your drugs and grab small bags filled with white powder. You crush it up and put the coke in a line and you snort it. 

Nikki watches and begs for you not to do this to yourself. He knocks on the door so many times that you lose count. He breaks open the door, grabs all of the drugs, and pours them into the sink in front of you. You sob and beg for Nikki to stop.

“No Nikki please don’t do this don’t take my drugs away” you scream violently.

“I can't watch you do this to yourself. You're going to rehab and I will make sure you go”  Nikki says harshly.

After Nikki finds all of the drugs he dumps them all down the toilet and disposes of the needles he finds. You grab at Nikki and try to pull the drugs away from him. 

“Don't you dare Nikki” you say in a firm tone. He pushes you out of his way lightly. 

“Fuck you Nikki fuck this you motherfucker” you yell at him.

“I am only trying to help you Y/N you need to understand. It's for your good.” 

“I called the rehab I'm driving you there tomorrow” 

“Nikki before you take me I need to tell you something,” you say softly. 

“We are going to have a baby,” You say out of the blue.

“Don't lie to me your only making excuses so you don’t have to go to rehab”  Nikki spits out

“I'm not lying” You pull out ultrasound photos to show him. 

“Y/N I���m tired of you not telling me things why didn't you tell me earlier?”  Nikki says disappointed.

Nikki realizes that you have been using alcohol, heroin, and cocaine while you were pregnant with his baby. 

“Y/N you're going you have to go for me for you and our baby.” 

“I'm going to help you pack and get your stuff together” 

You quit trying to fight back and you realize that you could have hurt your baby so you start to grab your clothes and Nikki helps you fold them. Nikki checks your clothes to see if they have smaller bags of drugs in your clothes and does not find anything. Nikki double-checks everything in your clothes there is still nothing. 

Your one suitcase you're bringing is now packed and zipped up and it's in the corner of your guys’s room. 

“Nikki please don't take me to rehab”  you sob. 

Nikki grabs you and holds you to his chest in his arms. Your head is leaning on his chest. You can already feel the withdrawal effects from the heroin you used to take hourly. 

“Hey shhh, It's okay you're going to be okay shhh”

“I need my goddamn heroin Nikki I need it” you sob to him in his arms.

Nikki decides to not respond. He knows how hard it is at first from his own experiences with drugs and alcohol. He decides it best to just be there and support you especially since he found that you were pregnant. He knows it's very hard on you with everything you're going through at the moment. 

Nikki lays you in your guy’s bed. 

“Y/N it's going to be very hard to sleep but try to relax and rest okay?” 

You don't respond as you are mad at Nikki for getting rid of all your drugs.

The next morning arrives and you run to the bathroom puking from morning sickness. Nikki hears you retch and puke in the morning. He goes over to help you. He holds your hair while you throw up and rubs your lower back gently. You finally finish puking and you flush it down the toilet.

“Y/N it's almost time we have to leave get your clothes on and I'll grab your suitcase and put it in the car”  

You take your silky red nightgown off and put on your white bra with matching panties, jeans, and a plain white shirt. You're starting to show a tiny bit. You have no appetite to eat and it is extra-strong today because of the withdrawal of drugs. You walk out of the room and down the stairs to head to the car. Nikki is in the driver's seat ready to go and you get in the passenger seat. Nikki notices that you are starting to show a bit. You notice that Nikki is looking at your stomach. 

“Y/N how far along are you?” Nikki asks gently 

“3 months,” you say quietly as you avoid eye contact with him.

“You kept our baby a secret from me for three months?!” He is full of disappointment.

Nikki does not talk to you for the rest of the car ride. He is mad at you for keeping the baby a secret from him for a long time. You guys arrive at the rehab. You guys walk in together after Nikki grabs your suitcase from the trunk. Nikki talks to the receptionist. They have a nurse with blonde hair to walk you to the room and you and Nikki walk together as you both follow the nurse. You are scared and nervous because it's your first time at rehab. 

“Here’s your room,” the nurse says. 

The nurse starts to walk away and you and Nikki are left in the room alone. 

“Babe I can only stay for a bit they will only let me stay for a little while” 

You don't respond to Nikki's words you are suspiciously quiet. 

“I need to use the bathroom” you are thinking about your escape from this hell. 

You start to walk down the hall and you walk out of the door. Nikki sees you outside the window and you start to walk inside the bush. Nikki was surprised by your behavior he has never seen you this uncooperative. Nikki quickly rushes outside to grab you and he is trying to be careful with you since you're pregnant. 

“Let me go!” you scream at Nikki. 

Nikki holds you bridal style as you fuss in his arms and try to be set free by him. As soon you're inside the room in the facility Nikki puts you on the bed. You start to scream and cry and Nikki has no choice but to call a doctor or a nurse. Nikki calls a nurse and she comes in and tries to talk to you gently but you won't listen. They decide to get everyone out of your room and let you calm down yourself. You feel miserable from everything going on. You are still not calming down and the nurse decides to sedate you. The nurse only uses a little bit as you're a drug addict. You start to calm down as you feel exhausted.

“Nikki” you whimper as you fall asleep. 

Nikki watches you with sad eyes and holds your hand while you are asleep to let you know he is there with you.

[skinomyteethh]

Nikki Sixx x reader fanfic? Can be anything :)

mistakes

pairing: nikki sixx x fem! reader

summary; overcoming addiction is hard, especially when you feel like you're in an overwhelming, somewhat lonely place.

contains/warnings; substance abuse i think, nikki relapsing, slight angst?, etc.

authors note; HIIII TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!! I really hope you like this, I honestly didn't know how to end it and it may be all over the place, I haven't written in a WHILEEEEE. also theres some hidden message in the but i cant put it into words rn lolol!

⁶𖤐⁶

moet et chandon decorated the large, wooden cabinets of the dining room, making it look beautifully elegant and sophisticated. the variety of random desserts and pastries made her think of marie antoinette's famous but factitious phrase 'let them eat cake!'

[name] hummed, carefully fixing the flowers in the vases which sat in the middle of the long dining table. it was unlike any other gathering or party Nikki and [name] had ever hosted or gone to. it was unlike the usual rock 'n' roll scene filled with endless booze and random naked women.

as the people began to arrive, the atmosphere was extraordinarily nice. people well versed in etiquette filled the room, cigar smoke lingered throughout the air. nikki shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking around, somewhat nervous. it was unusual of him to be so quiet, so reserved. a small smile spread across his face upon seeing his wife 'in her element'

yet, nikki felt as if he didn't belong there, it was too calm, too relaxed for his liking and what he was use to.

just before the dessert was served he excused himself, walking towards the stairs of his rather luxurious house. nikki entered the master bedroom, opening the multiple dresser drawers frantically searching, for something that would take these feelings away, heroin.

he grasped the medical grade needle, leaning against the bed, ripping the cap of the needle off. nikki opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table, grabbing a somewhat long piece of rope, tying it around his upper arm. nikki took a deep breath, sighing in ecstasy as the needle and the continents of the needle flowed into his veins.

nikki laid his head down against the mattress, closing his eyes. [name] felt somewhat confused, nikki had been gone for far too long. she pranced upstairs, pulling the hem of her dress up as to not step on it. sounds of vomiting could be heard from inside the master bedroom, she knew exactly what that meant, exactly what nikki had been doing.

she quietly entered the bedroom, leaning over and glancing into the connected bathroom. nikki's head hung over the toilet bowl as he once again began vomiting, it was the aftermath of the heroin. [name] glanced down at the ground, picking up the discarded needle, throwing it into the trash can by the vanity.

the loud and unexpected sound of the needle clashing against the metal trash can scared nikki, he haphazardly stood up, his expression filled with worry as he spotted her sitting on the surprisingly neat bed. nikki had broken his promise.

on the day of their wedding he promised he would quit and even go to rehabilitation, but now he had broken his promise and it seemed to have shattered her heart. nikki cautiously inched closer to her, attempting to somehow be able to explain the situation.

"[name] I...." he was caught off by her abrupt movement as she tilted her head up to look at him, though the look om her face did not radiate anger nor frustration, it radiated disappointment but she also seemed somewhat understanding. "why nikki..?" she questioned, her tone was soft and once again the disappointment was evident.

he looked down at the carpet before looking back up at her, sighing before he parted his lips, beginning to speak. "I felt overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do. I felt like I didn't belong there.."

a calm and sophisticated scenery was not what he was use to, it made him feel like an outsider, a weirdo.

nikki glanced back down at the carpet, he excepted her to lash out at him, scream at him for slipping up, but she didn't, instead he felt her arm wrap around him securely and lovingly, he laid his head down on her shoulder, sighing.

[name] seemed to somewhat understand him, her hand gently caressed his upper arm before she freed him from her grasp, speaking once again. "I know quitting isn't easy, and as you begin sometimes you'll slip up unintentionally." she glanced over at the doorway, sighing deeply before placing a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

[their80smichelle]

Requests are open

I'd like to write stories so if you have request my inbox is open !🫶🏼

I will write about :

Mötley Crüe

Guns N' Roses

Cinderella

Poison

Hanoi Rocks

Metallica

Megadeth

And maybe other bands I guess.

