#a roadie's work is never done

[cherryrockpops]

Come Together, Samurai

[captain-huggy-bear]

Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You're shoving rolls of socks and various coloured and patterned ties into his roadie bag when he finds you. Ties that he's never seen before, socks that he knows weren't anywhere near his roadie bag. There's a sort of intent, focused look on your face like this has a level of importance that he couldn't possibly understand.

"Baby, what are you doing?" You look up briefly, only enough to see him leaning against the door frame, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hood of his hoodie thrown up over his head. No fucking socks. Like that man has an aversion to them...which is fine, you tell yourself, it's fine in the house, it's fine on a beach, it's not fine in his goddamn shoes when he's wearing a suit.

"Your packing."

"I'm already packed..." He's certain he got everything done, his suit is hanging up ready to go in its dry cleaning bag, his toiletries the only things left to collect in the morning.

"Clay, 1 tie and no socks is not packing." You roll your eyes at him and it's in that moment that he fully grasps that you're annoyed about it, that somehow his singular tie has irritated you. You, who put up with the long weeks away, the late nights, the schedule that interferes with family events and plans.

"Why do I need more than 1 tie?"

"Because variety is the spice of life and if I see one more picture of you in the same grey suit with the same blue tie I am going to burn that tie." You have such a tight grip on the blue tie in question that Clay briefly wonders if you'll burn it anyway, a level of animosity for a piece of clothing he's never seen before.

"Okay, okay, fine...multiple ties, baby, but the socks?" He's closing the gap between you, pocking at the pile of socks you've put in his bag, more than enough, maybe even too many for the 5 game roadie he's going on.

"You need to wear socks with a suit, I swear to God, Clayton" You snatch back a pair of socks he's pulled from the bag, shoving them back into place like he might be undoing all your hard work.

"Why?" He feels a little stupid asking, like a little boy, but he doesn't get it. Plenty of the guys don't wear socks when they wear a suit, they're wearing sneakers most of the time, it's not really a necessity. Just more things to take on a trip when he wanted to take the bare minimum.

"Clay, it's just...you just have to." You don't know how to explain that socks were just something you wore with a suit, that his ankles needed to be covered. Mostly because you felt like you were starting to sound like a Victorian gentleman obsessed with someone's ankles.

"But..." He stops at the way you breathe out a big sigh. He can tell you're trying to not be irrationally irritated or angry, that you're trying to explain and make him understand why it bothers you without being rude about it.

"Clay, do you want to marry me one day?"

"Of course I do, baby." He's reaching for you like the question itself draws him to you, to hold you, to be reassured that you're still there with him. Clay's hands falling to your hips as he rounds the bed, fingers pressing into you to make sure you're not going anywhere.

"Then you need to wear socks with your suits because if I turn up at that aisle and you're not? I'm rescheduling." Your tone is lighter now, more joking and it eases some of the tension in his shoulders as he starts to form a smile. Socks seeming like a small price to pay for you.

"Not running to Tasmania or something?"

"No, rescheduling until you put on some socks." You're joking, but you also mean it. You can't explain why it matters so much that he wears socks with his suits, just that it does...a little detail that feels like it's vital even though in reality it's really not.

"Okay...socks with the suit, got it."

"I'm doing this because I love you."

He sighs heavily even as he's grinning down at you and the way you wrap your arms around his neck, "I love you too, baby."

[sweetdispatch]

Song 1 - Q. Hughes

My Muse | Prologue pairing: Quinn Hughes x singer!reader summary: After spending a couple months with Quinn, you felt the need to confess what you feel in a song, you showed this song to Quinn and things became weird between you two warning: none taglist: @bunbunbl0gs

It’s been two weeks since you met Quinn. He was an incredible friend and you enjoyed spending time with him. You weren’t scared that he might use you because of your position because he was as famous as you were. That’s why everything between you two was going smoothly. You were delighted to know him.

This one coffee in the park turned into another and just like that, you’ve been seeing each other every single time when Quinn had a day off. Your calendar is currently free because you said to your industry that you need a break to create something you’ll be proud of. That meant that you had more time for hanging out with Quinn. 

To your surprise, Quinn visited you after a game. He had never done it before so you were shocked to see him at your door. You welcomed him inside and immediately he plumped on your couch. You could tell that he was frustrated with the game and let him talk about it. You were listening to his every word very carefully. Never interrupted him, you wanted him to feel listened to. 

It became your routine. Seeing Quinn during his free days and him visiting you after games or roadies. You enjoyed that he felt safe with you to turn up at your place and tell you about his frustration or celebrate with you. This was inspirational for you. You could see the world from a different perspective than your own. 

When you became famous, your biggest worry was losing your voice. You were rich enough  to never care about the money again and capable of living without counting every penny at the end of the month. Quinn was lucky to have hockey as a work but since he was a captain, he had a lot on his plate. That’s why it was good for you to learn how it is and be more humble and grateful. 

Weeks went by and you became attached to Quinn. You couldn’t survive a day without talking with him. It was natural that you were waking up to messages from him and going to sleep while talking on facetime with him. You were slowly falling for him but kept that to yourself. You didn’t want to tell this to anyone because knowing your friends, they’ll try to convince you to talk with him. 

That’s why you decided to sit down and write about it. It was harmless and if anyone would ask you about the meaning, you can lie that it’s about no one. You just felt the need to tell your feelings somewhere and writing songs was your escape from facing any uncomfortable situations. You deleted the previous lyrics you wrote when you met Quinn and from now on, you decided to write new things. 

Is it mutual if I kiss your lips?

This is where you started. You always looked at his lips. They were so kissable and big. You were convinced in your head that Quinn is a great kisser. You desperately wanted to kiss him and taste him but you were only friends. That would be weird if you would kiss him. You were wondering if he’s having similar feelings to you. You could feel the tension between you two but never said a word, thinking that he’s just polite. By that, you came up with another lyric. 

Is there a spark for us

Or is it just purely platonic?

Quinn’ touch was electric. Your head was always spiralling when he was touching you. He was the best hug giver and you just loved the feeling of your and his body close to each other. When you two were sitting alone in your or his place, many times his hand touched your thigh. You always had a blush when this happened. You’ve never been sure if he’s doing this on purpose or accidentally. 

Many times, especially after tough games, Quinn was lying on your legs and you were playing with his hair. You were always conforming to him by caressing his arm. There was a spark in the touch but you weren’t sure if this meant anything. It was soft, never sexual. But you could feel that he’s relaxed under your touch. Like it was his medicine. While writing, you were wondering what it meant for him. In chorus, you decided to be direct. 

Falling for a friend

Falling for a friend

Baby, don’t pretend 

That you don’t feel it too

I know you do 

The first two lines were true. You were falling for a friend. Maybe you didn’t know Quinn long because it’s been just two months but for you, he was your friend. Even one of your closest friends. He was always there for you and you were for him. You didn’t have many problems in the time you know him, but you were confident that if you would ask him for help, he would drop everything to help you as much as he can. 

The next part was more your delusion. You really wanted Quinn to stop pretending that he also doesn’t have feelings for you but in reality, you didn’t know it. He might just be friendly with you and since he’s single, he acts like that but you prefer to have your own version. You wanted to believe that you two have a future together as a couple and not just friends. 

It was your manifestation that Quinn is also falling for you. You sat another hour finishing the lyrics. When you finished writing, you could already picture the aesthetic and vibe of this song. You called your manager and said that you’re ready to record this song. You were happy with this and desperately needed to make it. 

For the next two days, you were working in the studio to finish this song. After it was finally over, you listened to the full version and you were smiling widely. You already created how you want your next album to look like. You wanted to make it a journey. Your and Quinn’ journey. You didn’t know how this would go but this was how you wanted to make it. 

You didn’t want to release this song, after talking with your manager you two decided that it’s the best if you finish the whole album and later think about which ones are gonna be singles. You weren't sure if your idea would work, that’s why you preferred to keep it quiet from fans. The last thing you wanted was to release music without a certain direction. 

This didn’t stop you from showing this song to your friends. You didn’t tell them what’s the idea or inspiration for this album but they were assuming it’s related to Quinn. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him and this song sounded like a confession but you said it’s not that deep and they’re analysing too much. They loved this song and were excited that you returned to writing and making music again. 

It took you a couple of days to show this song to Quinn. You weren’t sure if he’ll connect the dots. You didn’t tell him that he’s your inspiration, your muse, for this album. Nevertheless, you decided to play him this song when you’ll have an opportunity. It happened sooner than you expected. The next day, he showed up at your place just to hang out and forget about his worries. You two had been talking about your last days. 

“I’ve been in a studio…” Quinn turned on the couch to face you when he heard it. “And I recorded a new song” You said while smiling. 

“That’s great. Can I hear it?” Quinn asked you and you nodded. You pulled out your phone and played him the song. 

For the next three minutes you two were quiet. Quinn was listening to every word wondering about who you wrote this song. When the song was finally over, you spoke. 

“What do you think?” You were nervous of his reaction. 

“It’s good, I like it but who’s the lucky boy you are falling for” Quinn joked but in reality he was curious if this song is about him. 

You didn’t tell him about anyone in your life and Quinn wanted to be this guy you’re singing about. He really liked you but never told you about it. He didn’t want to ruin what you two have plus he didn’t want to give all the gossip blogs content to talk about. He was a private person and he wanted to stay like that. The last thing he needed was a public relationship. 

Quinn knew it’s selfish of him. He was scared that you might laugh at him when he tells you about his reasons. After hearing this song, he knew that he wanted to have you and his private side wasn’t important anymore. That’s why he needed to know if he should start getting used to being in public or just treat you as a friend. 

“Oh it’s a guy who I met a couple months ago. He’s been really good to me and we shared a lot of moments together” You told him the truth, just didn’t tell him the name, thinking that he’ll figure it out by himself. 

“Is the guy a hockey player?” Quinn knew you were talking about him. He was happy that it was him and not some other guy. 

“Yes” You said and Quinn sat closer to you. 

Quinn looked into your eyes. He could tell that you’re telling the truth. You were looking at him and desperately needed to kiss him. It was telepathic because he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. As you thought, his lips were perfect. Quinn pulled from you and smiled at you.

“I wanted to do this so badly” Quinn whispered like it was a secret.

“Me too” You smiled at him. 

After the kiss, the awkwardness creeped between you two. You and Quinn didn’t know how to act, how to react. It was something you two wanted but now, it felt wrong. Felt like you two crossed the line and there was no turn back. You wanted to say something but Quinn was first.

“I’ll go back home. I don’t want to bother you. Great song Y/N, can’t wait to listen to the next ones” Quinn stood up and left your apartment. 

You didn’t even have a chance to respond. You didn’t even know how to respond. You just accepted the fact that it might be over between you and Quinn. You didn’t regret the kiss, you were craving even more of him now. Although this whole situation turned in the direction that you didn’t predict… but also inspired you for the next song. 

Song 2

[zegrasdrysdale]

head cannons for luke hughes please if you want!! 🙂😛🥰

lh43 headcanons

fluff & smut

warning(s) : smut !!

author’s note : luke hcs have been requested twice so here we are since im home sick from work

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fluff !!

Luke isn’t the most extroverted guy but he’s never been afraid to speak his mind around you. you bring out a side in Luke that even his brothers don’t ever seen

he’s always glued to your side when you go with him to Devils events, but he introduces you to all of his teammates (other than Jack)

you’re very close with Jack since he plays with Luke, but you’re also friendly with Quinn as well even though you’re four years younger than him

you go to every Devils home game with a jersey that you borrowed stole from Luke

he’s nearly a foot taller than you so he’s always easy to spot in the crowd

movie night every Friday (when he’s around)

going to the lake house every summer since you were both 13

Luke is very touchy sometimes. he’ll usually wrap an arm around your shoulders or hold your hand or rest one of his hands on your knee / thigh when he gets a little touchy

your first kiss happens at the lake house one summer night because he gets jealous that Trevor Zegras is flirting with you and he wants you to know that you’re his

“if all it took was flirting with Z for you to kiss me then I would have done it a long time ago”

the two of you are inseparable once your relationship changes from friendly to romantic

you sleep in his bed whenever you visit the apartment he shares with Jack

and Jack always makes jokes about it, even when you were just friends. Quinn finds out and he joins Jack in teasing both of you

you’re super supportive of him as he transitions from college hockey to the NHL, even being there while he struggles during his rookie season but being proud of him when he’s nominated for the calder

he’s also super supportive of you while you finish up school (you transferred to a school in NY after he went pro)

you buy each other gifts all the time, but for his 20th birthday before his first season started, you bought him a chain with your first initial on it and he wears it for every single game. he bought you a matching necklace a few weeks later

✧��ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

nsfw / smut !!

Luke will fuck you everywhere and anywhere as long as you’re okay with it (and when he knows you won’t get caught)

bending you over the nearest surface is probably his favorite thing, but he loves when he can see your face too

morning sex before he leaves for roadies !!

shower sex when he comes back from games and needs to release some of his frustrations happen more often than not, and you don’t complain since you love his rougher side sometimes

you love his thighs so sometimes you will ride them just to get off

and Luke could get off on that alone, but he always waits until he’s inside of you before he comes

Luke loves when you beg for his cock

and when your fingers are on his curls

you make sure he knows how proud you are of him by making him feel good after a good game, whether it’s with a blowjob or riding his dick

he’s very much a giver rather than a receiver. he will go down on you until your entire body shakes. you love when he uses his fingers and his tongue at the same time

Luke isn’t a fan of using toys on you, but he doesn’t mind if you use them while he’s away

neither of you run off to hook up while visiting Luke’s parents because you’re both so afraid of one of them (or Jack or Quinn) walking in on you

but the second you get back to one of your apartments in Jersey … that’s a different story

his stamina is insane. Luke could go for multiple rounds or all night without needing sleep to recover

but he always lets you sleep after sex. he’ll take care of you, especially if you literally cannot move

as a matter of fact, luke is the king of aftercare. he’ll get you whatever you need

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HC MASTERLIST

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[sweetestcaptainhughes]

say whatever you feel,

be wherever you are

Word Count - 3k roughly

Author's Note - I felt this need to write some Jack fluff since I'm been writing a lot of Jack being a complete idiot asshole lately. Thank you always for reading

Warnings - I truly can't think any

Summary - Y/N was a very social butterfly, she was blunt and witty. Not a single person that knows her would describe her as shy. But when it came to her expressing her emotions, she was definitely more reserved. Or three times Jack shows her that it isn't scary to show how happy he is, and the one time she shows him her own happiness.

Masterlist

Growing up you were never one of those people that felt as if they could show the world their every thought on their face. Maybe it was your personality in general or how you grew up, but you never showed how you felt to the entire world around you.Some people would describe you as shy for this, but you weren’t shy you were in fact a very blunt, witty person. It’s just for whatever reason you never let anyone know how a situation unfolding in front of you made you feel. It’s almost like you were always watching everyone else somehow seeing how they were responding and then reacting. Especially when it came to showing pure happiness, this feeling of carefree happiness and being lost in the moment of it. That entire idea was foreign to you.

Jack didn’t mind that you were closed off in showing your feelings to the world. He knew that you kept that part of yourself hidden from the world. A part of him actually found it like a small victory when he was able to have you act dumb with him even if it was within the private walls of your apartment. Jack wasn’t as dumb when it came to emotions as people in the media viewed him. Everyone thought of him as someone who was just a cocky little asshole who was nothing more than a hot head on and off the ice. But that was furthest from the truth, Jack was the first boy that showed you that the little moments in life could truly be some of your happiest fondest moments. Jack learned from you that sometimes not displaying all of your cards was actually better because when you were completely emotionally raw with someone it meant so much more. Jack knew you loved him with everything you had, and he loved that he was one of the only people on Earth to truly witness you being your truly carefree self. He loved how through each time you joined him in being completely carefree and happy. He felt like he was able to learn this whole new side to you even though you’ve been dating for months at this point. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t matter where we are I’m happy with you:

Jack loved spending time with you, he actually was obsessed with spending every available second you both had free together. But due to the roadies schedule this year being insane he was about to go away for almost two weeks exactly. Since you guys started talking three months ago you haven’t spent that much time apart. The only problem was that you had a list of probably 10 ‘absolutely can’t procaste anything or my life will actually fall apart errands’ that had to get done today before your work week started tomorrow. But Jack left tomorrow morning and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. 

Jack knew that if you weren’t able to do your errands that you would probably spiral all week due to feeling behind. He also knew even though you would never admit it out loud, that you were already having anxiety about how attached Jacks’ presence you were already and how hard this first roadie would be. Thus how he came up with what he felt was his most brilliant idea in months. Luke and Quinn didn’t agree in the groupchat and called him a simp and asked how Jack became whipped so badly and quickly. Jack decided to ignore his brother’s and facetime with you to tell you his idea. You answered immediately even though you were in the middle of making sure you didn’t forget anything before leaving your place to hop in your car.

