#he took his dick out on stage and started pissing he fingered his asshole on stage once how could i not be in love

[ozymoron]

ok genuinely i think im in love wirh mike patton

[stubbedbakutoes]

Promise Ring

Bakugou accidentally slips up amidst an argument with (y/n). The question now is, does he feel guilty? at all?

pairing: asshole!bakugou x fem reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst (i advise grabbing some tissues before proceeding with caution mwahaha)

part 2

masterlist

Whilst his hands held up the ring in the glistening light of the gradually rising sun, her movements halted, thankful she was mere seconds away from having the hot liquid in her mouth because she would more than likely be spluttering and coughing at the shock of what he had just said. Bakugou darted his eyes away from hers, because he’s embarrassed.

But then he’s just looking back at her again. Because he couldn’t not look at her. He licked his suddenly dry as hell lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“Fell for you hard and I don’t want this to just be some fling that we’ll get over in a few weeks.” The blush was rising on his cheeks and she found this self-conscious side of him adorable.

“Kacchan!” She kicked his shin under the table. “You’re asking me to marry you?” She asked slowly. 

“No!” He scoffed playfully, which soon turned into a laugh when she squealed out something along the lines of ‘Don’t look so disgusted! how was I supposed to react to that, huh?’  “I mean, you’ve had my dick in your mouth, I'd say we’re pretty committed at this poi-.”

“But you’re really not proposing?” She cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from his vulgar mouth anymore.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, mindlessly playing footsie with her under the table. “I’m serious about it though.”

“Marrying me?”

Bakugou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a smile played on his lips, “About how we’re past the honeymoon stage.”

“What’s that?”  Lifting her mug of tea for the second time, she finally took her first sip of what was always a good cup of morning coffee when made by someone else, specifically Bakugou.

“You know... That period at the beginning  of the relationship when everything goes well and is free of problems.”

“Aside from arguing whether the toilet seat cover should stay up or not?”

Bakugou smiled fondly at her. “Sure.”

Their grins were far too wide and cheesy for this early in the morning but the feeling of giddiness they felt inside was too much to conceal and, without any further word on the subject, the rest of breakfast was served so the two could quiet down their grumbling stomach like a proper non-fling-type couple.

(y/n)’s trying the ring on her fingers, and when it only fits on her fourth finger (like he’d hoped), Y/N’s looking back at him. “I care about you too.” She smiled reassuringly. “And to prove it,” She began, stabbing a portion of Bakugou’s food with a fork. “I’ll have this piece of your pancake, thank you very much.”

“Where’s the correlation?”

“I just wanted to steal some food from you, sorry.”

“You’re not very good at being sly, aren’t you?” Bakugou giggled, playing with the matching ring on his pinky finger. “ I just. I love you, you know? And, like. I know we’re still young, so it’s obviously not an engagement ring. I like to consider it a promise. Something to keep your finger warm till I get you a proper ring.”

//

“—so now what? You just wait for me to leave so you can— what? Cheat on me?!” Bakugou slammed his open palm down on the wooden table, eyes alit with a fury so strong that even (y/n)'s terrified because she's never, ever, seen him this angry before. She's had fights with him before, of course she has, they've been together for over three years, but she's never seen him this determined to win an argument– to the extent that if they were in a cartoon show, he'd probably have smoke puffing out of either side of his ears.    

But this is no time for her imagination to be running wild because she's pissed, too. So much anger flooded her veins that tears accumulating in the corner of her eyes are almost spilling out — that's the worst kind of anger.   

(y/n) gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious right now? I had one single conversation with that guy and and you— you think I’m cheating on you?!” 

And what's filling her with rage is that what they're fighting over is stupid, good Lord, it's so fucking stupid.

It started with (y/n) telling Bakugou about how she's finally found a dream, something to chase, because she's spent most of her life without having decided what to do for herself or wanting anything in her life. That dream involved her going to a school, outside the country, and that turned into a tiny misunderstanding, which blossomed into something else, followed something else after that, and then both Bakugou and Y/N were yelling at each other and calling each other names and it was all a horrible sight to see. Both of them have no idea what brought it on to this extent. All they're certain of is that they're pissed at each other and have, apparently, been pissed at each other for a long ass time.

Bakugou grinned. A grin that she loathed, because Bakugou’s grins are usually with mischief, with playfulness. Not this malice. He outstretched his arm on either sides of him, like he’s showing something off. “Well, I don’t see anyone proving me otherwise.”

She huffed, glaring right back at him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?! What the hell is your problem?!” Bakugou yelled back at her, not even bothering to try to keep from shouting. He pointed out the door, “You were fucking flirting with that two-faced asshole right in front of me! You're the problem!”

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! That was months ago, you've had that stupid excuse of a grudge on me ever since, huh?!" (y/n)'s eyes narrowed and crinkled – not in a way that Bakugou's used to seeing. "I haven't done anything wrong! All I've done is fucking been there for your stupid ambition to be the number one hero-

"Stupid? Stupid?!" Bakugou repeated incredulously, eyes widening as he quivered with anger. "I'd watch my words if I were you. This is my fucking life goal and something I want for myself that you're calling stupid."

(y/n) was nearly suffocating on her fury, her laugh void of any happiness leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "I am aware of what I'm spewing out. Your fucking dream was delusional and far fetched but I supported it, didn't I?! I watched every single match, patched up your hands when they bled from all that training, made you delicious bentos to fuel you up for the day – "   

"– And now you say it was all stupid," Bakugou laughed mirthlessly, glaring at her so hard that (y/n)'s knees start to tremble. "How romantic can this get?" He raised his voice, arms stretching out before clapping obnoxiously loud, "I hope shitting on your boyfriend's dream has given you some sort of satisfaction."   

"And you've got some nerve to pull all of this shit with me about suddenly wanting something for myself because I've met someone else and that I'm cheating on you," (y/n)'s lips tremble, her voice practically shaking with anger as she spoke, a finger going to point accusingly at him, "You're not my boyfriend. You're just one big hypocrite!"

"You fucking are, though!" His voice was laced with venom as he practically spat the words in the woman's face. "You're definitely planning to elope with some hunk city boy! I'm not fucking good enough for you, huh?!"   

And that’s— that’s the final straw. 

Relationships are about trust, and Bakugou obviously didn't fucking trust her. If he wasn't so much of a prick in how he reacted to her telling him her future plans then they'd probably be cuddled against each other, asleep, and Bakugou would be the first to start apartment hunting for her — for them, because he'd even move with her, since he knows he couldn't properly function without her.  

But before she even opened her mouth to inform him that she's done with this toxic relationship, he beat her to it, “Good thing I never fell in love with you, then.”

(y/n)’s face changed from cocky to puzzled then to heartbroken. As his words made her world crumble, Bakugou took pride in the sight of the bewildered woman before him, not planning to take his words back anytime soon since he saw this argument as a game of who can devastate the other first. And the prize was looking back on this fight one day and thinking, wow, I won that. It didn't matter what had been said and done in his book.

But (y/n) and Bakugou are two sides of the same coin; she simply wanted to have her point reach his end, so that they can both agree to put this aside and go back to their normal, non-fling-type couple selves.

“So all of this,” She motioned between them, interrupting his train of thought “meant nothing to you? You never even loved me?” She asked with what seemed to be a mixture of hurt and sadness but mainly anger. Before he could even blink, she was over hitting him on the chest with her tightly clenched fists, trying to let out her pain, “I hate you, you're the worst! You told me numerous times you loved me- that you’d never even make me feel like shit! What’s changed, Bakugou? Why can’t you love me anymore?” Her voice cracked, nonetheless she was smoldered with rage.

"Are you deaf? I said I never did. I was lying the whole time, whenever I told you that— that I did."

Bakugou took every hit she was giving him because he stood firmly on his feet, unnecessarily adding fuel to the fire, as if (y/n)'s miserable state wasn't enough to satisfy him — to drop his guard and tell her he wanted to take it back. That he wanted to say I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry, I love you, I didn’t mean to say that— but then (y/n)’s letting out a laugh that sounds so bitter, it made Bakugou flinch.

“Fine,” she breathed out, then she’s scoffing out another harsh laugh. “Then— we’re done. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time and effort in a relationship that you never thought was worth it. I don’t want to waste my time and energy being with someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same kind of love towards me.”

And she turned on her heel, ready to head straight out the door, purposefully ignoring the faint, “Wait, (y/n)—” from behind. Her opposite hand subconsciously grazed the promise ring she shared with Bakugou, and she realises something.

At one swift movement, she pulled at the said ring and threw it at him with more force than necessary. 

“What a fucking nonsense 'promise' that was,” She said out loud, and it rang through Bakugou’s ears, because he made a pathetic whining sound that's never been heard before, because this moment couldn't have a bigger emotional toll on him than anything else.

"Y/N, hear me out," he sniffled. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean an ounce of what I said. I know you're not cheating on me, baby, I'm sure of that. I was being a dickhead for that and I'm so fucking sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I love you, Y/N. God. I need you so much, and I was lying when I said I never did. When you're not with me, I'm not... me. And I just," he sighed, pulling the ends of his hair aggressively. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Y/N’s got a hand on the door handle, but there were fingers slowly wrapping around her other wrist. She yanked her wrist out of his hold like his touch burned, causing Bakugou's lips to shake. It's hitting him now, the fact that he's losing the girl he courted and spent so much time with. The girl who kept him wide awake at night because of how much she clouded his mind. Not to mention, the ring which symbolizes their commitment to each other, is being thrown away like it's nothing.

(y/n) peeked at him through her eyelashes, "Give me a break. I obviously don't have a place in your heart, you've made that painfully clear to me. So do me a favor and fuck off."

He very nearly heaved with his next breath. He held a hand up, ring between his pointer finger and thumb. “I meant it when I said I wanted to get serious with this relationship. I still do, and that'll never change. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, that you should be with someone— someone better in every fucking way possible, I want to be the one to marry you. That wasn’t a false promise. That was— that is the promise that I swear to God I’ll be keeping until my last breath.”

[catxsnow]

BROTHERLY DISTURBANCES W.W

Request: can i request a wally and batsis!reader trying to make out in peace but keep getting interrupted by her brothers?

Warning: fluff, kissing, implied smut

A/N: I love Wally West with my whole heart okay. He deserves better and I hope he comes back in season four of YJ 😩

Word count: 2.2k

It was great that your boyfriend and your brothers got a long. Wally and Dick were best friends long before you even met him. Jason liked the speedster too - you were sure it was because he reminded him of Roy a little bit. Even Tim liked Wally - mostly because Bart was one of his best friends.

Least to say, they were all happy that it was Wally that you were dating, not some asshole. You were glad that you didn't have to go through that awkward stage of your brothers intimidatingly asking your boyfriend what he wanted with you. Wally already knew them all, they knew exactly what kind of person he was.

Dick the most. Their time together on the Young Justice team proved a friendship that would never end. Having him basically be part of the family with dating you was even better.

You and Wally started dating after his endless flirting with you. At first, it had just been a joke to piss Dick off, before he realized that he genuinely had feelings for you. He was trying to spend as much time with you as he could get - and as a speedster it seemed that he had all the time in the world.

It took you a long time to cave to his pleads of asking you on a date. The second you did, it was like your whole world changed. Your brothers got closer to you, Wally was more loving than ever, you were happier. Dating Wally made you a better sister, and a better person.

The downside of them all being friends, was that you were often interrupted by them. Dick was always stopping by your apartment to hang out with Wally or you. It was nice to see him, but there were times that you wanted to get into a classic sibling throw-down with him as well.

Today, was one of those days.

For the first time in a long time, you and Wally both were free of university classes and missions. You got the chance to laze around in your apartment and just enjoy the presence of one another. Wally always complained about how slowly the days passed, but you knew that these were his guilty pleasure days.

The smell of fresh cookies filled your apartment, upon Wally's request. Rain pattered against the window, filling the empty noise. Wally sat in the arm chair in your small living room with you on his lap. His hand grasped your thigh as he met your lips. His favourite part about days like these? Getting to kiss you as much as he wanted.

Wally dragged out his kisses for as long as he possible could. It was one of the few times he despised speed. You smiled into the kiss, wishing that you could spend every day like this. Hands tugging through Wally's messy hair, the heat of his body radiating to yours. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Except for Dick Grayson.

You regretted giving your brother a key to your apartment. Especially right now, when he barged in without knocking. You nearly jumped off of Wally's lap, startled from his sudden entrance. Your fear turned to disappointment very quickly, and it seemed like Wally's did too.

"Cookies," Dick grinned, grabbing one off the plate and shoving nearly the entire thing into his mouth. He finally noticed that you and Wally were sitting on the chair, and awkwardly smiled at your angered look. "Bad timing?" It didn't take being a detective to realize what you were previously doing.

"When do you ever have good timing?" You glared. Wally tapped your leg, gesturing for you to get off of his lap, to which you complied to. Your arms were crossed over your chest as the two friends dabbed it up. In all your time together, it seemed like Wally was never mad at Dick for something like this, always you.

"What're you doing here, Rob?" Wally asked, using Dick's old nickname. His mouth was full of a half eaten cookie and you were sure the plate was going to be gone within the hour. As much as you loved Wally, he was a lot to cook for.

"Was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by," Dick shrugged. He swung his arm over your shoulder and when you didn't return his hug, he tightened his grip and completely messed up your hair. Of course, both boys thought it was hilarious to see you so frustrated about a simple fix.

Your peaceful day had come to an end as Wally and Dick settled on the couch and chatted about everything and anything. Their friendship had come first for longer than you were dating Wally and longer than you were siblings with Dick. It was often times hard to compete with that and over the years, you had just accepted it.

It was hours that Dick had stayed over, him and Wally laughing and having fun like the good old days. You loved seeing them happy like this, but you also just wanted your alone time with Wally again. Finally, Dick had decided that he used up his time and that it was time to head back to his own home.

The second that Dick left, Wally sped over to you and latched onto your waist. His lips crashed onto yours, missing your taste just as much as you had missed his. At that moment, your bed - even the couch - seemed too far away. Wally settled with setting you up on the kitchen counter, standing between your legs.

You trapped him in his place, legs wrapped around his waist. Wally's hands rested below your shirt, gently rubbing the pads of his fingers on your skin. He pulled his lips away, just long enough to utter, "I love you."

"As much as you love my brother?" You teased. Wally playfully glared at you, you always teased him about how close he and Dick were. He grabbed the bottom of your thighs, carrying you to your bedroom. You laughed the whole way there, even more so as he literally threw you on the bed.

Wally didn't hesitate to join you. He hovered over you, legs entangled as he kissed you again. His hair tickled the underside of your chin as he trailed down your neck. Hands grasping at your shirt, but not wanting to pull away long enough to tug it off of you. Finally, he pulled away the material.

"Babe, I don't think I'll ever stop admiring you," Wally grinned. He took every chance he got to flirt with you, and you had to admit that you loved it. This time, you rolled your eyes at him, and pulled him back down to meet your lips. He didn't seem to complain about that either.

A sudden, familiar gush of wind made you freeze. You were well accustomed to Wally speeding in and out of a room, along with the mess of loose items that followed. However, with Wally hovering over you, there was only one other person that would be speeding in and out of your room at that speed.

"Please don't tell me..." You trailed off, already knowing the answer. Wally sighed, handing you back your shirt that he had just removed. The two of you straightened up your clothes before leaving your room and back into the kitchen.

Bart was raiding your fridge, food already shoved in his mouth while none other than Tim was sitting in your favourite chair.

"You look great in red (Y/N)!" Bart complimented while still chewing. You could feel Wally's glare, and before he could do anything to his relative, you grasped his hand. You hoped that he hadn't noticed you shirtless, but of course being a speedster he easily noticed everything in a room before you could blink.

"What do you want, Tim?" You asked, looking over at your younger brother. "Bart if you take that last slice of pizza I'll personally send you back to your timeline myself," you snapped. Bart wearily looked between the pizza in his hand and you before setting it back in the fridge and closing the door.

"Haven't seen Kon in a while, thought he might have come here," Tim explained. It wouldn't have been the first time one of your super friends came and crashed at your apartment for a couple nights. Tim looked up at Wally's ruffled hair and your shirt that was on inside-out. "Sorry for the bad timing." Just like Dick. 

"Kon isn't here," Wally answered the obvious.

"A simple text would have sufficed instead of showing up," You snapped. It seemed like everyone was making the effort to ruin your day with Wally. However, family was family and as much as you hated them you couldn't be annoyed for long. They all meant their best, even if it wasn't valuing you in the moment.

"Am I not allowed to come visit?" Tim asked. Of course he was. Just like Dick, you did enjoy Tim's visits to your home as well. Also like Dick, you weren't in the mood for anyone else to come by your home. The hours of the day were ticking down and you knew that by the next day, you weren't going to get the option of peace again for a while.

"Hi, Tim. Thanks for stopping by, great catching up. You too, Bart. Really great visit, missed you both, bye!" You sarcastically vote as you ushered both the men towards your front door. They tried to complain as you did so, but you had slammed the door right in their faces, followed by an obvious click of your lock.

"Really, babe?" Wally chuckled at you. "Just can't get enough of me today, huh?"

"Do you want me to invite them back in? Stay for dinner? Less time that you get to see me nak-"

"Nope!" Wally changed his attitude very quickly. He sped over to you, hoisting you up in his arms and raced back into your bedroom, this time closing and locking the door in case you had any more visitors. The tension between the two of you escalated dramatically throughout the day and it was killing you not to break it.

Wally's finger's danced along your skin. They roamed up your thighs, under your shirt, anywhere that he could reach. All day he had been waiting for his and all day he had been denied. It wasn't just you who was craving his kisses, he was craving yours as well. He needed this moment with you, otherwise he was sure he was going to explode.

Your kisses were no longer slow and tender, they were rushed, needy. Both of you were petrified that someone else was going to come along and ruin your moment. The perfect day that you had envisioned was no more, the last few hours of the night were fading just as you had dreaded.

You were right to fear as well. Wally barely had his belt undone when yet another knock came from your front door. His eyes filled with dread at the sound. "Think we can ignore them?" Wally asked, still kissing along your jaw. You didn't answer, just tilted his chin so you could kiss his lips.

However, the knock didn't stop. It got louder, and louder until you couldn't bare the sound of it anymore. Whoever it was, they had no patience in the slightest. "Fuck," You muttered. You grabbed the closest shirt on the floor and shoved it over your half naked body. Wally flopped against the bed, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

You whipped open your front door, fire in your eyes at getting interrupted once more. Just as you had dreaded - and expected - it was Jason at your door. His arms were crossed and he had a duffel bag over his shoulder, one that held his Red Hood suit.

"Patrol?" Jason asked. There were several times that he came to you asking if you wanted to scour the city with him. Most times, you wanted to. This time, you barely gave him notice.

"No," you deadpanned. The door was maybe a little too harshly slammed in his face. There was no way that you were going to waste the last bit of time with Wally to go out in this city to fight criminals. You wanted this night to yourself and you had even gone out of your way to tell Jason that you were taking the night off. He must have forgotten.