I will write :

Fluff

Cheesy stuffs

Angst

Lime

x reader

Relationship

Friendship

Enemies (to lovers ?)

And maybe other things you will ask

I will not write :

Smut (I'm not comfortable with it yet sorry)

Big age gap

Daddy kink (actually I can but I don't like it lol you can still ask)

Everything that is supposed to be bad and end with philia ☝🏼

Idk what else I'll tell you when you ask

Ship real people (except if it's friendship)

Sorry if you have to wait but I'm a terrible writer I have some stuffs but I really don't think it's good at all but I'm trying☝🏼(I'm also scared to share things I write be kinda 🥲)

Feel free to ask (I sound like a no-fun person but I'll get better I promise👽)

I will update this if there's something new🥀

[sucker4sixx]

Relight my fire

Pt.1

PLOT: you reconnect with your childhood friend and feelings resurface..

WARNINGS: mention of drugs, angst

The sun shines through the dusty blinds in your bedroom, recently you and Nikki had gotten back into contact and you were staying at his house so he didnt relapse due to his divorce.

You were childhood friends, you both met when you were 3, your parents close friends but when he turned 20 and he started becoming a rockstar he drifted. He became mean and aggressive and with a heavy heart you removed yourself from his life. 15 years later nikkis divorced and trying not to run back to herion so in a desperate attempt in saving himself he reaches out to you, finding your number somehow. You didnt have anything going on so agreed to move to hollywood. His house was gorgeous, medieval and made of stone with one huge bedroom (his) and a normal sized guest bedroom (your new bedroom).

You leave your room, taking a quick glance at the clock ‘12:36’ “fuck im lazy” you mutter to yourself, the cold stone on your toes reminding you of the blossoming winter outside. You get to the kitchen and look around for your tall, quite scary, friend, you look out the garden window to see him sitting on a bench with a cigarette placed between his lips, a somber look plastered onto his handsome face. He glances over and sees you watching him so you decide it would be weird if you didnt come out. Slipping on your slippers you head out to the cold garden where the smell of nikki and tobacco linger in the air, you sit beside him and chitter softly, the cold morning air nipping your soft skin.

Youve secretly had a thing for nikki, even as dumb kids. It became a trend for you to make a move the moment he gets a girlfriend. Seeing him again brought back all these feelings but you tred carefully knowing hes just freshly divorced.

“Morning Nikki..” you speak softly like if you spoke any louder it would hurt him “morning doll” he speaks in the same tone, blowing smoke out and letting it curl around you both “why arent you wearing a jacket? Its freezing.” He tilts his head, noticing your goose bumps.

“I just… i dont know..” you trail off, things havent been the same between you two, infact it was quite awkward. “Take this” he takes off his heavy leather jacket and places it round your shoulders, exposing his chest with his white vest top. “You really didnt have to but, thanks” you smile, discreetly smelling it to take in his smell “dont smell it you creep” he laughs and pokes your belly softly to make you laugh “i wasnt!” You laugh and squirm causing nikki to poke your sides till you stand up “go.. go inside and make me a cup of coffee or ill tickle you more” he smirks and you groan like a child, dragging your feet into the kitchen.

He returns and you place his cup of coffee infront of him “here.. for the princess” you smirk, he takes it and sips the bitter liquid, grinning “perfect, doll.. perfect” he trails off before kissing your cheek, heading to the couch. You follow him with your own cup and sit beside him as he flicks through channels “its weird seeing you smoking.. you were always so against it” you add quietly and he glances to you “yeah well.. people change” he dampens your comment and you both go quite. “You too.. you’ve changed” he pats your thigh “i have?” You tilt your head and give an unsure smile, not sure if he means that in a good or bad way “you sure have little missy.. in a good way, your funny and genuine and pretty and-“ you cut him off “you think im pretty?” Nikki goes red and rolls his eyes “yeah.. of course i do” he looks away, feeling alittle embarrassed.

The next night you and nikki decide to go for drink, you both take numerous shots and loose eachother on the dance floor, the music pulsing through your intoxicated body as your legs fail you, stumbling around just to fall into the arms of someone. “Hey! Sweetheart, you okay?!” Nikki shouts to you, when you look up to see its him you let yourself melt into his chest, he laughs and picks you up, walking you both to the front door for some fresh air and some room to speak.

He places you on one of the cold steps beside him and you rest on his shoulder as he lights himself a cigarette “your fucked, doll” he laughs “i-im.. not.. “fucked” you idiot” you slur and giggle, his arm wrapping round your shoulders “how did you even get so drunk, we drank the same amount?” He squeezes your cheek and you hide your face into his side “dont do that.. its adorable” he leads your face up to meet his with his finger, smiling at you “im not adorable” you give a drunk smile “how about i drink more to catch you up then we head home, hm?” He stands up and leaves you at the step before you could say anything, returning 10 minutes later after downing many shots, its not hit yet. “Cmon doll, lets go home” he picks you up, carrying you to the line of waiting taxis that park outside of the club.

You both sit in the taxi as it heads home, nikki stroking your hair “do you.. still think im pretty?” You ask him drunkly, nikki smiles, his voice dropping “your still talking about this? Well, for the record yeah.. i think your gorgeous” he smirks “gorgeous…” you trail off, repeating his word as you feel your cheeks burning up. Nikkis hand moves to hold your cheek and suddenly his lips catch your eyes, they look so god damn good. “Stop staring at my lips..” he smirks, his cheeks starting to go alittle red too “i cant help it nikki.. i.. ive always-“

“Dont.. dont confess to anything just.. shh”

“Please, Nikki i cant pretend anymore”

“No, cmon dont do this” he pleads, not wanting things to get awkward between you two but you cant help it, you move your hand to his cheek but he turns his head to the other side “How long..?” He closes his eyes “how long have you felt this way?” He opens his gorgeous green eyes that search yours “years.. since i was a kid nikki, too long” you try to move in to kiss him but he holds you back, desperation that shocks you both fills your vains and when nikki sees the look in your eyes he moves forward, letting his tongue crash with yours as his large hand grips your hair softly, moans escaping both your lips. “Thats us” the taxi says, breaking off the kiss.

You both enter the house, shame and embarrassment filling the air as you remove your shoes, you feel his long arms snaking around your waist as your hands feel the hair on them. “Ive felt the same too.. you know” he whispers into your ear, his hot breath making itself comfortable in the crook of your neck. “Ive always wanted to just hold you and feel you. It never seemed like the right time” he growls softly and you rest your head back onto his shoulder, opening your neck to his kisses that start gently pecking the skin there. “Why didnt we ever talk about this?” You whisper back. “As i said.. never the right time”

“Is now the right time?” You ask, looking into his eyes as his gaze saddens, he steps back “no.. no its not” he walks away into his room, leaving you confused. You walk to the corridor between both of your rooms, you linger at his door before deciding against knocking and going back to your own room.

You spend the rest of the night, tossing and turning, missing the feeling of his warm body holding you…

[jaeedraszaerysz]

Requests

I wanna start doing requests again ✨️

Who I'll write for:

Mötley Crüe

Guns n roses

Metallica

Skid row

Murderdolls

Slipknot

Nirvana

Aerosmith

(Pretty much any rock or metal band/star)

The lost boys

What I'll write:

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Headcanons

Polyamorous

(I will write for kinks, but certain things I won't write completely fucked up stuff like age play, necrophilia, etc)

Extra stuff:

I probably won't write for male reader cause I have no experience in that department at all and I don't wanna fuck it up but if given guidance I can try

I will usually write fem/gn reader

I'm English so if it sounds weird/I use different slang or spelling, just ignore it or specify what you want writing

[macfrog]

homesick

a cowboy like me one shot

oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“This is Joel Miller. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.”

You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machines’ drumming deafening. It’s eighty-something degrees out, and it’s only six o’clock.

“Pick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know you’re there. Can’t come to the –” you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, “– Can’t come to the ph-owww-ne right n–”

The line clicks as he picks the handset up.

“Did you call just to make fun of me, kid?”

You halt, spinning on your heel. “So you were screening me?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t notice the time. I’ve been out back with Tommy.”

“Oh,” you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, “We don’t have to call right now, you know. I’m just doing laundry.”

“It is six there, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.”

Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. “Keep me. He knows you were calling tonight. He’s probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Won’t even notice I’m gone. Laundry, huh?”

“Mhm.” You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. “It’s a beautiful night, and I’m stuck being force-fed Mötley Crüe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Enough, cowboy.”

“I like Mötley Crüe,” he chuckles. “They got some hits under their belt.”

“Name five.”

“Five,” he says. “You’re asking a lot there, darlin’.”

“Of Mötley Crüe or of your memory, old man?”