“Hi bubs, what's up? I’m in the middle of something right now.” Jack can hear the anxiety rising in your voice and can hear you being distant on the phone due to it.

“Hi baby… I have an idea.'' It's hard for Jack to hide the excitement in his voice. His smile drops a little as he hears you sigh deeply, knowing that you're probably snatching your voice a little annoyed.

“Jack, I told you I need to get all these errands done so that I’m ready for next week. Which I would have already done if you hadn’t spent the last 3 days at my place insisting we don’t need to leave the bedroom except for snacks and gatorade.” Jack can hear you continue to shuffle around in the background, probably slipping on some shoes and throwing a jacket on. 

“Yes.. which was fun but we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, that’s actually why I’m calling you, let's have a car date.” you can practically hear the smile you know is radiating off his face right now announcing his idea to you. 

“A car date?” you shyly ask.

“Yes, a car date. We can get fast food, blast the best music, and I can drive you around and we will complete all your errands. But we also get to spend time together.” Jak rumbles off his plan and you can tell that he isn’t as confident as he once was.

“okay.” you say shyly smiling at the idea. 

“Perfect. Pick you up in 10.” he rushes out as he hangs up. 

That Sunday you spend eating way too much snacks from gas stations, fast food and having your own little karotake sessions. As Jack drives you around town one hand on the wheel the other switching between your thigh and hand. He can’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he leans over and sees a small smile on your face. 

“It doesn’t matter what we're doing, I’m happy when I’m with you.” he breaths out, and you can’t help but turn back to him as you let his words sink in. Jack knew that you probably wouldn’t respond. But when he felt you give his hand a squeeze he brought it up to his mouth to give it a soft kiss. Neither of you say anything else about it, moving on to scream singing to the next song that belts out from the speakers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am happiest when your attention is on me:

Jack and you were on an impromptu date night in Manhattan, deciding that it would be nice to go to the city for the night. As you are leaving the restaurant knowing that the night is coming to an end but not wanting it to. Jack offers to go on a walk for a little bit and maybe find some dessert. Spending time walking hand in hand, you couldn’t help but have a small smile on your face. But then you felt the never ending buzz of your phone knowing that someone was obviously trying to get in contact with you. Reductively, you reach into your back pocket to grab your phone, finding about fifthteen texts in the last 3 minutes from your cousin. Apparently, she was freaking out about something that happened in the family groupchat. Naturally, you slowed your walking pace to try and read all the messages. At first Jack was fine with you being a little distracting but then when you completely stopped walking. But once you got distracted and stopped walking completely Jack tried his hardest to be patient. But Jack isn’t really known for being the most patient guy or being good at staying still for long. “Who’s on the phone baby?” at the sound of his voice, you glance up.

“Oh it’s my cousin they’re telling me about what happened the family groupchat.” Once you see Jack nod, you return your attention to your phone. After a few more minutes Jack’s done waiting and wants to continue their walk.Due to his quick reflexes he quickly picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder and grabbing your phone in the process. 

Immediately you start laughing, hitting his back. In the most demanding voice you can muster in the middle of your laughing fit you scream. “JACK let me down! Give me back my phone!” He knew you weren’t mad at him so he decided to push the limit with how far he could go with this as he started walking down the sidewalk.

“Nope, not till I’m done texting them telling them that you're busy with your amazing hot boyfriend. And that your boyfriend demands your attention because another minute longer he might cry.” Jack shifts your weight slightly and you can tell that he really is typing on your phone. 

“Jack stop! I’ll give you my full attention, I promise.” as you continue to laugh while you hear Jack hum in agreement. 

“Okay sent. Now I can let you down.” You can feel Jack’s arms tighten as he lightly lets you down, both of your breathing speeding up due to how close your faces are when your feet finally touch the ground. 

“You said you're always happy with me.” you mumbled.

“I am but I’m only happiest when I have your attention.” he whispers, his eyes flicking between lips and your eyes. As if he was asking if he could kiss you in the moment, you slowly snake your arms around his neck and reach up to kiss him softly. 

As you pull away you can’t help your smartass response “you're such an attention whore Jackey. But I love you for it.” As you stay in his embrace a little longer, completely forgetting about your cousin and whatever family drama it was. Simply just allowing yourself to be lost in this moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am happy with you because when I’m with I can block everything out:

Jack truly wasn’t afraid of his mind being quick witted, being loud or being too sarcastic. He wasn’t someone who was known for being shy about his personality. Especially when  he would go out with you somewhere and it would be like his body transformed into someone new. Someone who wasn’t afraid to scream at the top of their lungs just how happy they were that you were his and he was yours. Someone who truly felt happiest with you in their arms,

Tonight was no different for Jack at the lakehouse. He was so happy that you were able to get a long weekend off and come visit him in Michigan. As per usual for the summer house, there were people everywhere, From Luke’s old Michigan teammates, to some of Quinn’s teammates, to friends they grew up with on the lake, to Jack’s friends from when he played on the USA Hockey team. If Jack had to guess there were probably about thirty people right now inside his house  or outside at the bonfire. After spending the day with friends he was able to retreat to a lawn chair close enough to the fire to feel the warmth but far away enough that it's not insanely loud. Jack and you weren’t able to spend much of the party together sadly, due to the girlfriends of the boys pulling you away. It was nice to be welcomed but you were definitely missing Jack after having to meet so many people, you were feeling your social battery dying. As you exited the house, looking for Jack you were thrilled to see Jack not surrounded by people and just talking to Cole in some lawn chairs closer to the lake. 

Quickly you felt yourself heading towards your boyfriend, very much just wanting to be in his arms away from everyone else. He quickly caught your eyes as you walked up and you could feel yourself blush as his smile grew seeing you. “Hi baby!” Once you were in arms reach, making grabby hands at you pulling yourself down into his lap. Your back was leaning against one of the arm rests of the chair. One leg between Jack’s legs, the other swinging over the other arm rest. Your arms quickly circling around Jack’s neck trying to pull him closer to you. Usually you don’t show this level of PDA in front of people you don’t know and you literally met Cole four hours prior to this. Jack tightened his arms around you, nervous something was wrong. “Heyy babyy.. you okay?” he whispers as your face digs deeper into his neck. You shook your head yes and Jack took that as an answer, and continued to talk to Cole. Lightly rubbing your one his hands up and down your calf that was hanging over the chair. His other tightly holding your hip to make sure you won’t fall. His thumb under your hoodie slowly creases the top of your hip. He continued talking to Cole like nothing happened and Cole knew Jack well enough to know not to chirp either of you in the moment or he would have to look for a new place to sleep tonight. 

After a while Cole mentioned something about needing a refill and made his way back to the rest of the party. Jack knew that when you were ready to rejoin the world and be ready to talk to him you would. In the meantime he watched drunk people dancing to some soft country music softly singing along only loud enough for you to hear. You lightly smiled as you whispered “your lucky you didn’t go into the music industry because you are way off tone Jackey.” as you slowly move your head from his neck to his chest. 

“What I’m offended! I am a great singer.” you could hear the sarcasm clear as day on his voice. It still didn’t stop your small laugh as one of your hands went to play with the stings of his hoodie. He couldn’t help but ask if you were okay again though “did something happen or are you just tired pretty girl?” His hand on your calf went to your hand that wasn’t playing with his hoodie and held your hand in your lap. 

“Social battery.” you mumble sort of embarrassed that as an extraverted your social battery seemed to run out quicker than others. It didn’t slip past you that Jack’s hand gave you a squeeze as a form of comfort. “I just wanted to be held.” you let out the words before you even realize. Jack can’t help but lean down and kiss your forehead, knowing that you wanted to change the subject and he let you. After a half hour you can’t help but feel Jack’s head shake to the rhythm of the music. “You want to dance don’t you?” but Jack could tell by your voice that you weren’t feeling up to being around so many drunk people who were too drunk to know personal space boundaries. 

“We don’t have to baby, it’s okay.” He says making eye contact with you so you know how serious he’s being. 

“No it’s okay we can if you, I know how happy dancing makes you” as you start to shift to get off his lap, his hands tighten their grip on you.

“No Y/N.” As he reaches to cup your face with his hand, “I don’t want to dance. I like how happy I am right here with you, cause you block out all the noise. I am being here with you in my arms” As he leans in to kiss you deeply. “Okay?” he asks in a questioning tone making sure you understand what he’s saying. 

“Okay Rowdy.” as you lean further into his embrace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can be the real you with me:

Suddenly you were back in your apartment, the season was in full swing. It was hard at times but you were slowly getting used to your apartment door becoming a revolving door due to Jack’s schedule. Jack started spending more nights at your place then his only because he said he missed being with you as much due to all the back to back roadies the Devils’ have had this month. At some point tonight Jack was supposed to come home and you physically felt your body shaking of energy at the thought. Craving something sweet you decided to make some brownies and figured that you could have them with dinner. Since you knew Jack was coming over you decided to make them gluten free so he didn’t feel terrible about eating them and breaking his diet a little. 

Your text to Jack has still been left unanswered about what time he’s coming home today but you knew he was busy finishing up with the media team. As you entered the kitchen you turned on spotify and connected it to your bluetooth speaker, randomly shuffling your playlist. After washing your hands you got everything out and started making the brownies. As you were standing there making brownies listening to Revival by Zach Brynn came on. Slowly you felt yourself softly singing to the song, giggling as you remembered Jack singing this song to you all those months ago at the lakehouse. Slowly you felt your voice sing louder and as the song got louder and Zach kept singing about how he feels reborn. Slowly you started jumping and twirling around to the lyrics. You're not sure if the music is too loud or just being stuck in your own world. Next thing you know you feel arms sneak around you, and slowly move against you. At first your body froze, scared, until you felt Jack’s voice. “Hi babygirl, i missed you.” Slowly you let yourself continue to get lost in the song. Both allowing yourselves to get lost in the song and kitchen dancing. After the song slowly came to an end, you felt yourself slowly stop dancing but neither of you pulled away yet.

“Hi Jackey, welcome home” you whisper looking up at him, as the next song slowly starts playing in the background. 

“Hey” he softly mumbles as he leans down and softly kisses your lips, no rush at all for anything more just pure love in the moment. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t stop dancing when I came up behind you.” he admits softly.

You shrug your shoulders “I don’t know, I guess I can be my real self around you, I’m not scared of showing you my emotions.” As you hear yourself admit this out loud you realize just how big of a deal this really is not only for yourself ,but  for Jack and your relationship.

“God I love you, but I really love when you let yourself be happy baby.” he admits, dipping his head down to steal another kiss. 

[niallerspayno]

Three’s Company - Part 1

Masterlist

As Louis Tomlinson’s sister and the Assistant Tour Manager for One Direction, you never expected to get caught up in a secret fling with two of his best friends—Zayn and Liam. What starts as playful flirtation quickly turns into stolen moments and heated kisses. But as Louis starts to notice, the tension between you, Zayn, and Liam only grows, and navigating family, secrets, and your heart becomes a lot more complicated.

Tags: Zayn x Liam x reader, Louis x sister!reader, smut, kinda poly but not, secret relationship

Part 2 | Part 3

…

Being Louis Tomlinson’s younger sister comes with its perks—free concerts, traveling the world, and getting to work as the Assistant Tour Manager for one of the biggest boy bands on the planet. But it also comes with its challenges, namely your overprotective brother, who seems to think you’re still the same kid he used to chase around Doncaster.

You step into the suite’s shared lounge, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Tugging your scarf higher over your neck, you pray no one notices.

Louis glances up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His eyes narrow immediately. “What’s with the scarf? We’re in LA. It’s like 25 degrees outside.”

“Just felt like wearing it,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant as you move toward the kitchenette.

Louis sits up, his suspicion practically radiating off him. “Hang on. Are you hiding something? What’s under there? A dodgy tan line? A new tattoo?” He grins wickedly. “Or maybe… hickeys?”

Your stomach drops. “No!” you snap, too quickly.

Across the room, Niall and Harry perk up, their attention now fully on you. Zayn and Liam, seated nearby, exchange a subtle glance, but both keep their expressions carefully neutral.

Louis smirks, standing and crossing the room with dramatic flair. “Oh, now I have to know. Let’s see it.”

“Louis, don’t—”

But it’s too late. He tugs the edge of the scarf down just enough to reveal the faint purple marks trailing along your neck.

The room erupts.

“Bloody hell!” Niall exclaims, laughing so hard he nearly spills his coffee.

Harry claps his hands together, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Hickeys! She’s got hickeys!”

Louis steps back, his eyes wide with mock horror before breaking into a triumphant laugh. “I knew it! You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you? Who’s the lad? Someone on the crew? A local? Please tell me it’s not a roadie.”

“Shut up, Louis!” you snap, pulling the scarf back into place, but the damage is done.

Louis folds his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Unbelievable. My own sister, sneaking around like this. Does Mum know?”

“Leave Mum out of this,” you grumble, your face burning.

“She won’t care, so long as it’s not some tosser,” Louis says with a shrug. His teasing grin softens just slightly. “Wait—he isn’t a tosser, right? Because if he is—”

“He’s not,” you interrupt, exasperated. “Can we drop it now?”

Louis studies you for a moment before smirking again. “Fine. But I’m watching you. You’ve got that post-snog glow. Whoever he is, he better be bloody perfect, or he’s answering to me.”

You roll your eyes and head for the door. “You’re the worst.”

As you make your exit, you catch Zayn biting back a smirk and Liam suddenly finding the floor very interesting. Their silence feels deafening, but thankfully, Louis is too caught up in his teasing to notice.

The last thing you hear before the door closes behind you is Louis muttering, “Honestly, I don’t even want to know. She looks way too happy for me to handle.”

…

Last Night

The hotel suite buzzes with post-show energy, a hazy cocktail of laughter, music, and half-empty glasses scattered around the room. You’re curled up on one of the couches, tucked between a speaker and a pillow someone dragged in hours ago, watching as the boys let the adrenaline of the stage work itself out through inside jokes and familiar chaos.

Louis is in his element, center of attention, cracking jokes that make Niall nearly choke on his drink and have Harry wiping away laughter-tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. It feels like every other night on tour—comfortable, chaotic—but there’s something different tonight. An itch beneath your skin. A flicker of something unspoken.

When someone shouts out Truth or Dare?—probably Harry, judging by the theatrical hand raise—you laugh and shake your head, but it's no use. You're already being pulled into the circle, sitting cross-legged with your drink in hand and a wary smile on your lips.

The first few rounds are light, easy. Niall dares Harry to sing an old campfire song dramatically. Louis is forced to do ten push-ups with Zayn sitting on his back. Everyone’s laughing, the kind that makes your cheeks ache, and you almost forget the simmer of attention that’s been subtly—but persistently—drifting your way all night.

Almost.

You catch it in the way Zayn’s gaze lingers on you half a second longer than it should when you laugh. In the small, almost imperceptible smile Liam gives you across the room when you tease Louis. It’s not obvious—not enough for Louis to notice—but it’s there. Undercurrents. A quiet pull.

It’s Zayn who leans in when it’s your turn again, his voice low and smooth, just above the hum of the music. “Truth or dare?”

You meet his eyes, steady. “Dare.”

There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his smile, but he keeps his tone light. “I dare you to kiss someone in this room.”

A few of the boys whistle or hoot, already shouting out suggestions—“Niall!” “No, Hazza, pick Harry!” Louis shakes his head, grinning like this is the most entertainment he’s had all week. “Better not be the bloody tour manager,” he warns.

You roll your eyes, heart skipping in your chest as you glance around the circle with a show of considering your options. But your gaze lingers—just a beat too long—on Zayn. And then flickers, barely, toward Liam. The smallest pause.

Liam doesn’t smile, but there’s a knowing softness in his eyes. He looks away before Louis notices.

You shift forward and lean across the circle, planting a quick, playful kiss on Zayn’s cheek, letting your lips brush just a little closer to the corner of his mouth than necessary. It’s fast. Friendly. Just barely enough to keep it in the game.

“Safe choice,” Louis mutters with a relieved huff, tipping back his drink.

Zayn quirks a brow at you, his voice just for you now. “Playing it safe, are we?”

You tilt your head, lips twitching. “For now.”

The game moves on, laughter bubbling up again as Harry chooses a dare that ends with him doing a dramatic reading of a shampoo bottle label. But when it’s Liam’s turn, the shift happens again—small, subtle. His eyes find yours, and your breath stutters for just a moment.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, his tone casual. But his gaze stays on you like a question meant only for you.

You raise your brows in silent challenge. “Dare.”