"Babe, I know I've said it before but you look so good in my clothes," Wally complimented as you walked back into your room. You hadn't noticed that it was his shirt that you picked up rather than your own. "Another one of your brothers?"

"Jason," you scowled.

"I thought I had a big family," Wally joked. He pulled you back into your bed so your legs straddled his thighs. Both hands were intertwined as he stared up at you. "How many more interruptions can we expect? My body can only handle so much more."

"Well, if you include Bruce, there's still a chance of five more," You shuddered at the thought. "I don't care what's happening out there. I'm not leaving this bed again. Even if it's Beyonce that comes at my door."

"Babe, I like the way you think."

[starshipsofstarlord]

Caught Backstage | 5th Second

Warnings; includes smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), embarrassment, second hand embarrassment,

Wembley Arena, one of the most famous places that a musician could perform. It was an honour to be welcomed onto that stage, and even more so that there were cameras around corners within the crowd, capturing the sheer joy imploding onto the faces of fans, and to top that all off, there was another reasoning for the lenses. A movie, technically the second one, but the first taking information from each member of the band.

It felt so surreal, there was an onslaught of adrenaline running through your veins as you held a chilled water bottle, drinking the cold liquid. You had yet to start the show, so there was still time to kill. One of the last times that had been recorded was when Mikey and Cal had been cinched by the snaking flames, it made you relieved that that idea had been scrapped for the future.

However, even though there was no fire nearby, there was a heat riveting inside of you, you had so much energy awaiting, but it was still almost an hour until you were called out to grab a guitar and stand behind a microphone. Those statistics made you huff, and so you walked into the dressing room that the five of you shared, only to see a single singer there. Luke.

Your partner was half laid on the couch, his phone grasped in one hand. As you entered the confinement, you ensured the door was closed behind your jittering presence, so that if you were to consensually pursue your primal urges, there would be a barrier, blocking out the view of anyone that decided to be a peeping tom.

“Missed you.” He mumbled, continuing to stare at the screen of his device. You sat beside him, his hand extending to your thigh and massaging the taught muscles, it was a comforting act, his lips pressing to the skin that the uprise of your shirt exposed also. Luke was the sweetest, and his statement made you laugh a little, not enough to trigger any insecurities, but enough to peak his curiosity. Although his phone was still in his hand, he was peering up at you.

“I was gone for twenty mins tops, and I still didn’t get my phone back from that asshole.” Crossing your arms was not the only sign that signalled that you were frustrated. Another was the crease that formed between your brows, which Luke reached up to try and rub away, at his touch you let the line shrink away.

“That’s better.” He spoke, throwing his phone onto the table in front of the couch, his hand coming up to brush any loose strands of hair that had absentmindedly decided to escape from behind your ear. “What did he want with it anyway?”

“He saw it as a way to piss me off, and for once Mikey was correct. Normally I wouldn’t be bothered, I’m so exhausted from our work, my mum wants me to visit her in (Your Home Town) and is getting annoyed that I can’t because business, and my dad’s getting the other end of the stick, she’s saying she should have never let him move me to Sydney with him. A part of me is slightly happy that Mike took my phone, but the other wants to rip his head off.”

“Would sex help ease your list of troubles?” It was blunter than the boy usually was when referring to the activity, let alone suggesting it. Your head snapped up to lock onto his smirking gaze, trying to decipher whether he was being serious or not.

“Here? Now?” Slipped past your lips, unsure whether the idea was that great of one. Sure, when you had entered the room, it had been an probable thought, one that had calmed you just from thinking about it, however it seemed risky.

It certainly wouldn’t be your first time having sex with the risk of being caught, the tour bus and hotel rooms were a green zone, however there were paid staff behind the scenes of the stage, working to make sure everything went perfectly and to plan. The aspect of two famous teenagers having sex on a sofa, in the band’s relaxing quarters wasn’t on the schedule. But what did they expect, as said, you were teenagers.

“We have forty seven minutes, there’s plenty of time.” Luke prompted, his hands beginning to undo his jeans which attracted your eyes to the area of his covered cock. However you didn’t stop his actions, instead you remained still, letting him shuffle his layers of concealing articles down his thighs, far enough to the point where he was revealed.

His dick lay heavy on his thigh, twitching slightly when you licked your lips at the sight. “Care to shed a little clothing too? I don’t think this is going to work if only one of us is half undressed.” At his suggestion, you too shimmied down your black skinny jeans and underwear, neither anything particularly eye catching or special to the moment.

Your pussy was left bare, and as you came to rest again upon the sofa, you hovered over Luke, your eyes cast down as he had his hand on the body of his length, his hand conducting the movements of his cock and how it rubbed sensually against your slit.

“Just put it in me!” You sighed, brushing your hair over your shoulder. As you commanded, Luke bottomed out inside of you, pulling you down on him by the waist, his face coming to rest closer to your own. “Oh.”

“You’d think you’d be less tight by now, not that I’m complaining.” He bit his lip ring, which encouraged you to lean forward and take the metal ring into your own mouth, sucking on the black accessory and the part of his lip around it. Then you began to move, bracing your hands on his chest as you brought your tightness up and down his erection, coating him in your pleased juices and the feeling elicited happy noises from the pair of you.

“Good, don’t.” You breathed, your eyes fluttering at all of the sensations that you were feeling from where your bodies interlocked. The bliss never got old, the passion remained intact through each day of your relationship, and it was presented to those who opened the dressing room door. They groaned because of the sex, but for a different reason than Luke had been.

“Fucks sakes guys.” Calum turns, not wanting to see two of his best friends in such an intimate moment, clearly not meant for their eyes. At his voice, Luke and you froze instantly, redness spreading from your cheeks all the way down to your necks and luckily clothed chests.

“Not again.” Ash shook his head, and you avoided the eyes of your bandmates. They laughed a little, but you and your partner however did not. “Did you two really have to do it in here?”

“We’ve never done it in a dressing room before.” You attempted to sass back at the drummer, but to your dismay, your voice came out as quiet and guilty. Not really the attitude that you were going for, but oh well.

“Can you guys give us a minute to get decent?” Luke asked, his hand flopping over his face, to which you prodded his fingers, trying to peer through them to find his ocean eyes.

“Sure.” Mikey dragged the word out, unsure how to deal with the situation. “I just came back to give your phone back (Y/N/N) And the sofa’s all yours when we grab dinner, I don’t want to sit on that thing.” He threw it at you, the object ending up right next to Luke’s naked thigh which tensed from the contact.

“Thanks.” A sheepish smile was exploited onto your lips, teeth showing through their parting in an awkward stance.

“We’re on in a bit, keep your hands out of each other’s pants until after the show please.” Calum spoke, still refusing to look at the two of you. A loud sigh was heard from him as he walked away, and you imagined it as a prayer to either make him blind for future instances in which they caught the two of you in such a position, or for him individually to never have the unfortunate luck of seeing you two as such ever again.

Taglist

: @coucoukayy

@reallygroovyholland

​ @faithhhsworld

@lukehemmingsleftnipple

@inocent-as-a-rose

@marvel-af

@kingxnichole

@winchestergirl907

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Monday, 14:12

Song: gnash - i hate you, i love you

Lucas tugs absentmindedly at a loose thread on his pillowcase as he waits for the boys. He’s been staring blankly at his laptop screen for a quarter hour already, the only tab open to Jens’s Instagram. Devoid of any new posts but with recent messages that Lucas still hasn’t responded to.

Maybe he’s overreacting, but he physically can’t do it. Not after hearing Jens explain that he’d ditched him for Jana. Without so much as a single warning.

It had taken Lucas over half an hour of waiting like a fool and sending Jens messages before he was able to admit to himself that he’d been stood up. He’d gotten Jens’s urgent apology when he was already halfway home, and at that stage, he’d struggled to care what the excuse was. He was tired of feeling stupid. He was angry.

He still is, but he also misses Jens already.

The tone of an incoming video call stops him from falling into that pit of self-pity, and he answers with probably a little too much enthusiasm. He doesn’t care, though, as Kes and Jayden pop into view on his screen, grinning just as ridiculously, cheering as soon as they can see Lucas. Lucas ducks closer to his screen and examines, noting that they seem to be in Jayden’s room and both have a little more scruff on their chins than when he’d last seen them. Weeks ago, he reminds himself. This is his first time seeing his best friends—the people he used to talk to everyday—in weeks.

“Hi,” he says, giddy, already grinning wider than he has in days.

“Hey,” Jayden leans in to examine him closer, blocking Kes and beaming. “I was hoping I could be like ‘you’ve changed’ but you haven’t even changed your hair, Lucas. It looks like you’ve been frozen in time since you left.”

Lucas snorts as Kes shoves him out of the way. “Shut up, Jayden. You look fucking great, Luc. I missed that pretty face.”

“Funny,” Lucas muses, “I haven’t thought about your’s once since I left.”

Kes squawks, and then he’s leaning forward to take up the frame, pointing a finger at Lucas threateningly. He then turns it towards himself and circles the air in front of his face. “You love this face. Don’t even try to lie to me.”

It is a lie, so Lucas doesn’t bother arguing any further. He’s missed them both more than he’s willing to express, for surety they’ll make fun of him in response. They do, however, still have their own ridiculous grins stuck on their faces, so maybe Lucas is judging them too harshly.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve been missing then?”

Jayden scoffs. “You’re the only thing that’s missing, man. It’s boring as hell without you.”

Lucas shakes his head. “Come on, you’re seriously trying to tell me you haven’t gotten in any trouble the whole time I was away.”

“Well, no one said that.”

Kes rolls his eyes and offers Lucas a shrug. “There hasn’t been much, man. You’ve only been gone three weeks.”

“I’ve already been gone three whole weeks, you mean,” Lucas raises a brow, even though the realisation sinks in and scares him. He’s only been here a little over three weeks. He hadn’t known Jens for the first one, meaning it has hardly taken any time for Lucas to develop such a strong, ridiculous crush on him.

Really, can he even call it a crush? The word feels much too tame to describe the force of his feelings, sometimes.

He has to swallow down the sudden anxiety crawling up his throat as Kes says, “Surely you have more exciting things to talk to us about then.”

“Yeah,” Jayden urges. “You get to meet all the new people. Did you find any of the hot girls yet?”

Kes bumps his arm. “Luc doesn’t have to find the hot girls. They come to him. It’s weird as fuck, man.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas retorts, and it’s half-hearted. His chest feels tight, all of a sudden, and there’s a heaviness that sinks into his stomach and takes root. It’s a weight that had slowly began to drift away, as Lucas let himself drift and entertain the possibility of accepting that part of him. Of thinking that part could be known alongside all the rest without changing anything. He’s reminded now, with his best friends of years looking at him, that it’ll never be that easy. “There are plenty of girls that I’m sure you couldn’t get, yeah.”

The boys both ‘oh’ dramatically in response and Lucas rolls his eyes fondly, even as the ache in him does nothing to dissipate. His smile still feels tight, stretched thin, and he feels suddenly helpless. He’d been hoping that seeing them would put him at ease, would make him feel normal, would allow him to stop thinking about his dad, still at work, and his mother, still in Utrecht, and Jens, still being avoided.

He supposes he should have known better.

“You can at least tell us about this new fancy friend group of yours,” Kes says, casual and genuine, and Lucas wishes the simple request didn’t make him feel worse, but it does.

He forces a shrug. “They’re cool.”

“That’s it?” Jayden scoffs. “Come on, tell us who’s the pretty boy you’re always with, at least. We have to know something about our replacements, yeah?”

“They’re definitely not replacements,” Lucas assures. “No one could replace you. I wish I could just come back.”

The boys share a look, and when they turn back to him, they’ve softened. Lucas’s chest only grows tighter, the ache more thorough. He misses them now even more than he had that first week, when he’d been left feeling completely alone, even wishing for the presence of his dad on occasion just to have the company. It hurts twice as much to be reverted back to the stage when he’d had a taste of something different.

“We’d love that, too, Luc,” Kes promises, and Lucas misses him so much he could cry, and he almost does when he goes on to ask, “Are the pretty boys not even treating you right?”

Lucas shrugs, looking back down at that loose thread on his pillow, smoothing his hand over it this time to feel the bump under his fingers. “They’re cool. Some of them do remind me of you guys. Aaron’s kind of the funny one, I guess, and Moyo’s really cool and kind of freaked me out at first. But they��re nice. Then there’s Robbe, he’s the smaller one with the curly hair? He’s sweet. But his boyfriend, Sander, is really cool. He’s studying art.”

He watches them intently over the word ‘boyfriend’, but nothing in their expression changes other than their smiles widening fondly at the mention of art.

“You’ve already found your perfect clique, then,” Jayden teases. “So what part are you? Still the nice face?”

Lucas shakes his head and pulls the thread. “That’s Jens.”

“That’s right,” Kes drawls. “‘Jensrolt’, yeah? You mentioned him before too.”

Lucas nods. “He was the first one of them I met, so.”

“He seems pretty cool. He’s got the chill, Kes-like vibes,” Jayden muses, elbowing his friend, and it’s enough to finally drag another proper smile out of Lucas.

“He does kinda remind me of Kes, actually.”

“What, ‘cause he took pity on you or because he’s hot as fuck?” Kes raises his brows cheekily and Lucas resists the urge to answer honestly by simply saying ‘both’. Instead he focuses on his best friend calling his crush hot as fuck. Which is weird, but not wrong.

But really weird.

“Maybe because he’s full of himself,” Jayden raises his brows at Lucas, exaggeratedly, mocking, and he and Lucas both laugh as Kes tries to shove him off the bed. Lucas watches them wrestle and glances at his phone.

“I think he might be too pretty and too cool for me, actually,” Lucas mumbles.

Kes and Jayden both stop and look at him, and they’ve lost all previous hints of amusement. “What do you mean?” Jayden asks. “Is he being a dick?”

Lucas shrugs again. “I’m probably just overthinking. I was supposed to hang out with him yesterday and he couldn’t make it, that’s all.”

“He couldn’t make it as in he cancelled on you or he stood you up?” Kes prods.

“It wasn’t a date,” Lucas says, too snappish, too petulant. They can both see right through him. “But he stood me up,” he mumbles.

“Fuck that. Like it’s not hard enough to get used to new friends without them being assholes. Did he tell you why?” Jayden asks.

“He was meeting up with his ex-girlfriend.”

“Fuck that. How long were you waiting for him?”

“Like half an hour? Then I gave up and left. He text me to tell me he forgot because she’d asked him to meet up.”

Jayden scoffs as Kes frowns. “It seemed like you two were getting on well before, though. He’s been friendly enough so far, right?”

“Yeah, he’s been cool right from the start and I thought it was great. I’d found friends. And then he completely forgot I existed. And now I wanna come home to you guys.”

“He obviously didn’t completely forget about you,” Jayden attempts to comfort. “Maybe he had something else going on, too.”

“Yeah, Luc. And if he did then he sucks and you can get better friends than that. But you like them, right? The whole group. And you should trust your own judgment. You’re pissed right now but it probably is a genuine mistake and you probably know it.”

Lucas considers this for a moment and begrudgingly admits that he’s probably right. Kes beams and adds, “But for now, we can say fuck him. It’s us time. Did you talk to your dad about coming down another weekend?”

“Not yet,” Lucas says, sinking into the pillow behind him. “Right now I still have a curfew.”

Jayden snorts. Kes elbows him. “Is he there? We could try to talk him around.”

“No, he’s working. As usual.”

“Fuck that,” Jayden repeats. “Man, you’re lucky you have us. Jens is the last straw. If he fucks up, you tell us, and we’re coming over there to steal you back, okay?”

Lucas laughs, and reminds himself that he is lucky.

[crookswithbooks]

Let’s Play A Game

Day Nine - Eddie has a cold and Richie assures him that he’s not going to die in typical Tozier fashion.                

Eddie was going to die of hypothermia.

He was certain of it. He had checked his pulse and his temperature only about a million times that day and he had spent the last half hour researching symptoms. He had a runny nose, a fever, and he couldn’t stop shaking. When he called up Richie to say his goodbyes, he found not sympathy but instead amusement.

“You’re not going to die,” Richie assured him. A couple of minutes ago he had been lounging on his bed in preparation for reading some dirty magazines he had garnered from the convenience store, but this was much more interesting. “You probably just have a cold or something.”

“A cold is only the first step to hypothermia,” Eddie warned him gravely. He paced up and down his bedroom, wrapped in about a million layers. In the background, hot water was running for a bath. “First it’s a cold then you start to feel a slight tingle in your body and then your limbs have all fallen off. It’s a slippery slope, Richie! A slippery slope!”

“Fine, fine,” Richie said, rolling his eyes on the other end. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll come over there and together we’ll figure this out. This, which will probably be nothing. Because you’re not dying and you don’t have hypothermia.”

“Actually, denying hypothermia is a very common symptom of hypo—”

Richie hung up the line before he had to listen to another rant on the subject. He kicked the dirty magazines off his bed, going over to grab his shoes and coat. “Maybe another time, Jennifer’s boobs. Maybe another time.”

He slid off the bed and went to go assure his boyfriend that he was not going to die at the humble age of fifteen.

Richie’s hands were warm and Eddie reluctantly fell back into the embrace. There had been a solid five minutes in the beginning where he wouldn’t even let Richie get near him, but after the other boy had assured him that hypothermia was not contagious he suspiciously relented. Eddie let out a gentle sigh as Richie cuddled into the back of his neck, his arms clamped tightly around his middle.

“Okay,” he said, smiling softly. “I will admit, this is helping.”

“I told you.” Richie grinned triumphantly. “Tozier hugs make everything better.”

Eddie didn’t respond, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that said something was bothering him. Richie sighed, waiting for the inevitable. “I’m still pretty sure I have hypothermia though.”

“For the last time, if you had hypothermia, you would be dead right now,” Richie grumbled. “Though I could speed the process up if you don’t shut about it.” He playfully bit the other boy’s earlobe and Eddie shrieked, reaching back a hand to smack him.

“Not funny.”

“Eds, do you actually believe you have hypothermia?”

Eddie was silent for a moment. “No, I guess not. That doesn’t mean I can’t worry about it though.”

Richie pulled away, much to the disappointment of Eddie, and kneeled on the bed so that he was facing him. “Alright, I’ll prove it to you. Sit up.”

Eddie slowly uncurled from his roly-poly position and sat opposite him. “What are you going to do?”

Richie reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “Give me your hand.”

Eddie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Um, how about no? What are you going to do?”

“Do you trust me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddie. Edward. Eds. C’mon.”

Eddie rolled his eyes back to the ceiling, but eventually held out his hand. Richie grabbed it, turning it so that just his index finger was pointing out. He took a penny and carefully balanced it on top. Then he sat back and waited.

Eddie let a couple seconds go by before he asked, “Okay, so? I can balance a penny on my finger. What does this prove?”

“You’re not shivering,” Richie pointed out. Eddie paused as he realized this was true. “ It’s the first symptom of hypothermia. If you were shivering, the penny would have fallen.”

“So I’m not shivering,” Eddie scoffed. “That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I’m in stage three.”