Joel hums. “Should’ve seen that one coming, baby.”

You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, you’d care to hide your fluster – but you’re here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.

“Tell me about your day,” you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.

“Well,” Joel says, “weather’s fine, work’s fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.”

You gasp. “The old couple with the cats?”

He grumbles. “That’s them. They still hate me, by the way.”

“The couple, or the cats?”

“…Jury’s out.”

You snicker.

“Then, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkin’ to you.”

“Hm. I’m your favorite part, right? I’m your favorite part of today?”

Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.

It’s been three months since you were last home. Technically, it’s been seven weeks since you were in Austin – but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dad’s gutter and watching westerns.

It’s been three months since you were last in Joel’s arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels you’ve stolen from him.

Three long, tough months.

And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. You’re not together, you’re not committed. You’ve been seeing other people, so has Joel – even if he’s only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.

Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. It’s easier this way, right? It’s cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.

Only – your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summer’s worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.

It didn’t take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.

It only binds sorer.

“Anyway,” Joel says, “your turn. How was your day?”

You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, you’ll break, and if you break, you’ll sob.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yep,” you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. “I – uh…Yeah, my day was fine.”

The line quietens.

“You sure? Everything okay at work?”

Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, “All good.”

He can read you even three states apart. “Let me call you back. Hold on.”

The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.

She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.

When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.

Joel’s pixelated living room stretches across your screen.

“Joel,” you sniff, “Joel, it’s –”

“Can you see me?”

“No, you gotta flip your –”

“…never know why the damn thing don’t –”

“The button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, it’s –”

His coffee table flips, and in place – straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.

The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, expression softening. “Look at you.”

You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. “Oh, my God, I miss you today.”

Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. “I miss you every day.”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I…” you sigh, “…That’s what I meant. It’s just – some days, you feel a little further away.”

“Today one of those days?”

You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. “It’s just…been a day. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it, if you want. You’re hell of a lot smarter than me, darlin’, but I’ve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.”

He smiles. It breaks your heart.

He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.

And still – he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.

The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God – the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.

“Bullshit,” he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. “I asked, didn’t I? Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You groan. “I just…I wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when I’m home for the weekend.”

He laughs. “He rope you into that one too, huh?”

“Sure did.” You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.

“I got nothing to complain about,” you tell Joel, “I know that. This job is…it’s right where I want to be. Just – sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. It’s like life was simpler then.”

Joel chokes. “I guarantee you,” he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, “life was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.”

He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.

You sure as hell miss it more than your own.

“Lemme see…” Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. “What’s next weekend look like for you?”

You shrug. “My weekend off.”

“Nothing planned?”

“Nothing yet.”

He nods. “I’m meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, then…”

His eyebrows lift.

So do yours. “Then…?”

“I can look at flights,” Joel says, “get you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe – or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, it’s both at once.

He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friend’s back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.

He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.

You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. “I ever tell you how much I love you?”

He smiles. “Not half as much as I love you.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”

The laundromat door flings open.

Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. “Are you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?”

She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you whisper, heaving to your feet. “Better go get my panties.”

“Why?” Joel’s making his way back outside. “Ain’t like you’re gonna need ‘em.”

You scoff. “Talk later, cowboy.”

Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.

The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.

When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

And nearer, until he’s reaching out. He’s close enough that his hands land on your waist, and it’s the first time in three months that you’ve felt this weight – his weight, the way only he feels – all around you.

Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.

“Hi, honey.”

You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. “Hi,” you exhale.

Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Good.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect, now.”

“You look perfect,” Joel grins, “Look like the sun.”

And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesn’t look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dad’s best friend’s arm.

But that’s not what he’s saying, is it?

You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden – just like the sun.

These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, you’ve spent the better part of a year polishing off – electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.

And the other – slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.

There’s a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joel’s arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind – even just for this weekend.

“Come on,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. “Let’s get you home.”

And there never seemed like a better idea than that.

He keeps your things in his shower caddy.

Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until it’s just right.

“The strawberry stuff…?” Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.

You gasp. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head. “Like it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.”

“Makes a change from wood trimmings,” you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.

Joel glares over his shoulder. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, and step into the cubicle.

The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joel’s ensuite.

He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.

“Soap, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping it in your palm.

You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. “Easy, darlin’. Dancing with the devil here.”

It burns low in your stomach.

You pass him the bar back. “Maybe I want to dance,” you murmur. “Maybe he does, too.”

His eyebrows lift. “Maybe he does,” he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.

The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.

His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.

Hungry. Starved, even.

Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.

And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.

You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.

“Dance with me,” you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.

Joel’s gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, “I told someone we’d be somewhere.”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “We’re running late. Something’s come up.”

His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. He’s the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.

He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.

Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. He’s hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.

He’s addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse –

You break him open. You make him weak.

Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.

“Missed you,” he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. “Ain’t gonna last long, are you?”

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. “We got all weekend. Just – just fuck me.”

He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.

Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, whimpering into his chest.

“’s alright,” he kisses your neck, “Just take it nice ‘n slow. Get her used to me again, baby.”

He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.

He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.

Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts – but you don’t want to let him go.

“Stay,” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. “Stay inside me.”

He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here.”

His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.

And then he’s moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear – how good you’re taking him, how tight she is. How much he’s missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.

“Made for me, huh?” Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.

The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.

Him.

Because none of them are him.

They don’t make you laugh and they don’t make you come. They don’t see you, don’t hang on your every word. They don’t – they can’t break your world apart and paint it something new. They don’t know your every move, don’t understand the most fleeting glances.

You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until you’re quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.

He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.

“I’m close, baby,” he grits, “’m so close.”

You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.

Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.

Joel laughs. “Dangerous little game, darlin’.”

But he’s fading. He’s falling under, same as you are.

You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him – that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.

“Stay – inside,” you plead. “I want you to – want it so bad.”

“Keep begging, honey. Sound so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Joel,” it’s getting harder to hold, “Just wanna feel you in me –”

“I know, I know,” he shushes.

You tense in his arms, gasping. “I’m gonna – come –”

“So,” Joel smirks, “come.”

And it snaps.

You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.

He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.

You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.

He hears you, though.

He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. “Shh, shh,” lips to your temple, “’s my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.”

You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.

He kisses the tips of your fingers. “I love you,” he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. “Love you more ‘n anything.”

You giggle. “You’re tickling me.”

Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. “Can’t get enough of you,” his tongue swipes across your hot skin, “Swear to God, baby, you’re killing me.”

“Joel,” your head falls back with a clap of laughter, “Joel, stop – oh, my God, you have to stop, please – Joel!”

He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldn’t be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.

“Here,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.

You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. “Missed you,” you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.

He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. “Missed you more,” he says.

His semen drips between your legs. He’s softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets that’ll need changed before you sleep tonight. You’re tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him – and it’s all so perfect.

Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.

It’s fucking perfect.

“What are we running late for?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.

“You said we had somewhere to be,” you clarify.

“Oh,” he winces, “Uh, your dad’s. He’s havin’ us for dinner.”

“Oh,” you echo. “When is he expecting –?”

He glances at the clock. “Half hour ago.”

“Nice.” You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. “Well, this is about to be awkward.”

Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesn’t scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.

When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.

“You said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.”

The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.

You’re horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joel’s lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it weren’t for your dad’s riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, you’d probably be asleep.

“Ride-on,” he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. “Whole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says he’s half a mind to make an investment himself.”

Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. “Sounds like a good buy,” he placates.

Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then – with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.

“How’s work, kiddo? Still rockin’ ‘n rollin’?”

Your eyes flash across Joel’s. The hell does that even mean?

The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.

“Yep,” you lie. “Living the dream, Dad.”

Joel says nothing. He hasn’t told your dad why you came home – hasn’t even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.

He hasn’t even brought it up with you yet. Granted, you’ve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place – but he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

This weekend doesn’t have to be about work. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadn’t seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.

It’s what you’ve always loved so much about Joel. It’s what reeled you into him in the first place.

He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows you’ll figure it out – you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.

Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “What’s on the cards this weekend, then?”

“Joel’s down San Antonio way tomorrow,” you yawn, “Some supplier meeting.”

“You don’t feel like a road trip?”

Your eyes roll to Joel. He’s already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.

His shoulder rolls in a shrug. “Your call, chief,” he says, tipping his drink to you.

The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew you’d be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.

That – and you’ve missed Joel’s front-seat singing.

It doesn’t matter what you planned on doing – rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dad’s trees and cleaning his guttering.

As long as you’re doing it with Joel, it’s enough.

It’s what you came home for in the first place.

The drive passes quickly enough. Joel’s truck doesn’t have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLean’s American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.

He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.

“Listen, listen to this,” Joel says, slotting it in the tray. “Found it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when I’m drivin’ to work.”

Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. “Welcome to my presentation –” she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. “Huh?” Sarah asks.

“You’re holdin’ the mic too close,” Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. “Farther. Farther,” he says, and then – “Alright. Go.”

“Welcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,” she resumes, clearing her throat. “She…Oh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell ‘em my name.”

Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. “Tommy said he’s gonna make her a copy for her birthday,” he says.

“Oh, my God. She’s gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?”

He nods. “I’m countin’ on it.”

Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.

You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.

He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. “You okay over there?”

“I’m more tired than I was when I landed,” you reply, and he laughs.

You haven’t had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joel’s bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.

He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.

Fuck it, right? You’ll miss him when you’re gone. When all that’s left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.

An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all that’s waiting for you when you make it back to Joel’s tonight.

A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, you’re pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out – a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.

Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. “You comin’?”

You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. “Maybe I’ll stay out here and wait. It’s a nice night, and you ain’t gonna be too long, right?”

He shakes his head. “Be as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?”

You shuffle into his embrace. “Promise.”

He kisses your head and steps back. “Here,” he slips the flannel from his shoulders, “If you’re sittin’ out. Got my phone if you need me.”

He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailer’s side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joel’s shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.

The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. She’s still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.

The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. There’s always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Sal’s store, more than Rita’s cross stitch.

You chased that more halfway across the country – only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.

Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.

He’s all the more you could ever need.

You’re still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.

He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.

“Hi,” he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.

“Hi.”

He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. “Home time, sweet girl.”

You glance over your shoulder.

This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joel’s flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. You’ll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.

You’ll miss it the way you’ll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Can we go watch the sunset somewhere?”

Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.

“Get in,” he pulls you down, “I know just the spot.”

It’s almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.

A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarah’s CD.

The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the day’s blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though you’re the only two in the world.

Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. “How you feelin’?” he asks, looking out to the skyline.

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter. “This has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t.”

“No?” you suckle on the sweet fruit, “I think you’d fit right in.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He shakes his head, pinching your chin. “Naw, LA is yours. It’s something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really do…”

He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. He’s hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, there’s a glimmer along his waterline.

“…But the way I feel any time you call, and I know…I know you’re out there doin’ something you actually give a shit about. You ain’t stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.”

He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.

It’s infuriating, how right he always is. You’re working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price you’re both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream you’ve ever had.

But –

“What if it keeps getting harder?” you sniff, “What if I need you more?”

Joel clicks his teeth. “’s always gonna get harder. That’s life, darlin’. But the hard times won’t last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you can’t do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.”

You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about –”

“Baby.” He sighs. “I’m old. I’ve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know you’re gonna be callin’ at eight o’clock – it’s all I can think about. I’m at work checking my watch every five minutes.”

You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.

“It’s true,” Joel snickers, “I’m like a goddamn teenager. That’s what you do to me.”

He catches you and pulls you against his chest.

“What I’m saying is – there ain’t nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean – you?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.

“You call,” he says, resolute, “and I’ll be there.”

“I’m calling,” you whisper. “I’m always calling.”

“Then I’m always here.”

You sit back, bracing yourself on Joel’s thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know, one day,” you tell him, “you’re gonna get a call, and it’s not just gonna be for the weekend.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“One day, I’m gonna come home forever, Joel.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I’ll be on the front porch waitin’.”

[god-has-entered-my-body]

What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity” 

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it. 

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud. 

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead. 

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight. 

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were. 

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather. 

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you. 

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him. 

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events. 

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand. 

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that. 

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now. 

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt 

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice. 

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while. 

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger. 

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.  

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features. 

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair. 

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering. 

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.  

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement  makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time 

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit. 

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head. 

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight. 

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird. 

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime. 

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.  

It's Mattys' turn on the music. 

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much. 

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good. 

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water. 

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck. 

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that. 

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11” 

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends” 

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point. 

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good. 

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then. 

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.  

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.  

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world. 

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after. 

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.   

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back. 

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know” 

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman. 

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you. 

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff. 

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink. 

Cue eye roll. 

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you. 

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on. 

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head. 

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.  

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.  

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric. 

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed. 

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?” 

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,” 

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,” 

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit. 

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice. 

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him. 

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.   

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.  

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home. 

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them. 

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you. 

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat. 

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave. 

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now. 

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults. 

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over. 

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty. 

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder. 

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants. 

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at. 

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look. 

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”  

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans. 

“Fancy a spliff?” 

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?” 

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right. 

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him. 

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot. 

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it. 

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself. 

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed. 

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows. 

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face 

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past. 

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart. 

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach. 

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty. 

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off. 

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time. 

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss. 

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola. 

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now. 

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air. 

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys. 

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever. 

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze. 

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking. 

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit. 

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in. 

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?” 

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked. 

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized. 

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already. 

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart. 

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue. 

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?    

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door. 

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded. 

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other. 

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much. 

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly 

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face. 

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl” 

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it. 

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think. 

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.” 

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous. 

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut. 

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths. 

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness”  Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look. 

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.” 

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it. 

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting. 

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack). 

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

You always dreaded coming home. 

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice. 

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can. 

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.    

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation. 

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder. 

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you. 

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.  

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter. 

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers. 

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now. 

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.   

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.  

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat. 

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.  

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff  

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered. 

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back. 

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx. 

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George 

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music. 

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk. 

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used. 

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.  

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face. 

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate. 

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.  

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye. 

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.”  A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty. 

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder. 

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex. 

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ. 

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe. 

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right. 

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick. 

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs. 

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours. 

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you. 

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them 

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus. 

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials. 

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!” 

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again. 

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious. 

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.” 

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him??? 

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space. 

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get. 

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.  

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa. 

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you. 

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him. 

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table. 

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car. 

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself. 

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.  

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.    

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back. 

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him. 

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum. 

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection. 

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face. 

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there. 

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams. 

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way. 

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you. 

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost. 

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon. 

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face. 

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,” 

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ. 

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city. 

Fuck. 

[samiwife]

Lipstick Stains ੈ✩‧₊˚ (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

A/N: Hey! Hope everyone is doing okay! This is a fluff oneshot of Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe! He's such a cutie. Hope you guys enjoy it! <3

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

You have always worn makeup. You felt more confident with it. You would always go to the makeup store with Nikki. Nikki would try his best not to complain. You loved it when Nikki was slightly embarrassed when he went into overly girly stores with you. He would blush uncontrollably and try to look away at things like lingerie and lipsticks. One day, one of your favorite makeup lines released a new lipstick color and you wanted to get it. But, you didn't want to go alone. So you asked your boyfriend Nikki. You walked into the office where he was working on his bass guitar. He was sitting on his sofa. You walked in and sat in his lap.

"Nikki, can you do me a favor?" You sweetly asked so he could say yes. Nikki is always a sucker for you being all flirty and cute. It was his weakness. "What is it, babe?" Nikki asked back while kissing your neck. You smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "There's a new release for my favorite lipstick brand, I was wondering if you want to come with me to pick it up." You asked with your arms wrapped around his neck. Nikki rolled his eyes jokingly and sighed. "Baby, you know I get all embarrassed when you drag me along to every girly store you go to," Nikki said with a pout. You frowned and looked down. Nikki sighed. "Okay fine, I'll go with you but we have to get food at the mall because I'm hungry," Nikki said while standing up wrapping his arms around your waist, and hugging you. You cheer in happiness because you loved it when you took Nikki out anywhere. You two got ready and drove to the mall. While in the car, you two listened to Keith Richards and Black Sabbath.

"So what color are you going to get anyway?" Nikki asked you while still keeping his eyes on the road. "I was thinking of just looking like I always do. Maybe I'll test some colors too," you answered. Nikki rolled his eyes jokingly because he knew you would spend hours in makeup stores trying to find the right color that you might buy. "C'mon don't be like that, I'll pay for lunch," you said to Nikki. He smiled. "You better," Nikki said while parking while parking the car. You laughed and the two of you walked into the mall.

After a few minutes of walking, You finally found the makeup store you were looking for. You walked in with Nikki. The greeter stared at the both of you. Nikki looked a little intimidating. He had black messy hair and wore lots of leather. So people often stare at the two of you. You quickly walked to the lipstick section where the different colors were displayed, You tried on the first color you saw which was a pinkish purple color. Nikki was just standing there minding his own business in his own thoughts. "Hey Nikki, how does this look?" you asked while turning to him. He looks over.

"Baby, you look good in any color," Nikki said while smiling. You frowned at his answer, you wanted a realistic answer. Then an idea popped into your head. You leaned over to Nikki's face and kissed his cheek. You pulled away and saw a big pinkish-purple kiss stain. You laughed at the color and the fact it's going to stain. Nikki looked at it in the mirror. He blushed and smiled. "I love this color, it looks great on me!" Nikki said. You used one of the makeup wipes on the counter and moved on to the next color. This time the color was a reddish pink. It was a completely different color from the previous color you tried on. You tried it on and kissed Nikki on his other cheek.