His lips curve into a slow, easy smile. “I dare you to kiss someone… but with feeling.”

The words could be innocent. Could be part of the game. But there’s a hidden meaning in them, in the way he says with feeling, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he wants to see if you’ll rise to it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, but your face stays cool. You get to your knees and lean toward him, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder as you kiss him—still restrained, still within the bounds of the game, but slower this time. Just enough pressure to make your intent known. Just enough to leave him wanting.

His hand comes to rest at your hip—not gripping, not claiming, but steady. A grounding touch.

When you pull back, his lips part slightly, like he’s tempted to follow you.

But you’re already sitting down again, and the others are clapping, laughing, too caught up in the fun to notice the quiet hum of tension buzzing between you three.

Zayn doesn’t say a word. He just takes a sip of his drink, his eyes on you over the rim of the glass, his expression unreadable.

The game continues, laughter still echoing through the suite, but it’s a distant hum to you now. You’re too aware—of the burn on your cheeks, the stolen glances, the phantom feel of Liam’s lips on yours and Zayn’s smirk when you kissed just his cheek. You didn’t play it safe, but you didn’t give in either.

Not fully.

The tension is a slow, steady pulse beneath your skin, and it follows you as you slip through the balcony doors. The cool night air hits you like a sigh of relief, brushing against your overheated skin. You grip the railing and close your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but you already know this night isn’t finished with you.

The door opens behind you.

You don’t turn.

Zayn’s presence wraps around you before he even says a word. He lights a cigarette with a sharp flick of his lighter, stepping beside you with that casual grace that somehow makes everything feel ten times more charged.

“Thought I might find you out here,” he murmurs, exhaling smoke into the air. “Needed some fresh air?”

You nod, your voice soft. “It got a little hot in there.”

He chuckles lowly. “Didn’t notice. Must’ve been distracted.”

You glance at him then—at the faint glint in his eyes, at the way his gaze dips briefly to your mouth and lingers just long enough to make your stomach twist.

He offers you a cigarette. You take it.

You’re barely aware of the smoke curling around your lips because Zayn is looking at you like he already knows what you taste like, even if the game only allowed a brush of lips to his cheek.

“I didn’t expect you to kiss me,” he says, voice low and rough now, teasing around the edges.

You meet his gaze, your heart skipping. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He tilts his head, eyes scanning your face, unreadable but hungry. “Didn’t say I minded.”

The air feels heavier now. Dense. Electric. You can practically feel it crackling between your bodies, daring one of you to make the first move. Your cigarette burns down between your fingers, forgotten.

Zayn steps closer—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you feel the warmth of him. “Should’ve kissed me properly,” he murmurs. “You wanted to.”

You try to scoff, but it catches in your throat. “You think I didn’t?”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak.

He just steps in.

And kisses you like it’s the answer to a question you haven’t asked.

It’s nothing like the game—this is slow and unapologetic, his mouth warm and coaxing, lips parting yours with practiced ease. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other sliding around your waist, anchoring you against him. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up—your hands fisting in the front of his shirt, pulling him in like you’ve waited all damn tour for this.

His tongue flicks against yours once—just once—but it’s enough to steal your breath.

“Fuck,” Zayn mutters against your lips, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Then the door creaks open again.

Liam.

He steps out into the night like he already knew what he’d find. His eyes flick to Zayn, then to you, taking in your kiss-bitten mouth, the flushed state of your cheeks, the way Zayn’s hand rests a little too low on your waist.

But there’s no tension in his shoulders. No surprise in his gaze. Just something darker. He looks at you like you’re a secret he’s been keeping. Like he’s done waiting to keep it.

“You two look cozy,” Liam says, his voice smooth—almost amused—but his eyes are burning. “Mind if I even things up a little?”

Zayn chuckles low, stepping back just a fraction, but not enough to leave your side. “Be my guest.”

Liam closes the distance in a few long, deliberate strides. His hand lifts to your face, cradling your jaw with a tenderness that contradicts the heat in his expression.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you again since the second it happened,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “That quick little tease inside? That wasn’t enough.”

Before you can answer, his mouth is on yours.

And this time, there’s nothing shy or playful about it.

Liam kisses you like he’s starving for it—slow at first, coaxing you open, then deeper. He tilts your head, his thumb at your jaw, and groans softly when your lips part for him. His tongue slides against yours in a smooth, deliberate motion that steals your breath and makes your whole body feel like it’s melting into him.

His other hand slides down your side, warm and strong, gripping your hip and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you sparks instantly—friction where your bodies press, where your chest brushes his, where his hand drags lower to palm the curve of your ass.

You moan softly into his mouth, and the sound only makes him kiss you harder.

Zayn moves behind you again. You don’t need to look to know—his presence rolls over you like smoke, hot and heady. One of his hands finds your waist, settling just above Liam’s. His other slides up your arm, slow and featherlight, until his fingers brush your shoulder and then the base of your neck.

“Still got room for me?” he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

You nod, already dizzy with want.

Liam’s lips leave yours just long enough for you to gasp for air—but he doesn’t go far. His mouth drifts down to your jaw, then lower, kissing your throat with an open mouth, leaving your skin wet and aching. “Let us,” he breathes.

Zayn presses a kiss to the other side of your neck—slower, firmer—and you feel the exact moment his lips part, the sharp sting of teeth followed by the hot, aching pull of a bruise being drawn deep into your skin.

Your knees almost give out.

They don’t stop.

Zayn sucks a mark into your throat just below your ear while Liam works lower, his mouth finding your collarbone, kissing and biting as his fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt. He palms your waist, dragging his thumb slowly across your skin.

You whimper, overwhelmed, caught between them.

Zayn’s voice is low, rough, his breath skating over your damp skin. “You wear us so well.”

You barely have time to register the words before they switch—Liam’s lips replacing Zayn’s on your neck, sucking a mark into your skin with slow, deliberate pressure while Zayn kisses your shoulder, then trails his lips lower, across the slope of your collarbone, teeth grazing lightly.

It’s dizzying—the rhythm they fall into, the way they move around you like a storm, like they’ve done this before, like your body was made to be caught between them.

Their hands roam—Zayn’s slipping under the back of your shirt, fingertips dragging up your spine. Liam’s drifting down to your thigh, teasing the skin just under the hem of your shorts.

You can’t stop the sound that escapes your lips. You don’t try.

Liam groans softly against your throat. “So fucking responsive.”

Zayn hums in agreement, his teeth catching the edge of your shoulder as he nips you again. “Don’t think we’ll be able to stop next time.”

They move together, in sync, marking your skin with bruises that throb under their mouths. You feel each one blooming—one after the other—hot and tender. A physical echo of every kiss and touch.

Liam’s lips drag back up to your mouth, and he kisses you again—slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours with devastating precision.

Behind you, Zayn’s hand grips your waist, pulling you back against him. His mouth finds your neck again, kissing over a bruise he already left, then lower, to the hollow of your throat.

“You’re ours,” Liam murmurs, the words barely brushing your lips.

Zayn’s voice follows, low and gravelled, like a promise sealed in heat. “Ours.”

You nod without hesitation, breathless and certain. “I’m yours.”

Their hands begin to still, lips leaving your skin with agonizing slowness, like they hate the thought of letting go. But your body is already trembling, pulsing with the imprint of them—your skin flushed, your heart racing, your neck wearing the evidence of just how deeply they want you.

Zayn gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing a fresh bruise with quiet satisfaction. “You’ll think about this all night.”

Liam rests his forehead against yours, his voice warm, full of something deeper than desire. “We will too.”

They step back together, like it costs them something to break away from you. And maybe it does.

You’re left swaying in the space they filled, lips swollen, every nerve alight, your body aching in the most exquisite way.

“We should head in,” Liam says softly, though the rough edge to his voice betrays the restraint it takes. “Don’t want your brother getting suspicious.”

Zayn lingers a moment longer, eyes dragging over you like he’s memorizing every mark, every breath. “You’re stunning like this,” he says, voice velvet-dark. “Covered in us… and we haven’t even started.”

Then they both turn, reaching for the door.

You follow, still tingling, still breathless, your thoughts a blur of hands and mouths and heat.

And as the night air gives way to the warmth of the suite again, one thing is painfully, deliciously clear—

This is only the beginning.

…

Present day

Armed with two steaming cups of coffee, you make your way to the venue, slipping through the backstage door with practiced ease. The morning buzz of roadies and crew fills the air, and you duck past a stack of cables, balancing the drinks like a pro.

Paul is already on stage, clipboard in hand, barking orders to a tech about the mic setup. You’ve always admired his efficiency—managing the chaos of a world tour is no small feat, and he does it with the ease of someone who’s been at it for decades.

“Morning, Paul!” you call, holding up one of the cups as you approach.

He turns at the sound of your voice, his expression softening when he sees you. “There’s my favorite assistant tour manager,” he says with a warm grin, taking the coffee you hand him. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

“I try,” you reply, smiling as you take a sip of your own drink. “What’s on the agenda for sound check?”

Paul doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his sharp eyes narrow slightly as he takes a longer look at you. His gaze lingers on your neck, and you feel the telltale heat of a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Did you forget your scarf this morning, or…?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You choke on your coffee, hastily setting the cup down on a nearby crate. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” Paul says, crossing his arms. “Those.” He gestures vaguely toward your neck. “You’ve got… quite the collection of love bites, kid.”

Your hand flies to your throat, trying to act casual as you brush your fingers over the marks. Damn it. You’d hoped the makeup would last longer. “Oh, uh… it’s not—”

“Don’t even try,” Paul interrupts, his tone walking the line between teasing and stern. “I’ve been around these boys long enough to know what that looks like. And I know Louis would blow a gasket if he saw.”

You laugh nervously, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing to worry about, Paul.”

“Nothing to worry about?” he echoes, his voice incredulous. “You’re Louis’ sister. And you’re on my team. That makes it very much my business.”

“Paul,” you groan, but he’s already in full dad-mode, his brow furrowed as he looks you over.

“Look, I don’t need to know who it is,” he says, holding up a hand. “Frankly, I’d rather not. But I swear, if it’s one of those boys—”

“It’s not,” you blurt out quickly, cutting him off before he can finish.

Paul’s expression doesn’t soften. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to kill someone before the tour’s over.”

You can’t help but laugh, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “I promise, Paul. It’s all fine. Nothing to worry about.”

He studies you for a long moment, then sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “You’re an adult. I get it. Just… be careful, yeah? And for the love of God, get better at hiding those.”

“Noted,” you say, your cheeks burning.

Paul shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about “kids these days” before turning his attention back to his clipboard. “Right,” he says, shifting back into business mode. “Let’s get this sound check sorted. We’ve got a tight schedule today.”

Relieved to have the conversation behind you, you pick up your coffee and follow him toward the stage. But even as you focus on the task at hand, you can’t shake the small smile tugging at your lips.

If only Paul knew just how complicated—and thrilling—your life had become.

…

The venue buzzes with activity as the band prepares for soundcheck. You’re stationed near the edge of the stage, clipboard in hand, scanning the setup while sipping what’s left of your coffee. Paul is somewhere behind the soundboard, barking orders about the drum levels, leaving you to keep an eye on the boys as they warm up.

Louis and Niall are bickering about who gets to stand where during the first song, Harry’s lounging on a speaker scrolling through his phone, and Liam and Zayn are testing their mics. Or at least, they’re supposed to be.

Instead, Liam glances in your direction, his hand resting casually on the mic stand. “Sounding good over there?” he asks, his voice loud enough to carry but soft enough to sound almost… intimate.

You glance up, pretending not to notice the faint smirk playing on his lips. “The sound? Great. You? Questionable.”

His grin widens, and he steps closer to the edge of the stage, his eyes locked on yours. “Harsh, love. You sure you’re not just cranky from missing sleep?”

Your cheeks heat, and you quickly look back at your clipboard. “I’m sure.”

Before you can come up with something sharper, Zayn joins in, his deep chuckle cutting through the hum of the speakers. “Don’t mind her, Liam,” he says, leaning casually on the mic stand. “She’s just overworked. Carrying all of us on her back can’t be easy.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to hide your smile. “If that’s your way of apologizing for being late to call time yesterday, it’s not working.”

Zayn presses a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Late? Me? Never.” His eyes flash with mischief as he lowers his voice, just enough for only you to hear. “Besides, I made up for it last night. Didn’t I?”

Your breath hitches, and your clipboard nearly slips from your grasp. You glare at him, but the smirk on his face tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Liam notices and steps in, his voice smooth as he taps his mic. “You know, Zayn, maybe we should cut her some slack. It’s hard work being this close to perfection all day.”

“Close to something,” you mutter under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Zayn.

“Focus, lads!” Paul’s booming voice echoes through the venue, breaking the moment.

Zayn gives you a wink as he straightens up, his mic in hand. “You heard the boss.”

Liam smirks, his attention lingering on you for a beat longer before he steps back into position. But even as the band starts their warm-up, the heat of their glances doesn’t let up.

During a quick break between songs, Zayn saunters to the side of the stage, crouching just low enough to catch your eye. His voice drops to a murmur, barely audible over the hum of the equipment. “Save me a cigarette for later?”

You arch an eyebrow, pretending to think about it. “If you’re good.”

His grin is wicked, full of unspoken promises. “Oh, I’m always good.”

As he steps back, Liam passes close enough to brush his hand lightly against your arm—a touch so brief you wonder if you imagined it. His voice is low, only for you. “Careful, love. Don’t get caught staring.”

Your heart skips as he moves on, singing the opening lines of the next song like he didn’t just leave you breathless.

You exhale slowly, turning back to your clipboard. Professional. You have to stay professional. But when Zayn glances at you again, and Liam sends you another quick, knowing smile, you realize something very dangerous: they aren’t going to make it easy.

…

The hotel elevator doors slide open, and you step inside with a tired sigh, ready to fall into bed and disappear under the covers.

That thought dies the moment you see them.

Zayn and Liam.

Leaning on opposite sides of the mirrored wall, looking far too casual—and far too dangerous. There’s a spark in their eyes that says they’ve been waiting for you.

Zayn straightens, his gaze sweeping over you like it’s instinct. “Long day?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Isn’t it always?”

Liam chuckles, hands tucked into his pockets, but there’s nothing light about the way he looks at you. “You look like you could use a little attention.”

Your pulse stumbles. “Let me guess… you’re both volunteering?”

“Maybe,” Zayn murmurs, that crooked smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Depends if you’ll let us.”

The elevator hums softly as it starts to rise—but the tension in the small space is anything but subtle. Zayn’s eyes lock on yours, steady and burning, while Liam closes the distance just enough for his heat to kiss your skin.

“You’ve been teasing us all day,” Liam says, voice low and rough. “Wearing our marks like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your breath catches.

Before you can speak, Zayn reaches out and hits the emergency stop.

The elevator jerks to a halt. Everything goes still.

Except your heart.

Zayn steps in, crowding you gently into the corner, one hand sliding into your hair. “Thought we’d take advantage of the privacy.”

Then his mouth is on yours—hot, claiming, familiar in all the ways you crave. You moan softly into the kiss, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. He kisses you like he owns the moment. Like he owns you.

Then Zayn shifts to the side, and your dazed mind barely registers it until you glance down.

Liam is on his knees.

Your lips part with a breathless sound, but Zayn distracts you again, kissing down your neck as Liam places both hands on your hips and looks up at you with a slow, knowing smile.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, tugging your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion. “We’ve got you.”

Zayn’s hands slide up your shirt, cupping your breasts through the fabric, thumbs brushing until your nipples harden beneath his touch. “Gonna make you feel good, love,” he breathes against your skin. “Just let us.”

Liam presses a kiss to your inner thigh—slow, reverent—then again, higher. And higher. Until—

You gasp.

His tongue finds you, warm and firm as it drags through your folds, slow and deliberate. Your knees buckle, back arching as your head thuds softly against the wall.

Zayn groans, voice thick. “Fuck, look at you…”

He opens your blouse and pulls your bra down with one deft motion, baring you to the cool air and his waiting mouth. He latches onto one nipple, sucking gently, tongue flicking while his stubble scrapes your skin. His free hand rolls the other between his fingers, teasing.

“Zayn—” you gasp, voice cracking as your eyes flutter shut.

Liam’s tongue works deeper, firmer, curling in perfect rhythm. He groans into you, and the sound vibrates through your entire body. His arms lock around your thighs, holding you steady while he devours you like a man starved.

“Sweetest fucking taste,” Liam mutters, voice low and slurred into your skin.

Zayn bites down gently on your nipple before soothing the sting with a swirl of his tongue. Then he kisses across your chest, up your collarbone, sucking deep marks into your skin as he goes. “Keep making those sounds,” he murmurs. “Let us hear what we do to you.”