“I wasn’t finished. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions and I need you to answer me rapid fire, okay? How long have we been dating?”

“What are you talking about—”

“Rapid fire, remember?”

Eddie fixed him with a look. “Approximately one year now.”

“Specifically?”

“I don’t know…” Eddie racked his brain. “I guess nine months? Like, nine and a half maybe?”

“Good. What was the first nickname I was assigned when we started school?”

“Bucky Beaver? Because of your—”

“Big front teeth, whatever,” Richie cut him off, flushing. “Bad Question, okay. What is two times seven.”

“Fourteen.”

“What is the capitol of Argentina?”

“What—I don’t know!”

“Fair point,” Richie agreed. “I don’t know that either. That was a test though, and you passed!”

Eddie crossed his arms. Often he found himself annoyed with Richie’s antics but it was even worse now that he didn’t know what was going on. “What was the test? How fast can you piss off Eddie Kaspbrak?”

“You love me,” Richie said cheekily, booping his nose. Eddie smacked his hand away, flushing violently. “And no, that was not in fact the purpose of the test. You just evaded two more symptoms, confusion and memory loss.”

“Oh.” Despite himself, Eddie found that Richie’s game was working. He was calmer now, and though he still felt like crap he was starting to agree that the symptoms were far different from hypothermia. “What’s the next test?”

Richie beamed, happy that Eddie was on board now. He never minded helping his boyfriend out of a funk, but if he was going to do so he liked to do it in typical Trashmouth style. “It’s simple. I want you to say, ‘I love Richie Tozier.’”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “Right. How exactly is that relevant? I thought we already covered memory loss.”

“Just do it,” Richie demanded, waving a hand expectantly.

Eddie took a deep breath, leaning his head back. “I love Richie Tozier. There.” He was trying to glare at him, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. It was impossible sometimes to resist Richie’s ridiculousness. “Are you happy?”

Richie was. No matter how many times Eddie said it, he never got tired of hearing those words. “Yes. Almost.”

Richie clambered off the bed and grabbed a notebook and pen off the dresser. He threw them at Eddie, pushing up his glasses. “Now write it.”

“God Richie, how much self-validation do you need?”

Richie blushed, but kept his tone cocky as he said, “More than you could possibly know. Just write it, will you?”

Eddie sighed and made a show of dramatically flourishing the pen and setting them to paper, each stroke deliberate and elaborate. And Eddie said he was extra. When he was finished, he showed the paper to Richie, where in neat legible letters it read, I love Richie Tozier. “Does this do it for you? Do you want me to put a little kiss next to it as well?”

“Shut it. You’re just lashing out because you know it’s true.” Richie took the paper, shoving it in his pocket for later. Okay yeah, so maybe Richie was going to stare at the words for hours that evening, but could you really blame him? “The next two symptoms were slurred speech and fumbling hands. You just disproved both. Now there’s just one more test.”

“Just one?”

“Just the one. I need you to close your eyes for it, though.”

Instantly nerves flooded Eddie’s body and he crossed his arms protectively. “No way. How do I know you won’t do something weird?”

Richie held up one of his hands in mock salute. “I won’t do anything, I promise—Scout’s honor.”

Eddie bit his lip, thinking it over. Finally he relented, squeezing his eyes shut. For a couple minutes nothing happened and Eddie was almost worried that Richie had left him alone and this whole thing was some kind of stupid prank. “Are you going to do anything or—”

His next sentence broke off as hands slid under his shirt suddenly, sliding up the stretched skin of his back. He tensed, a deer frozen in headlights. He could feel the heat of Richie’s body as he slowly wrapped him in a hug, the form very familiar to him by now. Richie softly peppered kisses up his neck and paused inches away from his ear. A pleasant shudder ran down Eddie’s spine when Richie spoke, his breath sending miniature vibrations over his skin.

“How do you feel?”

Eddie was frozen. “Huh?”

“Wide awake? Like you’re never gonna sleep again?”

He did. In fact, Eddie had never felt more awake in his life. “Y-Yeah? I suppose. Why?”

“Then you just beat the last symptom—drowsiness.” Richie leaned down suddenly, blowing a raspberry against his neck and causing Eddie to shriek, shoving him off of him.

“Oh you asshole,” he growled, grabbing a pillow and beating the taller boy with it. Richie ducked, holding up a hand weakly to protect himself. “That was unfair and you know it. What happened to Scout’s honor?”

“I forgot to mention,” Richie said, seizing the pillow and launching his own attack. “I was never a Scout.”

“You dick—”

Richie only laughed and the night slowly devolved into pillow fights and madness.

Not that Eddie minded.

[storiesforallfandoms]

revenge ~ montana duke;ahs 1984

word count: 1587

request?: no

description: after being cheated on by your ex, you and your best friend decide to go get revenge on him

pairing: montana duke x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

(y/e/n) = your ex’s name

Normally, you’d wait until Montana’s aerobics class was over and call her to see if she was able to see you, but this was different. You needed to see Montana immediately, which was how you found yourself sitting in the waiting area of the gym Montana worked at.

She emerged from the women’s locker room, talking to a few girls about her class. When she spotted you, she said goodbye and approached you immediately.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” she asked. You opened your mouth to respond, but started to cry instead. Montana quickly dropped her bag and took you into her arms. “Oh, hun, what is it?”

“(Y/E/N),” you finally managed to say. “I - I caught him with another girl.”

“What?! With who? How’d you - ?” She pulled away, anger crossing her face. “Who’s the bitch we have to kill?”

You shook your head. “No, she’s not the problem. She didn’t even know about me. I went over to (Y/E/N)’s place and caught them in his bed, the bed we shared for so long. He tried to explain himself, but I just left. I can’t believe he cheated on me, after all these years.”

Montana took you into her arms again and let you cry on her shoulder. You were so upset, beyond upset even. You had been with your ex for three years, the two of you had been talking about getting married recently, and he had even mentioned you moving in a few times. You were sure he was going to propose soon. Was all of that a lie?

Montana pulled away from the hug and wiped the tears from your eyes. “No more crying. That bastard doesn’t deserve your tears. Instead, we’re getting revenge.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