Again, it left a stain. You saw Nikki was enjoying this. He was being kissed by his girlfriend and getting lunch afterward. It was his lucky day. This would happen a few more times. It was just you wiping off the color of the previous lipstick, trying on a new one, and then kissing Nikki's face to test it out a different. You did it multiple times and now Nikki's face was covered in kiss marks from you. You laughed at the end product. Nikki never took any makeup wipes to clean it. In fact, he liked the fact that he had a bunch of kisses on his face. "Do you want a makeup wipe to clean it?" you asked while handing him a makeup wipe. Nikki laughed and shook his head. "No, I love this new look. Makes people know I'm yours." Nikki said while smiling and holding your hand. You blushed and wiped the remaining lipstick off your lips.

"Okay, I finally made my decision on what color I'm going to get." You said while holding a stick of glittery pink lipstick. Nikki looked at it and smiled. "That's a pretty color on you, but to be fair every color looks great on you," Nikki said while the two of you walked to the front of the makeup store. At the front of the store, the lady rings you up. The lady looks up and chuckles at the sight of Nikki's face. Nikki still had all the lipstick stains on his face. "Find everything okay?" the lady asks while trying to hold in her laughter. "Yeah everything was just fine," You said. Then you pulled out your purse and were about to pay for the lipstick when you felt a hand grab yours. It was Nikki. "No baby, I'll pay this time," he said while holding up his wallet. You roll your eyes and put down your purse. "No Nikki, you paid last time. I should really pay this time too." You said trying not to make a scene. "C'mon baby, please you're paying for lunch so it seems fair," Nikki said still holding up his wallet.

"Ugh fine, you can pay this once," you said while zipping up your purse. Nikki pays and the lady hands Nikki the lipstick. Nikki then hands the lipstick to you. You two walked out of the store and walked down to the food court where the two of you had lunch. This time you paid for lunch. At lunch, you ate a small bowl of pasta and Nikki had a burger and fries. During lunch, lots of people stared at you. Maybe it was because of the way Nikki dressed or the fact that he had a bunch of lipstick stains. Nevertheless, it was a good lunch. After lunch, you and Nikki walked to the car. While in the car, you tried out the new lipstick you bought. You looked at yourself in the car mirror. Before Nikki drove the car, you leaned over to him and kissed him one last time on his cheek. A pink glittery kiss mark remained. You smiled and looked at Nikki. Nikki smiled and kissed you on the lips.

"Okay, let's go home. I'm kinda getting tired," you said while looking at Nikki. Nikki smiled and turned the keys in the ignition. "Alright, then we can go home baby," Nikki said as he held out his hand for you to hold. You grabbed his hand and for the rest of the ride home, you two listened to your favorite songs.

[urnothere12]

I NEED me some angst so can you do tommy lee x fem reader arguing plaesssssssss

Hiiii I’m sorry it’s late but here it is hope you enjoy it 💋💋

Dinner Argument

Words: 303

Warnings: *angst* *fluff* *cussing*

You and Tommy are amid a nasty argument that all started over a small setback to your guys’ plans for going out to dinner. You and Tommy are mad at each other. You guys are arguing over a dinner reservation and you both failed to clear your misunderstandings.

“Fuck you Tommy your an asshole!” You yell at him. 

“Well, it's not my fault that you fucking forgot what time we were supposed to go” Tommy argues/

“I wish you were more responsible. Tommy your such a kid!” You yell.

You decide to stop talking to Tommy and walk to the bedroom. You slam the bedroom door shut.

“Don't you dare slam the goddamn door again Y/N!”

“You are not my parents Tommy! You out of all people don't get to tell me what to do!” Your yelling is muffled by the bedroom door being shut.

Tommy feels very hurt after you said that but he ignores your words. 

“Whatever, Y/N enjoy being alone!” Tommy says as he grabs his car keys.

Tommy starts to walk out the door and he unlocks his car and he drives off. Tommy comes back after a couple of hours. He knocks on the bedroom door where you're lying down right now. 

“Babe,” Tommy says softly. 

“What is it, Tommy?”  You ask dryly.

He opens the bedroom door and he enters. He sits down on the edge of the bed where you're lying down.

“Babe I'm sorry,” He says softly.

“I'm sorry too Tommy I don’t know what we were thinking” you reply sounding as if you're about to cry.

“Yeah, it was a stupid small argument” Tommy smirks.

You sit up and you put your head on Tommy's shoulder. 

“How should I make it up babe?” you ask him.

“Let's just cuddle,” He says innocently.

[unknownperson246]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me? Chapter 4: Red Hair

words: 882

warnings: *angst* *fluff* *rehab* *mentions of alcohol* *mentions of drugs* *cussing* *pregnancy*

It's around 5:00 pm you're supposed to be in group meetings or group therapy to talk about why you drank and did drugs. You wake up at ease and you feel better. Your headache isn't as bad as before and it's been 27 hours since you were in rehab with your husband Nikki—or at least that's what the doctors think. You both aren't married. Nikki is your boyfriend of 7 months. Nikki interrupts your thoughts.

“Good Afternoon babe” Nikki smirks.

“Good afternoon,” You reply kind of annoyed.

“Honey Dr.Kelly was worried. She didn't see you in group therapy today. I had to tell them you were knocked out.” Nikki says. 

“Good” you respond to Nikki's words.

“Dr.Kelly said you have to show up as soon as you wake up.”

“Tell her I don't want to” You respond to Nikki’s words.

“Honey, you're not going to get better if you don't at least try,” Nikki says gently.

“Nikki I am fucking trying I have been trying this whole time for all three of us. Fuck I hate this I am trying I will go but I feel sick right now so please just stop.” You lash out from your hormones. 

A couple of minutes pass by and you feel bad for yelling at Nikki. You find that you aren't sick as much anymore. You are feeling a bit achy from being pregnant. You spot Nikki talking to Dr. Kelly. After he's done talking to her you go up to him.

“Nikki I am sorry for being pissed earlier. I don't know what happened but I promise I will try for our little family.” You say holding Nikki's hands.

Nikki is still mad but he decides to forgive you knowing you are in a vulnerable position right now.

“Babe, just try to be more relaxed. It's not good for you right now, especially with everything going on. You will over-exert yourself emotionally and physically.” He looks at you with gentle eyes while he cups your face with his hands with his tender touch. You love how his warm hands feel against your flushed face. It's the only thing that is comforting you in this frightful time.

“Nikki, I will try to be more careful.” You respond softly.

“Nikki, what were you talking to Dr. Kelly about?” You ask out of curiosity.

“Your little outburst,” Nikki says quietly.

“She said it was normal for what you are going through,” He says wording it carefully so he does not offend you.

It's now 5:20  you realize that you need to try hard to fix all of the things you've done. You need to be better and healthy for Nikki and your unborn daughter.

“Okay, I am going to get ready for the group meeting. I need to change my clothes and fix my hair.” You smile softly while looking into his softened eyes. 

Nikki watches you as you change into a black V-neck that flawlessly grasps your body. He saw you pull up your Juicy Couture jeans that surprisingly still fit you. He is praising your body and how beautiful you are while carrying his baby. He is amazed at how you could do it. You're in rehab and going through detox while doing something that was already so exhausting. You were making a whole other human inside of you and that takes up so much energy physically and mentally. He appreciates you and is fascinated by you.  He watched you play with your hair and brush through your dark brown locks that had platinum strikes. 

You walk out of your room with Nikki and you just notice that Nikki has eyebrow piercings and strokes of red in his jet-black hair. 

“Nikki, when did you get the eyebrow piercings and red hair?.” You ask randomly.

“Y/N I’ve had the piercings for 3 months.” He is genuinely concerned.

You realize you were always so strung out and drunk that you never noticed the small things about your boyfriend. 

“Oh, Nikki I'm so sorry I'm so sorry god damn it” You sob. Your hormones and overwhelming emotions were getting to you.

Nikki wraps his tattooed covered arms on your shivering body. He holds you in his arms tenderly. You feel his warm body up against you and you never want him to let you go. He pets your neatly brushed hair.

“Baby it’s okay You are safe,” Nikki says quietly.

“Ughhh I hate this. I am sorry for not noticing anything. I was always too high or drunk to have any feelings or observe anything. I hated that. I hated that I never felt; it feels so different now that I can feel and observe. I feel so connected to you and our baby right now. It feels so different but it's a good difference” You sob as you're on a plethora of how you feel now that you're on your way to being clean of any substances.

“Hey, it's okay you got out of it before it was too late. You have made an effort to get better for all three of us. You're going to be okay now, just focus on me and our daughter and you will be better in no time.” Nikki says gently while still clinging to you.

[ghostbustting]

𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Want to know more about my fics? read these ↓

🕷: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭?