Your hands are in Liam’s hair now, tugging, desperate to ground yourself. You’re sandwiched between them—Liam below, Zayn above—licked, kissed, claimed.

Liam flicks his tongue over your clit, fast and steady, while Zayn kisses along your jaw, his voice low and dark in your ear.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Your thighs tremble. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Zayn growls, nipping your throat. “Be good. Come for us.”

Liam moans into you again, and the sound—the heat, the rhythm, the pressure—snaps something inside you.

You fall.

Hard.

Your cry is swallowed by Zayn’s mouth crashing into yours, lips dragging over yours as your orgasm shudders through you. Liam keeps going, coaxing every last wave from you with slow, expert movements of his tongue, your body twitching under their hands.

He finally slows, placing one last kiss to your thigh as he carefully pulls your panties and jeans back into place, like he didn’t just ruin you entirely. He stands, his lips wet, his expression smug as he meets your dazed eyes.

“Told you we’d take care of you,” he murmurs, voice husky with pride.

Zayn straightens your bra and buttons your blouse again, fingers brushing against your flushed skin with every movement. “And we’re just getting started.”

The elevator lurches back to life as Zayn resets the button. You scramble to fix your clothes, breath still ragged, your body still buzzing.

When the doors slide open, they step out first—cool, calm, smug as hell.

Liam glances back once, eyes dark and knowing. “Sleep well, love.”

Zayn smirks over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

You stay frozen in the elevator, dazed and undone, the taste of them still on your lips, your thighs slick, your skin burning where they touched you. You press your hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart.

And just when you think you’ve gotten it together enough to make it to your room—

You round the corner.

And nearly crash into Louis.

“Whoa there!” he says, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. His easy smile falters when he takes a proper look at you. “Where’ve you been?”

You force a laugh, brushing past him casually. “Just grabbing some air.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Grabbing air, huh? So that’s why your neck looks like a bloody connect-the-dots puzzle?”

Your stomach drops. Instinctively, your fingers fly to your neck. You feel them—fresh, hot bruises, no doubt blooming in every spot Zayn kissed you.

“It’s nothing,” you say too quickly, trying to edge past him.

Louis blocks you again, his tone gentling. “Hey. I’m not mad. But I’ve gotta ask—who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy,” you lie, too defensive to sound convincing.

Louis raises an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “Right. So you just tripped and fell into someone’s mouth?”

“Louis!”

He laughs, hands raised. “What? I’m your brother. It’s my job to give you shit.” His smile softens. “But seriously… I’m only looking out for you. You know that, yeah?”

Your chest tightens. He means well. You know that. But if he ever found out—

“I’m fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to worry.”

He studies you for a beat longer before finally stepping aside. “Alright. But if this mystery guy ever steps out of line, you tell me. I’ll deal with it.”

“Got it,” you mumble, already turning away.

“And maybe invest in a few scarves,” he calls after you. “You’re terrible at hiding evidence.”

You don’t look back. Just lift your hand, flip him off with a half-hearted smile, and slip into your hotel room before he sees the full flush on your face.

Once the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a shaky breath.

Your reflection in the mirror says it all—swollen lips, flushed cheeks, neck a mess of red and purple. You look ruined.

And the worst part?

You’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

But hiding it from Louis? That’s going to be a lot harder than you thought.

…

Part 2

[hischiershoe]

─── DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS

─── QUINN HUGHES X FEM!READER

[ word count ] 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry) [ summary ] after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other? [ content warnings ] angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed. 

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt. 

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again. 

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails. 

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him. 

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body. 

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower. 

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you. 

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

[halexxsam]

https://www.tumblr.com/cruise-in-your-glow-bus/775202499929964544/open-cardinal-copia-fic-idea-someone-at-some

Please please please write this! I nominate you! Take my soul as payment, but pleaaaaaase write this! I beg! 😭

Your soul, you say? Why thank you! Let's not talk about how long this sat in my inbox. The past few weeks hit me harder than I thought. Also, thought about this prompt a bit too much and ended up writing 9 pages.....so....enjoy lol (let me know if i missed any tags or what not!)

Louder

Tags: fondling, coming in mouth, neck/nipple play, hair pulling, praise, light restraint, gill play, ghoul pack dynamics

Characters: dewdrop, aether, ifrit, mountain, cardinal

Words: 3737 words

The ghouls just assumed it had to do with constantly being on the tour bus. Crammed into small bunks, sharing what little space they had with each other, the constant come and go of staff, makeup artists, techs, and interviewers constantly left the bus a loud, public environment. Even after shows, roadies and ministry staff would find their way onto the bus, sitting on the big couch in the back or finding home on an empty bunk. The ghouls were pack creatures, never bothered by the extra bodies filling the bus. They always enjoyed the company, and the extra pairs of eyes and ears that would end up being an extra addition to the scandals they would get up to each night.

The Cardinal was more quiet. He enjoyed his peace, time alone, quiet mornings and soft evenings. He liked smooth plans, perfectly tuned guitars and easy tech rehearsals. The ghouls were still new to him, only having taken on the role of frontman a few months ago. Cardinal still hadn't seen all of his ghouls without a mask on, yet alone un-glamored. The ghouls were always able to pick up on his feelings, learning quickly that he preferred to be alone, that he didn't like having people in his space or having his stuff touched. They thought it was just the nerves that come with being the lead.

It was the night before their last show of the leg of the tour when Aether decided he finally had enough.

"I mean, come on, guys. I swear his rats are louder than him! Why won't he ever talk to us?" He said frustrated, flopping back onto the smaller couch by the kitchenette, his legs being too long to rest comfortably on this godforsaken bus.

"Aeth, come on. You know he is just a quiet guy, nothing wrong with that." Mountain stated, leaning up against the small stove, arms crossed beautifully over his chest.

Aether sighed dramatically. "Mount, you can't be serious!" He flamed out, "We have all tried to rile him up, but it never works! I have smacked his ass on stage so many times and he never made a peep! Dew tickles him or hides behind him and he says nothing!"

Mountain laughed at Aether's antics. "So, what do you want to do about it?"

"I'm halfway to taking him over my lap." Aether deadpanned.

Mountain choked on his spit. "Aether! You can't do that! We haven't even seen him naked!"

"Who haven't we seen naked?" Dewdrop asked, clumsily stepping up the steep stairs of the bus. 

Aether shot up, walking over to Dew. “I know he will agree with me!” 

Looking between the two ghouls, Dew eyed Mountain, raising an eyebrow at the absolute outburst from Aether. Dew’s tail swayed softly behind him. Mountain exhaled, a hand brushing through his hair. “The Cardinal.” 

Dew laughed, “That’s what you are worked up about?” 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” 

The water ghoul stopped, his head turned slightly in thought. “So what,” he shrugged, plopping down on the couch, “I’ve done everything I can think of besides pulling his pants down and sucking him off on stage and he doesn’t ever react.”

“Maybe the guy just isn’t sexual, Aeth.” Mountain said, turning away from the pair. “You can’t force it.” 

Aether grumbled, picking up Dew’s feet before sitting down next to him. “It’s not even a sex thing, entirely.” He started, “I just feel like we don’t really know him, you know?” 

His mate nodded, beginning to comb through Aether’s hair. “I know, but he has always been a reserved man, Aeth. Just like Rain sometimes.” The quintessence ghoul sighed and nodded, letting his head tip back against the couch. “Why does this bother you so much, hm?” 

Aether ran a hand down his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I just can’t get a good read on him, it makes me nervous. Not even my quintessence can figure him out.” 

Dewdrop hummed, a soft purr building in a subconscious effort to soothe his mate. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

Aether remained silent, a soft blush rising on his face. “Uh…” 

“Oh, Aeth, my love,” Dew laughed, “I love you, goofball.” He smiles, a hand coming up to hold the side of his mate's face. “Cardinal should be in his dressing room, you know. He stays in there for a few hours before every show,” Dew said, bringing his legs off his mate’s lap, “Go and talk to him. I’ll be here.” 

Aether smiled and made his way off the tour bus, grabbing his mask and making sure it was tightly secured before all the fans waiting early at the barcade saw anything. Weaving his way through all the tech crew, Aether made his way backstage to the dressing rooms. 

“Cardinal? Can I come in?” He knocked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He heard something like a choked off cough before the sound of feet scrambling to the door. He was met with the Cardinal, without his face paint and gear. Aether thought he was seeing him for the first time again. “Aether?” He called out, whipping the door open. 

“Yes, It’s just me.” He responded, still staring at the closed door. “Can I come in?” 

Cardinal stared at Aether in a sort of shock. “Oh, uh. Sure, of course. Come in.” 

He smiled and walked past him, sitting down on the ragged loveseat as he watched his Cardinal shut the door and walk slowly back to his seat at the dressing table. His hands ghosted over his makeup in an attempt to cover the awkwardness. Aether couldn’t stand the sight of him so meek anymore. 

Aether cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

The Cardinal turned around to face him, “Yes, Aether? Is something wrong?” 

“Well, uh. I guess you could say that.” Aether murmured, staring down at his hands. 

“What can I do to help?” He asked, leaning a bit closer to his ghoul. 

“I want to know you, understand you, hear you.” Aether whispered, feeling embarrassed. When he didn’t get an answer, Aether continued. “We have all tried to bond with you, inviting you out to drinks after shows, playing with you during rituals…nothing seems to make you smile, laugh, make a noise.” 

The Cardinal looked shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize. I just wish you would let us in.” 

“And how do I do that?” 

Aether made a hurt sound, his hands just itching to reach out and touch, to soothe. “We can teach you, show you, if you let us.”

“I’m scared.” The man whispered, turning away from his ghoul. 

“Scared? Why are you scared, Cardinal?” 

“I wasn’t always the frontman, you know. I lived a life in service before being chosen. Been around a lot, been unfortunate in the people I knew.” He said, his scent starting to bleed sour, sadness, and shame. 

Following his gut, Aether reached out to grab his hand, holding it softly, a thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “Talk to me, please.” 

The Cardinal made an odd sound, one that Aether had never heard before. He sounded weird, a tad embarrassed. “Long ago, I was different. Louder, more upfront, more devoted.”

“And what changed?” 

“I uh-,” He ducked his head, “was told to be quiet.” 

“What?” Aether laughed out, trying to catch his eye. 

The Cardinal just hummed, hand retreating from his ghoul’s hold. He looked ashamed and his scent started to change to something Aether couldn’t quite pin-point, something he had never smelled on the man before. “You don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

“It’s stupid, honestly,” He sniffed, a small tear starting to form. “It shouldn’t have meant that much to me.” When Aether just continued to look at him, the Cardinal took a deep breath and continued. “A few years back, I had a partner. I thought we were happy and that they were, too. But they told me they didn’t like how loud I was…in bed.” 

Aether made a hurt noise. Someone dared to tell his beautiful man that his pleasure was too loud? Just at the thought of being told that himself, Aether understood. He understood now why the Cardinal was always quiet, reserved, never making a fuss. He wanted to be accepted, loved, and he was told the only way was to be quiet. Aether felt like ripping off someone's head. 

“They are wrong,” He growled out, eyes flashing purple at his rage,”Your pleasure should never be silenced. It is supposed to be beautiful.” 

The Cardinal laughed, yet another tear ran down his face. “And how would you know? Like you said, I’m always quiet.” 

“You’re right, I don’t know about you. But I know that when Dew’s breath hitches I’ve found a sensitive spot on his neck, or when Ifrit grits his teeth that I’ve pulled his hair at just the right angle, or when Mountain’s hard resolve finally breaks, I know by the soft groan he lets out.” Aether said, trying to catch his eye, “It lets your partner know that they are doing a good job making you feel good, Cardinal. That is something that should never be silenced.” 

“I’ve never thought of that before.” He whispered. 

“That’s alright, I promise.” 

The two sat in silence. Aether felt like he was finally going to be able to bond with him, finally able to know and love him. Their moment was broken by a knock on the door, and a tech saying that makeup and hair was waiting for him. The Cardinal sniffled, standing up and brushing a hand down his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles. “I’ll be right there.” 

Aether took that as his cue. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it, I guess. Dew is probably wondering how I am. I’ll see you for the show, alright?” 

The man nodded, walking Aether to the door. “Thank you, Aether.” 

“Always.” Aether said, smiling. 

On his way back to the bus, Aether felt elated. Though he still wanted to kill whoever told his beautiful Cardinal to be quiet, he knew what was going on and he knew how to fix it. He found Dew in the same spot he left him, except now, he was tucked into Mountain’s side, snoring softly. 

“Hiya Mount,” Aether said, sitting down next to the pair. 

Mountain gave a soft chuff in response, eyes heavy as he held Dew close. “Come join us?”

“Of course.” Aether said, pulling an arm around Mountain and crowding him into his side, resting his head softly against his antlers. “My cuddle bugs, love you.” 

“Love you too, Aeth.” 

🜏🜏🜏

It was just after their last show that Aether decided it was time to make his Cardinal feel loved. He followed him to his dressing room, using his quintessence to keep himself quiet. Right before the Cardinal was able to step into his dressing room, Aether placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Get dressed and then come see us in our dressing room, alright?”

The Cardinal jumps slightly, turning to his ghoul and nodding his head, eyes gone wide. Aether nods, turning quickly back to the dressing rooms, excitement running through his bones. Soon enough, the ghouls hear a soft knock on their door. 

“It’s open,” Dew yells out, half bent over Mountain, sitting at one of the dressing tables, trying to get the ghouls' incredibly sweaty boots off. 

The cardinal walked in slowly, unsure of himself and his place in the dressing room. “Uh,” he mumbled, “Aether invited me in.” 

“You are always welcome, Cardinal. No invitation needed.” Mountain said, his eyes never leaving the water ghoul at his feet. 

The human nodded, shuffling in place before making his way to the small couch in the corner, deciding to sit and wait as his ghouls got undressed from their stage costumes. The ghouls just kept on, smiling and catching eyes when they saw their Cardinal watching them as they took off shirts or undid their pants. “You can stare at us all you want,” Dew purred out, making a show of taking off his compression undershirt. 

The man gasped, his face going red. “You are all very beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Cardinal. So are you.” Dewdrop left his shirt off and walked over to him, his legs brushing up against bent knees. He reaches out and grabs the man’s hand, going slow as he pulls his hand to sit on his hip. “You can touch.” 

“Dew, be slow,” Ifrit scolds, coming up behind his water ghoul and slotting his chin over his shoulder. “Can’t scare him away now, can we?” He asks, eyes coming up to catch the Cardinal’s. 

Dew huffs, turning around to press up against Ifrit. “Iffy,” he purrs, batting his eyelashes up at his fire ghoul. “Can I sit on his lap?” 

At that, the ghouls hear their first new noise from the man–a hitch of his breath. 

Aether laughs, “Oh, he liked that.” 

Ifrit grins, looking over the man and tilting his head, a silent question to an answer they are all sure they have, but they can never be too careful. With big eyes, the Cardinal nodded, hands coming away from his lap. Dewdrop smiles and laughs, immediately sitting down and nuzzling under the man’s chin. “Your heart is hammering.” 

“Been a while since I’ve had someone on my lap, Dewdrop.” The man said, his eyes looking anywhere other than the small ghoul on his lap. 

Dew nodded, a hand coming up to thread through the Cardinal’s hair, twirling it around his fingers and enjoying the feel of him. He traveled down to his neck and the dip of his collarbones, memorizing the soft feel of his skin. Just enjoying finally getting to touch this beautiful man. 

Eventually, all the ghouls were back in their street clothes, picking at the finger food and making plates before joining the pair on the couch. Surprisingly, everyone sat in relaxing silence while eating a well-deserved meal. A plate was shoved into the Cardinal’s lap, both for him and Dew. He learned that it was not just a small gesture, but also an invitation to feed Dew. Which was always, always, dangerous–especially for his still  hammering heart, and his cock, trapped under Dew’s warm butt–and for the fact that the ghoul always licked his fingers after every bite. 

Eventually, Aether broke the silence. “You don’t have to be quiet anymore, Cardinal. Tell us what you want, please.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Well, I think that sex should be off the table this time because this is new for all of us. And we are still at the stadium.” Mountain said, the most level-headed of all of them. 

Dew pouted, his tail flicking, making a thwap thwap thwap sound against the couch. At that, the Cardinal instinctively shifted, grasping Dew’s tail softly and pulling it free from under him. “There you go, pet.” Cardinal said, not thinking twice about what he had just done. 

“Uh oh,” Ifrit laughed, catching eyes with Mountain. Dew’s tail was the most sensitive part of him, and touching it was a one way ticket to getting the best head of your life. 