A mischievous smirk came on her face as she responded, “We strike at midnight, dress in dark, I’ll bring the bat.”

~~~~~~

When midnight came, Montana picked you up at your house. She had a bat in the backseat, and she was wearing all black clothes.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked. “We could get into serious trouble for this. Like, legal trouble.”

“That’s why I told you to wear dark clothes. I brought this for you, too.” She threw a beanie at you. “Cover your face, be fast, be unseen.”

“You’re way too experienced with this.”

“I’ve gotten revenge a few times before.”

When you pulled up outside your ex’s house, the lights were off inside. Montana reached into the backseat and passed you the bat. You took it, hesitantly, before getting out of the car.

“I don’t know, Montana, this just isn’t my style,” you sighed.

“I know it isn’t, but in this case it should be,” Montana insisted. “Come on, (Y/N), he cheated on you. He threw away three years of love for some bitch he barley knows, you deserve to get some revenge!”

You looked over at his car. You thought of all the times you spent in that car - the drive in movies, watching sunsets or sunrises from the hood of the car, the make out sessions in the back, the sex almost anywhere in the car.

But thinking of the sex reminded you of earlier that day; walking into the house of the supposed love of you life, expecting to be greeted with hugs and kisses, instead you found him with another girl sat on his dick. You could see his shocked face, hear him begging for forgiveness, the girl screaming at him in anger.

Anger coursed through your veins as you gripped the baseball bat and sung at the windshield, shattering it with one hard swing. Montana cheered as you continued your angry tirade on his mirrors, beating them until they broke off completely.

“Atta girl!” Montana exclaimed. “Here, use these on his tires!”

She threw her keys to you. You caught them effortlessly and drove the car key into your ex’s tires. The air came out slowly, but soon enough the tires were so flat that the hubcaps were touching the ground. You picked up the bat again and swung it at the rest of the windows, shattering them all, before you got on top of the car and began beating the top until it was dented and bent.

“One last thing,” Montana decided as she opened the trunk of her car and passed you a can of spray paint. “Leave him a special note.”

You took the spray paint without hesitation and decided to leave a few notes on your ex’s car. One on side, you wrote “CHEATER”, on the other “ASSHOLE”, and on the hood you wrote “EAT A DICK”, accompanied by a crude picture of a dick.

As you approached Montana’s car, the light from your ex’s room turned on and a figure appeared at the window. Quickly, you passed the keys back to Montana and jumped into the car. Montana quickly sped away just as your ex came to the front door to see the work you had done on his car.

The two of you were laughing hysterically as Montana drove as far away from your ex’s house as possible, allowing you to work off your adrenaline before bringing you home.

“That was so fucking badass!” she exclaimed. “Fuck, his car is absolutely ruined. He’ll never get that fixed.”

“That was so exhilarating!” you exclaimed, rolling down the window and leaning out to call, “I just trashed my ex’s car and I don’t give a fuck!”

Montana laughed and pulled you back into the car. “God, you looked like a hot badass, beating the fuck out of his car like that.”

You looked at Montana and raised an eyebrow. “You think I looked hot?”

Montana’s eyes widened as you noticed her hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. “What? No, I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah you did, you said I looked like a hot badass.”

“Well...yeah, you did. That’s fine for a friend to say to a friend, right?”

“It is, so why are you being so defensive over it?”

“Shut the fuck up, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it, it was just a comment.”

Montana came to a red light. You were sure that the only thing that made her stop was the fact that traffic was currently going at the intersection. She refused to look at you, her fingers tapping impatiently at the steering wheel.

“Montana,” you said, trying to draw her attention to you. “I didn’t mean anything by pointing out the comment. I was just curious. I’m sorry if I angered you.”

Montana sighed and ran a hand through her messy blond hair. “You didn’t anger me. I’m just pissed as myself. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind a compliment, I’m not gonna get angry at you for saying I was hot.”

“But it’s not just a compliment,” Montana said. “I meant it, and I hate that I do mean it because you’re my best friend and I don't want to ruin our friendship with my feelings.”

This took you by surprise. For as long as you knew Montana, she had only ever been with guys. She didn’t even seem to show an interest in girls, let alone in you, too.

“You really like me?”

Montana sighed as the light turned green and we started to drive again. “This really isn't how I wanted to tell you, and definitely not the best time either given the circumstances, but yeah I do. I always have. But you were my best friend before anything else, and I never wanted to ruin that. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You took a moment to process the information. You were shocked and really didn’t know what to say. You opened your mouth a few times, but would immediately close it as you were unsure as to what to say. You’d never rule out dating Montana completely, in fact you could probably see yourself in a relationship with her at some point in the future. But given how recent the end of your last relationship was, and how it ended, you definitely were not ready to jump into another one so soon.

“How about this,” you started, finally finding the words to say, “I can’t promise I’ll be ready for another relationship any time soon, but if you’re willing to be patient with me, I’d be willing to go on a date eventually.”

The shock of your words caused Montana to look over at you, nearly swerving off the road as she did so. She quickly straightened the car and asked, “You really mean that?”

You smiled at her and nodded. “I do. I think we could be a good couple. We know so much about each other anyways, we could skip past the awkward stages and go straight to the cute, gross, lovey dovey stages.”

The smile on Montana’s face was so wide you could almost feel the pain she most definitely had in her cheeks. “Okay, I’d love that. I’m more than okay with being patient with you. You’re worth the wait (Y/N).”

[ghostyearzero0]

Too Young To Fall In Love (Chapter 1)

A/N: Hey! So, I’m making this fanfiction about the terror twins shipped with my OC, Lucey, who’s the adopted sister of Mick Mars. Let me know what you all think. I will post more chapters. Not sure how much love this will get but I just hope some people like it! You’re welcome to suggest more things to me! Thank you. I’m also Open for more requests too. <3  Warnings: Smut, Heavy detailed Smut.  18+                 Chapter 1: Never Leave Your Girlfriend With Motley.                Johnny stood next to his girlfriend, Lucey. They were invited to a party that Motley Crue was at. “Fuck! Motley is here??” Lucey jumped up and down. “Yeah…” Johnny sighed softly, rubbing his eyes with this fingers. “Calm down, okay?” He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. “This is the NICEST thing you have done to me this week.” She laughed. “Whatever.” He shrugged and kissed her on the lips. “Anyways, let’s go—” He whipped his head around, his brown curls moved a bit as he saw Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx chugging a bottle of Jack. Sharing the bottle back and forth to each other. They were dressed in their stage gear and make up.                He looked at Lucey who was juts drooling and staring at the Terror Twins. “LUCEY!” Johnny slapped the back of her head, making her yelped softly. “Stop staring at those sleazy assholes okay?” He sighed. “Sleazy? Assholes?” Lucey frowned. “The fuck do you mean?” She frowned. “Look, rockstars ain’t thing but sleazy assholes who cheat on their girlfriends. I bet those two morons have girlfriends and about to fuck the millionth chick…” He rolled his dark brown eyes. “I do not believe your lies. They had came out with their first album and I heard lots of good things about those guys. Plus, the guitarist, Mick Mars is my adopted brother…” She said.                “Fuck, I didn’t think the grumpy old goth was your adopted brother, I can see where you adopted your style though.” Johnny snorted. He looked to see that Tommy and Nikki were staring at Lucey. Tommy turned his head to chat with Nikki and both of them started to laugh. “Mmm.. Those idiots ain’t gonna fuck you. Not on my watch.” His grip got harder. “Johnny, please. I don’t ever get stares at you. You stare at other women, What’s the fucking difference if two hot men stare at me?” Lucey shrugged. “… The—Fuck you’re right bitch.” He slapped her cheek. “Now shut the fuck up and get me a beer.”  “Yes, sir..” She sighed in defeat and started to walk towards the bar where Tommy and Nikki was at. Tommy gently tapped onto her shoulder..                She slammed the bottle onto the table, making some of it spell onto Johnny. “Oops~” She smirked. Johnny growled, “Dumb bitch. You can’t even properly give me a fucking beer. Why don’t you spill the whole thing on me next time?” He slapped her hand. “Sit.” He pulled the chair next to him. She sat down next to him and sighed, twirling her hair. “Well, bitch? Gonna talk?” Johnny looked at her with a glare. She looked at him. “Only if you’re nice to me. This is my night off and tomorrow is my day off. I can’t just go around and… have the night ruined.” Her blue eyes started to shimmer, tears forming. “Oh god, the tears… I don’t care. You just kill the vibe, bitch.” He started to chug the beer.                Vince walked up to the couple. “Hey, I heard that you two are coming.” He waved at Lucey. “Hey there, sexy~” He winked at her. “Back off, Malibu Barbie. She’s mine.” Johnny growled at the blonde. Vince rolled his eyes. “You don’t scare me.” He chuckled at the nickname. “Anyways, want to come and have a drink with me?” He held out his hand to her. “I can take you away from this asshole and… show you some fun~?” He purred. Johnny leaned back in his chair. “If you’re thinking about fucking her, she isn’t going to be the millionth girl you’ve fucked this week. The girl doesn’t want sex. Trust me, I tried it myself.” He sighed. Vince rose a brow and shrugged, “Well, that’s fine. Maybe I can get to know her more.” He smirked. “Like I said, she’s taken. Move on, dick.” Johnny pushed Vince out of the way. Vine wasn’t having this. He pushed Johnny back and flipped him off as he walked away. “See? Sleazy rock stars just wanting you.” Johnny chugged his beer. Mick walked over to them and crossed his arms. “If it isn’t the asshole my sister is dating.” He huffed. “Mick is it? You look like my grandmother.” Johnny laughed. Mick rolled his eyes. “Lucey… Why are you dating this asshole?” He asked. “I—I don’t know..” She frowned as Mick sadly walked away as he shook head. Lucey looked at Johnny who got another beer from a guy he had stolen it from.                He saw the Terror twins walking up to them. Both were high as fuck and drunk. “You guys got any drugs on you?” Johnny asked and wrapped an arm around Nikki’s shoulder. “I want whatever you guys have.” He laughed. Nikki rose a brow. “We got crack.” He smirked. “Oh, Uhm.” Johnny pulled away. “This is Lucey.” He pushed Lucey forward with his foot. “She’s a big fan of you guys.” He laughed at the poor girl’s embarrassed reaction. The Twins looked over at the red head and smirked at her. “Anyways, I gotta take a piss.” He ran to the bathroom. Giving alone time with the Twins and Lucey. “So, beautiful…” Nikki walked closer to her as Tommy followed. “Ever had a threesome before?” He asked softly.                “I never had sex period.” She crossed her arms. “Though, I wouldn’t decline.” She smirked. “Are you sure? You don’t have to with us.” Nikki shrugged. “Fuck yeah I do.” She laughed, “Anything to get away from Johnny.” She shrugged. The Twins looked at each other before high fiving each other. They each took Lucey’s hands and lead her to the back room. They pushed her in and walked in, Tommy being the last one to walk in as he shut and locked the door.                Lucey flopped down onto the bed and smirked. “So, you guys wanting to do a threesome with me? Well, I am honored.” She giggled softly. Nikki nodded softly as he sat down next to her. He kissed at her neck softly. As Tommy sat down on the other side, a hand running up her side. She shivered softly as she started to blush. She was already getting wet from the sensation she was feeling. Nikki pulled away from her neck, and carefully turning her head towards his. He leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. She closed her eyes, returning the kiss to the bassist, deepening it a little. Tommy chuckled and ran his hands up to her breasts, squeezing them softly. This made her moan against Nikki’s lips.                The bassist pulled away from her lips as he started to strip his clothing off. Tommy did the same after he pulled away from her. Lucey blushed softly and she felt like it was fair and started to strip herself. After the three were fully naked, Nikki gently pushed her onto her back, climbing on top of her. “So, baby girl.. Are you really sure you want to do this with us?” He whispered softly into her ear, nibbling onto it. “M-Mhm~ I am very sure..” She whispered back. “Alright… Try to be quiet.” He chuckled as he pulled away from her ear. He grabbed both of her breasts and squeezed them softly. They were quite big, around 32 DD in cup size. They fit in his hands and they were so soft. “Damn, your tits are perfect! So big,, round and soft!” He smirked and played with them in his hands.                Lucey moaned softly and nodded. “They’re all your’s to play with too~” She blushed, the lustful feeling getting to her. Tommy chuckled as he watched his best friend fondle with the sexy red head they were about to fuck. Nikki leaned his head down and licked a boob and then licked down to her stomach. She shivered a bit and blushed more, her face bright red. Nikki pulled his head up, “Sit up for me and spread out your legs.” He requested. She did as she was told as Nikki put his head in between her legs and started to lick her pussy, slowly. She moaned and grabbed onto some of his hair. Tommy smirked and went onto her left side. He started to kiss her softly as he started to massage one of her boobs. She moaned into Tommy’s mouth, the two started to French kiss each other. Nikki pulled away from her pussy after a little while as he wiped his mouth. Tommy pulled away from Lucey’s mouth and smirked at his best friend. He got off of the bed and watched them from the corner. Nikki once again, pushed Lucey down and crawled on top of her. He was already hard as he positioned himself onto her.                Lucey looked up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed his hands onto her waist as he slowly slid his dick into her pussy. She moaned, but then she bit her lip to make sure she was quiet. He pulled out of her and then made her get on all fours, flipping her body so she’s facing the end of the bed, where Tommy was at. Nikki then reentered her and gripped onto her hips, tightly. “Fuck~! You’re so tight baby girl!” He moaned out. She moaned back at him. “You’re a big boy..” She blushed softly. She gasped as she felt him starting to thrust into her already, but it was at a slow pace at first. Tommy walked up to her, turning her head straight. He slowly shoved his dick into her mouth. She closed her eyes as he started to face fuck her, being in rhythm with Nikki.                After a few moments, Nikki started to quicken his speed and Tommy too. Lucey moaned loudly but the moans were muffled. She felt Tommy’s tip hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. Nikki started to fuck her harder and faster. He grunted as he grabbed some of her hair with a hand. Tommy also had a hand in her hair as he continued to face fuck her. She felt both men slide in and out of her over and over from both ends. Within a few more thrusts, she had came all over Nikki’s dick, which made him moaned softly as he thrusted hard into her. Tommy growled softly and thrusted hard as well. But not enough to hurt her.                After a few more minutes, Nikki came into her pussy, sliding out softly, flopping backwards onto the bed and panted. Tommy pulled out of her mouth. “My turn!” He chuckled and scooped the red head up. He sat down onto the bed, next to Nikki. He placed Lucey onto his lap as his dick slid into her wet pussy. She moaned softly and kissed Tommy deeply, adding some tongue. He moaned softly and wrapped his arms around her waist and started to thrust upwards into her. After Nikki caught his breath, he sat up a bit and watched Lucey’s tits bounced up and down with each thrust. He chuckled and watched the show a bit.                Tommy thrusted harder and faster into the girl. He was more handsy with her, grabbing her tits or her ass at times. Even squeezing her hips a bit and her thighs. He kissed down her neck, sucking it on one side and made a hickey. Lucey scratched down Tommy’s back, making marks go down as she moaned softly. Nikki smirked and went to Lucey’s other side and sucked her neck too, causing another hickey too appear. He then pulled away and tongue kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth and returned the deep French kiss. Within a few more thrusts, she came yet again, all over Tommy’s dick, which caused him to moan loudly and came into her. He panted and looked at her softly.                  Lucey pulled away from Nikki and panted as well. She slowly slid off of his dick and looked at the two. The two chuckled and nuzzled against her neck. The three were all sweaty and tired from their little fun. “We gotta do this again sometime!” Nikki smirked. “Yeah, we can’t possibly lose this hot chick! I want to get to know her more~!” Tommy nodded. “Hey, let’s not make this just a one night stand. We should get to know you. Possibly take you out on a date too.” Nikki winked at her. “Give us your number.” Lucey nodded and reached over to the dresser. Which somehow had a note pad and a pen oddly enough. She wrote her number down and gave a piece of paper to each boy. “What’s your name, beautiful?” Tommy chuckled. “Lucey. Kinda odd to not ask me that in the first place.” She joked. Both boys laughed. The three got up, getting dressed and head out of the room and into the room they were in. Johnny looked at Lucey and walked up to her. “The fuck? Where had you been in the last hour?” He frowned and crossed his arms. “Oh, I was uh…” She looked around as the twins were already walking away to the bar. “Doing things.” She blushed. “Your hair is a mess.” He pointed to her sex hair. “You’re all sweaty and you looked tired.” He frowned. “Whatever you did, I don’t care. We talk later, skank.” He rolled his eyes. “Lets go home.” He roughly grabbed her wrist and stormed out. She didn’t care. She had a great night.                After a few day had past, Johnny went out to the bar without her. She was stuck at home and sighed. The phone rang and she picked it up. “Hey, It’s Nikki! Tommy and I are free if you want to hang with us today?” He offered. “I got nothing else to do. Let’s go.” She smirked. “Good. Maybe we can have a round two? Just kidding~! Unless…?” He laughed softly and she did too. “Whatever you want.” She smirked. “Good. I’ll pick you up around 6, baby doll!” He chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.” She smirked as they both hung up. She squealed softly as she leaned back and was happy. Johnny came in and rose a brow. He shrugged and went to his room, slamming the door. “Worth it, Lucey. Worth it.” She hummed. ‘I need to break up with Johnny. Tommy and Nikki are both sweet guys.. Yeah. Do it.. What’s the worse that can happen?’ She took a deep breath. “Johnny!” She screamed. “The fuck you want bitch!” He yelled back. “Get your ass out here. We need to talk.” She yelled and Johnny sighed. He walked out of the room. “WHAT?” He growled. She took a deep breath…

[just-my-sickly-pride]

In the Wings || John Deacon x Reader

summary || your official job, as a queen roadie, was to help backstage during a concert. your unofficial job, as someone who the bassist john deacon had taken a shining to, was to help backstage during a concert in a very particular way.

rating || explicit (18+). do not read if you are under eighteen. oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation kink, pretty much public sex (although there’s no exhibition kink). i guess there would be an age gap, but it’s not really explored or explained.

word count || 4.1k

author’s notes || so i finally was able to watch rock montreal yesterday, for the first time, and i adored it, obviously. through our conversations in the discord, i learnt what actually went on backstage during concerts (would you believe i genuinely had no idea), and i was inspired. some of the details about the concert might be a bit iffy as i just had to go off memory as whatever research i could find. this one goes out to katie @anotheronebitesthedeaks​, who works tirelessly to provide as much deacy content as she can. i hope this one does you proud, katie!

masterlist

     The adrenaline was pumping. Really pumping. If the hammering heartbeats of everyone inside the arena – assistants, roadies, lighting and sound operators, pyrotechnics, performers (yes, especially the performers) – could be converted into power, you could have probably run an entire city.

    Tonight’s concert was being filmed. You didn’t know much about cameras, but you knew it was apparently all very impressive. Really high quality.

    Rehearsals hadn’t gone all that smoothly. It was the nearing the end of the tour, which meant that, fifty percent of the time, Queen were all at each other’s throats, and for the other fifty, they were inseparable. Well, maybe more like sixty-forty. Or seventy-thirty. Maybe seventy-five-twenty-five, considering that they were almost in the midst of putting together another album. Which, if the screaming matches you’d overhead last week were anything to go by, was proving to be a particularly gruelling one.

    But if there was one thing that drew the band members back together in solidarity, it was having a common enemy – tonight’s director and producer, Saul Swimmer.

    Your official job, as a roadie, was to help backstage with anything that the guys might need whenever they left the stage. Water, snacks, new picks or drumsticks, alcohol, a towel, backup guitars, outfit changes. So you heard everything during rehearsals, when they were interrupted time and time again by Swimmer, calling for camera positions to be changed or sound levels to be shifted. He even had the gall to try to tell Freddie where to stand, which Freddie promptly shut down with a swift, I’ll go wherever I fucking want, darling, I’ll sit on Roger’s drums if I feel like it.

    Roger had tried to hide his laugh, but his mic had still been on from before, and it had echoed throughout the arena, which had made Freddie burst into a cackle. Brian had smiled. John had swung around to face away from the other three, his head tilted back, looking ready to murder.

    John had seen you in the wings, and had gestured to you with an impatient hand.

    You’d known what that meant. You’d grabbed the glass of whiskey and ginger ale you’d had ready-made to go, and had hurried out onto the stage to hand it to him.

    It had felt awfully naked to be on stage. Even with no audience members, you’d never felt more exposed. You’d found it hard to breathe, like you hadn’t dare take in any more oxygen than you deserved.

    You had no idea how they did it every night, perform on that stage in front of all those people, for weeks on end. You would’ve given up long ago.

    But you’d waited dutifully while John had taken a few gulps of the drink, your hands nervously balled into fists at your side. He’d barely looked at you, which you’d expected.

    “Oh, he’s getting a drink,” Freddie had said loudly from the front of the stage. “Come on, dear, we’re all waiting for you.”

    John had scowled, shotted the remainder of the drink, grimacing, and then he’d shoved the glass back into your hands, and you’d rushed off stage again while he’d retaken his place.

    You’d taken the glass backstage and had poured another whiskey ginger ale, in case it was needed.

    You’d taken a moment to breathe slowly and deeply a few times, willing your heart rate to slow.

    A fellow roadie had paused to ask, “You all right?”

    You’d nodded. “I’m fine,” you’d said.

    “Did John say something to you?”

    You’d frowned. “What?”

    The roadie had shrugged. Rick, you’d thought his name was. “Just saw you hand a drink out to him. I know he can be a bit of a dick sometimes. I’m sure he’s just pissed off or whatever, he wouldn’t have meant whatever he said.”

    Rick had given you a firm pat on the shoulder, and had left.

    But that hadn’t been the problem at all.

    John Deacon could be a dick sometimes, sure. A complete asshole, if the mood struck him.

    But, Jesus Christ, he was a hot one. And the fact that he clearly didn’t give a shit about you somehow made him even hotter.

-