꩜ Guns N’ Roses

꩜ Metallica

꩜ Megadeth

꩜ Mötley Crüe

꩜ Etc. (Read the second point below)

🐙: 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬! (𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝)

𖹭 Requests: Always open !! Though, at some points, I will take breaks from answering, especially when I have a very full schedule, which happens a lot. But feel free to leave a req anytime anyday, I will find time to do them asap <3

𖹭 Not On The List: If your desired rockstar isn’t on the list, don’t worry, just send me the request and I’ll see if I can manage! :))

𖹭 What I’ll Be Willing To Write: Fluff, Smuts, Angst, anything in the general fanfic world.

𖹭 What I’ll Reject: Anything that I’m either uncomfortable with or do not understand well, I apologize in advance for this limitation :-(, I do accept most of the kinky stuffs though!

P.S Feel free to message me if you’re interested in becoming moots !! Toodles~ ദ്ദി(*＾3＾)

[da-rulah]

For the lyric game…

I know you said a Papa or Ghoul, but would you make an exception for Mary Goore? 👉🏻👈🏻 Our beloved corpse needs some more loving lol. The song I had in mind was Merry-Go-Round by Mötley Crüe with the line: 🎶She waits at home just to love him through the night, thinking, he’s been gone so long now. Is he coming home?🎶 Can be both NSFW or SFW 😉

Oh, of course I can make an exception for our dear sweet Mary Goore... 😈

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm feeling some angst. No one fits angst quite as well as Mary, hm? Just something about it works. So I apologise if this isn't what you wanted, but this is what came into my mind...

NSFW 18+, MDNI! Mary Goore x gn!reader TW: Angst, jealousy, accusations of infidelity, domestic arguments, insecurity, angry sex, hate fucking, penetrative sex, manhandling, slight pain kink.

You stared at your phone screen, watching as if anything were going to change yet knowing it wouldn't. But you hoped; you always hoped.

"Read 19:09"

Those three little dots never appeared. No new messages. It had been hours... His set would have finished around 11, so why, at 2:47am were you still sat up, waiting for him to so much as text you back.

You were getting tired of this. The "I'll be home before 2" promises, or the "I was just grabbing a drink after the show" excuses. Each one fell short, and he avoided the topic. All you'd text him was a simple "Hope the show goes well, baby. Kill it!" and yet, nothing. He used to reply right away, even if just with an emoji when he was busy or pushed for time.

But lately, with the late nights and the ignored texts, you were beginning to wonder if there was something he was hiding. He never had a good reason for his late returns, just that he was "networking" or "having drinks with the guys". And when he did finally show, he'd just crawl into bed beside you without a word, and fall asleep while you waited for something; even just an arm draped over your waist, a kiss to the forehead.

There was only one thing circling your mind; Mary was sleeping around.

When you heard the lock of the front door click open, your heart dropped into your stomach. All night you planned what to say, how to approach this. You wanted to be strong, but the second you were confronted with the reality of Mary coming home, you backed out, and words failed you.

Sat in the dark, Mary didn't notice you at first. Being a small studio apartment, he never turned the lights on when he came in, knowing they'd wake you - which he never wanted to do. So you heard him tiptoe into the apartment, setting his guitar case down and start to make his way over to the bathroom to wash the face paints and fake blood from his face.

Before he made it there, you quietly popped a cigarette between your lips and sparked a lighter to light it. The sudden noise and flash of light halted Mary in his tracks, startling him.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, babe... Scared the shit outta me!" he laughed clutching his heart over his cut-off t-shirt. You said nothing, not bothering to turn in his direction and instead taking a drag and letting the smoke billow into the glow of street lamps streaming through the windows.

Mary stood confused for a second, his eyes adjusting to your form on the couch and waiting for you to say something else, maybe ask about the show or something. But nothing. You just took another long, deliberate drag of your cigarette, staring straight ahead.

He knew you were pissed. And if he was being honest with himself, he knew why, too. He sighed to himself and trundled over to the couch, clicking on the lamp on the side table before sitting in the empty spot beside you.

"I'm late again, I know..."

"Is that your apology?" you snapped back, flicking the ash fro your cigarette into a tiny ashtray on the coffee table. You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

"No... I was getting to that." his tone sounded annoyed, like he didn't appreciate the way you spoke to him. It was as if he were answering back to his mother, catching him coming back late from a party. This was far beyond that.

"Go on then. What bullshit excuse you got this time?" Any previous thoughts of diplomacy in your approach went out the window now, too pissed off to hold back.

"Jeez, so I was late. It's not a big fuckin' deal," he defended, poorly. "Where's the attitude coming from?" He sat back into the couch with a harsh slump, bouncing his knee in annoyance.

You took another drag of your cigarette, before stubbing it out in the ashtray and standing up to stomp over to the bed you shared with a mumbled, "Fuck this."

Mary's eyes followed you, watching as you angrily shed the shirt you were wearing, throwing it to the floor and rooting in your drawers for something to wear to bed. He stood up too, pushing himself from the couch and following you.

"Look I said I'm sorry," he attempted, but you spun around to face him, finally looking him in the eye.

"Actually, no you fuckin' didn't. But you 'were getting to that'. So go on, give me your sorry. We'll see if it works." Mary stared dumbly at you. This wasn't the first time you'd brought this up, but it was the first time you'd got this angry...

"The guys just wanted to get some drinks, we had a good gig. Just wanted to celebrate! I'm sorry, alright?"

You scoffed and turned back to root through your draws, trying to find a shirt that wasn't Mary's just to make a fucking point. He sighed behind you, chewing the inside of his cheek while he tried to swallow his pride.

"I should have text you," he stated plainly. You ignored him, which pissed him off more. "I will next time, I swear."

That made you spin around again, looking at him with vague disgust. "Next time? So this is just gonna keep happening, huh?"

"Drinking with my friends? Yeah, probably." His sarcasm pissed you off even more.

"Don't bullshit me, Mare... You've been doing this at every damn show, and when you come home to me, you don't even touch me!" You were yelling at him now, too hurt to let it go. "If you wanna fuck around Mary, go ahead and live that life but stop making me sit up waiting for you in the hope that you want my love instead!"

Mary was stunned, his eyebrows screwed tightly together as he stared down at you. You stood before him, rigid in your accusation and not backing down this time, angry tears in your waterline that you refused to let fall. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"...Is that what you think I've been doing?" He was livid now, offended.

"Don't fucking lie to me. Why else would you constantly get home late? Ignore my texts or calls? Climb into bed without so much as a second look my way let alone wrapping an arm around me, heaven forbid!"

"Because you're asleep, and I'm fucking tired?" he spat. You laughed, no humour in it at all. It was dry, sarcastic and venomous. You didn't believe him.

"Fuck who you want, Mare. I'm done." You started to turn away from him as the tears betrayed you, but he grabbed your wrist and span you back to face him, stepping into your personal space as rage and adrenaline pumped through his body.

"Only person I wanna fuck is you," he growled, backing you up against the open draw behind you until it slammed shut and you stumbled, the edge of the dresser hitting the bottom of your back. You'd never seen him like this, like he was possessed... His eyes were wide with anger and the threatening paints on his face did nothing to put you at ease.

"You want me to touch you, hm? All you had to do was ask..." He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss that caught you off guard for a moment, before you regained some kind of awareness and pressed both hands to his chest, pushing him off you in one hard shove. He stood there, out of breath much like you were, neither one of you knowing what to do or say now. It was as if you were in a stand-off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Unfortunately for you, it was you who made that first move.

You pounced on him, smashing your lips against his as you grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Whether it was desperation to keep him close or spite to show him exactly what he'd be missing when you walked away, you weren't sure but your reaction was visceral.

Mary quickly dove back in too, his grip on your hips pulling you close to fuse your bodies together as you violently made out with him, weaving your fingers into his hair to pull it at the roots and angle his head to where you wanted it. Before long, you were tugging at his shirt and pulling it over his head, both of you now shirtless.

Then you were pushing him, manoeuvring him towards the bed to push him back onto it with all the strength you could muster. You didn't wait for him to do anything, to say anything, reaching for his jeans to pop the button and drag them down his thighs. He kicked them off without arguing, his eyes dark and trained on you as you removed everything from the waist down and climb on top of him.

Something about this had your core stirring, arousal pooling where you needed it most, where you'd craved him for the longest time. Spite was a powerful aphrodisiac it seemed, because the only word Mary could think to describe you right now was rabid.

You used all of your body weight to push him to lay back, no care taken to go slow or build anticipation. This was hate fucking. This was furious passion, building and bubbling and boiling over uncontrollably. Both of you were powerless to stop it.

You ravaged him again, kisses so brutal you'd be feeling them for days after while your hips ground down into his exposed and already solid length beneath you. You heard him groan with pleasure, and it pissed you off, spurring you to bite on his lip until he grunted in pain. His hands gripped your ass in fistfuls, nails digging into the supple flesh and he pushed and pulled to grind you harder against him.