At Ifrit’s comment, the Cardinal stiffened. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Aether laughed, “but uh, his tail is quite a pleasure point for him.” The whole pack watched as Dew’s cock started to tent in his pants, his scent pouring out need and want. 

“Dew’s a bit of a rascal, so if you don’t want him, you have to say something now and one of us will take him. But once he starts, he won't stop until he’s finished with you.” Aether said, quintessence flicking at the ready to rein in his mate, if needed. 

The Cardinal just nodded, he always had a soft spot for his water ghoul anyway. In a flash, Dew was on his knees before him, batting his knees apart and slotting himself between them. He fumbled with his sweatpants, claws catching on the waistband. 

“I got it, don’t worry your pretty little face about it.” The Cardinal said, lifting his hips and shimming his pants down his ankles. 

The man hissed as his cock was freed, bouncing up and out, until it rested just beautifully against his stomach. All the ghouls growled out and inched closer to the pair, the Cardinal’s scent more potent than ever before. 

“Fuck, you’re just gorgeous,” Mountain said, coming up behind the man weave his hands through his hair, pulling at the crown just to see his neck barred and the small gasp that left him before he could stop it. The ghoul leaned down and began to nibble over his neck, deciding that his Cardinal would not be leaving without his marks. 

Dew took this opportunity to wrap a cool hand around his cock, making the man jump, only furthering Mountain’s hold onto his hair. The Cardinal let out a punched sound, almost like a soft moan that he couldn’t stop fast enough. 

“Hold him harder, Mount. I think he likes it.” Aether said dangerously, coming over to sit next to the man, placing a hand on his bouncing leg. Copying him, Ifrit sat on his other side and placed a hand on his other leg, effectively holding the man down on the couch, restricting all his movements so all he could do was take it. And take it he did. 

“Go on, Dewy. Show him what you’re made of.” Ifrit said, slipping his hand into the water ghouls hair and guiding his mouth just over the weeping head of the Cardinal’s cock. 

A cold line of spit flowed out of the ghouls mouth and landed right in the slit of the man’s dick. “Fuck!” The Cardinal shouted, Dewdrop immediately licking a stripe up his cock before swallowing him whole. 

Ifrit grinned, a hand coming to pull at the man’s shirt. “That’s it, let us hear you.” 

Aether was somewhat satisfied with the little noises coming from him, but he wanted more. Needed to cut the circuits in his brain and make him dumb and fuzzy. He smirked, admiring the slack face of the Cardinal and the small start of sweat pooling in his collarbone. He grabbed his mate’s head, stopping his enthusiastic bobbing before grasping hold of him, before allowing him to suck in a breath before being shoved down completely, gagging harshly as the Cardinal’s cock was forcibly bullied against the back of his throat. 

“Breathe, Dew. You can take it.” Aether praised, fingers tickling as they released tinges of quintessence. 

His mate let out a punched noise, succumbing to the force of his mate and going lax, breathing deep through his nose. “Shit, Aether. He’s so good, so talented.” 

The whole pack chuckled. “Oh Cardinal, you haven’t even seen the best thing yet.” Ifrit said, a hand traveling down to wrap around Dew’s throat. 

At that, the Cardinal hummed in question, a big more sense coming back to him now that the water ghoul was basically just cockwarming him, still forced down by Aether’s hand. 

“Open up your gills, Dewy.” Ifrit purred, hand moving down to pass over his chest, plucking at his nipples and the cold bar that is pierced through them. Dew hummed, causing the Cardinal to jolt up at the vibration, spewing out some Italian curses. 

In an instant, Dew’s gills flared to life, and Ifrit immediately plunged two fingers in, petting at his walls, searching for the thin layer of flesh that indicates the beginning of his throat. Ifrit knows he’s found it when Dewdrops claws rear to life, piercing the couch. He moves slowly, still being careful of his dear water ghoul but also trailing his fingers up and down the Cardinal’s cock.

The man tried to pull away from all the sensations. Mountain’s hand on his hair, his teeth eating away at his neck like he was a man starved. Aether’s quintessence flowing around the room, forcing him to relax and forget that they are separated from a whole world out there by a singular, thin wall. “Nuh uh, come on, let us make you feel good.” Mountain said, moving his lips to come bite at the shell of his ear. 

“Hnn…m’ close — fuck!” He whimpered, turning his head into the cushion, trying to silence himself and hide away. 

Aether tsked, grasping his chin and pulling him forward, demanding eye contact. “Don’t you dare hide from us now.” 

A deep red blush bloomed over his face, nodding continually in Aether’s grasp. He pulled his lip between his teeth, jerking everytime Ifrit’s finger played right under the head, moving up and circling his slit. Dew continued his kitten lick assaults, sucking softly. 

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna—please, can I? Can I come?” The Cardinal whimpered, holding eye contact with Aether, causing the older ghoul to growl out. The Cardinal was asking his permission. He was harder than a brick. 

“Of course you can, honey. Come for us.” Aether ordered, fingers starting to indent the skin of his chin. The Cardinal nodded, eyes screwed shut. He let out a high pitched whine, bucking into Dewdrops mouth, his stomach fluttering. 

He fell back into the couch, soft moans leaving his mouth at the continued petting from Ifrit and the dangerous tight hold Dew’s throat still had on his cock, swallowing down his load. After a few minutes, Aether pulled his mate up and pulled him in for a kiss, groaning at the taste of release. “Good job Dewy.” He praised, pulling his small mate into his lap. 

Mountain came back around the couch, pulling his Cardinal up and taking his spot on the couch, laying the man across him and Ifrit. “Thank you, all of you.” The man murmured, his eyes closing. 

Mountain and Ifrit both kicked up a soft purr, pulling a thin blanket over him. Ifrit carded his hand through Mountain’s hair, nuzzling his cheek, his nose tickling the peach fuzz on his jawline. “Went to town on his neck, I see.” He laughed. 

“I couldn’t resist,” Mountain smiled, his fangs coming out in full view. 

The pack settled down, a soft silence washing over them. They would have to get up soon, back on the road tonight for another ritual tomorrow; but now, they were here, together. 

[mangohgeckoh]

(Silco Xreader) Chemical Reaction Chap 12

(Art credit: by me!) A/N: This chapter is a long one so strap in!

Chemical Reaction Chapter 12 "To Rebuild" Chapter Summary: Roadie and Jinx get closer, and Silco and Ophelia start to rebuild their relationship...slowly. Also Chembaron assembly! -

Song of the chapter: "Towards The Sun" by Rhianna "Turn your face towards the sun, Let the shadows fall behind you, Don't look back, just carry on, And the shadows will never find you" -

“When you said a refreshing night into town…I wasn’t imagining this…” Roadie looked behind his shoulder at the damage Jinx’s diversion caused. He was following behind the teen, her braids bouncing as she laughed maniacally, holding a brilliant blue orb in her fingers. “Come on kid!” She waved him along the empty Piltover street, her body practically buzzing with the adrenaline from the heist. Roadie looked over his shoulder with a frown. A large Piltover building was in flames as a distraction for the large group of enforcers that now laid burnt to a crisp. Ash filled the air and burned his lungs, there would be an alarm soon and an army of enforcers are sure to follow. But when he watched the older girl skip along happily with no fear, he couldn’t help but feel admiration.- The mixed sound of metal being welded and music booming filled the canyon of Jinx’s hide-out. Her old gramophone shaked with how loud it had been playing, seeming as if it would explode at any moment. Attentive at her workbench, Jinx was tinkering with some tech. She spun around, tongue sticking out as she danced while using a torch to melt some metal together. “Jinx.” Jinx wiggled her body to the music, completely engrossed in the tune. “Jinx!” Banging her head to the beat, she continued working. “Jinx!” Finally, the gramophone ceased its song from the intensity of Silco’s hand that had banged on the table it was sitting on. Jinx only twirled around in her spinny-chair he had bought her. “That’s me!” Her father, Silco, did not look amused. “Half a dozen enforcers, dead. Enforcers. Dead!” Jinx stretched against her workbench, half of her body now laying on the scrappy metal. “Yeah…” He continued, shaking with anger. “A building blown to pieces.” She slouched further against her desk, hardly listening. “Oh, yeah…” Quickly, Silco snatched the pen she had been doodling with. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His irritated voice echoed against the cavern walls. Jinx only chuckled. “Actually,” Silco’s eyes watched as Jinx slowly stood up. “I do…” With a smirk, her fingers pulled a glowing blue orb from her pocket. She offered it to him, which he tentatively took. Jinx hopped onto a railing and pulled a lever. “Happy Progress Day!” The energetic girl twirled around the pole before dropping off back onto one of the blades of her turbine. She inched closer to her father innocently before grabbing him in a big bear hug. Silco didn’t want to admit it but he loved her like she was his blood. If anyone under him were to pull the stunt that she had he would’ve had them gutted. Deep down he knew that he had grown soft for her, and as long as no one found out, he didn’t mind. Silco felt his anger towards her melt away. Until the back of his neck prickled, the survival instincts of a seasoned sump-rat kicking in as he felt them being watched. Just as he was going to pull away from their hug, movement in the shadows behind his daughter caught the attention of his mismatched eyes. “Is he my brother?” Jinx whispered into their embrace. Confusion hung over Silco as his body tensed at the intruder stepping out of the shadows. The dark receded over the small body of a child as he stepped into the light. The child, a boy, had very skinny avian-like legs that resembled Ophelia’s. Silco quickly pieced together who else had joined them. Roadie. “That is none of your concern.” Silco pulled out of the hug gently and narrowed his eyes over to the child. “Go home to your mother, boy. She will have my head if she finds out where you are.” The boy looked at Jinx, face stricken with panic. “But-” The boy pleaded but was interrupted when his father raised a hand. “Not another word. I’ve had enough for today.” Roadie paused, wide eyed. He didn’t know the next time he would see his father. His eyes began to itch from the tears streaming down his cheeks. Jinx had an offended expression painted on her face as she watched Silco stride through the exit.-

The door to Silco’s office slammed against its frame as a man stormed out of the room. He had black, clean cut hair and a scowl that shook with anger. Marcus. Ophelia almost tripped on herself, attempting to make room for the angry sheriff as he stomped down the thin corridor to get to the stairs. His boots almost echoed against the metal stairs over the booming music.

Her yellow eyes watched the enforcer angrily stride past the club-goers, even pushing some out of his way to make his way to the exit. Ophelia’s ear twitched at the sound of a weary sigh. Two brawny men stepped out of Silco’s office who she had recognized to be the twins. They were the industrialist’s trusted bouncers of the club. But with their strapping builds, they doubled as bodyguards on occasion when Sevika and Ophelia were unavailable. The two strode past Ophelia, making their way to the entrance of the club to return to their posts as the bouncers.

Cautiously, knowing how Marcus deeply stressed Silco out, Ophelia rapped her knuckles twice against the open doorway. “In.” Was all she heard from the man reclining on the couch, good eye closed. Smoke drifted lazily from the lit end of his cigar as she entered the room.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked as she found a place to stand behind the coffee table. Smoke escaped his nostrils as he cleared his throat to speak. “Meeting after meeting, you would think I’d get used to this.” A cloud of smoke escaped Silco’s thin lips as he exhaled. “Though it appears that I still require the assistance of…,” He paused, nodding his cigar slightly. “To survive a meeting with the sheriff.”

Ophelia chuckled. “Is Marcus that insufferable?” Her arms clasped together against the small of her back as she stood tall behind the coffee table. His lanky fingers found the bridge of his nose as he massaged an incoming headache. “You don’t know half of it.”

Silco leaned over slightly, his arm which held the cigar was stationary, as he slid a folder that sat on the coffee table towards her. Ophelia’s fingers grazed over the yellow folder, noticing how the front of it bore a faded stamp that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’.

“What’s this?” The folder turned in her fingers as she examined the contents.

Smoke spilled from his parted lips as Silco hummed, now studying Ophelia as she read the documents inside the folder. “Think of it as a new…business venture.”

There was a pause that settled in the room, the chaotic melody booming downstairs was faint but her Vastayan ears could make out the lyrics of each song that played after another. Yellow eyes danced over the words of the documents as she looked through them.

“Well?” His voice was impatient, no doubt ready to get on with his next meeting. Each sentence of the documents were disguised under the cunning legalese. Luckily, Ophelia has been faced with her own fair share of sketchy documents during her time running an orphanage.

Her eyes met his gaze, eyebrows dipping in confusion. “You want…the children of the orphanage to enter under your employ..?” She asked, trying to translate the legalese.

Silco nodded softly. “It seems that my manufacturing facilities need more hands than there are available.” Ophelia’s attention returned to the documents. She flipped a page over, trying to read the fine print. Silence fell over the room once more to which the industrialist took the chance to speak on behalf of his risky proposition. “I would pay handsomely for any assistance I gain from you. I am sure the children of your orphanage would appreciate the wages.”

Ophelia’s eyes were still glued to the papers. She must have read the documents twice by now, absorbing all the material behind the words.

“They are just kids.” Her voice was hoarse and shaky. Child labor was not a taboo concept in the Undercity. In fact, it was regularly practiced. Despite this, Ophelia had hoped with Silco’s funding she’d be able to provide a safe environment abundant in food, clothes and shelter.

“Need I remind you that you are not operating some resort.” His words were bitter as he leaned in, taking another drag of his cigar. “Those kids need all the help they can get. Especially if it means getting a headstart on saving the little hexes they can earn for a better life.” What Silco had said stabbed her heart. She knew this was true, that her kids were only protected from so much.

From where she stood, she felt herself boiling from the pressure. If she agrees to let Silco offer employment to the children of her orphanage, they could be put in danger in those risky manufacturing facilities. Not to mention, they’d be near shimmer.

After staring at the papers before her, she lowered them to look at Silco. “What will they be doing under your employ?”

“As I mentioned before, I just need extra hands. Age appropriate assignments will be given, none under the age of twelve will operate heavy machinery.”

Ophelia stared at the man enjoying his cigar. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Sighing, the red iris of his injured eye met her glare. “I merely need the equipment to be maintained and cleaned. They will ensure the machinery depositing shimmer into vials are working properly,” He sighed, rolling the cigar between his long fingers. “It is as simple as pulling levers, greasing gears, and occasionally lifting crates of shimmer.” His tone was strained from being tired of the woman asking so many questions.

Ultimately the question Ophelia had been mulling over slipped out of her mouth. “Will the children be exposed to raw shimmer?” Silco leaned back on the couch, crossing his thin legs. “You have my word that they will not be able to even access shimmer.”

Ophelia’s gaze returned to the documents. With one last read through, she gritted her teeth. “I’ll see who among my children would be interested in this.”

The industrialist let out a hum as if he was intrigued, but he was more relieved that the meeting was coming to a close. “If you decide to pursue this, I am afraid that I will require you to accompany me to the next Chembaron assembly.”

“How come?”

Silco scoffed, the thought of voluntarily calling a meeting with the buffoons that called themselves Chembarons disgusted him. “Unfortunately, to remain in their good graces, all of us Chembarons must announce any large investments, expanding of territory,” His words trailed off, his demeanor shifting to annoyed. “All of it. We inform one another.”

Ophelia nodded. “I will let you know my final answer by Friday.”

“Tonight. I need your decision by tonight.”

Ophelia scoffed at the little time she was given. Her eyes shifted to the grandfather clock that ticked in the corner. “That is hardly anytime!” She exclaimed.

“Such are the woes of doing business. Unfortunately for you, my schedule is not very flexible as of late.”

She felt her face redden. How was she supposed to find children willing to work for him before tonight? “Fine.” She muttered.

Silco narrowed his gaze before tilting his head in a nod. Thinking matters had been adjourned, the Vastayan begrudgingly turned to leave. “One more thing.” She looked over her shoulder to the man lounging on the sofa.

“Your son seems to have found my daughter.”

Ophelia’s calm demeanor faltered. “What? How?”

Eyelid now open, his seafoam green eye lazily rolled to view the woman standing before him as he sat up. Marcus must have rendered him in a fowl mood due to the deeper scowl that was chiseled into his expression. “I was hoping you’d enlighten me.”

Ophelia bit her cheek as her hands smoothed out her skirt. “We were so careful.” She said exasperatedly, recounting the measures the two had gone through to ensure that Jinx and Roadie never met. Silco only hummed, taking a much needed drag from his cigar.

“You had me agree to staying out of your son’s life,” If the Vastayan hadn’t known Silco for nearly two decades, she would have thought he was bored. But that was just how his half lidded eye made him seem, she knew he was fuming beneath his exterior. “He has weaseled his way into mine.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows at the implication of her son ‘weaseling’ around. In the interest of time and their cooperation, she let that slide. Silco felt the end of the couch he sat on dip to the weight of another. Ophelia’s forehead was heavy in the palm of her hand as she tried to think of a way to talk Roadie into staying away from Jinx. The man, who had his legs outstretched on the coffee table, only stared blankly at the other side of the room as if he was unaware of her sitting at the end of his expensive sofa.