    You were watching him now, as he moved across the stage. During songs he was always switched on, focused, his eyes often closed as he hopped and bopped to the music. Between songs, his gait switched to almost a lope, his head hanging either forward or back, his chest heaving, his bass hanging loosely across his body.

    He seemed extra fiery tonight, as did everyone else, which was undoubtedly influenced by the cameras. They were performers, after all, and you weren’t surprised that they all played a little harder, a little faster, a little sexier, when they knew that tonight they were being made immortal, eternalised on tape.

    But there was something about John, specifically, more than the other three. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The intensity of every note he played, his gaze on the crowd or on Freddie or on his bass, made your stomach flutter with butterflies. The lighting made his jawline look like it could cut glass, turned his profile into that of a marble statue of a Roman god. His hands looked huge on his guitar, his fingers moving with precision.

    He radiated power. You hoped tonight was one of those nights where you fulfilled your less-than-official roadie job.

    It was an open secret that bands like Queen used whatever spare time they had backstage to get off. John’s favourite time to do so was during Roger’s and Brian’s solos; you were his go-to. You couldn’t believe your ears the first time he’d propositioned you, but you had been more than happy to help.

    It was never more than a backstage blowjob or handjob, though. There was never enough time for an actual fuck – although John had made it clear in the past that, for once, it pissed him off that Brian’s solos weren’t even longer – and he’d never returned the favour.

    You weren’t all that fond of that part. You had to admit that it absolutely turned you on being used and then abandoned, left to catch your breath and clean yourself up while John snatched his bass from someone’s hands and re-entered the stage, but it would have been nice to receive something in return every once in a while. At least a real proper fucking after the show.

    But that was the way of the world, you supposed. And your blowjob skills had grown exponentially since the tour had started. Which you weren’t sure you should have been proud of, but you were.

    “Drum solo’s about to start,” you heard someone say, and your stomach flipped.

    The song drew to a close, and then stage went dark. John and Freddie immediately turned on their heels and ducked into the wings as lights came up on Roger and his solo began.

    Everyone worked quietly and efficiently. You handed a towel and bottle of water to Freddie while someone else took John’s bass at his request. “John,” you said, catching his attention. When his eyes met yours, everything you were about to say left your head completely, and you could have melted into a puddle right then and there.

    But it didn’t matter – as soon as he realised it was you, he said, “There you are,” and grabbed your hand, towing you away from everyone else, heading towards the stairs.

    It took a moment to register, but when it did, your whole body grew hot, as hot as John’s skin against yours. The leftover anger and frustration from earlier in the afternoon, the excitement and rush of performing for the cameras, the exhaustion and desperation that came with being so close to the end of a months-long tour – you could feel every part of it through the grip of John’s hand.

    “Your shirt,” you blurted out, as John pulled to a stop. You were on the first landing of the stairs – far enough from everyone else that there was the semblance of privacy, but not far enough that John would be too far away from the stage.

    It wasn’t really that private at all, though. There were people mere metres away from you, at the top of the stairs. But they knew what was happening, and politely began to shuffle away.

    John was already yanking his jeans open, and he gave you a baffled – and slightly irritated – look. “What?”

    “I was going to ask if you wanted to change your shirt,” you explained. “Before.”

    “No,” John said bluntly, unzipping his fly and shoving his jeans down. “Obviously not.”

    “Right, of course, sorry,” you stammered, and dropped to the floor, sitting on your heels, your hands fumbling against his as you both worked his tight jeans and underwear down just past his ass. He was already slightly hard, and you hastily took him in your hand and swallowed him down.

    He breathed out sharply, his hand slipping into your hair, and you closed your eyes to focus on your job, your tongue sliding around the head of his cock, over the vein on the underside of the shaft, working quickly. You felt him beginning to swell in your mouth, and his body shifted in response. It was impossible to ignore how much it turned you on to feel it, to hear him react to everything you did.

    It didn’t take long at all for him to be fully hard in your mouth – he must have been particularly worked up tonight – and you blew him fast and hard, as fast and hard as he’d been playing on stage. He was big, but you were used to that, and you used your hand to pump whatever your mouth couldn’t reach, every so often reaching down to fondle his balls in your hand, squeezing them a little. Your other hand gripped the back of his thigh, feeling the muscles tense, and it made you desperately want him to fuck you. Fuck you for real, feeling his cock stretch you out, feeling his hands all over your body, his mouth on your clit.

    “Fuck,” he grunted, his hand tight in your hair. You felt his other hand rest on your cheek, and you adjusted to let the head of his cock press against the inside of your cheek whenever you took him in so he could feel it.

    “Open,” he said. “Open your eyes, lemme…”

    You did so, blinking up at him. The look on his face made you want to touch yourself, give yourself some relief from the throbbing arousal coursing through your body. You suckled at his head for a moment before sliding him down into your mouth again, and he moaned, low and deep. His hips bucked forward, making you gag, tears springing into your eyes.

    You knew he liked the sound of you gagging, but you couldn’t do it too many times without starting to genuinely feel sick. You shifted your position, going up onto your knees to change the angle, and took a few steadying breaths before sliding your mouth down onto him, far enough that you gagged, and then drew back again. Saliva filled your mouth, collecting at the corners of your lips.

    “Shit, yes, that’s it, take me all the way in,” John panted. “Gag on my cock, fuck.”

    You moaned around him, and did it again, keeping as much eye contact as you could, and you felt his knees just about buckle.

    You blinked the tears from your eyes, feeling them trickle down your cheeks, and continued sucking him off. You could feel yourself beginning to drool, but you let it happen, knowing that it made you look like a mess but not even caring. You could hear Roger’s solo drawing to a close. You didn’t have much time left, and John couldn’t exactly waltz onto stage with an erection. Especially not tonight.

    You doubled your efforts, the scream of Brian’s guitar spurring you on. You knew John was getting close from how his back shifted against the wall, and he kept letting his head drop back to hit the bricks, his breathing growing heavier and heavier, his other hand gripping his own hair.

    His hand began pushing the back of your head, and you concentrated on breathing through your nose, closing your eyes again, letting him fuck your mouth. Your hand still massaged his balls every now and again, and you gagged a couple more times, making him groan through gritted teeth.

    You opened your eyes again to look at him, and he was watching you, his mouth hanging open. You wanted to kiss him, bite and nip at his lips, suck on them.

    “God, I wanna f– fuck you,” he growled. “Bet your cunt’s just as wet and – ngh – tight as your mouth, shit.” His head fell back against the bricks again, and your stomach clenched.

    Do it, you wanted to say. God, I need you to.

    But instead you just took him in again and again, feeling him twitch in your mouth, and within no time at all he was groaning out, “I’m fucking coming, I’m coming,” and his hips jerked and he spilled into your mouth, his body shaking.

    You swallowed, and drew him into your mouth a few more times, emptying him completely, cleaning him up, and then you were helping him to get stage-ready again with frantic hands, pulling up his underwear and jeans, tucking him in.

    He did up his fly and the button on his jeans, and then he was throwing you a quick, “Cheers,” and bolting up the stairs, leaving you on the floor, your breathing ragged.

    You heard Roger’s drums join Brian’s solo, and you knew John was going to make it on stage just in the nick of time.

    Someone hurried past you, heading down the stairs, and you mumbled out, “Sorry,” shifted out of the way. You kept your head low as you tidied yourself up, wiping your eyes and cheeks dry and making sure there was no come or saliva on your mouth or chin, or on your clothes.

    You were still aching with need, still soaking between your thighs. But that was part of the gig, and you were used to it.

    You cleared your throat and wobbled to your feet. You could feel a couple of eyes on you as you made your way back to your spot in the wings, but most of the crew were used to seeing you looking dishevelled partway through a concert. The familiar coil of embarrassment still burned in your gut, but it was eased somewhat when someone surreptitiously passed you a bottle of water. You nodded in thanks and poured about half of it down your throat.

    John did have a few more exits, but none of them any longer than a few seconds. He barely acknowledged you, apart from summoning a shot of whiskey or vodka. To an outsider, it would have been impossible to know that his dick had been in your mouth less than an hour before. It drove you crazy. Even just being near him muddled your brain.

    Again, all part of the gig. By now, the other roadies expected you to be much less helpful after you had disappeared with John.

    Then came the Bohemian Rhapsody break. The sound cue slid in perfectly, blasting the operatic section while all four band members scrambled off stage. Freddie dropped to the floor and yanked off his shoes, declaring that they were giving him blisters and he was done with the fucking things. You shared an uneasy glance with another roadie, but then John’s hand was wrapping around your elbow and he was towing you away.

    You stumbled, and John let you go. You follow him without another word, hurrying along behind him, baffled. This break was almost exactly only one minute long – you were good, but you weren’t made of magic. Especially not after John had already come tonight.

    “John, what’s going on?” you said. You were somewhere else now, somewhere dark, in a corner. “We don’t have time–”

    John pulled up to a sudden stop, and whirled around, taking you by the shoulders, guiding you against the wall. He kissed you without warning, roughly.

    You and John didn’t kiss much. It really only happened when you were pulling him off, and he preferred your mouth on his cock rather than your hand.

    But you didn’t even hesitate in kissing him back. He kissed you with urgency, one hand tangling in your hair and the other on your hip, drawing a whimper from you. You clutched him around his back. His shirt was damp with sweat, his body running hot, but you didn’t care.

    He drew back enough just to say, “Jeans.”

    You immediately went to unbutton his jeans. But he stopped you with a hand.

    “No,” he said. “Yours.”

    “What?” you said, the word coming out in a squeak. This was completely new.

    “We don’t have much time,” John said quickly, going for your jeans himself.

    But you stopped his hands. “No, wait,” you said.

    “What, don’t you want me to?” John said.

    You stammered, shaking your head, and managed to get out, “Want you to what, John?”

    “Finger you.”

    “W–” You shook your head again. “Well, yes, but–”

    Someone called John’s name, and he sighed in frustration. “Whatever,” he muttered, and went to leave.

    But you grabbed his arm. “Hey.”

    He turned back to you. “What?” he said. “I have to go.”

    “You wanna do something new with me, you ask me first,” you said firmly. “You don’t just assume I want it and go for it. I might get you off every other night, but I’m not your fucktoy.”

    He stared you, as if surprised you’d spoken up like that, but then he said, “You’re right. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

    You nodded, and let your hand drop from his arm. “That’s all,” you said, crossing your arms. “Go, you’re gonna miss your cue.”

    John took one more moment to drink you in, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he was gone.

    Your hands shook. You couldn’t believe you’d just spoken to him like that. After he’d gone to finger you, which you’d wanted for weeks. What the fuck were you thinking, turning him down? Even just ten seconds would’ve been more than you could’ve hoped for. And you’d shot that gift horse right in the mouth.

    You sighed, and pushed that aside. You were still on the clock.

-

    God Save The Queen began to play, and you watched as Queen took their bows. Roger and Freddie were jumping around together – they’d had a lot of fun tonight, you’d noticed, giggling and pulling faces at each other the entire concert – and Brian and John bowed and waved.

    John was off first, as he usually was, passing his bass over and grabbing a bottle of water. You expected him to head straight to the greenroom, as normal, but instead he just watched Freddie and Roger pass by, the two of them sweating and panting, but grinning, shoving at each other playfully. Brian was last, carefully handing over his Red Special. He was always quiet right after a concert, and he followed his two bandmates to the greenroom without a word.

    As soon as all three of them had passed, John was beside you again. But instead of grabbing you, he said, “Can we go somewhere?”

    You were so stunned you barely knew how to reply. “Uh, y– yeah, course.”

    You followed him downstairs – but instead of heading to the greenroom, you went to his dressing room. You hovered in the centre of the room while he locked the door behind him.

    “I, uh, wanted to apologise properly for earlier,” he said, stilted in his discomfort. He cleared his throat, and gestured towards you vaguely. “You were right. You’ve been, um, very… helpful, these past couple months, and I don’t think I’ve been treating you with the respect you deserve.”

    “Oh, no, it’s fine,” you said with an awkward laugh. “Really, John, you don’t– You already apologised.”

    “No, I…” John put a hand on his hip, his other hand rubbing his jaw. “I’ve been going through a fairly, er, rough time as of late, with the album, and a whole myriad of other things that I won’t go into, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. So I’m sorry. And I didn’t realise just how I was, um, behaving, until you stopped me tonight. Which you were absolutely correct to do, and I’m sorry that it had to come to that. Like I said, you were right, you’re a person, not a, um…”

    “A fucktoy,” you supplied in a small voice.

    “A, uh, fucktoy, yes,” John said, glancing away from you. “So. Er. Sorry. About that.” His eyes landed on you, and you watched as his face turned bright red. “I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “This is… extremely embarrassing for me, but I– I can’t even remember…”

    You blinked at him. “Can’t remember what?”

    He gestured a little more, but you were still lost, so he squeezed out, “Your name.”

    “Oh,” you said, your eyes going wide in realisation. “Oh. It’s [Y/N].”

    “[Y/N]. Right. Of course.” John sighed, and nodded to himself. “Right. So. Did you… Was there anything you wanted to say?”

    You hesitated. “Uh, I – don’t think so. I wasn’t really expecting this, so, um…”

    “Right, yeah,” John said.

    There were a few harrowingly painful moments of uncomfortable silence, so you blurted out the first thing that popped into your head.

    “I like sucking you off.”

    Wonderful.

    John’s eyebrows rose. “Uh, good?”

    “Ah, shit,” you sighed. “I– I mean I… I’ve liked all of it. You, um, using me, and ignoring me, and being kind of a dick to me. If I didn’t like it, I would have told you to find someone else ages ago.”

    “You… like me being a dick?” John said.

    You nodded. “It’s– I–”

    “You, what, get off on it?”

    You bit your lip, and nodded again. “I know that’s really weird,” you said in a rush.

    “So would you mind if I…”

    “Continued being a dick to me? Not at all. Actually, this whole conversation is very strange for me.” You shook your head. “I appreciate it, and I appreciate you apologising and all, and I meant what I said earlier about asking me before doing anything we haven’t done before, but please don’t think you have to be really nice to me or whatever from here on.”

    John nodded. “Uh-huh.” You saw some of the tension leak from his shoulders. “Fuck, that actually makes my life a whole lot easier. I’m genuinely glad to hear that.” He laughed a little, relieved.

    “So, um.” You shifted your feet. “You gonna actually finger me now, or what?”

    He laughed again, a bigger laugh. You’d never seen that before. His smile changed his whole face – he looked like a completely different person. “No,” he said, shaking his head. He started backing towards the door. “Wish I could, but no.”

    “No?” you repeated, bewildered. “Isn’t that why we’re in here?”

    John rubbed his jaw again. “Thought about it,” he said. “But it really was just to apologise.”

    “Then why’d you lock the door?”

    “Like I said, I thought about it.”

    “So why don’t you?”

    “I have business to attend to,” he said. “We’re having drinks with someone important, I don’t know. Some kind of party, there’s always a bloody fucking party.” He added the last part in a mutter, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business. See you tomorrow.”

    He opened the door, and then he was gone, without so much as a glance back.

    Your jaw hit the floor. “Fucking prick,” you whispered to yourself.

    You heard his voice from outside the door, heading back towards you. “Er, actually,” he said, and he poked his head around the corner. “Come by my room later, yeah? In about two hours?”

    You opened and closed your mouth once, then twice. “It– It’ll be after midnight by that time.”

    “I didn’t realise there was a curfew for fucking,” John said. “Or are you happy to just get yourself off alone in your room again, woefully unfulfilled and unsatisfied but left with no other option?”

    You just stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and you had no idea what to say.

    John gave you an exasperated look. “See you in two hours. Don’t bother making yourself look nice, I’m going to ruin you anyway.”

    And he was gone again.

    And then back one more time. He pointed a finger at you, squinting in thought, then said, “[Y/N]…?”

    You nodded.

    He nodded as well, looking chuffed with himself. “[Y/N]. Have to remember that. [Y/N].”

    And he was gone once more.

    He didn’t return.

    You squeezed your thighs together. It was going to be a very long two hours to wait.

[trashcanreddiefan]

Richie Tozier Does the Wired Autocomplete Interview

Summary: Richie does the Wired Autocomplete Interview. Little does he know, there’s a surprise waiting for him at the end.

Word Count: 1150-ish

Warnings: None whatsoever. This is pure fluff.

Author’s Note: Post-Chapter 2. All of the Losers are alive in this fic, including Stan, because I promised.

CROSS-POSTED AT AO3.

Richie took a sip of his coffee before setting his take-out cup down next to his chair. "Okay, let's do this."

He waited for his cue then looked at the camera. "Hi, I'm Richie Tozier and I'm here to do the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

He paused and picked up the first poster board. "Is Richie Tozier…" he read out loud, then pulled off the first strip covering the rest of the question. "Gay?

"Yep," he answered, popping the 'p' with a grin. "I'm strictly dickly, and only interested in one guy's dick in particular these days. Next question!"

He pulled off the next strip. "Is Richie Tozier an actor?" He shrugged. "Well sure, if you count all those years I acted like I was straight. Otherwise, no, I've never been in a movie or on a TV show, unless you count hosting duties on SNL or talk show appearances. Moving on!"

Richie laughed at the next question. "Is Richie Tozier on drugs? One would think, huh, especially after my public breakdown on stage a few years ago. No, contrary to popular belief the only drugs I've ever been on are the ones that have been legally prescribed to keep me as a mostly-functional human being.

"Ok, next. Is Richie Tozier friends with William Denbrough?" He smiled. "Ahh, Billy Boy. Big Bill. Billiam. Yes, Bill and I were friends when we were growing up together in a little backwards-as-fuck town in Maine. We lost touch for a long time but reconnected a few years ago along with the rest of our group of friends and all hang out as much as we can.

"Last question on this card. Is Richie Tozier funny? Depends on who you ask. My friends would probably say no but the Emmy award sitting on my mantel would disagree with them."

Richie tossed the poster to the side. "NEXT!"

He picked up the next poster. "Does Richie Tozier…" He pulled off the first strip. "...Live in California? Yes, my home base is in L.A., but I currently split my time between L.A. and New York.

"Next question… Does Richie Tozier have any pets? Sadly, no, not at the moment. It's too difficult with my travel schedule to have a pet right now.

"Does Richie Tozier write his own jokes?" Richie winced. "I didn't for a long time, as made obvious by all the past jokes about the fake girlfriend that I most definitely did not have, but I have been for a few years now and they mostly seem to be going over well.

"Does Richie Tozier have a wife? Again, gay as fuck, so no.

"And the last question for this one… Does Richie Tozier wear contacts? I have them, but I never wear them. Contacts make my eyes itchy. Besides, my glasses have been part of my signature look for so long that they're basically part of my brand."

Richie tossed that poster aside and picked up the next one. "Moving right along! How did Richie Tozier get the nickname 'Trashmouth'?" Richie chuckled.  "It was a childhood nickname that stuck. I was always making jokes and talking trash as a kid, so one day my friend Stan apparently had had enough and told me to shut my trash mouth, and it stuck. Actually the other day Stan called me 'dumpster fire', so the old nickname might be changing.

"How old is Richie Tozier? Let's just say I'm a Gen X'er and leave it at that.

"How did Richie Tozier become a comedian?" Richie looked directly at the camera. "Through a little luck and a lot of hard work.

"How did Richie Tozier win an Emmy? Honestly I have no idea. See above answer, I guess."

He set the poster down. "Is that it? Oh no, wait, there's one more set of questions."

Unlike the previous posters that had the beginning of the question revealed, the last poster had the entirety of each question hidden.

Richie pulled off the first strip before reading the question. "Is Richie Tozier in a relationship?" Richie put a hand over his heart. "The answer to this, and I honestly cannot be more happy to say this, is yes. My boyfriend Eddie and I have been together for two glorious years.

"How did Richie Tozier meet his boyfriend?" Richie grinned. "I'm sensing a pattern here. He was part of the friend group that I mentioned earlier, but my feelings for Eds were always different than my feelings for the rest of my friends, as in I loved to piss him off extra just to get him to touch me. While we were all back together in our hometown a few years ago Eddie was in a serious accident and almost died, and I was so relieved when he woke up in the hospital that I cried like a little bitch and confessed my love for him. Luckily for me, he reciprocated, and the rest, as they say, is history.

"Does Richie Tozier love his boyfriend?" Richie snorted. "People must see our Twitter exchanges. Don't worry, we don't actually hate each other -- roasting each other is basically foreplay for us. Eds gives as good as he gets -- in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. So to answer the question, yes, I love my boyfriend more and more every single fucking day. He's a tiny little ball of rage and I wouldn't trade him for anything."

Richie adjusted his glasses. "Okay, last question." He pulled off the final strip. "Will you marry me?" He blinked. "Wait, what the fuck?"

He looked at the question again just to make sure he read it correctly, then looked around in confusion until he saw Eddie joining him. He turned to face Eddie instead of the camera. "Eds, what the fuck ? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Bumfuck, Ohio on a business trip."

"You didn't answer the last question, Rich," Eddie replied.

"What the fuck do you mean, I didn't answer the last-- HOLY FUCKING SHIT."

Eddie had gotten down on one knee, pulling a platinum band out of his pocket and holding it up. "Marry me, Richie."

Richie blinked, willing his brain to form a coherent thought. "Yes." That sounds right.