By the time you were ready to take him inside you, he was leaking precum profusely from his tip. It only aided you in lining him up, and sinking down until he was fully sheathed inside you. You took him slowly, teasing him but frankly you were in no mood for slow and steady.

You set a savage pace, riding him while your hands held him down. Your own nails dug into his shoulders as you cried out in both pain and pleasure, a delicious mix that fuelled the pair of you.

"Oh, fuck baby, just like that..." he groaned, not expecting you to slap his chest to force his eyes back on you.

"Shut the fuck up," you roared, only riding him faster, harder. All those jealous emotions, all that bottled up insecurity was coming out now and he was letting you take it out on him. If he'd known you had this in you, he might have pissed you off a lot sooner.

But Mary couldn't let that mouth of yours slide, he couldn't let you win. He had as much to lose tonight as you did, whether that was his fault or not. And he was very aware it was his fault.

Using the adrenaline that pumped through him, he lifted you off him, forcing your off to the unoccupied side of the bed so you faceplanted in the sheets. This move was too unexpected, and before you could recover and fight back for control he was already on top of you, pinning your wrists behind your back and contorting you to raise your hips up and have you on your knees, face still buried in the sheets beneath you. He wasted no time in lining himself back up to your entrance, and pushing back in to find his own vicious rhythm.

You wanted to fight back, but you couldn't. The pleasure was building to a point of no return and you wanted to cum more than you wanted to control him. This is what you'd missed, if you were honest with yourself. When you'd first started dating Mary the sex was hot, freaky, a little weird... It was unlike anything else. And then you both got complacent, too comfortable and taking each other for granted and now here you were, after weeks of barely there mediocre sex. Both of you just needed a little spark to light the gasoline inside you.

Mary kept your wrists held tightly against your lower back in one hand, while the other snaked around your waist, using it to pleasure you even further.

"Come on, baby. Cum on my cock, hm? Just like you used to. Fucking squeeze me," he ordered, his hips slapping hard against your ass and filling the room with lewd noises. All you could do was cry out, to moan into the sheets and let go completely.

You barrelled towards your orgasm hard and fast, stimulated in every way possible, inside and out. The way your walls contracted around him made it difficult for him to keep up his pace, and damn near impossible to stave off his won orgasm. Too soon, he was filling you, his cock kicking inside you over and over until he was completely drained both of his spend and his energy.

He fell forwards, leaning over you as he held you tightly against him to ground himself. His mind felt hazy, he could barely think straight through the bliss and exhaustion. But he was in for a rude awakening, when he felt you heaving beneath him, silent sobs wracking your body over and over.

Stabbing him in the chest would have heart less. Seeing you so hurt, so broken was devastating to him. He panicked, removing himself from you and flipping you over with very little resistance. But what you did resist was eye contact, staring directly up at the ceiling as you slapped a hand over your mouth to contain the sobs.

"Hey... Shhh, it's okay. I'm here," he soothed, pushing strands of hair from your forehead and gently trailing his fingers along your cheek and jawline.

"I-I don't... want to... lose you," you sobbed. "Want to b-be enough... for you."

This was his fault. His neglect had led to this. You'd never been anything but doting, supporting, loving. And he wasn't sued to it. It scared him, the feelings he harboured for you. He'd never felt so intensely, never loved anyone like this before. He'd taken you for granted, been so selfish in focussing on himself and the band and not you.

Mary had never cheated on you. He never would. All he could do was try to tell you that, to show you that you were the only one he wanted.

"You're more than enough, you're too good for me. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," he cooed, pressing his forehead to yours while you cried beneath him. "I swear, there's never been anyone else. You can ask the guys, it really was just drinks with them."

You weren't sure you believed him, the insecurity so deeply rooted that talking to his bandmates might only be the start of rebuilding the trust you'd once had in him. But it was a start.

Mary lay himself down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and snuggling into your side while you let everything out. He peppered softer kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the top of your head while you held onto the arm wrapped around you for dear life. Eventually, exhaustion crept in, and you started to drift off in his arms.

He didn't let go of you all night, barely sleeping himself as he thought of all the ways he could right his wrongs, prove himself to you without it feeling insincere. Step one was to bring you to his shows, to have you around like you used to back at the start. From there, he'd work on this.

Seeing your breakdown, being so close to losing you tonight was the wake up call he'd needed to see what was at stake. He'd be damned if he let himself get complacent again.

He'd be damned if he truly lost you.

[tobybestupid]

Masterlist

★ Also, if requesting please add what gender you would like if it is for NSFW!! (Gender neutral is okay too!)

★ Btw! Please, do not spam like my posts!

★ from this point on, July 20 2024, I will STOP writing for bands. Extremely sorry but it makes me uncomfortable to be writing about real, living people. I will continue to do games however!

★last updated: September 15, 2024★

Before we get into this, info for requests and such!

★ I do nsfw, angst, fluff, ECT.

★ I do NOT allow/do racism, homophobia, rape, icky bodily fluids, anal, beastiality, etc.

★ I will do character x character, character x reader, character x character x reader!

★ hope this makes sense!!

+ if I missed anything I'm so sorry!

----------------★---------------

Bands I do

Guns n Roses

Mötley Crüe

KISS

Hanoi Rocks

Megadeth

(No longer writing bands)

Other

Call of Duty mw2-mw3

Red Dead Redemption 1-2

----------------------★-----------------------

Mötley Crüe

All of them together x reader

Mötley x reader hc's

🖤Nikki Sixx🖤

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Taking care of him after tour

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

Big ol' crybaby

Doing so good

⛓️Mick Mars⛓️

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

How to take care of him after tour

Fourth of July with mötley

Please, stay

Bubble bath- with cats?

Peachy Keen

You pampering mötley

Mick Mars x Reader injury (appendix, I think)

NSFW hc's

🌜Vince Neil🌛

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

NSFW Alphabet

❤️‍🔥Tommy Lee❤️‍🔥

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

You're still beautiful

🥀Terror Twins x Reader💣

Terror Twins x Reader hc's 1

Terror twins x Reader hc's 2

Terror Twins x reader hc's 3

Terror Twins x reader hc's 4

Terror Twins x reader hc's 5

Terror Twins x reader hc's 6

Sick!Terror Twins x reader hc's

My turn

So, so good

Cuddle..sex?

Calm down, ey?

(y'all are so hungry for Terror Twins omg...)

Hanoi Rocks

🌚Razzle🌝

Late night kisses

🕸️Sami Yaffa🕸️

NSFW Alphabet

Such a tease, huh?

KISS

💫Paul Stanley💫

Snow

Guns n Roses

🎩Slash🐍

Do you love me more?

They fell asleep with your kid

❤️Axl Rose💋

They fell asleep with your kid

Axl x Kurt Cobian sister!Reader hc's

NSFW Alphabet

Cold baby?

Bad day?

🎸Duff McKagan🎸

They fell asleep with your kid

🚬Izzy Stradlin🚬

Sick as a dog

Sweetheart

They fell asleep with your kid

🍿Steven Adler🍿

The, fell asleep with your kid

Paradise City

NSFW Alphabet

Megadeth

🍃Dave Mustaine🍃

Your not my baby

Tour rat

NSFW Alphabet

Dating Dave head cannons

Call of Duty (COD)

🦴Alex Keller🦴

Coming soon!!

🖤Simon "ghost" Riley🖤

Reader with sensory issues

💣König💣

Dating him head cannons

Roommate könig

🧼John "Soap" Mactavish🧼

Coming soon!!

🌜Farah Karim🌛

Coming soon!!

🥃John Price🥃

Coming soon!!

🦎Nikto🦎

Red Dead Redemption (2)

Coming soon!!

🦌Arthur Morgan🦌

If they were parents

🦬Charles Smith🦬

If they were parents

🃏Dutch Van Der Linde🃏

If they were parents

🐀Micah Bell🐀

If they were parents 2

🎸Javier Escuella🎸

If they were parents

🐎Kieran Duffy🐎

If they were parents 2

🐺John Marston🐺

Coming soon!!

🖤Jack Marston🖤 (1911)

If they were parents 2

🪶Eagle Flies🪶

Coming soon!!

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WELCOME TO MY BLOG

hello! my names cas or casper wtv u wanna call be honestly. i'm pretty new to nsfw tumblr writing but i love writing and i LOVE writing filthy fucking smut. i probably wont commit to multiple chapter stories but i can probably commit to au's and i'll do my best to give you decent length stories/blurbs. MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! i love getting requests and writing things for people, please read what i will and won't write and who i will and wont write for :)

BOUNDARIES who i WILL write for ; GNR (for any era of the og lineup, esp 80's-90's) ((izzy and steven are personal favorites of mine)) Mötley crüe Dave Mustaine (THE E WILL NOT STAY ORANGE HELP ME. I AM GIVING UP.) will also write member x member i love tons of bands and would try to write for them but i'm autistic and i fixate on these so i wont write for anyone else (may add more people to the list of who i can write for down the line! (PLEASE REQUEST IZZY STRADLIN I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.) what i will NOT write for ; ddlg / age play , water-sports (pisskink) , scat , no proship stuff at all , suicide , ocs , (cnc is thin ice cause it can look different to different people, will only do if explicitly asked for and given a guide on how they want it done but i wont do anything thats super hardcore) most kinks i will do but i always reserve the right to refuse requests and such. requests will get done by how much motivation i have for each I DO MALE READER TOO! as i am a male reader myself click the button that says " REQUEST / ASK! <3 " to request or ask me anything, anonymously or not.