After a moment of silence, Ophelia’s head tilted in a slight nod. “I’ll have a talk with him.” Silco pursed his thin lips. His body shifted against the expensive cushions of his couch, a black eyebrow hooked upwards.

-

“I heard you gave the Pilt River a visit today.” Ophelia’s voice split through the silence in Silco’s car. Green light escaping through the tinted windows would casually pass over the two. The inside of his expensive car was clogged with the smoke from his cigar, Ophelia just knew that the smell would cling to her clothes.

Silco sat across from her. His car was limo-style, with a driver upfront and a mini bar on offer in between their seats, Ophelia almost felt like Zaun royalty. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the luxury Pilties enjoyed daily. “Oh? And where, pray tell, did you hear that?” Ophelia turned to see mismatched eyes glowed in the lowlight of the car.

Her posture faltered, a sense of failure washing over her. “He’s getting more…adventurous. He didn’t need to tell me for me to know he followed the two of you.” Silco hummed, knowing who she was referring to. “You have my word that I tried to talk to him. But he denied even knowing Jinx. Perhaps it is time I start having someone follow him?” The last part was more of her talking to herself. “Or maybe restrict him to the orphanage?” She murmured, continuing her thoughts.

The man across from her took a long drag of his cigar before releasing the smoke through his mouth accompanied by his words. “I don’t hold the reins when it comes to Jinx. I have found that she does her best work when I have given her the resources and left her to her devices.” His advice was poor but she knew what he was trying to say.

“Should we allow them together after all?” Ophelia asked, a little confused at his advice as he was the one to speak of his disdain towards the children becoming friends in the first place.

Silco sighed. “I don’t believe we have much of a choice.”

Old guilt washed over Ophelia as the silence returned. She thought of Roadie, and his poorly hidden longing for another parent in his life. “I…I do regret…making you promise to stay out of his life. I think he may have done better with a father in his.” Silco didn’t make eye contact with the woman across from him, rather opting for analyzing her through his peripheral vision.

“Today is Sevika’s day off.” Silco said, desperate in changing the subject. “I hope you are not uncomfortable with the absence of a bodyguard.” It was a strange thing to say. Especially since she had once served as an accomplice that would do his dirty work during their youth.

With little warning, the industrialist’s sleek black car came to a screeching halt. Silco remained wholly unfazed and silent. He clearly was not excited about meeting with the other chembarons. Ophelia couldn’t help but feel her throat bop as she craned her neck to take in the colossal building before her. It was massive, green windows littered around the building’s exterior while different types of metal created hauntingly beautiful designs around the outside of the building.

Ophelia almost jumped as someone cleared their throat. “Best not to keep them waiting.” She looked back at Silco, who was standing impatient in front of a set of doors. Jogging to the man, the two entered a glass chamber. Steel webs lined the cylinder that Ophelia came to identify as an elevator. A weak light hung from above, lazily flickering a yellow glow as they ascended the tower.

Her ear twitched, picking up the sound of Silco cracking his neck. The inside of the elevator was lined with bleak brass with steel that laced atop the walls, creating more eerie designs. Ophelia tried to focus on the outlines of the patterns instead of the thick tension that hung over the elevator. Not only was Silco, the most dangerous man in Zaun, obviously in a bad mood, but she was nervous about meeting the other chembarons. She only knew them by name as they tended to stay within the heart of their own territories. Apart from Silco, there were five crimelords that had formed an alliship over Zaun.

All of which became visible once the elevator doors opened. Ophelia’s breath hitched at the sight of a long table that took up most of the space. Each chembaron sat in their respective chairs that were diligently spaced several feet from each other. There had been conversation being exchanged before the doors opened, but now the room was quiet. As she followed Silco into the large room, she studied each person who sat at the table.

Ophelia’s yellow eyes first laid upon who she assumed to be Chross, who was an older gentleman with a sunken face. He owned one of the smaller territories but specialized in trades and communications. Apparently he had earned his wealth by blackmailing Piltover’s rich. Sat next to him was Madame Margot. The younger woman owned most of the brothels in the Undercity; she is also the first female chembaron.

Sitting across from the two was Smeech, who was the newest edition to the chembaron title with a temper that could compensate for his small yordle form. Several feet away, Renni, and older woman with striking red hair, sat tall in her chair. From Ophelia’s understanding, Renni happened to be the one who had people deal shimmer which was how she gained her wealth.

Finally, at the end of the table, was a young man with a brooding expression. This must be Finn, Ophelia thought as she sat next to Silco at the opposite end of the table. He was the top weapons dealer in Zaun. Though, from what she has gathered, he was also new. Inheriting his position from his dad, not earning a single coin.

All five of the chembarons fixed their gaze upon the newcomer, who sat very close to the Eye of Zaun. “I believe I have some news that may please you all in terms of profits.” Silco’s voice cut through the silence. He procured a folder from inside his coat, opening duplicates of the document Ophelia had signed earlier. His thin hands shoved them to the middle of the table, each chembaron taking one for themselves.

Finn’s thin pupils scrutinized the document he held.“You mentioned nothing about this in our last assembly.” His tone of voice sounded offended. Silco’s mismatched eyes narrowed at the young man across the table. “The introduction of a new avenue of labor will speed up shimmer’s production exponentially,” Ophelia watched the industrialist defend the proposition. “Which will in turn enhance your profits rather nicely.”

Renni was the next to speak up. “I don’t mind this at all.” She seemed rather pleased with what Silco was proposing. The yordle next to her scoffed. “Yeah, cause that’ll give you a nice chunk of cash, huh?” Though, once Smeech realized Silco had narrowed his gaze upon him, his lips clamped shut.

Ophelia noticed that the dynamic between the chembarons and the Eye of Zaun was not that of respect, but they chose to submit to him due to fear. Which was well earned.

Chross spoke softly about his agreement with Silco while Margot was picking at her nails, she hadn’t even so much as glanced at the document in front of her. Silco didn’t seem to mind, since she would end up agreeing with him anyways.

Finn was silent, staring at Ophelia for what felt like infinity until he opened his golden lower jaw. “And this chick will supply the labor?” He pointed angrily at Ophelia before he lifted himself from his seat, releasing a torrential downpour of questions. “How can we trust her people with our shimmer? What if they help Piltover usurp us? How much will this endeavor even cost?”

Silco rolled his eyes, sighing. “Yes, she will afford me with labor. No, the children will not overthrow us,“ Silco’s eyes stared daggers at the young man. “ Considering that this is my own expense to sort out, I don’t believe the rest of the finances are to concern you, Finn.” The last sentence was spoken as a warning, which made Finn return to his seat.

After another few moments of awkward silence, Silco spoke up again. “Is everyone happy?” He asked almost mockingly, knowing full well that no one dared to speak their grievances. “Splendid. I believe that concludes this part of the assembly.”

-

Ophelia was dismissed to wait in the car during the rest of the chembaron assembly, as the information to be discussed was confidential. The door to the car shut as fast as it had opened, Silco now sitting across from her. “That boy must thrive on making my life harder.” He said exasperatedly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ophelia only looked out the window, watching the figures of the streets go by through the tinted glass. “He seems very…confident.” She said, eyes still glued to the window. Silco hummed. “Finn’s confidence is deeply misplaced. His father was the same too.”

They arrived at The Last Drop fairly quickly. The pair returned to the industrialist’s office on the floor above the club. Silco’s pace quickened once they entered the private space, desperately needing a smoke. After closing the door, Ophelia found herself intrigued with the furnishings of his office.

Yellow eyes danced over the oddities of the industrialist’s bleak office. One would assume that Silco would have an office filled to the brim with rare and expensive weapons, art or even liquor. But as Ophelia continued to peruse the various items that cluttered his office, she realized that he just didn’t care for novelties.

‘Click’. The sound of metal tickled Ophelia’s feathered year and prompted her to look over her shoulder where Silco had been seated at his desk. She only chuckled at the sight of him applying a fresh layer of foundation to the marred side of his face. “You're doing your makeup wrong.” Ophelia’s voice all but echoed throughout his office. Instead of a quip, she was met with a chuckle from Silco.

Ophelia crossed her arms as she started towards him. “What’s so funny?”

Silco didn’t look up from the compact mirror he held lazily in his palm. “I can remember a time when you didn't have the gall to say something like that to me.”

This made Ophelia pause. Ah yes, he was referring to their youth. When she would follow him blindly due to misplaced trust that stemmed from a secret crush. Just as her mouth opened to argue with him, the door crashed open.

Ophelia jumped, startled, as Sevika limped through the office. Two trails of blood and shimmer stained the floor under her as she clutched her robotic arm. Silco didn’t care to spin his chair around to see his lieutenant, only lazily looking at her beaten form from his mirror as he applied foundation. “You’re making a mess.” His voice drawled, completely unfazed at how horrid Sevika had looked. Her jaw was fixed to the side, cuts and bruises scattered any part of her skin that wasn’t clothed. Ophelia watched with wide eyes as Sevika grunted and froze in the middle of the room. “The sister…she’s back.”

This made Silco snap the mirror shut. His chair spun behind him as he had bolted out of it. “From the dead!?”

[whatitsdecending]

Chokehold

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Something you never expected to find yourself in was a threesome between a man you were casually having sex with and someone you’d never met before.

A/N: if people like this I have ideas to continue it, so do let me know;)

Word Count: 3.7k

Content warning: voyeurism, threesomes, domination, exhibitionism

—————————

The day had gone by slowly, another festival built-up in the middle of nowhere housing thousands of people that attended. It was hot, hotter than normal for this time of year. At least you think it was, you weren’t exactly from Virginia and this climate was a little different from what you were used to.

You did your best to ignore the blistering heat beating down on you from the sun as you worked on unpacking the stage equipment for the band you were a roadie for; Bad Omens, a group of four guys who make some of the best damn music you’ve heard in a long time.

You enjoyed your job, being able to travel around and get exposed to new music or the same stuff you’ve loved for years. There were times where it made you debate whether it was the right fit for you or not, but usually those rough patches turned into the best thing you could ever imagine.

The band quickly befriended you, as they did with the other roadies, but one member was particularly fond of you. Noah Sebastian, the lead singer of the band. He had the voice of a siren and the presence of a lion on stage, but behind the scenes it was a much different story. Behind that stage presence was the kindest man you know, a man who’s been taking care of you, mentally and physically.

It wasn’t anything serious between the two of you, just quick hookups here and there that took care of any built up tension you had. He was good at it and has learned every little thing that makes you squirm beneath his touch, he had your body mapped out in his mind by the second hookup. Watching him on stage always did something to you, the small heat built up in your stomach and a blush rising to your cheeks every time he’d sneak a glance over to you on the side of the stage.

You weren’t sure if anyone had caught on yet, you’d nervously laugh when someone made a joke about you and Noah but it’d always end there, never going further than just a joke to them. And that’s exactly how you want it to stay.

“Working hard or hardly working?” The voice you’d come to be absolutely enthralled with broke through your thoughts. He towered over you, blocking the sun that had been shining down on you for a while and casting his shadow over you.

“I’ve been working hard for too long, actually.” You respond with a sarcastic smile, grabbing the next box to bring over to the techs. He trailed after you and said a quick hello to the techs getting Jolly’s gear prepped early.

“You got time to sneak away for a bit?” Noah whispered as you walked back towards the trailer that held all the equipment. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, it’s been a while since you and Noah were able to sneak away from everyone, and you had to admit you were due for alone time with him.

“I think I’ve done enough, not much left to unload anyways.” You say, motioning to the much smaller load of equipment left in the trailer than what had been there two hours ago.

“Perfect.” A smile tugged at his lips as turned around and walked towards the building that had the dressing rooms set up inside. The chill of the AC on full blast sent a shiver through your body, goosebumps rising on your skin as you entered the building. You followed Noah through the building, admiring the different band names plastered on different doors or on a makeshift tent in the building. You hoped he wasn’t taking you to a random tent that looked like it would fall over in two seconds.

The breath of relief that left your body when Noah stopped outside a door with the band’s name on it, right at the end of the hallway and was in a bit more of a private area than the rest of the rooms. He slowly opened the door, taking a quick peek inside and then motioning for you to come in.

The room was empty besides two couches and a mirror on the wall set-up as a makeup station for performers. It wasn’t that large of a room, just enough to fit the necessities for a dressing room. But it would do.

“Not that bad compared to other dressing rooms you’ve had.” You broke the silence, leaving Noah to snort in response. “Now we gotta make this pretty quick, I got in trouble last time we snuck around.”

“You know I can get you out of any trouble with the crew, right?” Noah’s voice was low as he came up to you, resting his hands on your hips.

“I’m aware, but I don’t want you to keep pulling favors out of your ass for me.” You say as his face lowered down to place gentle kisses along the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“I don’t mind,” he says between kisses. “Besides, it lets me take care of you for longer.” His hands slowly glide up along the curves of your waist, gently moving your shirt up and exposing your skin. His touch warmed your now freezing body, the sweat from before now dried and left you to shiver in the cold of the room. “You’re so damn beautiful.” He muttered softly as he kissed up your neck, trailing slowly to your lips.

Noah’s lips made contact with yours with a soft intent, not wanting to push you into anything too aggressive right away. He knew what worked best for you and letting it build was the way to make you as aroused as possible. He slowly turned you to now face the opposite direction, assuming he was going to use that to push you into the wall.

He slowly parted away from your lips, smirking as you whined about the loss of contact. His eyes sparkled as you stared up at him, wondering what exactly was going on in that beautiful mind of his.

“Have you ever met my friend Vessel before?” Noah’s voice was low as he nodded beyond your shoulder, causing you to take a glance at the man who had been standing behind you. Vessel, you knew he was the singer from Sleep Token, yet the man who stood behind you was not the man you would’ve recognized to be Vessel.

He stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed against his bare chest. You didn’t recognize him at first because he was out of character, no mask, hood or black paint to disguise himself from your eyes. He was breathtakingly beautiful, someone you certainly didn’t expect to see at this time.

“Keep going darling, I’m just here to observe.” His voice was deep and thick with the British accent everyone knew he had, but had never heard it before. The way he spoke caused you to turn back around to face Noah, who has taken the opportunity to push his lips back against yours. The small fire that burned deep within you had suddenly turned ablaze, the idea of Vessel just watching as Noah dominated your mouth with his.

You could feel yourself grow increasingly wet as Noah’s hands rested on your hips, pulling them closer to his body until you were pressed up against him. The feeling of his hardened cock pushing against your abdomen through his sweats almost made you drop right then and there, but something made you stop.

His hands started on the small of your back, slowly feeling their way along the curves of your body. The feeling of his breath dancing across your skin made you shiver, his hand moved your hair away from your neck and he began to lay gentle kisses along the nape of your neck.

A small moan escaped from your lips as Noah began to leave the same small kisses along the other side of your neck. Vessel’s hand found its way to rest just underneath your breasts, using that leverage to push his body against yours.

There you stood, pressed between these men who will soon have all the access they want to your body. A small uncertainty crept through your mind despite how desperate you came out to be for the two of them. This small uncertainty made you squeeze Noah’s arm softly, indicating you needed him to stop for a moment.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly, his eyes filled with slight worry. You felt Vessel pull back and take a small step away from you, no longer keeping you pinned against the two of them.

“I’m fine.. it’s just-” you stared at Noah’s hand resting on your hip. “What exactly are you two thinking of doing with me? Is there something new I should prepare for that you and I never do together?”

Noah glanced at Vessel, then back to you. “I genuinely thought it’d be a little more fun with another person joining us, I realize now I definitely should’ve asked you beforehand.”

“I can leave now if you’d like, Y/N. No worries darling.” Vessel spoke, placing a kiss on the back of your head. Before he could get out of your reach you swiftly turned around and grabbed his hand, pulling him back to you and pressing your lips against his. “Your mind seems to change very quickly.” He muttered into your lips, tangling his fingers into your hair and pressing your lips against his once again.

“Well, I guess I’ll just take a seat. Y/N, show Vessel what makes you so addicting.” Noah’s voice trailed away as he sat down on one of the couches. A small moan rumbled from deep in you, vibrating against Vessel’s lips.

“I like to be in control love, I hope you don’t mind.” His voice was a gentle whisper as he pushed your bangs behind your ear. His fingers brushing against your skin allowed goosebumps to surface and sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s just what I like.” Was all you mustered before Vessel had his hands on the underside of your thighs and lifted you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you to the counter, the clanging of items falling to the floor as he swiped his arm to clear space for you.