Eddie grinned. "Yes?"

"Yes, yes, fucking yes ." Richie started to tear up.

Eddie stood and slid the ring onto Richie's finger before pulling him into a kiss. "I love you."

Richie sniffled and wrapped his arms around Eddie, realizing that Eddie had planned this out. "Oh my God, you clever, clever asshole. I love you so much," he murmured into Eddie's neck.

"Wanna wrap this up and go celebrate back at the hotel?"

Richie nodded and turned back towards the camera. "Once again, I'm Richie Tozier and this gorgeous specimen is my fiancé. Look for my new special, My Boyfriend is Hotter than Yours, premiering April 12th only on Netflix."

[bloody-oath]

What would go down at a slasher slumber party (slashers of your choosing, though selfishly hope you'll include Bubba, of course)? I'm thinkin' either a collage-age frat party, or else a childhood or awkward adolescent sleepover at somebody's house, lol. ^_^

I’ll do all three types! It would be a sin to leave Bubba out… When in doubt though, stick to the main four!

**Mild self-harm and animal abuse mentions (Stage 2: Freddy – 3, Stage 3: Jason – 3)**

Stage 1: Childhood Slumber Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Has been at the party for 0.5 seconds and already misses his mother. If he can speak, he accidentally calls the host’s parent ‘mum.’ Didn’t even notice it until Freddy felt it was his duty to almost piss his pants laughing over it and made sure everyone else in the room heard it too.

⋆ Enjoys playing with Bubba the most. Shares his snacks with the Texan boy and makes an E for effort macaroni-and-string best friends bracelet. He was somewhat disappointed when Bubba ate his friendship offering though. Demotes his companion to ‘very good friend’ status.

⋆ Brought teddy along but only takes him out when the lights are turned off at bedtime, so no one notices. Sleeps soundly, but he’s devasted when he wakes up to find his pal’s fur shredded. Doesn’t hesitate to wail on a suddenly disturbed, half-awake, arms-flailing Frederick, all the while Michael pretends to rest with the tiniest visibility of a smirk present and a stolen vegetable knife under his pillow.

Michael Myers

⋆ Possesses the biggest urge to peek into the rooms he’s not allowed into, such as the off-bounds adult bedroom. Will randomly disappear during mid-playtime and sneak in anyway though. Doesn’t steal anything, just removes family photos from frames and rips them in half.

⋆ Likes to play dress up. Doesn’t pretend to be a character or act differently. Simply enjoys disguising his identity. Will stay in the costume until it’s time to go home. Might go home with it too though. Chooses not to interact with the others much. Silently judges them. Thinks Freddy is a bit of a twat.

⋆ Pays close attention when the twat starts sharing ghost stories though. Loves them, not frightened. Plans to scare everyone when it’s time for bed. Does so and makes a scared shitless Bubba cry. Didn’t expect such an exaggerated consequence but enjoys seeing him suffer. Has good dreams that night.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ He didn’t bring a toy to the party, but like hell he’ll be leaving without one. Keeps an eye out for anything good enough to permanently borrow. Stuffs his pockets with sweets to take home since junk food is forbidden at his house.

⋆ Cheats at every game he participates in. Asks everyone to tell him a secret about themselves but no one trusts him. Experiences a serious sugar high and becomes wildly fidgety. Challenges Bubba to a wrestling match and begins to lose until he plays dirty and bites his opponent. Whines when he gets sat on for his dismal sportsmanship.

⋆ Was outside and somehow managed to catch a rat with his bare hands. Breaks the critter’s neck and brings the dead rodent inside to show his buddies what he accomplished. Everyone reacts badly, except Michael who nonchalantly claps, impressed.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Takes him a while to feel comfortable around the others. Has a particular liking for Jason and asks the quiet boy if he’d like to play Tick-Tack-Tooth. Isn’t sure about Michael and watches him from a distance. Has already had enough of Freddy and covertly hopes he has a hazardous mishap and needs to be sent home.

⋆ Relishes having a break from his annoying brothers. Gains a huge stomach-ache from wolfing down on too many lollies. Spends the next hour groaning on his back with much regret. Pouts at the menace for suggesting the others should tie him up and suspend him in the air as a makeshift piñata. Goes back to munching on confectionary as soon as he begins to feel better. Might learn his lesson after the fourth time.

⋆ Excels in the arts and crafts fun. Creates masks for everyone to wear. Can’t wait to show his family what he’s made all by himself. Especially adores using the face paint. Clumsily knocks over a pot of dye and damages the carpet. Freaks the fuck out because he knows what happens if he ruins anything at home. Squints, trembles and braces himself for the belting. Everyone else just stares.

Stage 2: Awkward Adolescent Sleepover

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Still misses his mother and feels even less confident to socialise. Was the tallest as a kid and still is. Feels marginally proud to retain that achievement. Didn’t want to run into Freddy again but he’s glad he can at least hang out with Bubba. Wondered who was behind the white mask and later realised it was ‘that kid’ he knew from childhood. Forgot Michael’s name.

⋆ Brought some homemade cookies he and Pamela baked together and could honestly smack a shrimp bitch when Freddy disposes of them in the bin. Coolly composes himself. Kind of wants to exhibit his amateur muscles and use his superior strength on the asshole though. Shows Bubba he’s been building up and behaves timidly when his old chum praises him for his efforts.

⋆ Glad no one tried to sneak in any intoxicating beverages or street medicine. Wonders if he’s being too optimistic but genuinely sees his allies having bright futures. Moderately worried about that Michael boy though. Spends the rest of the evening following everyone else’s lead. Got a headache after listening to Freddy talk so much shit and can’t sleep with Bubba snoring like a freight train.

Michael Myers

⋆ Hates being dragged along to another wretched sleepover. Noticed Freddy grew about an inch taller. Throws shade the entire time. Tries to escape the premises but changes his mind when he hears a scary movie being played in the video player. Thoroughly enjoys watching the violent scenes and mentally takes a few notes.

⋆ Teaches the squad how to make a rope noose. Encourages everyone to put it around their necks to make sure they fit. Isn’t being suspicious at all. Brought his knife collection to the gathering and flaunts his favourite daggers. Points out which blades he’s specifically going to use to slaughter each one of them. No one takes him seriously.

⋆ Figures this reunion really does suck and makes a second attempt to leg it out. Couldn’t care less about catching up, hearing how their dreary lives have been or chatting about gross women. Literally gives everyone the middle finger salute and departs. Raids a fast food joint on his way home.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to compare dick sizes with everyone else. Feels humiliated and provoked when he finds out he has the shortest penis. Swears he’ll be the first to lose his virginity though. Goes into great detail about what his sexual desires are and the porn videos he’s seen that influenced the said fetishes.

⋆ His voice begins to break halfway through telling a joke and he goes from talking nonstop to suddenly being speechless. Wonders if tonight is going to get any worse. Exits the room to practice hiding the squeak when he speaks and re-joins the gang with an abnormal, obviously fake Elvis Presley tone.

⋆ Expresses how he has the urge to hurt himself and others, including the innocent. Says the cravings are becoming harder to resist to older he gets. Adds he’s been experiencing powerful fits of anger and battles to control it. No one acts surprised. Casually changes the subject to masturbation.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Found a vintage glamour magazine from Grandpa’s hidden stash and brings the subtly raunchy publication to the sleepover to share with the boys. Becomes aroused a little too easy just by examining the front cover and desperately tries to hide his first-ever erection. Confused and scared.

⋆ Gives a sigh of relief when he goes back to being flaccid. Apprehensively thinks of an excuse to say regarding why he took so long in the bathroom when he reappears in the group. Doesn’t have to use it because no one noticed he even left. Avoids partaking in any lewd discussions or naughty centrefold viewing. Fearful of that accident happening again.

⋆ Doesn’t waver to show off his newly grown body hair though. High-key delighted by his pelt. Compares his super hairy arms to Freddy’s non-existent fuzz and breaks into a chuckling fit. Feels a bit hurt when the shorty points out he’s only getting fatter and uglier though. Never deemed himself to have self-confidence issues until now. Appreciated Jason and Michael playing keepings-off with the bully’s stupid hat.

Stage 3: College Frat Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Avoids consuming any alcohol because he knows better. Also denies any offered drugs. Straight up shoved a hoe to the ground when they sloppily asked if he wanted to have some dirty fun. Hates how the party has started but tries to enjoy himself. Ends up hanging out with the stray cat who sometimes chills out on the fire escape.

⋆ Acts as a caretaker and monitors his highly intoxicated buddies. Openly judges them. Tries to have his own little celebration by eating the leftover pizza in the fridge and watching prime time infomercials on the telly. Began to loosen up until Freddy willingly broke the flatscreen and went on to say he can provide better entertainment. Not amused in the slightest by witnessing his frenemy lighting his farts on fire.

⋆ Needs an aspirin and exits the room to get some fresh air and visits his feline acquaintance again. Incredibly disturbed when he finds a hammered Bubba trying to stretch the cat’s skinned face over his own. Feels betrayed and just wants this night to end. Wonders what it would be like to taste alcohol though and pours a single drop of it onto his tongue. Immediately spits it out. Knows this wouldn’t have happened if his mother was here. Acts mopey and continues to miss her.

Michael Myers

⋆ Has no interest in alcohol consumption but doesn’t hesitate to inject heroin in his veins from a used needle he found discarded on the ground. Arrives at the festive dormitory and busts down the door. Extremely hyped and aggravated. Uses said broken wood to go surfing down the emergency exit spiral stairwell. Severely wipes out towards the end of the ride.

⋆ Wants to fight everyone he sees and proceeds to do so. Finally appears back at the party with bloodied fists and two syringes poking out of his arms. Becomes confronted by a worried, sober Jason and gets his ass served to a beanbag for calming down purposes. Thought the pouf looked at him funny and foam pellets go flying.

⋆ Passes out in a bathtub full of vomit, not of his own, and wakes up hours later naked on the roof with now seven needles inserted. Can’t decide if he’s still alive or dead. Spends the rest of the night presuming he’s an invisible ghost. Trolls immensely.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to play beer pong and won’t stop talking about beer pong until at least one person plays beer pong with him. No one does though, so he faces the table against the wall and verses himself. Gets totally wasted and needs to repetitively inform everyone just how drunk he is.

⋆ Fails to hook up with someone and pursues to suck his own cock. Thinks he does a better job at it anyway. Proposes free pony rides to all the chicks attending the party but results in scaring them further away. Bubba excitedly raises his hand though and frantically searches the dorm for his cowboy hat. Speedily withdraws the offer and explains there isn’t a horse involved. Back to drinking.

⋆ Makes the mistake of walking past a body-length mirror and gets a horrifying glimpse of his reflection. Too wasted to realise that’s how he always looks like and starts to freak out. Yells why no one thought to take him to the hospital because maybe the doctors could have saved him. Just sits ugly-crying in front of the mirror with one hand on the glass and a can of beer in the other. Suddenly perks up when someone asks for volunteers to help steal the opposing frat house’s pet pig though.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Overwhelmed. Only has a sip of alcohol, then chugs the rest of the bottle dry. Was going to pace himself but ends up driving the porcelain bus an hour into the party. Wants to laugh, cry, shit, spew, scream and dance all at the same time. Succeeds.

⋆ Can’t get enough of the booze but stays clear of the flying pink elephant inducing pills. By far the most trashed and happiest person in the room. Turns the stereo up to its maximum volume and blabbers about how every song it plays is his favourite song. Very footloose. Starts a conga line and happens to be both at the beginning and end of it because no one else joined in.

⋆ Removes his sweaty shirt and uses it to do the helicopter. Hurls it onto a poor, unexpecting person’s head. Pours bottles of liquor over his bare torso and warily squeals when he feels the fluid seep down his pants, into his crack. Goes on to remove the rest of his clothing and embarks streaking through the sprinklers on the front lawn of the college. Has multiple school officers chasing after him.

[savage-rhi]

what would higgs do if gene was like unavailable relationship-wise because we all need jealous Higgs in our lives ok

@avenged-nightmare YO. You made me think of this whole drabble when I was in the car doing errands. I think you’re right we need some jelly Higgs 😂💙

Higgs was never the type to regret much, but he could feel it twist and coil in his chest as he watched the locals in town dance to music a small band was playing. As his eyes scanned the horizon, looking over everyone’s happy-go-lucky demeanor, his gaze settled on Gene. Under most circumstances, he would have been amused watching her having fun with folks. Higgs wasn’t a social butterfly, hadn’t been for three years since he went into hiding after Amelie tried to destroy the universe and all life in it, but Gene made it interesting for him. That was until Nick came into the picture. 

Higgs was beating himself up, watching Gene and Nick from afar laughing at some sort of joke before they started dancing. The two couldn’t keep their hands off each other even if their lives depended on it. 

Since Higgs and Gene decided to rest in a settlement after escaping MULEs and needed to ration up for the delivery Eastbound, she had been with Nick the entire time. He was local, an ex-porter turned carpenter in a world where BTs no longer dwelled on earth and civilization could rebuild. A young guy in his late thirties, dark features, a muscled body, had his shit together unlike someone else. Nicks energy outshined Higgs’s charisma, and Gene took to him like a moth to a flame. There was chemistry, even if Higgs dismissed it. 

It shouldn’t have bothered Higgs. Gene could mingle with whoever she wanted. She had needs and Higgs respected that, but that didn’t tamper down how pissed off he was knowing they were joined at the hip the last three days. His mind stupidly wandered over thoughts that further aggravated his stress.  His blood constricted as he caught those little teases of the assumption his brain had conjured about the relationship brewing between Gene and Nick. 

Higgs squinted his eyes, glaring menacingly as he noticed Nick’s arms wrap around Gene’s waist, pulling her closer to him while the music went from vibrant to sensual. His blood boiled. Higgs was tempted to use the last of his remaining powers to put Nick in his place right then and there. 

“How are you holding up?” One of the locals asked Higgs, making him clear his throat as he tried to gain his composure. 

“Pardon?” Higgs asked. 

“You look like you’re close to going on a killing spree,” the man chuckled, shaking his head as he looked in the direction of Gene and Nick. The two were laughing as they swayed, their bodies perfectly synched with the music rising through the crowd. 

“You know, if you want to impress your lady friend, you’re going about it the wrong way.” The man stated as Higgs furrowed his brows, looking over him like he was a lunatic. 

“Ya’ll got the wrong idea, we ain’t an item. I’m just the bodyguard.” Higgs said, crossing his arms. In turn, the local shot Higgs a look that screamed he knew a liar when he saw one. Higgs growled, shaking his head as he looked away and back at the pair. 

“Sure doesn’t explain the crap you’ve pulled these last few days trying to one-up Nick at everything when your porter gal comes around. The arm-wrestling match, the banter, you sabotaging one of Nick’s buildings on purpose, trapping the poor guy in a ditch, trying to knock him down when he was on the portapotty before your gal caught you red-handed and bitched you out in front of everyone and their kin,” the local laughed, slapping Higgs’s shoulder as he shook his head. 

“Call it whatever you want, people can see through your bullshit.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and leave me be?” Higgs said firmly, his voice low as he looked down at the local, who shot his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist if he goes in for the kill tonight cause you were too stubborn to say anything about it. I had an idea to help your little predicament, but I guess you’re too proud.” He smiled at Higgs, genuinely, then began to leave. 

Higgs sighed, rubbing his face before he hollered.

“I’ll bite! What the hell ya had in mind?” 

“Thought you’d never ask!” 

 The music settled down while the band adjusted the set. The local shoved a guitar in Higgs’s arms while he bs’d with the lead singer for a moment, talking on Higgs’s behalf while Higgs looked at the crowd. No one was paying attention, too busy enjoying their drinks and chatter to notice what was going on at the front. He eyed Nick and Gene who were taking a break, drinking together. Higgs felt his fingertips squeeze the neck of the guitar, watching how genuine Gene’s smile looked while Nick’s larger than life persona engulfed her attention. 

“Okay! You’re lucky I know the band. You get one song. Make it count,” The local chimed in, snapping Higgs out of his trance as he swallowed.

“What?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? What song are you gonna play? You said you were good at guitar, no?” 

“Yeah, I am but--”

“Don’t get cold feet, you’re this close to serenading your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girl you two-faced fuckin’ shit weasel--!”

“And you’re on!” 

The local grinned from ear to ear and backed off with the band members. The focus was on Higgs the moment the crowd noticed there was only one person on stage. Higgs would have given anything to punch not only the smug look but thick mustache off the guy's face as he gestured for Higgs to follow through. 

“Fuck me,” Higgs murmured under his breath, gently strumming the strings. He took one last glance over the small waves of people, seeing Gene wasn’t paying mind to anyone but Nick and his shit-eating grin. He could put a cupie doll to shame as far as Higgs was concerned. 

Taking in a deep breath, Higgs sat down on the stool the singer had been using and started to hum. His fingers tested the waters of the instrument, strumming a soft melody as his body began to move along with the beat. 

His brain was fighting with itself, wanting to focus on his envy while the other half debated on what to sing. He had no time to prepare and had never performed in front of a large crowd before. When Higgs was a porter before he threw his lot in with Homo Demens, he played here and there for associates during breaks but that was the extent of showing his talents and hobbies off. 

It was now or never. 

“Unkempt hair, unbroken gal. Strong as the rocks cuttin’ her feet. Never seen somethin’ like you. No, no, I never did. Strange creature, what are you doin’ in an untamed land?” The words broke through Higgs’s lips, voice steady like water smoothing the edges of a rock over time. 

“She crawled up the mountain to me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days. Somethin’ about the way your hair falls in your face brings me back to a place where I could run, and never look back again. Too much spirit for me to take, she’s gone again, free of me free of sin.” Higgs closed his eyes, letting the instrument and its rustic tune speak words that couldn’t be spoken, only felt. He didn’t sense the crowd, not even Gene and Nick--too enraptured in the memories he had of when they had first met.

“Those eyes wide, that smilin’ shine makes me make a beast of myself. Come back to me, come back to the mountain and be with me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days.” There was a pain Higgs allowed to come through his voice, his renewed feelings for life clashing with old ideals and bad habits he had spent years in hiding trying to reconcile. 

“Crawl up the mountain to me. Just a while longer, no-no-no,” Higgs briefly opened his eyes, and he swore in a single split second, Gene was staring right at him. Peering at a past reflection of Higgs that once upon a time begun to quit surviving and started to live when he first became a porter. He’d never admit how much he loved that. Not even to her. 

“Little warrior, crawl back to my mountain and be with me.” Higgs finished, feeling euphoria push down the ill feelings he carried as he received applause. He was quick to let the band go back to their routine, not wanting to steal their thunder despite how much his inner child was relishing at the moment--feeling like a rockstar for a few seconds. 

He needed air. He needed it fast. 

Higgs let out a deep sigh of relief when he exited the huge tent. His fingers shook, carding through his hair for comfort. In hindsight, he probably embarrassed himself, but Higgs wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful getting a taste of what he could have done with his sad life. 

“Hey,” Gene’s voice broke his train of thought after a while. Higgs cleared his throat, shooting her a quick smile.

“Hey yourself darlin’,” Higgs mused. His face felt warm as she smiled back.

“I didn’t know you wrote your own material,” Gene laughed as Higgs grinned briefly, giving a playful smirk.

“You never asked.”

“That’s fair.” Gene nodded. 

“Where’s Nick?” Higgs asked, looking over Gene’s shoulder before she shrugged. 

“Probably getting more beers,” 

Higgs could sense a disturbance in Gene’s voice, and a twinge of guilt began to sink his gut. As much as he was a jealous asshole, and had been a dick to both of them, deep down Higgs didn’t want to take away Gene’s fun. He knew he was a selfish bastard, realizing it even more so than before.

“He’s probably lookin’ for you. You’re like a mother duck and he can’t stop paddlin’ towards ya.” Higgs said sarcastically.

Gene snorted, shaking her head. 

“I don’t care. I’m sure he’s got plenty of others he can entertain.” 

“Guy’s a-walkin' distraction. Hell, I thought I was a peacockin’ creep way back when. I see what folks admire about Nick.” Higgs chuckled. 

Gene smiled slightly, before taking in a breath. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“If you’re ready for a personal answer,” Higgs smirked. “Shoot.”

“That was us--wasn’t it? The song.”

Whatever grandeur persona Higgs had been putting on during this conversation lept out a window and dived headfirst into an ocean. He was silent for a long time, almost to the very second where Gene prepared to change the subject.

“It was you,” Higgs murmured. “It was all you.” 

Gene’s mouth formed into a grin that made Higgs’s knees feel heavy. Nonetheless, he realized he must’ve embarrassed her doing that whole stunt, much like he did the past few days terrorizing both her and Nick. He was surprised when he felt Gene’s lips on his cheek, her nose softly nudging his skin. 

Gene shrugged keeping her gaze down, smiling big as she walked off to their camp. Higgs watched with a look of awe on his face before he murmured a proud yes to himself. 

He didn’t have the balls to admit his growing attachment to her, the mere porter he bumped into a year ago, but Higgs owned the little victory. It was enough for him. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[thomasandhissides]

Forbidden Fruit- Part 2

ao3 | part 1 | part 2 | Part 3

Roman laughed as he walked off stage, turning to Logan as soon as they were out of view of the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Roman pushed his sweat soaked hair off his forehead. “It feels so good to be performing again. And we’re getting interviewed tonight!” He was giddy off of adrenaline and excitement. “How cool is that?” Logan smiled at his friend as they walked back to the dressing to the room to get prepared for their upcoming interview.

“I will admit it is cool until the reporter turns into an asshole and asks the dumb questions,” Logan said, shooting finger guns.