MASTER LIST! SMUT (will mostly write smut) ANGST (not my favorite to write but if you set a good scene for me i can do it) FLUFF IN DRAFTS Izzy Stradlin pretty tied up Want a cigarette? head canons Steven Adler baking cookies headcanons Axl Rose headcanons cemetery date Slash in drafts Duff McKagen christmas headcanons Dave Mustaine in drafts Mick Mars loving it loud Vince neil in drafts Nikki Sixx in drafts

also follow the tag caspersspook to just see when i post in general if you'd like :) (includes random things, art possibly, updates on writing ect.) i am so pissed some of the coloring didnt work wtf tumblr

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Andromeda and Perseus: Destined

Chapter 1: Platform 9 3/4

Harry Potter Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Moodboards

Welcome back to Andromeda and Perseus: Destined, I am so ready to continue this crazy journey. This story will of course have lots of angst, smut, and fluffiness. Thank you guys for reading this story and trusting me💚💜

September 1st, 1991 Y/N and Mattheo’s Room, Malfoy Manor

Years passed, and things had changed for the Core Four. Each had grown and gotten their own personality; Mattheo was the fight starter (they found this out when one day the four were wandering around Diagon Alley and some kid a year younger than them pushed Mattheo. He wasn’t having it. Mattheo was also eight at the time), Draco was the dramatic one (his flair for unneeded fashion and over-the-top monologues and complaints explained that for itself), Theo turned into a shyer, studious boy only really talking much with his close friends (this only happened when his mother had died a year after the Infamous Day of Tag), and Y/N… well Y/N was stuck between fear of her father returning and acting like the perfect pure-blooded princess and turning to what the muggles called ‘punk’. So, as to say, much had changed.

Recently, the Core Four received their Hogwarts letters. Speaking of which, the twins were currently–excitedly–packing their trunks. The sounds of hushed whispers and the click-clacks of their trunks being filled to the brim with personal items and closed filled the otherwise quiet room.

The twins' room was humongous, each half of the room was completely different. Mattheo’s side was stuffed with Quidditch posters of whatever team he had deemed acceptable enough of his attention this season, a window next to his messy bed, and a half-empty walk-in closet that usually held his broom and his multitudes of fancy robes that Draco had convinced him were fashionable.

Y/N’s half of the room on the other hand was tidy to an extreme extent. Her walls were covered in posters for The Weird Sisters, The Cauldron Stirrers, and (her personal favorite, though muggle-linked) Mötley Crüe. Y/N had more memorabilia than Mattheo did, her desk and nightstand riddled (ha! See what I did there? No? Okay…) with enchanted polaroids she took with Theodore, Mattheo, and Draco (mostly with Theo). Her bed–unlike Mattheo’s–was neat and made, she also had drapes over her bed.

“Y/N/N, I swear if you don’t stop going on about how History of Magic or Ancient Runes is gonna be the most fun at Hogwarts, I will Avada myself,” the voice of little Mattheo Riddle clearly agitated at his sister’s ramblings.

“Mattheo, you clearly don’t understand the-” the younger Riddle’s voice is cut off as Draco comes barreling inside with his bursting trunk, and bleached blond hair.

“What does Matty not understand? Other than the obvious of course,” with his words he gets yells of protest from the older twin and a pillow to the face. “Just telling the facts!”

Y/N laughs at the two boys antics, “My nimrod of a brother simply cannot comprehend the sophisticality of what Hogwarts has to offer.” 

Mattheo mimics her words wordlessly and groans closing his trunk. Draco decides to speak up, “No surprises there, he couldn’t tell the difference between a werewolf and a puppy.” Again, a pillow is thrown at the blond’s face. “Again, facts… Anyways, I thought your,” Draco points to Y/N, “favorite part of leaving for Hogwarts would be seeing your best friend again.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Obviously, but the academic parts of Hogwarts can’t be ignored. Over the summer, I’ve been reading Hogwarts, A Hist-” Mattheo interrupts his little sister, rolling his eyes, “We know, you haven’t put the bloody thing down.”

The Riddle girl glares at her brother, “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted: I’ve been reading Hogwarts, A History, and it says that the enchanted paintings inside of Hogwarts have receptive and cognitive memories, meaning they remember everything from any previous year they’ve been hung and enchanted inside of the castle. And the ghosts have stories of the time even before the infamous Wizarding-Muggle War of 1408. They’ll have so much to tell from what they’ve seen.” Y/N’s eyes lit up as she talked so passionately about what she’s learned over the past summer. She was especially excited to tell a certain Italian boy what she had read.

Draco and Malfoy give each other a look at what the girl had been going on about. Out of the two boys, the latter decides to pipe up first, “Oh, yes, so very riveting. I’m sure Rita Skeeter will love to-”

“Children! Time to go,” the saccharine voice of Narcissa Malfoy calls to the children. The three eleven-year-olds beem to eachother and pick up their trunks to run down the stairs. 

As they race to the landing they come face-to-face with the motherly face of Mrs. Malfoy, and the emotionless face of Mr. Malfoy. Narcissa walks towards the children and leads them with her arms across their backs. “We’ll be apparating to the platform, darlings. Have you three got everything?” The three children nod excitedly.

Lucius’–the long-haired vulture–voice rings out, “Very well then. Let’s get going, can’t be seen when the filthy mudbloods start to show.” At this, Narcissa gave her husband a disapproving look at his choice of words.

“Everyone hold each other's hands, come now,” at her motherly voice, everyone comes together to attach to the patriarch to apparate, whether begrudgingly or not.

September 1st, 1991 Platform 9 ¾

The children all gasped at the look of the red and black train, all three in awe. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy let go of the children and turned to them. “I want you three to have the best first year at Hogwarts, you hear me,” a rare smile graced Narcissa’s face as she addressed the children, “make sure not to get into too much trouble, and take care of each other no matter where you are or who you’re with. I need you three to stay true.” Narcissa kneels down to give all three of them a much-needed hug, all accepting the form of affection.

The four of them pull away, “Do you promise me, my darling?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Of course, Cissy.”

“You know it.”

The chorus of the three children almost made the tears lining Cissa’s eyes almost threatened to spill over, “Good.” She turned to her husband and whispered, “Say goodbye to the children, Lucius.”

Lucius grunted and addressed the children, “Yes, well, enjoy the year children. Be on your best behavior.” At the words, Draco hugged his father’s legs unexpectedly. Lucius moved backward at the sudden feeling and patted his son’s back and for a split second affection seemed to come across his face. This time it was Draco’s turn to speak, “I’ll miss you, Father.” The older blond gently moved his son off of him and faintly smiled at him, “I… I’ll miss you as well, Draco.”

Draco smiled and stepped back to the smiling twins. “Well, my darlings, I guess this is goodbye for now.”

Y/N and Mattheo smile, “We’ll see you again in the summer, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Y/N/N and Theodore will keep us in check,” Mattheo’s words followed with a mischievous smirk and nudged his sister, “Isn’t that right, Y/N/N.”

Y/N scoffs at her brother’s words, “I just hope you and Draco won’t need to be kept in check. Maybe with Harry Potter in our year it’ll give you some incentive to do so.” At her words, the infamous Riddle smirk comes through.

“Right, you are, dear Y/N/N. Now, off you go. You must be so excited, I know I was,” the motherly Malfoy chuckles and prompts the children, “Go on and have fun, be safe!”

“Farewell, children. We will see you again at Christmas,” with the words of the long-haired Malfoy, he and Narcissa apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

“Alright, cousins, let’s go find a nice spot on the train,” with Draco’s beckoning the twins followed. All three turned, following Draco to get on the train. Once inside, they start walking through the overflowing paths through the train car. Amidst the crowd of students on the train, a mop of brown curls stands out to the younger Riddle twin,

“Teddy!”

...Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter... ——————————————————————————-

Yes! The second (technically first) chapter of Andromeda and Perseus: Destined is up! I'm so hyped!

Also, I'm sorry that I got this out a little late, I know I said I would be updating every Sunday, but my Tumblr drafts on mobile stopped working so that was really shitty. But, I did get it out nonetheless, so I call that a win. Also, I had robotics comp yesterday and we fucked up majorly, especially in software (which is what I am), and I was pretty pissed about that.

Anyway, here is chapter one of Andromeda and Perseus: Destined! I hope you enjoy it, and please send feedback🙏. I love you all!!!💚💜

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