He placed you on the counter, pressing his body into your core so your legs stayed apart. His lips attacked your neck like a hungry animal, nipping around every once in a while eager to leave his mark on you.

You glanced over to where Noah sat, his eyes were fixated on the performance in front of him. You could tell how turned on he was by the obvious outline of his cock against the material of his pants. As you stared, you waited for his eyes to connect with yours, that thought alone made you even more wet.

“God I need these off.” Vessel groaned, snapping your attention back to him as he pulled at your shorts. You lifted yourself up a little to allow him to pull the shorts off your body. He kept himself sat on his knees after taking them off, glancing at you with eyes that almost seemed to be begging you to let him fuck you like a toy. His hands slowly roamed around your legs, traveling upwards to your center. The anticipation made your heart race more and more every inch.

His lips pressed gently against the inside of your thigh as he kept his eyes on yours. The way he looked at you as if you were his prey and he’d finally caught you, planning his next move with every waking moment of time that passed by. He wanted you, he was desperate for you.

His fingers trailed along the fabric of your panties, toying with the edge of the material against your skin. You hissed every time his fingers dipped underneath them and brushed against your slick, receiving a low chuckle from him each time.

“You desperate girl, how long has it been since Noah has touched you?” His fingers traced along the inside of your thigh, teasing you once again.

“A week?” The answer escaped as a moan when the cool breeze of the AC hit your wet core and Vessel’s thumb pressed against your clit. “Oh my fucking god..” He deepened the pressure and started slowly moving his thumb in circles, the low wave of pleasure hitting your body. He noticed how your body moved underneath his touch, making sure to memorize every touch that made you squirm.

His large hands wrapped underneath your thighs and gripped them tightly, pulling you closer to his face. His breath moved gently against your slick skin as he drew closer to closing the space between your bodies. His large eyes were fixated on your face, watching every expression that came across it as his lips made contact.

“Doesn’t she just taste wonderful?” Noah’s voice broke through the sounds of your moaning, bringing your attention to him. It didn’t last long before Vessel vibrated his response directly onto your clit, his head nodding to add to the sensation. You moaned loudly and it echoed around the room, Vessel’s way of eating you out was so much different than how Noah did it. This new method being used on you was driving you insane, Noah was a bit more gentle and slow with you, only picking up his pace when you begged for it. But Vessel? It was more animalistic how he ate you, his tongue and lips coordinated well together to stimulate your clit and send you into overdrive.

“Holy fuck, Vessel.” You groaned, the familiar pit building in your abdomen. “I’m going to c-“ He moved his face away from your core right as you said that, a whine escaping from you. “What was that for?”

He smirked at you and wiped his face. “Just warming you up darling.” He glanced over his shoulder at Noah, getting a nod of approval from him. There must’ve been some kind of agreement between the two of them for all this, something that definitely took a little bit of planning by the way they’ve become so coordinated through this experience.

“Turn around for him baby, keep your eyes focused on me in that mirror.” Noah says in a demanding tone. You followed exactly what he said, your eyes never leaving him in the reflection of the mirror. Vessel’s hand pressed on the middle of your back, pushing you forward so you were now bent over the counter. The feeling of his tip sliding between your folds and through your slick made you place your hand against the mirror.

“You should probably keep your hand there darling,” Vessel says as his cock pushes into you. “Wouldn’t want you to go against Noah’s wishes.” The feeling of him stretching your walls was intense, his cock was similar to Noah’s but had a bit more girth to it. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He grunts as he begins to thrust slowly, the movement leaving your jaw slack and tears forming in your eyes.

“God you look so beautiful like that baby, taking Vessel’s cock like the good girl that you are.” Noah spoke as he watched your facial expressions through the mirror. His hand hesitated around the outline of his cock, seeming to want to relieve himself as Vessel pleases you. But he never ends up touching himself.

Vessel’s hands gripped tightly on your hips as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. He wasn’t wrong about needing to keep your hand on the mirror, it really helped you to keep the focus on Noah while he pounds you from behind. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping together, the cry of moans coming from you and Vessel was harmonious in a way and a beautiful sound to your ears.

The pit was forming again and you wondered if he was going to let you cum this time around. “Vessel you gonna let me cum now?” You breathlessly ask, hoping he’d start thrusting even harder into you to send you over the edge.

But he had something else in mind.

He stopped thrusting into you and wrapped his long arms around your waist, picking you up and carrying you over to the couch. Noah was now standing, his eyes entranced on the sight of you in the grasps of another man. Vessel laid back against the couch holding you tight on his chest with one hand while the other moved to put his cock back in you. This new position allowed for him to reach your g-spot, the pleasurable ache that ran through you each time his cock hit it was enough to make your body squirm.

“I cannot resist myself anymore, Y/N. You’re too damn addicting.” Noah says kneeling down onto the floor, his face only inches away from your pulsing core. “I just… can’t keep watching…” He planted kisses around your clit between his words, your hips buck at every touch his lips left. “Vessel treating you good baby?” You nodded. “Are you desperate for my touch now?” A whine escaped your lips as you nodded again. He chuckled, knowing if he had the control left he’d sit and watch you beg for him, but at this point he needed to taste you.

His lips pressed onto your clit, parting to let his tongue roam around the bud. It was so sensitive from the stimulation happening below, that Noah adding his tongue to the mix made you feel insane. “Oh my fucking god!” You cried out, gripping Vessel’s arm that he kept wrapped around you. “I’m going to cum guys, I can’t-“

“Hold out a little longer darling, let's cum together.” Vessel whispered in your ear, his thrusts hitting you at a quicker pace than he’d been doing.

“I can’t, fuck!” Your hand found Noah’s hair and gripped tightly.

“Yes, you can.” Vessel’s voice was becoming breathy as he drew closer to his release. “All the pent up orgasms from before, you’ll be able to let them go now, let it go darling.” His permission granted you to finally let go what you’ve been needing, the waves of pleasure practically blinding you. You moaned loudly as your legs shook like mad, this was an orgasm you’ve never experienced before. The warm feeling of Vessel’s cum filling you as your orgasm hit its peak was a kind of sensation you’d never had, but certainly one you’d want again.

As you came down from your high you opened your eyes to see Noah staring at the two of you, a look of admiration in his eyes. “You did so good, baby.” He placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh, pushing himself off the couch to grab a towel. Vessel lifted you off his lap and set you down on the couch, taking in the mess he made.

“You alright, darling?” He chuckled lightly. “A lot just happened all at once huh?”

“I think I need a nap.” You managed to muster out, watching Noah as he came back with the towel he’d dampened with a bottle of water. He gently cleaned up the mess between your legs left by Vessel, letting the cool towel relax the intense sensation leftover.

“I’d love to stick around for that, but my band is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.” Vessel said as he put his clothes back on, a smirk creeping on his face. “Hopefully your nap doesn’t last too long, I’d love to see you side stage for my set later.”

“Oh I’ll definitely be there, just let me rest my legs.” You sighed as you were still trying to process everything.

“Right.” Vessel leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Get some rest darling.” You watched as he exited the room, Noah closing the door behind him. He searched around for your underwear and shorts, eventually finding them and helping you get dressed.

“You don’t have to help me, you never put my clothes back on.” You say as he finishes buttoning your shorts back up.

“I know, I just felt like I needed to give you a hand after all that.” He smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to it, that’s something I kind of always wanted.”

“Really? You like to watch other men fuck your own fuck buddy?” You placed your hand in your back pocket, feeling a piece of paper that wasn’t there before. You already knew who left it so you decided to keep it there until you were alone.

“You can say that I guess.” Noah chuckled. “Well, I gotta go start warming up. Are you gonna take a nap here or on the bus?”

“Mm, probably here I am a little exhausted from that. Plus my hips hurt.” You laid back on the couch, feeling the warmth leftover from Vessel’s body laying there beforehand.

“Okay, I’ll see you later to catch Sleep Token’s set. Have a good nap.” He began to leave but stopped in his tracks. “I’ll just let the crew know you’ve got a migraine from the heat and that’s why you’re not helping for the show.” You gave him a thumbs up and he returned the gesture. He left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he walked away. You reached into your pocket for the piece of paper, unfolding it quickly as curiosity racked your mind.

Vessel left you his phone number and a small note that read:

Darling, please give me a call whenever you get the chance. Would love to have a one on one with you sometime, call me and we’ll make arrangements for that.

XOXO, Ves

The idea of being with just Vessel made your heart race in excitement. You quickly added him to your list of contacts, waiting to call him later since he was busy now. You wonder what Noah would think about this, if he’d get jealous or not care that you would hook up with Vessel again without him there.

Whatever he’d think, you couldn’t care less. It was just absent minded fucking, right?

[billypoindexter]

“Frog Study Time” rarely included any actual studying. Chowder would suggest that the three of them get together to work on homework, and it wouldn’t take long for the books and computers to be abandoned in favor of the stupidest conversation topics known to man (their conversation about Barbie movie lore had gotten so out of hand that they were unofficially banned from all going to the library together). But even though they all realized that these study sessions were literally a waste of time at this poitn, Nursey and Dex never turned down Chowder’s offer.

This particular Wednesday night Dex was doing his best to fight the urge to yap, as he needed to make headway on his comp sci midterm before their roadie this weekend. Nursey hadn’t even grabbed any of his books before pulling Chowder onto Dex’s (“the top bunk won’t hold us both!”), and Dex was doing his best to tune them out while he coded. But even with good intentions, Dex knew there was no way he wouldn’t inevitably be drawn into the chitchat.

“Nineteen is not old, Nursey!”

“Dude, you’re literally a D1 athlete, you can’t tell me that no one was interested before Caitlin.”

“Just because girls were interested doesn’t mean I had to oblige. I wanted to wait for someone I actually liked.”

Dex must have been focusing in way more than he thought, because he had no idea how Chowder and Nursey started talking about their first hookups. It wasn’t unusual for the team as a whole to discuss their sex lives, but with the frogs they usually geared their conversations towards more sophisticated subjects, such as Barbie movies

Nursey turned toward Dex at his desk, and Dex could hear the annoying grin on his face as he said, “Bet you waited for someone special, Pointdexter. You seem the sentimental type.”

Dex just continued to type and squint at his computer screen. “Actually, I’ve never had sex.”

Chowder slammed closed his psych textbook—there’s a chance he had opened it at that moment just so he could slam it closed for dramatic effect—and shouted, “HOW DID WE NOT KNOW THAT????” He let out a moan of despair. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything!”

“Yeah, what happened to the sacred frog bond?” Nursey added.

Dex shrugged, doing his best to not get drawn in. Realistically, he knew that he wasn’t going to get anymore work done, but he continued to stare at his computer in the hopes that he could refocus.

“Dude, we can totally find a chick to hook you up with. Unless I was right about you being a romantic,” ribbed Nursey. “Also, we can see you’re not working on your midterm anymore, so you can give up the act.”

Huffing, Dex swiveled around in his desk chair and crossed his arms. Chowder was leaning forward, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands as he stared at Dex. Nursey, ever chill, was leaning on his side, messing up Dex’s pillows as he propped his head on the back of his hand.

“I never said anything because it never came up,” said Dex flatly. “And I’m not a romantic, I’m just not interested.”

“C’mon,” whined Chowder, “give us the chance to find you someone!”

Dex shook his head as he clarified, “No, I mean I’m not interested in sex.”

A pause. Two blank faces looking at him. As much as Dex wanted to play it cool, he could feel his heart beating a bit faster and a blush creep up his neck; he’d never admit that to anyone before, even though he’d known it himself for a while.

Nursey was the first to break the silence: “Huh.” (This guy really knows how to make use of all those English classes.)

“Wow, really?” asked Chowder, clearly curious, sitting up straighter. “You’ve never seen a girl and wanted to…ya know…” He made some weird hand gestures that Dex very much did not know, but he got the idea.

“Nope.” He took a breath and added more quietly, “It’s not really girls that I look at, anyway.”

Again a pause. Again two blank faces. Again a quickening heartbeat and a spreading blush, as Dex voiced another thought that wasn’t new to him. But this time Chowder was the one who reacted first.

“Oh! Oh, ok!” He clapped his hands together. “We’re learning so much tonight! This has got to be one of our more productive study sessions.”

He grinned brightly at Dex. He gave him a smile back, not as big but just as genuine. He then flicked his eyes to Nursey, who also had a small smile as he slowly nodded his head. “Right on, Pointdexter.”

Nursey and Dex held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, then Dex cleared his throat and announced that that was enough emotion for one night and turned back to his computer. He worked a bit longer, letting Nursey and Chowder get back to their conversation (“You were seventeen and you’re giving me grief for being nineteen? Oh fuck off!”).

Chowder gave Dex a hug before heading back to his room for the night, which wasn’t unusual, even if this one was tighter and longer lasting than most. Nursey let Dex use the bathroom first while he worked on extricating himself from the bottom bunk and smoothing out the bedding. After brushing his teeth, Dex headed back to the room and passed Nursey, who grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Hey,” he said softly, seriously. Once Dex turned his head to him, he continued. “Do you want to talk more about it?”

Nursey had come out as pan to the team last year. Dex knew him and Bitty had talked about being queer and playing collegiate hockey, and the difficulties that could sometimes came with that. He tensed up for a second, thinking that Nursey was upset that he hadn’t said anything about his sexuality before, but there was nothing but concern in his face.

Dex shook off Nursey’s hand. “No, I’m alright,” he said, making his way to his bunk.

Later, as they both were laying in their beds, Dex spoke again. “Thank you, though. For, um…for offering. I appreciate it.”

“See, I knew that you’re secretly a softy.”

Dex rolled his eyes at that and reached with the palm of his hand out to punch the bedframe above him. Then he turned and nestled into his pillows, breathing deeply of the scent the lingered there and trying not to think about why he liked it so much.

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

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A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?” 

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-” 

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.” 

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown. 

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve. 

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand. 

Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two 

Lie-lie loving you, such words 

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

[whiskeyapologist]

was looking through my camera roll & realized i never posted about this?? but i did a check please theme in my bullet journal back in april & i am still beyond obsessed with how it turned out!

task list & cover page

april was all about finishing my fucking thesis (i earned my mfa in stage automation in may) & i used the task list to break down each section of my thesis & make it less intimidating. i still pulled a bitty & had to marathon write most of my thesis within a like 36 hour period. i slept so good once that draft was finished!

when i started planning this theme, i flipped through the comic & decided pretty quickly i wanted the cover to be this view of faber from 4.25 "faber". i filled the outside with some of my favorite details from throughout the comic, including (clockwise from top left) the "text from chowder: i'm shouting!" from 4.2 "nonstop celly", jack's "oh" moment from 2.17 "graduation", the jack lego (?) figure from 3.1 "wag", dex & nursey's background roach & house bubbles & (i think it's) ransom's "et tu lardo?" bubble from 2.12 "post i: roadie", one of my fave senor bun appearances that didn't make it into a weekly from 1.16 "linemates", & bitty's phone (i don't think there's a specific appearance of bitty's phone that looks like this, at least not that i'm finding in the flip-throughs i've done to write this post. i think i did a lil freehand moment with it, but if anyone happens to find it in the comic, let me know!), as well as my usual little calendar & monthly focuses section

monthly calendar & habit tracker

the monthly calendar & playlist is inspired by the smh team roster hanging on the bulletin board in the haus at the beginning of year 2

the habit tracker features a few other details from 2.1 “moved in”, namely the “haus sweet haus” rug & the sock pinned to the bulletin board. the shopping list bubble is a callback to the “jizz!” speech bubble also pinned to the bulletin board next to the sock

meal & time trackers

the breakfast, lunch, & dinner headers are a callback to the hockey puck taped to the bulletin board

not much to add here, but it’s a great time to mention the “it’s tough but you’re tougher” speech bubble from 4.20 “spotlight on eric bittle” which was the quote i used to decorate my grad cap ❤️

weekly #1 is modeled after y1 & features my favorite y1 senor bun appearance (1.18 “playoffs - i”) & line (1.8 “checking clinic”)

weekly #2 is modeled after y2 & features my favorite y2 senor bun (2.10 "shinny") & line (2.4 "hazeapalooza")

weekly #3 is modeled after y3 & features my favorite y3 senor bun (3.3 "meet the falconers") & line (3.26 "cup v - post")

weekly #4 is modeled after y4 (the layout of the top panel specifically is modeled after the first panel of 4.16 "christmas in madison - iii" which shows a bunch of the christmas pics/posts from the rest of smh & tater) & features my favorite y4 senor bun (4.17 "senior thesis") & line (also 4.17 "senior thesis"). i has some extra space, so i included some excerpts from bitty's y4 tweets

camp nanowrimo tracker, before the pen. the left is just a table for tracking time spent on & words written for my thesis & the novel i've been working on forever. my camp nanowrimo goal was to write 1 hour every weekend day & 2 hours every week day, for a grand total of 50 hours, which i am proud to say i achieved! the right is a visual tracker, where each pie was equal to an hour of writing. i included 50 pies for my 50 hour goal. the bubble near the top is from 1.4 "the haus" with 2 footnotes i added; one on "kitchens" that says "word docs", & one on "pies" that says "words". clearly i think i'm very clever lol

visual tracker, filled in. i surpassed my 50 hour goal with about a week left in the month, & i wanted to include that additional progress on my tracker. once the month was done & i knew how much i needed to add, i made a tip-in (although this might just be a fold-out lol) to tape in. on one side, i included the dialogue bubbles from a panel of 3.19 "keagster"

on the other side of the tip-in/flip-out, i included jam jars for the additional 10.25 hours of writing i did, plus "it's gonna be two trips" also from 3.19 "keagster"

& that's all the spreads! spreads were done in an archer & olive b5 notebook. supplies include: mildliners in the colors vermillion, dark blue, beige, & gray; a black papermate flair, a white gellyroll pen in size 08, and stabilo pens in gray and brown. oh, & a piece of masking tape, bc i couldn't find any clear tape lol

[weedgator-mommy]

The Roadies

Reddah, Ms Boe , and Dusty were all separate townies coming to the west for different reasons at different times but eventually came together to form their small gang of roadies over time. Reddah was originally owned by Tex to make western R-rated fashion mags. She had a lot surgically cosmetic stuff done to alter her appearance to make her more "attractive" enough for her work. She still continues to die her feathers and wear heavy make up despite it being abnormal for an Mudd. 