“You know they’re going to,” Roman rolled his eyes as he pulled his damp shirt off, tossing it off to the side. “You think Remus will be watching?” He asked softly as he grabbed a new shirt, pulling it on. “I mean, it’s not like I care if he does or not. You know what, it was a dumb question.” He shook his head as he changed into a new pair of jeans.

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” Logan protested, “He’s your only brother. And your only family.” He pointed out as he watched his friend pace the room.

“No he’s not,” Roman scoffed, sitting on the edge of the makeup counter. “I’ve got you. We both know you’re a better brother to me than that deadbeat.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb I guess.” Logan recited uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Exactly,” Roman smiled, glad Logan was at least playing along. “I’ve got everything I need in this room. Anyways, enough of that. Get changed, we’ve got an interview soon. I want us to look good.” Logan let out a heavy sigh and nodded.

Roman smiled as him and Logan stood in front of the camera, a reporter with them getting ready for the interview. Logan stood next to him, face solemn as the reporter asked his questions.

“So Roman, you took a six month hiatus from performing,” The reporter started. Logan looked at Roman with a ‘you know where this is going look.’ 

“That we did,” Roman nodded with his response. Their interviewer smiled as he prepared for his next question.

“What happened to Remus?” The reporter stared expectantly. Logan’s eyes widened and he looked to Roman, almost wanting to take over the question himself.

“He left due to… personal reasons,” Roman shrugged. “Not really my place to say what those reasons were. In all honesty, I’m glad he left.” Logan’s jaw dropped and he glared at Roman.

“Why would you say something like that Roman?” He hissed under his breath so only Roman could hear him.

“Was the personal reason you, Roman? After all rumors have been surfacing…”the reporter instigated. Roman rolled his eyes.

“Oh they’re just that, rumors,” He shook his head. “Why would I make my dear brother leave the band?”

“So he didn’t leave because of you calling him, and I quote ‘disgusting and filthy,’ not to mention ‘unpredictable and loud’?” Roman paused as the memories of the argument came flooding back.

“Absolutely not,” Roman snapped, crossing his arms. He was starting to get pissed off now. He relaxed a little when Logan rested a loving hand on his shoulder.

“Either ask questions that matter or we’re done here,” Logan defended, squeezing Roman’s shoulder lightly.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” Roman screamed, slamming the door behind Logan.

“Roman, please, calm down,” Logan begged in an attempt to defuse the ticking time bomb that was Roman’s anger.

“Calm down? Calm down?! That reporter had exact quotes from our argument. You and I both know who tipped him off. That incel is trying to ruin me!” Roman screamed.

“Roman, with all due respect, that is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever come to the conclusion of,” Logan deadpanned, crossing his arms. “While I don’t disagree that the source was Remus, you don’t actually believe he wants to ruin your career, do you?”

“After I swore I would make it big. He said ‘We’ll see about that’ Logan. You think too highly of him.” Roman screamed, slamming his hands on the table.”

“Clearly you don’t know about the conversation I had with him before he left,” Logan wasn’t the least bit phased by Roman’s outburst of anger, they had been happening a lot more often recently. “He didn’t want to leave, I can tell you that. You were too hard on him.”

“If you keep siding with him, you can join him,” Roman sneered venomously, an evil glint in his eye. Now that had an effect on Logan. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Roman.

“I’m not siding with anyone. I’m simply stating facts. Your brother cares about you, you were too hard on the kid, and you’re acting like a bratty baby. Now knock it off,” Logan really felt like a dad chastising a particularly stubborn toddler.

“We need a new member,” Roman said after taking a breath to calm himself.

“You’re right about that,” Logan agreed with a nod. “And I think I have the perfect candidate.”

____

“Look at his face,” Janus cackled, watching Roman on TV. Remus laughed as he hopped on the couch next to Janus, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

“This is probably the best idea you’ve ever gone through with,” He took a hit and blew the smoke into the air, knocking the ashes off into a nearby ashtray. “I’m loving this.”

“Look at this buffoon lying through his teeth,” Janus rolled his eyes, “Someone should really knock him down a peg.” Remus nodded in agreement as he watched his brother through the screen.

“That’s why you’re here,” He chuckled. “Look at him making a fool of himself. Surely put him in his place.”

“You know what would also hurt him? Stealing the Battle of the Bands Award from him,” Janus looked suggestively. Remus smirked and nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. There’s no way he’s gonna win. Have you heard their recent stuff? They were so much better with me,” He leaned against his friend with an evil grin. 

“I still have to convince our last member to join us,” Janus groaned, pushing Remus off of him.

“Why haven’t you introduced him yet?” Remus pouted, straightening his shirt as he was shoved off with a pout. “I wanna meet the kid.”

“Because we actually want him to join us,” Janus said sarcastically as a knock rang throughout the apartment. Remus pouted, mocking Janus as he got up to answer the door.

“Behave,” Janus warned Remus as he opened the door.

“I thought I had the wrong address for a minute,” Virgil laughed nervously, wrapping his hoodie around himself protectively.

“Nope we just live in the ghetto,” Remus shouted, earning a glare from Janus.

“Glad to know,” Virgil muttered, walking inside all the way when Janus stepped aside. “Is this the guy you were talking about, Jan?”

“Yep this is the trash man,” Janus said ironically. Virgil let out a soft laugh at the insult thrown towards Remus.

“I hope he’s not as bad as you describe him,” He looked towards Remus. “I’m Virgil.” He introduced himself.

“He’s worse,” Janus muttered. “Remus, manners.” He warned before Remus could even open his mouth.

“Why don’t we just get to the point?” Remus groaned.Janus shot him a threatening look before leading Virgil to the couch. Virgil sat on the couch and looked between the two band members expectantly. 

“We want to start a band and try for the Battle of the Band Award.” Janus confessed, “For that, we need a new member and we hoped you would help us with that.” Virgil sat there in silence for a second, trying to process their request.

“What exactly would be my part?” Virgil bit his lip, a nervous habit. “I’m not exactly talented.” He shrugged. “I guess I can play guitar.” 

“You just need to play guitar and look hot. Back me up here dude,” Remus said, looking to Janus for support.

“You’re the perfect addition,” Janus shrugged, doing his best to sound supportive. He didn’t want to scare him off yet. “We need a guitarist.”

“What’s in it for me?” Virgil looked away.

“I don’t know, an infinite amount of dick?” Remus responded.

 Virgil seemed to ponder on the request before nodding.

“I’ll do it,” Virgil agreed.

“Perfect,” Janus smirked. “We have a gig in two days. I’ll send you the music.”

_____

“What are we doing here?” Roman asked as the two entered a concert. There were only a few people there and the lights showed a pale blue color, “I thought we were meeting the new band member.”

“We are,” Logan shushed him. “Just be patient, trust me. He’s good.” He motioned towards the stage. “He’s real underground but I’ve met him a few times, he’s talented.”

“If he’s so talented, why did we come after the performance?” Roman asked. Logan let out a soft chuckle and turned to his friend.

“He’s debuted a new song tonight and I told him we’d be here,” He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It was sold out, I wouldn’t have been able to get us in so he said to come after and he’ll sing a little sample for you to hear.”

“Well, let’s meet him.” Roman said, gesturing Logan to lead the way. Logan nodded as he brought Roman closer to the stage.

“Hey Pat,” He said to get the attention of the man on the stage. He turned and his smile seemed to light up his whole face at the sight of Logan.

“Logan! You made it,” He smiled and moved towards them, sitting on the edge of the stage.

“This is Patton,” Logan introduced, looking at Roman.

“Pleasure to meet you. I heard you were quite a performer,” Roman complimented, smiling at the young man. Patton flushed red and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I guess you could say that,” He smiled. “I made sure they left the mics on so you get the full experience. If you still want me to perform for you guys.” Logan nodded quickly.

“Of course we do, let’s hear it,” Logan took a step back, crossing his arms.

“Break a leg,” Roman smirked, taking a seat at the table in front of the stage. Logan sat down next to him and looked up at Patton.

Patton took a deep breath and stood, picking up the mic that was placed haphazardly on the ground. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment to calm his nerves.

“I hope it’s okay I have to sing this acapella, the music crew is iffy about staying after,” He laughed nervously.

“I don’t mind. Truth be told even I started singing acapella in my room.” Roman smiled warmly. Patton flushed and nodded.

Treat this like any other performance. Patton thought to himself. It’s just your cute friend and his bandmate that you have to impress. No big deal. 

Patton’s voice started out soft, hardly noticeable if it wasn’t for the microphone amplifying his voice. As the first notes slipped from his mouth, Roman watched with a shocked expression. He was good. Really good. The emotion and passion in Patton’s voice almost brought Roman to tears with the emollient tone. When it was over, Roman couldn’t help but stand while clapping his hands, smiling.

“You were exquisite Patton! You have a gift not many people have with your voice and emotion.” Roman complimented, coming up to the stage. Patton couldn’t suppress his smile and he hopped off the side to stand face to face with them. He was a good bit shorter than Roman and had to look up slightly to look him in the eye.

“You really think so?” He played with his hands. “I-I’d love to join you guys.”

“We start tomorrow,” Roman smiled.

[wwevampireamongkpop]

Battle of Giants P5

Pairing: Selene (OC) x Sheamus (former), Selene x Damian Priest, Rhea, Mia, Io, Candice, Kacy, Kayden, Naomi, Nikki, Dana, Lacey, Carmella, Bayley, and some of the men of both NXT and SD

Warning: Sheamus being a dick, if I miss any triggers for anyone let me know so I can add them

Tag List: @gold–gucciempress @ladytea19 @the-carter-mob-don @tacoshu

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

 -                                                                                                                            

It’s been a couple weeks and Selene and Damian have done a couple mock matches with Mia and Keith. It was the night that she had been waiting for, her return.

Damian knew she was ready for it. Hell Hunter was excited for what was going to happen. No one knew what was going to happen that night but excitement filled the air back stage.

Selene was sitting backstage, preparing for her match. She fell in love with her new gear. A pair of leather high-waisted shorts with a couple chains on her right hip, chain garter straps that held up her black fishnet stockings, a silver halter crop top with a black lace single long sleeve crop top underneath. Her boots looked like black military boots and her knee pads were simple black pads. She left her hair down, straight long black hair with a single strip of blonde in the front which was her way of feeling like Rogue from X-Men.

The night went on and the match was getting closer. Hunter never told her who her and Damian were supposed to be facing but she didn’t have much time to think on it. A loud crash came from down one of the halls. She looked towards that hall and saw a few of the other superstars run down that hall.

“What in the fuck…” Was all she got out before she saw some of the SmackDown superstars come out of the hall while tossing the NXT stars in front of them. The SD women stood in front of the men. Naomi, Nikki, Dana, Lacey, Carmella and Bayley stood tall.

Io, Candice, Rhea, Mia, Kacy and Kayden rushed in and attacked the SD women. Selene knew she had to help out and she took off towards the group. As Selene made her way to the fight, all the NXT women were on the ground. She stood tall in front of Bayley who was the only woman standing from SD.

Selene glared at her all while Bayley smirked before she lunged at Selene. Selene side-stepped her and grabbed her by her short hair. She pulled which caused Bayley to fall back. The next thing she knew she was being held back by an arm firmly wrapped around her throat. This arm felt familiar. The arm belonged to Sheamus.

Her airflow was being cut. All she could see was Damian, Dominik, and Undisputed Era coming towards the fight. Damian looked beyond pissed and he went for Sheamus. With the addition of the six men, SD superstars began to creep back out of the arena. Damian helped Selene off the floor  as she fell when Damian punched Sheamus in the face.

“You okay, sweetheart.” His voice filled with concern. Her chest and throat area was a little red from Sheamus’ thick arm. “I’m gonna hurt that asshole.”

“I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her throat a little. She never thought Sheamus would do something like that but then again she never really thought he cared much about her before she left SD. “Never thought he’d do something like that to me.”

“What do you mean?” He looked a bit confused.

“Well.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Sheamus and I had a thing before I got injured. We never labeled it or even called it anything.” Hurt flashed across her face for a moment. “He pretty much slowly cut contact with me and I never looked back as I moved forward with what I wanted in life.”

“I’m going to seriously hurt him now.” Damian was starting to get pissed. Selene put her hand on his forearm gently which caused him to pause.

“I think he’s on the SD men’s Survivor Series team.” She smirked a bit. “From what I heard from Adam, you’re on the NXT men’s team. This means you can get at him then.” This caused Damian to smirk down at Selene.

“I like the way you think.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get you checked out.”

“Why, I ain’t that hurt.” She looked up at him as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Besides, what if I wanted you to grab my throat later?” She started walking towards the locker room while Damian stood there for a moment, stunned.

She got her bag from the locker room and waited outside of the women’s locker room for Damian. When he was ready to leave, they both headed towards the parking area. The moment she saw her vehicle she also saw that someone was leaning up against the trunk, waiting. The figure was tall, almost familiar.

“What do you fucking want?” Her voice laced with venom as she saw just who it was standing near her vehicle. Sheamus was standing there, arms crossed as he stood there waiting.

“I came to see my girl. Is that so wrong?” His tone pissed her off, sounding as if the last few months never happened and that he had been by her side all this time.

“Your girl?” He heard her tone and his face went stock. “I ain’t your girl. Not after pretty much ghosting me around the time I got hurt.”

“Aw baby, don’t be like that.”

“Hey asshole.” Damian stepped up to Sheamus and glared at him.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you little arse.” Selene could see Damian was about to set his things down and was about to throw fists. “Besides, ain’t no one can make this little brat feel good like I can.”

“Fuck you, Sheamus.” Selene stepped in front of Damian, drawing both men’s attention. “Whatever you want to say doesn’t mean shit.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to say that I forgive you for not calling me.”

“I ain’t going to apologize for something that was all your fault.” She felt the urge to kick him in the ball but fought it. “You pretty much chose your career over everything. Even when I got injured, you didn’t even bother to see how I was doing. Tony at least called once or twice to see how I was.”

“You know how I get.”

“I don’t care, Sheamus. You let it fail. You were the one who gave up on whatever we had.” She reached behind her and grabbed Damian’s hand, as if he was a lifeline. “I moved on and you can’t stand to see that I’m happier without worrying about your self centered ass and pretty much give up on so many career opportunities.”

“I gave you so many.”

“No you didn’t. I fought for what little opportunities. Naomi and Dana were always there for me when you were too wrapped up in whatever the fuck you were doing.” She ended up shoving Sheamus off her car, which nearly caused him to fall on his ass. “Besides Sheamus. Before you say you are the only one who can make anyone feel good, make sure you wreck them to the point that no one can compare.”

That didn’t sit well with Sheamus. He got pissed. As he started to step towards Selene, Damian balled up his fist and it landed on Sheamus’ chin. Causing him to land on his ass with his hand holding his jaw.

“Let’s get going, Selene.” Damian grabbed Selene by the hand and pulled her towards his car. As Damian put their bags into the trunk, Selene slid her arms around his waist from behind. He turned in her arms and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel safe. “I’m going to seriously hurt that asshole when I get the chance to. No one is going to talk to you like that.”

Selene felt small in his arms and couldn’t help but dig her face into his chest. Damian had felt like home and she didn’t want to lose it.

“I was going to wait to ask you this but seeing as tonight didn’t go how we thought it would.” Damian looked down at her and gave her his signature smirk. “Since we have been getting so close lately and honestly I have been looking forward to spending time with you. How would you like to making us an official couple.” She looked up at him and she couldn’t help but smile despite the fact that she felt like crying.

She reached up and gently placed her hand on his cheek. Gently guiding his face to hers and softly kissed him. His scent of leather and spice filled her senses. His hands slid around her waist tightly and pulled her closer to him. They both smiled into the kiss.

Damian twisted them around and pinned Selene to the trunk of the car, not once breaking the kiss. He lifted her up and sat her on the trunk. Her hands tangled themselves into his long hair, nails lightly scratching the back of his head causing him to groan against her lips. His hands slid from her waist to her ass, gripping lightly which caused her to moan against his.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere where we won’t get caught or interrupted.” Selene pulled away from Damian slightly and rested her forehead against his. Both breathing a bit heavy.

“Let’s go.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Six

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Five

Read on wattpad here.

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, drug abuse, explicit sexual situations

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @triplehaitches @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi

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"If you weren't such an asshole, he wouldn't have to take up for me!" I bark at Nikki as he tipsily stumbles around, ranting at me about my "fucking friend not minding his own god damn business" nearly a week ago, as the guys and Doc just look on, not knowing what the hell either of us are talking about.

"I'm an asshole?! Like you don't get me riled up and then play victim?!" He throws at me.

"Like it takes very much to get your tweaked-out ass riled up!" I point at him.

"Bitch!" He sneers out.

"Fuck up!" I hiss back.

Duff wasn't even out of line with Nikki. He had kept calm and advised Nikki to cool down and then come back and talk to me instead of getting himself and me upset.

Nikki hadn't let on if he minded Duff's intervening to defend me, until a week later, because he was taking it as Duff trying to tell him how to be married to me as if he knew me better than Nikki did, which wasn't at all Duff's intention.

Compared to the number I've seen Duff do on guys during a fist fight, Nikki was lucky he didn't lay him out in the driveway. However, he would eventually know what it felt like to be punched in the face by Duff during the "Girls" tour.

Duff was good at keeping his cool until the people he cared about became involved, and if he had been drinking a lot--which, towards the early 90s, that was the case--his temper could surpass mine, and he worried less about legalities and just started decking people as hard as he could.

I knew he struggled with the band, they weren't as close, Steven had been replaced by Matt Sorum, Izzy got sober and began distancing himself to stay sober, and to top off the disconnect from each other, Axl had become God in his own mind, which caused the fans, the band, and the people around him to suffer.

Once I realized his drinking and drug use became so overzealous, our agreement which was arranged out of court, that each of us have two weeks with Monroe a piece, became an arrangement that I had sole custody but took Monroe to visit his father for a few days out of the month. Duff was struggling so badly to keep it together with his mental health, addiction, and ailing of his band, that he didn't really notice I had our son more than he did.

If he had been a baby and wouldn't remember his father throwing back Solo cup after Solo cup of vodka, putting cocaine in the end of his cigarette and smoking it, and not acting like himself, I would have just left Monroe in the care of Tansy (since she was fully sober then) and let him stay around for two weeks.

But he was four when Duff started speeding down hill, and he was picking up on when his dad wasn't talking right and when he was acting weird, everything he saw that no one knew he was paying attention to...then he'd come back to me and Nikki after visiting and tell us about everything he had absorbed like a sponge: uncle Izzy traveling separately from the band, Dad being really cold and shivering until he got some water, uncle Axl not singing until a lot of people went home...that's when I decided to cut back time spent with his father and accompany him through his visits.

At first I thought I would be fine staying the two weeks out of the month with Monroe, but Axl and I couldn't quit fighting a majority of the time (because he was a jackass) and I came to the conclusion that Duff had enough on his plate and didn't need me to add to it by trying to punch Axl every chance I got for two weeks straight. So I cut it back to about five days out the month while they were on tour. When they weren't touring and I didn't have to be around Axl, Monroe and I would stay with Duff for about a week and a half.

Being that Nikki was more conscious than Duff, he took up where Duff had left off in the fathering department from '92-'94. This isn't me bashing the dad of my first child, either. Duff is and always will be a phenomenal father, but he stumbled for a few years, leaving Nikki to become the father Duff was supposed to be until Duff got his shit together, like Duff became the man for me that Nikki was suppose to be until Nikki got his shit together.

"Um..." Vince says, causing the both of us to glare at him. "...Can we rehearse now?"

He, Tommy, Mick and Doc were all patiently waiting for Nikki and I to finish our quarrel.

"Yeah." I sigh out. "Have a good rehearsal. I'll be at Tansy's." I head to the door.

"I hope you crash." Nikki gets one last jab in.

"I hope you OD." I leave them with the slamming of the studio door and step to my car.

Of course I didn't actually want him to OD, I just wanted to hurt him. And I did.

By the time it was time for the U.S. tour of Theater of Pain, our hands were being pinned behind our backs, and Doc was giving us a "get along or there's no Vivian Sixx on the tour" promise.

Although we were in the middle of a small battle and wanted nothing more than for the other person to wave their white flag and beg for forgiveness, Nikki didn't want to imagine going months without seeing me, and I was scared if I wasn't on tour to keep an eye on him, he would take his issues too far.

So we made up for the sake of each other's sanity, but again, never discussed what exactly happened to make us fight to begin with, and just harbored resentment we didn't realize we were holding onto until we started taking it out on each other later on.

The tour starts in upstate New York, then to Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and all went great...until Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Nikki's coming to the side of the stage where me and his tech are standing, and I think he's reaching for some water while Tommy plays his drum solo, but before I can reach down and grab a bottle from the cooler behind me, Nikki's saying words I always dread hearing.

"Help me, dude." He tells his tech, starting to pull his arm out of his navy and white polka-dotted costume.

"What?" I ask Nikki, before my face pales, seeing him pull a needle out of his boot, and a spoon before handing the lump of tar to him. "You cannot be fucking serious?" I spout over the booming of Tommy's playing.

"Nobody out there can fucking see me, Viv, chill out." He tells me as a piece of tar is melted down with a lighter underneath the spoon.

The fact that it's so casual for him to do this in front of me, is startling.

"Nikki, this can't wait?" I try to reason with him as the spoon is discarded to the floor once the gold is sucked up through the needle.

The syringe is handed back to him, and Tommy's solo is nearly over.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head as Nikki plunges the needle into his skin, throws up, then stumbles back on stage, nearly missing his cue.

When the drugs started to override his need for a great performance, I knew he was gone.

I get out of the shower, ringing my hair out and running my fingers through it, hearing the phone in the hotel room ring.

When I go to answer it, Nikki and Tommy are grabbing at it, shewing me away.

"Hello?" They both obnoxiously say and I roll my eyes.

The person on the other side of the phone says something.

"Oh, hey, Duff." Nikki smirks, glancing at me and I give him a "you better be fucking nice" look.

"Hey, Buddy." Tommy adds.

"Viv? Yeah, she's here." Nikki tells him and I step to them, reaching my hand out to grab the phone, thinking he's going to give it to me. "Well, she can't really talk right now with my dick down her throat."

My eyes bug out of my head as I tackle Nikki and yank the phone from him while he and Tommy laugh loudly.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hey, s-sorry to interrupt but I was just gonna call and check how it's been going." Duff replies.

"It's great." I assure him, leaving out the heavy drinking and drug binge Nikki and Tommy have been on.

"How's Nikki been? Is he still pissed at me?"

"No, no, he's been..." I think of what to say. Shooting heroin on stage? Coked out and shooting Jack Daniels with Tommy? "...great." I finally say, seeing Nikki and Tommy biting each others ankles like dogs.

"I'm sorry again if I overstepped, Viv. I didn't mean to, I just got a little pissed." He tells me.

"Duff, he's fine, I promise." I state, seeing Tommy and Nikki start wrestling, completely oblivious to my conversation. "It's fine. I'm use to his tantrums."

"I don't think that's healthy, Viv." He tells me calmly and I let out a breath.

"He's just stressed out, they all are. It'll get better once this tour is done."

"And what happens next tour?" He asks me.

Nikki's affair is outed on television, I try to kill him, your band comes on tour with them, and you get me knocked up...

"I'm hoping he'll be over this hellion phase by then." I admit, Tommy and Nikki each have handfuls of each other's hair, yanking on it, still not paying me any attention.

"Maybe it's not my place, but from outside looking in, I'm worried about you, Viv."

"I know, I know, but there's no need to." I reassure him.

He let's out a breath, knowing he can't win, and gives up for now.

"I feel like the fucking brick wall you argue with." He tells me and I smile, rubbing my lips together, before seeing Nikki and Tommy finish their play fighting, standing up, looking like they're about to leave.

"Hey, I gotta go but I'll call you when we get to the next city, alright?" I tell him.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds good." He replies. "Goodnight, love you."

"Love you, too." I reply before hanging up just as Nikki and Tommy sneak to the door. "Where do you two think you're going?" I ask and they freeze.

"Uh, well..." Tommy stutters to come up with an excuse, but Nikki just doesn't give a shit.

"Score some stuff." He tells me and I cross my arms over my towel.

"Nikki--"

"Tommy, can you give us a second?" Nikki says it like the answer can't be "no."

Tommy just raises his brows a little and nods.

"Sure, man, I'll be in my room when you're ready." He tells him, stepping out.

Nikki shuts the door behind him and I wait for him to start a fight, my brow raised, an expression of "can't wait to hear what audacious bullshit comes out of your mouth this time" is plastered all over my face when he turns around.

As far as I can tell, he hasn't snorted, shot up or smoked anything in the past hour and a half, which means I'm not facing the absolute devil that goes by the name "Sikki" and is Nikki's evil, drug loaded, irritable, mean, scary, abusive, demonic, sadistic, cruel, vindictive, disgusting alter-ego.

Nikki rolls his jaw a little with each step to me, but I don't cower back, waiting for him to say whatever it is he is going to say.

His hands bunch at my towel, pulling me against him.

He doesn't say a word, and I keep my arms crossed until he holds back the inkling of a smirk, leaning down to press a small kiss where my shoulder and neck meet.

I know what he's doing, because I do it to him all the time: using sex to get what he wants.

I bite my tongue to keep from moaning when we realizes I'm not budging and ups the anti, the tip of his tongue making slow, figure-eights in the same spot.

I feel like someone's knocked the back of my knees loose with a baseball bat, and I have to uncross my arms and hold tightly to him to keep from falling down.

He completely engulfs me in his arms at the sound of me letting out a whimper, my fingers grabbing at his hair, my legs rubbing themselves together to aid some relief.

His hands pull at my towel, discarding it to the floor, pressing his lips along my chest, over my breast, running his tongue around my nipple skillfully.

Hands run themselves between my legs while teeth carnally tug and bruise my skin, sending a wave of heat from my chest to my dripping core.

His mouth moves to my other nipple, but my real undoing is when his teeth trail down to the rib below my right breast, and bite down.

I gasp out, arching into him, my head tips back as he adds a bruise to the skin there that's already scarred with his teeth imprints collected over the years.

He smooths his tongue over the bite before trailing down my stomach, pressing to my pubic bone.

He pulls one of my legs over his shoulder as he gets on his knees, pressing gentle kisses down my inner thigh.

My chest is heaving with loss of breath as he looks me in the eyes and runs tongue from my entrance to my clit.

I dig my nails into his hands that hold steady at my waist as the slick sound and euphoric feeling of his tongue lacing back and forth and side to side against the sensitive nerve endings.

He pulls away for a moment, only to spit between my legs and suck it off my pussy, making my one standing leg go numb at the sensation.

Shallow pants leave my mouth as I start moving in rhythm with him, one of my hands reaching for his hair, pulling at it.

He takes one of his hands from me before rubbing it against my folds, getting his fingers wet, and sliding them into me.

The thick, fullness has my walls tightening around the two digits, eager to please myself as his tongue massages my clit, and my fingers come up to play with my own nipples.

"Nikki." I let out shakily, his fingers curling inside of me, pulling back out, pushing back in only to repeat. "Fuck, you do it so good." I praise hoarsely, one of my hands going back to his hair.

His tongue picks up it's pace, sending my heart rate into overdrive as his fingers keep up with the pace.

He knows exactly what he's doing, smirking up at me when his fingers hit the spot, my throat unable to contain the loud but curt moan that the people in the room next to us can probably hear as I milk his fingers as if they're his cock and my orgasm gets closer and closer.

He pulls his mouth away, licking his lips, before using the pad of his thumb from his other hand to rapidly rub at my swollen flesh.

I grip around his fingers so tightly it falters his ability to move them as well, and he lets out a little groan.

"I wish I could be three places at one time." He comments.

If he could be three places in me at one time I would be wrapped around him 24/7.

"C'mon, Viv, I'm getting really thirsty here." He says gruffly, that fucking smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth, as I throw my head back, letting out another loud moan, so close to my end I can taste it.

His hazel eyes looking up at me in adoration as I curl my toes and come so hard I see black dots.

He's taking his fingers out of me, grabbing at my ass with both hands, pulling me into him and licking every last drop of cum from me before I collapse on top of him, the both of us landing on the floor.

He let's out a laugh as I try to catch my breath, my chest pressed against his, my hands holding at his biceps.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, proudly, and I nod.

"I just need a minute..." I can barely get out in a rasp.

After about five minutes, I'm getting off of him and pulling myself onto the foot of the bed.

He stands up, too, stepping to my suitcase, tossing me one of his shirts he gave to me.

"Thank you." I say to him quietly and pull it on and when he pulls his jacket on, I know he's about to go out to get some more smack.

This terrifies me and tears come to my eyes.

"I'll be back in..." He stops talking, furrowing his brows, looking at me. "...Viv?"

I shake my head a little, waving him off.

"I'm fine, babe." I try to tell him.

"Vivian, why're crying." He asks me.

"I-I think I'm about to start my period." I lie, sniffling. "I'm just being over-emotional."

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, alright?"

I nod again.

"Alright, I'll see you later." He tells me, wiping my tears with his thumb before pressing his lips to mine for a few seconds, and walking out the door.

When I envisioned my life when I was little, getting married at nineteen, having three miscarriages by the time I was twenty-one, having an addict husband, and spending a majority of my nights sleeping alone—which is one thing I absolutely hated to do—was not at all how I dreamt of my life being when I grew up.

But there I was.

Night after night.

City after city.

Alone.

In pain.

Broken.

Silent.

With not a single soul knowing about it.

It's been four hours and Nikki still isn't back.

Restless, I turn over to read the digital alarm clock.

4:02a.m.

Sighing out, I get out of the bed and go to my suitcase to grab a pair of panties and slip them on, before grabbing one of Nikki's shirts from his bag that smells like him.

I leave the hotel room and head next door to Vince's room, knocking on the door.

After several attempts, the door opens to reveal a very confused, half asleep, blonde girl that isn't Sharise—who's baby is due any day now.

"Hi." I say, hushly, pushing past her. "Did you guys do anything in the bed?" I ask her once I'm standing by the bed and she rubs her eyes, still in a haze.

She mumbles something that sounds like "the shower" and I hold out my room key to her.

"You can go sleep in my bed. Room 223." I say.

She doesn't ask questions, she just wants to go back to sleep.

Once she shuts the door, I'm patting around the mattress to avoid laying on Vince.

I slip in where she was, Vince's back to me.

I seperate his naked body from me by laying on top of the sheet, just letting the comforter guard me from the cool air from the vent, and actually snuggle closer to him, my forehead pressing against his back as I hold Nikki's shirt close to me like it's my sacred baby blanket, and drift off.

[mardi-nah]

Tricks

Circus worker narrator, trickster, fae, circus setting, unrequited love, pining, enemies to lovers, a pinch of angst, vulgar language, otherwise sfw

“I am in love with you.”

My reflection glowered back at me. I grimaced at it. “I love you.”

The reflection looked pained. This wouldn’t do at all. “I have fallen in love with you.” No. “I have loved you for—no. I love you. I love you. I am in love with you. Quinn, I am in love with you. I love ya, babe.”

The glass was cool against my skin as I slumped forward, forehead to forehead with my mirror twin. I had watched so many movies, so many shows with dramatic and simpering love confessions, but it wouldn’t do. I looked like I was constipated. Or ready to murder. Mama should have bore someone cuter, curse her in her grave.

“Quinn, I—“

Someone threw the sliding door open so hard it bounced against the wall with a foreboding boom! A voice that could try a priest called out, “Oh Gwen! Gwenny, honey! Gwenster! Gwen-dah-lee!”

I didn’t fucking twitch. “What.”

“It is the strangest thing, Gwenny-poo!” A sigh, and then the unmistakable screech of bed springs as someone fell on top of my cot. “All of the stage lights have gone out! Just like—“ a snap of fingers, “—that! Can you believe it?”

Oh, hell no. “What did you do?”

Mareth gasped. “Me? I haven’t done anything! Or I’ve done a lot of things, depending on how you look at it. None of them have involved lights.”

I spun myself away from the glass to glare at him.

Mareth was grinning, green eyes glittering and black hair wildly eschew. His little black tail was curling in the air behind him, tangling with my blankets just to piss me off. “Gwendy, you’re so scary looking today!”

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“Weeeeeell …”

“Mareth!”

“It isn’t my fault it started raining indoors! How could I have known?”

“You little shit!” I screamed, charging at him to fucking throttle his horrible little neck, but he only laughed gaily and disappeared the moment I fell on the bed.

“So violent! I said I didn’t do anything!” His voice chirped from behind me.

I twisted around, hands knotting in my sheets. “You are so full of shit! Come here so I can strangle you!”

Mareth tsked at me, strolling forward but staying just out of reach of my legs and fists. “Ah-ah. If you keep that up, I won’t tell you where the control panel went.”

“What?”

“Oops.” He giggled. “Didn’t mean to tell you that part. Guess it just slipped!”

“Why you—!” I staggered to my feet, ready to tackle him and wail on him until he cried, but he was already fading out.

“Well, would you look at the time! It’s time to dash! Au revoir!” His voice echoed around my room, his laughter chasing the last remaining shreds of my sanity.

I sank back onto my bed and put my head in my hands. Guess there’d be no time to talk to Quinn about my feelings or anything else tonight.

~

Mareth had been a pain in the ass my entire career working with the circus. Had been a pain in everyone’s ass, just about, but he seemed to get a special pleasure seeing me screech. Lately, I’d swear he was worse than ever, and it wasn’t just me, either. Poor Quinn came into the back one night dripping molasses, his expression icier than usual. Mareth had been found in storage, tied and bound with a growing black eye. Somehow, that hadn’t stopped him from emptying Quinn’s underwear into the river later that evening.

“Is he off in the head? What the hell,” I growled as I scrambled to reassemble the control room with Joan.

“It seems our dear boy is having a tantrum,” an amused voice came from the doorway.

I looked up to see Mr. Bailey leaning against the entryway, watching us with dark eyes that had an uncalled for amount of sparkle.

“He should be whipped,” I hissed, “He’s going to destroy the show.”

“Yes, probably. At ease, girls. I’ll talk to him.”

At that point, there was nothing to do but focus on the show. If anyone could straighten Mareth out, it was Bailey.

~

Quinn was beautiful tonight.

He dripped a milky fog as he shouldered his way through the back, glittering wings fluttering softly behind him. His act was particularly flawless tonight—it was as if he and Odessa were of one mind, one move sinking into the next, their limbs synched beatifically.

It was such a shame he would never consider someone like me.

~

Of all the people to find me on that night, Mareth should not have been the one.

The cart was dark in the night, the moonlight dying it dark. Its roof was cold against my ass, but I only pressed my bare toes firmer to it. I heard the ladder scream as someone climbed it, but I didn’t turn to look.

“Well, this isn’t the most depressing place you could have chosen,” a teeth-grittingly familiar voice chirped. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, she still has teeth!” The cart groaned as he moved towards me, and next thing I knew, a pair of dark pants had their legs slung over the side of the cart beside me.

“I’m not in the mood, Mareth,” I snarled, burying my face in my arms.

“Come here to cry like a little girl in private, hmm?” He hummed, kicking his feet out. “Now I’m very disappointed. I thought you had more to you than that.”

“Are you just here to mock me? I will knock you off the fucking cart. Go. Away.”

“What is it about Quinn, I wonder? It’s definitely not his personality, given that he’s q giant asshole. It’s not his money, since he’s as broke as the rest of us. What does that leave? Hmm …”

I snapped upright, eyes burning with the old tears, with anger, with frustration and hatred and this fucking guy. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Just because he doesn’t like you doesn’t mean he’s like that with the rest of us.”

“Really? What’s he like with you, then?” Mareth was smiling that damn shit-eating smile he had, though there was something a little off about it. Must have been my more than usual desire to punch it.

“He might be moody and quiet, but he’s just as intelligent and focused.” I turned away from him, scowling into the vast dark. “He’s prosaic and graceful. His manners are impeccable. And he practices like a damn mad man.”

“So? Many of our performers are like that.”

“Like hell they are. I don’t think anyone hates their job, but Quinn is—“ my voice broke, which would have been humiliating in any situation, but more so in front of Mareth of all people. I swallowed with difficulty. “He’s admirable.”

There was a brief silence, and I thought that maybe Mareth had mercifully run out of things to say, but then he quietly continued. “Doesn’t seem that great to me.”

“What do you know of greatness? You sabotage the show every chance you get.” I rubbed my wet nose against the back of my arm and grimaced at the feeling.

“Not the show! Just you. And Quinn. Mostly.”

“Can’t you just go?” I asked miserably, sinking myself into the ball of my limbs. Fresh tears were hard at work behind my eyes, and I could feel the worrying beginnings of a sob climbing my throat. “Leave me alone for once.”

At that point, Mareth looked at me, green eyes glittering—with anger, I realized. “I would never leave you alone, Gwen.”

I stared at him, but he only stared angrily back.

When I managed to speak, it was a croak. “Why?”

“Quinn isn’t worth breaking down like a child. Stop acting so weak.”

I huffed. “What right do you have to say that? You’ve never had your heart broken.”

“Oh, please. You break my heart all the time.”

My body stiffened involuntarily; blood was drumming in my ears. His words didn’t make sense. Another prank, probably. “Cut the bullshit. I’m not in the mood for pranks.”

I started when hands grabbed my head and forced me to turn to look at him again. If anything, he looked more furious than before. I almost shrank back from the rage in his gaze, but I swallowed it down. Mareth didn’t scare me.

“You never look at me unless I make you.” His voice was unsteady, steaming in the cold night air. “The only person you can see is Quinn, but he doesn’t see anyone but himself. Don’t you get that?”

“Trust me, I get it,” I peeled his hands away, avoided his stare.

“Then why? Why him?” His real meaning went unsaid.

“I told you why. Dammit, Mareth, I thought you hated the show. Hell, I had half a mind that you hated me even more than I hated you. Why are you doing this now?” I scrubbed angrily at my eyes, mad that I was crying and even more mad that he was there to see it.

Quiet again, but only for a few beats. Mareth took a deep, shaky breath. “I hate that you love him. I can’t get you to notice me at all, and he doesn’t even care that he has it. It could have been anyone else. I don’t know why you picked him.”

“Jealous?” I sniped.

“Horribly.” He agreed.

I hadn’t expected him to say that; the surprise made me wordless for a few minutes, but I recovered. “Should I fuck you out of it? I have the strangest suspicion that your feelings will magically disappear come morning.”

“I would whole-heartedly love for you to try.”

I grabbed the sides of his head and mashed my face against his before he could react. He was surprisingly soft—his hair and his mouth and even his cheeks, lips warm and pliant under mine. I didn’t want to admit how hot I went when he moaned against me, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell him how good he felt. He was eager and compliant, letting me move and dominate him, allowing me to conquer his lap and his trousers and later, his dick.

~

The next morning found Mareth still in my room, for whatever reason.

He was naked, sprawled lazily over my cot, watching me put on my makeup with those smug-ass cat eyes of his. His tail was swishing slowly in the air behind him. He looked entirely too satisfied.

“Do you have what you want now, dumbass?” I asked, penciling in my eyebrows.

“Dunno. Are you going to come over tonight?”

I scoffed. “Why would I?”

In the mirror, I saw him frown, his tail stilling. “Then no, I don’t.”

We watched each other for a minute, and then I went back to putting my face on for the day, intent to avoid any further conversation.

Mareth was having none of it. “Won’t you consider it?”

“Consider what?”

“Being with me? You seemed—it was good last night, wasn’t it?” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, the tip of his tail twitching.

I eyed him in the mirror, and then smirked internally. “Give me your true name, and we can try to have a relation.”

His tail twitched again. “Oh?”

“I’m still not convinced you aren’t tricking me. Give me your name so I’ll know.” There. The matter was over.

Mareth sat up. “Is that all?”

“All”?

I blinked, and he was standing in the center of my tent, his clothes suddenly on again. “Consider it done! You may know me as—“ a gust of wind, and he was at my ear now, his mouth brushing my lobe. “Merit.”

“Your name is—?” He slapped a hand over my mouth before I could finish, wiggling his eyebrows at me in the mirror.

“Ah, ah. No spilling my secret now. I’ve just given you my soul, sweetie.”

I choked. “Your—?”

He actually did it. He gave me his—no, it must be fake. I could call his bluff.

I smiled sweetly up at him, murmuring, “Merit, why don’t you be a dear and get on your knees?”

Mareth gasped, and it wasn’t so much a sink to his knees as it was an inglorious fall. His knees hit the floor with a sharp crack and I couldn’t help but wince guiltily.

Holy fuck. He actually gave me his name.

I stood from my vanity, towering above him, staring. His eyes were gleaming madly, smile twisted into something familiar and devious. “Oh my, what ever will you do with me, Gwenny-poo?”

“You and I might be together for a long time, dear.” I brushed my hands through his hair; he tilted his head into my touch, and I fisted my fingers in his hair, making his breath hitch. “I guess I’ll have to train you.”

“Oh, please do,” he purred.

We had made a deal to try, at least. And if nothing else, I was a woman of my word.

~

Mareth was a very bothersome lover. I hadn’t decided if he was more or less so than before.

He whined if we didn’t have at least one meal a day together; he whined if he had to sleep alone; he whined if he couldn’t see me in the morning; he whined if I left him without a kiss goodbye; he whined if I wore something pretty and he wouldn’t be around to see it. He hated Quinn, and hated if I spent time with him, but I was a loyal partner, and he seemed to know this.

Besides, I wasn’t one to give my heart to someone who already broke it once. Mareth seemed to know this, too.

Lately Mareth had been pressing me to wear his favorite sweater—a dark green turtleneck that brought out the color of his eyes neatly. Not only was the idea of sharing clothes already ridiculous enough, but the fact that Mareth was a hell of a lot more petite than me didn’t seem to factor into his head.

“Mareth,” I said through my teeth, “This would stick to me like a second skin. I doubt it would even cover my stomach.”

“I know,” he purred.

I knocked him upside the head for that one, but he kept insisting that I “borrow” some of his clothes. I eventually caved and stuffed myself into one of his bigger jackets, and I pretended not to notice him watching me in it, or how he kept subtly trying to sniff at it after I returned it.

He also kept little useless items I gave him, which was so bizarre I couldn’t even bring it up to him. The number seemed to grow a little every time I was in his tent—a packet of toothpaste I lent him so he’d stop trying to use mine when he slept over; a pencil; a crumbled napkin I threw at him with a crude drawing of my foot on his ass; a glittery hair clip I had used to help Alice do his makeup before a show.

He was ridiculous. Absolutely bonkers.

If I obliged him in these things, it was no fault of mine. I was his girlfriend, after all, it was only natural to let your boyfriend have his needs and help meet them.

And if anyone claimed I enjoyed the little happy smile Mareth gave me when I used a pet name, or made him lunch, or wore his stupid sweater, or invited him to join me in the showers, I’d kick their ass too. And if they had the balls to claim I liked Mareth and his clingy affection and dumb tricks and loud laugh and short stature and ridiculousness, well, they might be right, but I’d still fucking end them.