Being sick of the constant abuse behind the scenes she ended up stowing away on one of the rail line cars heading out east thanks to the help of her other Mudokon friend who didn't survive after she left. They were close and starred in plenty of photo shoots together. Reddah still keeps some of the old mags they were in to remember her. She met Sal at one of the docking yards in Feeco dpt. partially disguised as a worker but still looked off from the others that usually worked the yards. She recognized Lockheart for obvious reasons and extensive "research" with the magazines she was featured in. Sal offered to help her out and hide her fully as a worker after they had done some chatting about what had been going down back in the west. For a time she worked as a bay loader with machinery since she could stay more anonymous and out of corporate eye. She would fuck shit up from time to time but Sal would take the fall for that since she idolized her highly. She didn't get paid for any of her work but instead shared wages earned by her friend. Reddah did eventually miss the freedom west and decided after a few months of working to head back. With what money she had saved she returned back to her former looks and spun up a new look. Sal took her on a scheduled route out west and some time off {haha just fucking left the train at the station cus, bastard bosses don't give time off, and not many know how to drive her fucked up rigg} They both set out for an off set town farthest away from industrials as possible ( small town of Hackles set in-between Buzzerton and New Yolk.) 

-------------------------- Ms. Boe is an older Clakker who owns a Saloon/back town brothel in Hackles. She tends to come off as a butch lesbian thanks to all her usual patronage of scumbags and assholes. She's a mean barkeep and tends to keep her business running with the help of western dancers. Her business wasn't the same when she had lost her original star of the show, Faleena, and just grew meaner since then. Till Reddah and Sal walked into the bar one night looking for a place to stay. Boy being gay as shit took one look at Reddah and had the bright idea to offer her a job at the place because it was needing a new eye catching face. They set up for a time and while Sal was off being a menace to society once more, Lockheart took the time to get to know the place and help out Boe with business. She dies her fethers and grows them out to look extra. Also wears spurs and she need to beat the shit out of any out law looking for trouble. Is also the one who taught Reddah now to shoot should she ever need it.

--------------------------- Dusty Rider is kind of an enigma and came out of no where to the small town. She was riding in one evening and caught up with Sal stealing meat from a farmer. Using her rodeo skills she roped her down and ask what outlaw gang she was from only to answer she was with Ms Boe Leggs. They both went to the saloon where Dusty confronted her about thieving again. Boe about to shit herself was glad her old wandering friend was back in town. They'd known each other since Dusty was a child practically raised by Boe when her dad would frequent the saloon. Some time after he just never came back for her and left her to work at the saloon. Boe would give her the basics for learning but she always seemed to want to know more about anything other than the west. Dusty's young adult life was spent away from the west and out to the east. Where she'd gotten a degree for law paid by her rodeo days. She never opted for a gun and didn't believe in killing folks because of how Boe raised her. She'd eventually go back to her roots of the west but still dawning her continental business suit. Eventually becoming a traveling sheriff. Chooses to keep her rodeo clown make up on to mask who she really is and intimidate outlaws better. Especially hates poachers and will take pleasure in extra time beating the ever living shit out of them. ( also nicknamed Laughing Ghost Face ) 

[in-hav3n]

 ✮ 𝓘𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❘❘ The reader is younger than James.

Fifth show, Sweden. On this beautiful sunny warm afternoon, you were doing the same gestures for the tenth time. You didn't mind. You loved to feel useful for people and you loved this new job you got. Being a roadie on Metallica tour was an unexpected turn in your professional career but still, it was the most interesting job you've ever done and you enjoyed every minute of it.

James, Kirk, Lars and Rob were rehearsing, testing the mics as well as their instruments, walking around the stage in their comfortable clothes whilst the Met crew was working to settle everything. You were sticking the sheets of schedules and setlist at every post at the right place for the staff and settled all kind of stuffs they'd need for tomorrow's gig.

Walking around in comfortable clothes too - no need to wear black outfit like for a gig ; plus the day was particularly hot, you decided to wear a black top and a jeans skirt - you were listening with one ear as doing your tasks, sometimes whispering some lyrics or moving your head on the rhythm. Not paying attention to what was happening around you, you were busy on fixing something under the stage when you heard James calling you.

"Are there some guitar picks down there (X/Y)?", he asked you, recognizing you at your hair color.

Normally roadie would never had any contacts with the band but you were introduced in the Met crew by Lars' drum's technician so you had some kind of special place. Plus you were doing your job, not complaining or trying to become friend with the band, like others did before. But that didn't stop the guys from being naturally kind with everyone and since you were "part of the family", they tried to get to know you a bit more than with any other roadie.

You looked up at him and your heart started to beat faster. You nodded at him and quickly went to give him one. Standing on your tiptoes, you leaned over the big stage to give it to him. James kneeled down, chuckling as he noticed you had to do that to be able to reach him. Your fingers connected for a moment and you let out a discreet gasp. He took the picks and smiled at you. "Thanks sweetheart". You managed to mumble a "you're welcome" and stood petrified for a while, looking at him going back to the stage center. He was rehearsing "Creeping death" riffs, focusing on his play as smoking his cigar. Even with just a brown short, a "Bastardane" shirt and a cow-boy hat, he was gorgeous.

Here were your big secret. You were craving for James Hetfield and it wasn't right. He was 59 and you were much younger. Plus he might had someone since he divorced last year but you didn't know, you weren't in the confidence and it was none of your business. But still, you couldn't stop dreaming of him, day and night. You knew nothing would ever happen and never you'll do something to seduce him or something. That would be very inappropriate. You just enjoyed the fact that you could sneak around him and took any opportunity you had to look at him or admired him from far away. That was already enough.

Later, you came back inside the backstages, your duty around the stage finished for the day. Since you had nothing else to do, an assistant asked you to put bottles of water inside the guys backstage's rooms, in case they'd need it for tomorrow. You accepted and quickly did this new task. The guys were still rehearsing at the moment so they would never know you had came inside their private areas. But the assistant knew and trust you enough to do it.

You started with Kirk's, Rob's and then you arrived in James'. You came in and a strong smell of cigar smoke and male perfume hit your nose. You chuckled. No surprise. You put the bottles in the mini fridge, not really paying attention to the mess all around, until you notice to sheets who were supposed to be stuck on the wall. It was the schedule and setlist again. The person who did it didn't do his job properly. You sighed and quickly went out to search what was necessary to put it on again. 2 mins later, you were back, on a chair to fix it in a good level so you were sure the sheets won't be unhooked and fall again. But impossible to take some tape. You were fighting with it, cursing until you heard footsteps coming and a door closing. You quickly turned around and your eyes landed on James.

"Oh I'm sorry...I was just..", you mumbled, showing him the duct tape. You felt completely ridiculous like this, in his backstage room, standing on a chair but you were just doing your job. James took a drag of his cigar with a nod and sympathetic smile.

"It's okay, keep doing your job. I'm just searching for something", he said with a nice tone as searching some things in his bag. You gulped and went back to your task, trying to focus but it was hard. He was just a meter away from you and you could feel the smell of his cigar from where you were standing. You finally managed to took some tape, put the duct on the chair and stood on your tiptoes to fix it. You didn't see the duct falling on the ground but James did. He looked over and put his cigar in the ashtray on the coffee table. He kneeled down to grab it and as he looked up to give it to you, he noticed he had an interesting view from here. He could see under your skirt and a cocky smile appeared on the corner of his lips. Interesting, he thought. Very interesting.

He got up and stood next to you, handing you the duct. You saw nothing until your peripheral vision noticed it and you slightly jumped of surprise and nearly lost your balance. You didn't hear him coming closer. James chuckled at your reaction and placed one hand on your hips, the other on your lower back to prevent you from falling. "It's just me sweetheart. Relax", he said with a smile. You thanked him, your cheeks soon flushing hard when you realized where his hand were. You managed to place the paper and turned over to face him.

"I-Is that good over there for you?", you asked him, showing him the paper placed on the wall.

"All good. Thank you. Now get down before hurting yourself", he said with a kind tone. You chuckled to him with a shy smile and accepted his hand to got down carefully from the chair. You didn't know if it was the weather but you felt a sudden heat radiating inside your body and you realized that it was James touches and kind gesture towards you that provoked it. It was completely insane.

Once on your feet, you stood face to face with him and you realized that he was closer than you expected him to be. You could smelled his masculine perfume mixed with smoke and it was enchanting. James looked over at you with his piercing blue icy eyes and it was really intimidating. You gulped and opened slightly your mouth to get some air cause it started to be difficult to breathe.

"Did you enjoy the show earlier ?". You assumed he was talking about the rehearsals so you replied honestly.

"Oh, yes, I did !". He nodded.

"Did you enjoy the music ?"

"Yes I did". Why was he asking you these questions ? You didn't understand but you kept answering.

"Did you enjoy watching...me?". You were about to reply positively again until you realized his question. You opened your mouth and immediately flushed harder. You got caught.

James relished of the effect he had on you and smiled. Of course he had noticed the way you were looking at him and it started to get his curiosity at the second show. Then he started to play with it, with his gestures, his attitude even with words, calling you "honey" or "sweetheart" to see your reaction and it pleased him a lot. But he never had the chance to be alone with you until today and he really wanted to enjoy every minute of it.

"I-I'm...I shouldn't..I'm sorry", you mumbled, your face all red and your glance fixed on the ground. You felt ridiculous, ashamed. You thought you were discreet when it was about watching him from afar and you were all wrong. Silly you. Now what will he think about you? You had been betrayed by your eyes and emotions...

James chuckled and raised up your head with his finger under your chin. Your eyes locking with his blue ones. "Don't be sorry sweetheart…" he said low, almost like a whisper as he came closer. Naturally, you stepped back, your back hitting soon the wall behind you. Breathing was becoming difficult and you were wondering if it was a dream or reality. "I like it actually", he confessed and put his left hand on the wall, next to your head, to lean on it. You were locked and trapped, like a prey. But god, you liked it. A sudden heat and strong pulsed inside your womanhood when you realized what he just confessed. This was insane. He liked it ? Does that mean that...? You couldn't believe it.

"I-I don't understand... Why me?", you found the courage to ask him.

He grinned with a cocky face before taking your hand in his. He was still delighting of the power he had over you.

"Let me show you", then he placed your hand on his crotch, where you could immediately felt his bulge. You gasped when you felt him becoming harder at your touch. Exactly like you dreamed it. Your eyes opened wild and looked at him. James leaned to speak lower near your ear.

"See? You feel it baby? This is what I feel when I see you looking at me…". The nickname and his revelation were enough to make your legs trembled. Thank god, you had a good support with the wall behind you. He nodded, like if he wanted to convince you even more of it.

"I know you want this too. I saw it in your eyes before and I see it now. I bet you're completely wet under this pretty little skirt". You bite your lips and rubbed your legs together, the desire you were feeling right now becoming painful. But still you've never been so aroused in your life and it was dangerously pleasant.

James noticed your moves and chuckled. He was so damn proud of himself. He took back your hand and kissed it.

"Meet me tonight. 5th floor." You nodded, not leaving his hypnotizing gaze. He smiled, gently stroked your cheek, took off his cowboy hat to place it on your head before leaving.

"Tonight sweet girl...", he said again with a wink before disappearing. And this is how James Hetfield left you in his backstage room, with a soaked wet panties and a heart beating fast. Rehearsals turned into an unexpected temptation...and you couldn't wait to taste it.

[whoblewboobear]

In honor of iwtv!Rockstar Lestat I’m thinking about Rockstar Jace who takes a (honestly concerning) amount of interest in his new roadie/sound equipment manager Porter. After coming down from a month(s) long bender Jace is finally coherent enough to notice Porter during soundcheck. So he starts serenading him and getting super touchy feel-y. Porter kinda brushes it off, he’s toured with enough musicians to know they’re a special breed, ESPECIALLY the rockstars. But he’s a professional he would never-

That same night Jace is riding him in his dressing room and he does a bump of coke out of the dip of Porter’s clavicle and honestly? It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Jace being this fucked up also shouldn’t be this hot either and Porter is spiraling a bit but Jace is so tight and so fucking batshit the entire night and Porter really cant resist fucking him 2(-4) more times that night. Next day, Jace goes on a little mission to bug Porter before his show and Porter is just so flustered. He’s trying so hard to do his job and make sure everything goes smoothly. He’s like “Mr. Stardiamond, we’re all working very hard to make sure you have a great show tonight so if you could just FUCK OFF for a moment that’d be great~” and Jace is like huh okay, no one but my manager Zara talks to me like this.. kinda a turn on. But he does as he’s told and fucks off until it’s time for the show. But he has plans for Porter. So many that involve throwing his money and drugs around and letting Porter put him in his place whenever he likes.

Once the tour wraps, he asks if Porter would like to help out while he records his album in his home studio because his last sound equipment manager didn’t make house calls (for reasons Jace doesn’t want to discuss. Maybe he’s done this before, no one needs to know he’s a walking HR nightmare, he’s a rockstar he can do what he wants.) Porter agrees because the pay is incredible and traveling is fun but it takes a lot out of him and honestly, the perks of him and a few of his industry friends helping Jace make another hit album seems like a fun gig. And maybe fucking Jace on every surface in his mansion is a very appealing idea. He can handle Stardiamond. He’s just like every other fucked up musician. But uh oh.. the more time he spends with Jace the more he realizes that he isn’t that bad. A fucking whirlwind, sure, but in the quiet moments when he’s writing songs at his piano or having a quiet smoke on the balcony or meticulously arranging audio and re-recording harmonies, Porter is so endeared with him. He didn’t start doing his job for nothing, he wanted to make music himself but never quite broke through. Jace is a wonder to him, he wanted to resent him for pissing away an opportunity.

But Jace cares about the music, he does. The drugs and the flashy clothes and the money are fun. Very fun, until they aren’t. When he’s not trying to numb himself to the fucking shithole the music industry is, he still has music to comfort him. He’s so meticulous and careful about what he puts out. Which his manager loves. She loves a lot about him but even Zara would admit there are days that she sees him and her heart just hurts because he’s so far from the Jace she grew up with and talked about their dreams with. All those late nights in college where they painstakingly put together his first ep going off nothing but Red Bull and sleep deprivation. She remembers the night they finally heard back from the label and she negotiated a contract that was less shitty and intrusive than what Jace would’ve signed had she not been there. She misses him and she does like how good of an influence Porter can be on him. She’s glad there’s someone else there that doesn’t enable him- not all the time anyway.

Porter’s glad Zara’s around when she can be because everyone else buzzing around Jace is a kiss up or an enabler, but not her. On the bad days, she’s the first one to show up for Jace when everyone else makes themselves scarce. Jace tries not to notice the minute people scatter when he’s not offering party favors or lavish nights out. When the dust settles it’s Zara and.. Porter. Much to his surprise. And he feels a little bad for how over the top he was with him. One night, Porter comes over when he’s putting the finishing touches on the melody of a song, really into it and lost in the way every key sounds together. When he finishes, Porter is clapping and maybe that’s the only applause he really cares about.